Chris King ventures to the Hungarian capital Budapest, finding a city swaying between the painful memories of its past and its party-mad present, while providing visitors with some of the most stunning vistas in Europe.
The Danube glows in the piercing yellow light of the castle on the hill, standing majestically above, and reflected in, the serene river running gently below. You are in Budapest, a city where beer flows more freely than water, and a handsome lifestyle is within the reach of even the most modestly endowed traveller.
Commodity prices are almost a throwback to another epoch; cigarettes cost just £1.70 a pack, and in some of the more obscure, hidden gem bars located in the Sixth District, beer can be purchased for 100 forint (the incumbent Hungarian currency), or just 25 pence.
Once the troublesome, rebellious second city of the imperious Austro-Hungarian empire, Budapest now attracts backpackers and travellers from all over the Commonwealth, notably Australians and Canadians in their droves. Its nightlife is legendary, and rightly so. It ranges from the ultra-cool ruin bars (run-down from the outside but buzzing within), to basement clubs and even a “retro disco” open 24 hours adjoining Nyugati station, for those who prefer to rave whilst the city sleeps.
You’ll never want to stay in. The city gets you drunk, and keeps you so. With the plethora of hostels owned by fun-loving English speakers, you won’t struggle to find somewhere homely, wild and central to bed down. If you sleep much at all, that is. The temptation to stay out all night, for those who can handle a drink or two, can be overwhelming.
But fear not, Budapest has plenty of hangover cures. A trip to the ancient baths at Szechenyi, taking in the magnificence of the Heroes’ Square monument along the way, is a must. Heated to 38C, and located outdoors, they are the ultimate means of relaxation. Also vital is a visit to the Citadel for a panoramic, breathtaking vista of the Danube, its several bridges and the city skyline.
In general, Budapest can be explored at your own leisure. It is hard to ignore the city’s many scars; the House of Terror offers a particularly harrowing insight into the hidden evils of the Hungarian regime, which collaborated with Nazi Germany in World War Two, and the Communist dictatorship which followed. In a similar vein, the memorial on the Danube Promenade memorial, made up of the shoes of Jews killed by the government during the war, is easily the city’s most poignant feature. Shoes, scattered and cast in iron along the banks of the river, lie with flowers and candles located beside. It is a sobering sight in this city of excess and wanton enjoyment.
Budapest was always the riotous, badly-behaved brother to clean, safe, sophisticated Vienna. Enslaved by the Communists in 1944, it rose up 12 years later, only to be subdued by the state-sponsored brutality of the USSR. Nowadays, just one monument to the Red Army’s “liberation” remains, and it could yet be removed. Put down for so long, Budapest now enjoys the sort of international renown normally reserved for its more illustrious western European neighbours. So go on, what is your excuse?