Out of every city I’ve visited in Europe, the most memorable and charming is Budapest, which I saw whilst inter-railing. We arrived by train from Vienna, and the first impression was definitely that it fulfilled preconceptions of what ‘Eastern European’ meant. Coming a few short hours from the lavish Austrian capital, Budapest couldn’t have felt more quantifiably different from its Western neighbour. No matter how far flung, most places in Western Europe aren’t that different from Britain, and it’s only when you go East towards Ukraine you get the feeling of ‘this place doesn’t fuck with the U.K at all.’
At the station we were ambushed by a drunken Casablancan called Eunice, who assured us he knew the perfect place we could stay. Leading us through the streets he gave us the abbreviated Eunice history, even highlighting to us his ex wife’s apartment. Regaling us with tales of sexual exploits and how Hungarian men are all misogynists (“I make love I don’t fuck” as he put it), we saw the wide boulevards and straight alleys that make up Budapest’s centre. Though I’ve never been, it reminded me of what I’d seen on TV of New York. Eventually we got to a massive apartment building and were introduced to the hostel owner, who spoke English with a Brooklyn twang; we later learned he’d been NYPD for 14 years. We were yet to change money and asked whether we could pay him later to which he replied “Of course! Just remember, I’ve got your bags”, said with an air of humour but also with an air of ‘I’ve got your fucking bags.’ We fondly referred to him as Joe Pesci.
Budapest is uniquely beautiful, and looking out across the Danube the night we arrived was mind-blowing. We were accosted in an attempted mugging on the chain bridge, with one guy shoving a map in our face and asking ‘shops?’ and his accomplice feeling our jeans and saying ‘Levis?’ whilst checking our pockets and stumbling about. They were drunk too though so the blatancy and ineptitude of the whole thing was both funny and endearing, they even shook our hands once it was clear they were getting nothing. It was refreshing mid-trip to find such a distinctive place, as was the surprise to find a city like Budapest having the character we had thought lacking in places like Barcelona.
A particular highlight and a must for anyone visiting would have to be the Terror Haza on one of the main drags, a museum to remember the city’s survival through both the Communist and Nazi regimes. Brutal and humbling, it’s one of the most radical exhibits I’ve seen. The building was actually used by Nazi’s during their occupation, which gives the memorial an immediacy and impact I hadn’t felt before. The view from Castle hill is incredible as well, which looks out over the whole city. It’s an incredible place to just walk around as the cities decked in Neo-Gothic architecture, lending itself to a really visceral sense of identity. We were there for maybe a handful of days, and undoubtedly left wishing we had more time there.
If you do go then look Pesci up at Yellow Submarine, which professes to be a hostel but is actually just a basement apartment. I doubt it’s on TripAdvisor. Still it’s cheap and central and, at least when we were there, pretty much empty. Besides a sweet Asian lady from Epping Forest who actually turned out to be a social pariah. She wanted her money back because she couldn’t get the adjacent coffee place’s internet or watch any TV. As Pesci said, “Why does she want to watch TV? It’s all in fucking Hungarian.”
Europe – On The Rails from Nathan Harris on Vimeo.
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