All I Want (Budapest)

Hello, my faithful reader, and welcome to Day 4 in Budapest. I remarked to Jayne at breakfast yesterday that if I worked in the restaurant here, I would surely kill myself. The background music was akin to being trapped outside a dance party and hearing the same beat over and over. So imagine my surprise this morning when I heard the gorgeous Sarah Blasko's voice being piped into the room. Hence today's title from 2009, All I Want, from her brilliant album As Day Follows Night. The title is not about what I want, what more could I want? The weather is fine, Budapest is wonderful and interesting and the company delightful. Although I am still flagging toward the end of the day when I'm trying to put the blog together.

Interesting fire escape. Or a stairway to heaven-ish? Or a road to nowhere?

Once again we were awake early and at breakfast around 7am. Yes, I understand your point, dear reader, but we are on holiday. By 8am, we were re-sorting the plans for the day because the booking we anticipated making to tour Parliament House, was sold out. As were all tours in English tomorrow and Wednesday. We booked the 12:15pm tour and re-thought our morning. A tour of St Stephen's Basilica and then a slow wander back to the Great Synagogue, stopping wherever took our fancy on the way. We were meeting Nick, our food and wine guide, at 2:30pm at the Synagogue.

St Stephen's Basilica

It proved a much less problematic experience, getting a cab this morning and we were at the Basilica not long after 9am. Budapest is a city that is slow to wake and  happily, the tourist hordes were non-existent (except for us) at that early hour of the day. Finding the ticket office proved a far more complex task. In a radical departure from type, I followed the signs, which proved totally useless. The signs directed you to walk around the side of the building ... nothing ... and then pointed at a fence. Ah, on the other side of the fence, across the square was a ticket office. Cool and normal. Tickets purchased, off we went.

Looking toward the main altar.

They were building a stage on the steps of the Basilica for a forthcoming performance of the Alleluia Chorus or Ave Maria or The Sound of Music ... something. Nothing like a hammer on metal to make us feel at home. Hello Redfern, how is the station reno going?

The dome.

Inside the Basilica was such a different experience to the Synagogue yesterday. In terms of competition, the Christians win for the sheer breath taking grandeur. The soaring dome, the gold, the frescos, the statues (what were you expecting? It is Budapest), the marble floor, it was awe inspiring. Also it was sparsely populated and created an involuntary reverence in you. It is a Catholic Basilica so it contained a religious relic, in this case the mummified hand of St Stephen. Nope. I have nothing further to say on that matter and you can't make me. However, when I'm back home with a glass in my hand ...

The hand of St Stephen, allegedly.

The 96 metre high dome of the Basilica has an elevator to the top. Or you can choose to walk the 302 or so winding stairs in the spiral staircase. No, dear reader, we opted for the lift. Apparently it could take 6 people in normal operating times, 4 during COVID times and this morning, just the two of us. Which was plenty in the warm, oppressive confines. Disgorged on the floor that contained the Treasury, we then crossed the floor to the next lift, a smaller version of the previous one. We speculated on how this would work in peak periods. Not well. And it is summer.

The view from the top back toward the Danube.

The dome, like so many, is a double dome and we walked into an airless, dark space above the interior dome before exiting onto the walkway on the exterior of the building. The view was, of course, superlative, superlative, superlative. I walked the circumference, taking photos as my brain reminded me of my irrational fear of heights - something I thought I had put behind me. We identified the Opera House, something that does not appear in our Budapest Pocket Handbook. What gives Lonely Planet? (Strike 1) Nor does the Holocaust memorial sculpture, The Shoes on the Danube Bank - not good enough. Lift your game (Strike 2).

Back into the tiny lift, down to the Treasury where more excess was on display. It would appear that nothing does excess like religion.

The prized double monstrance (ask Jayne)

Following the signs - I know, I know, we were duped into walking down the stairs to the world outside. The spiral staircase was so tight I was dizzy by the ground floor. Fortunately we didn't meet anyone coming in the opposite direction.

Basilica done, we plotted a course for the Parliament. On the stroll there, we congratulated ourselves multiple times on lucking the forced decision to go to the Basilica before the Parliament House tour time. 

We once again passed the shops, eateries, construction vehicles and statues that we had seen a couple of days ago on the introductory walking tour - nothing like retracing your steps to make you feel like a superior local. 

Some buildings still bear the bullet holes from old conflicts

We arrived at the Parliament precinct with quite a lot of time before we would be required to go inside for the English speaking tour that was booked for 12:15pm. We decided to circumnavigate the Parliament and walked along the Danube side. Here we came to one entrance of the Visitors' Centre which was very crowded with people gathering for earlier tours. Clearly we would have to allow extra time to get through the entry process, including the ubiquitous security check. 

Parliament from the Danube

We decided to wander to a Deli called Pick for the regulation beer on a warm European day - great place to people watch although the Deli offerings were pretty pedestrian, despite a complimentary mention in the Lonely Planet Pocket Guide (Strike 3).

Parliament is impressive from all angles.

After re-gathering our strength and an hour of people watching, we walked to the visitor centre for Parliament. We had booked our tickets online and the tickets with QR code were on my phone. Not good enough. For a reason I'm still yet to fathom, we had to present at the Information Desk to have our virtual tickets turned into real paper ones. Thankfully there was no queue to deal with.

When the tour commenced, they began processing us through the checkpoint to collect an audio guide. It was reasonably efficient, about 50 people through in 15 minutes. Then we climbed the "golden stairs" all 130 of them to the first stop. At this point I am re-thinking some of my unkind words about religion and excess. Perhaps it should be politicians and priests do excess like no-one else. That said, the entire building dominates the landscape, whether viewed from the river or from Buda. Interesting juxtaposition, the President and Prime Minister both have a residence in/near Buda Castle and so look down on the parliament building. I don't need to spell that out any further, do I?

This is parliament. Not a Basilica or Synagogue.

The Parliament doesn't have as much gold as the Great Synagogue. It is clearly a competition between church and religion. And its dome of 96 metres equals that of the Basilica. This is not some amazing coincidence because the number 96 (not to be confused with the raunchy 1970's Australian soapie of the same name), is linked to the year 896 CE which is significant in Hungary's Magyar history. The extravagance is next level. This is supposed to be the people's house, but then a church should also be the people's house and yet neither of them truly is. They are, generally speaking, entitled boys' clubs.

The photos supply the proof. Cigar holders in the hallways? And, no, it's beyond words. Look at the pictures.

Looking toward the crown, sceptre, orb and sword of St Stephen

Cigar holders lined the halls

The Upper House Chamber

The 45 minute tour was actually 30 minutes plus 15 minutes of security processing. While I have been on more informative, interesting tours, it was still worthwhile just to look inside one of the most impressive buildings I've seen.

Even the reflection is impressive.

We did not rush the walk back across town to the Great Synagogue but still arrived early and sat in the shade, waiting for Nick to join us at the appointed hour to begin the food and wine tour. The crowd at the synagogue was smaller than yesterday but it was still constant. Money, money, money.

Nick is a delightful young man with a great knowledge of his home city and the history of Hungry. We chatted about everything from soccer to food to wine, to the sights of Budapest as we walked to the different food destinations.

The concept was to enjoy local authentic food and drink. And we did. Immensely. I'm not sure that I'll capture everything we had and I certainly can't remember the names of the stores - except one. So here goes. 

We commenced with pogácsa, a small cheese pastry. Very moorish. (Reading back over this, the description does not do it justice). This was followed by the traditional  goulash and fisherman's soup, with an added teaspoon of spice and washed down with local beer, Soproni. Next was a paprika sausage with mustard and horseradish. Not horseradish cream, but genuine grated horseradish, winner. This was served with a refreshing side salad based on pickled cabbage. This was accompanied by fröccs, a forerunner for what is now known as a spritz or spritzer the world over. 

Off again and past the Rubik's Cube street art. This is a really cool visual. It appears as a series of disconnected dots on a wall, but when you photograph it, it comes together to look solid. Anyway, enough maths or science, it was time for chimney cake. (You need to hear that in Homer Simpson's drooling voice). This is a pastry cooked on a metal rod, rotisserie style, and then rolled in a choice of topping. The traditional additive is cinnamon, like old school donuts at home. It comes from the oven to the cinnamon and then to a bag and is literally sending up steam, like smoke from a chimney. And the taste? OMG.

OK, maybe I had the angle wrong

Then to the only restaurant/bistrot I remember, Retro Langos. Can you guess what we ate there, dear reader? Correct, langos. A traditional Hungarian one with garlic, sour cream and cheese topping along with a shot of the national drink, Unicum. It's a liqueur and a digestive with medicinal powers. Finally we finished with dessert. Sorry the name has gone, but it was a crepe filled with a cottage cheese mix sweetened with sugar, and lemon juice adding some acid to balance the flavour.

Nick asked us to pick a favourite, but that wasn't possible. Can you choose a favourite child? (Competition. The first one of my children to respond has official favourite status). Each food or drink was different in its own right and had its purpose and personality. What an amazing afternoon we had, not just experiencing local food but eating where the locals do. We couldn't recommend this too highly.

By this time we had certainly eaten our fill and it was time to  Bolt back up the hill. In a weird coincidence we scored the same Bolt driver, Daniel, that drove us home yesterday. Strange and unusual.

Back at the hotel the discussion turned to the Executive Lounge and having a drink while we put the blog together. Now, dear reader, I have long believed that children do have a place in this world, but that is a discussion for another time. However, the Executive Lounge is not one of them. Today, tomorrow or ever. It is and should remain an adult space. And there have been children here every night. Two in particular that are allowed to run amok while the parents have their free food and alcohol. I have frequented many an Executive Lounge in my working life and never before have I encountered children, but then, I have never been in such a crowded lounge either. It is packed every night. In fact we almost kept walking tonight and then espied a couple of seats at the window table and slipped in there to produce some words for this blog while we plan tomorrow's assault on the Hop-on-hop-off bus. It was here that we fell into conversation with Douglas and Linnéa (sorry if the spelling is incorrect), a delightful young couple from Sweden who noticed we were working on our travel blog.

Our conversation with them was worth the pain of the delinquent children. Aside from discovering some good travel points for Amsterdam, we also learned about a great place to visit in Sweden where we can see the northern lights. There were, of course, many more things discussed. We could move to Sweden, if only they would sort the issue about being too close to the North Pole.

Travel always presents opportunities ... to learn, to see things differently, to meet people. We have missed it so much and we are looking forward to so much more.

Until tomorrow.