The Great Hungarian Apartment Hunt

In Budapest, you never judge a building by its lobby.

As I mentioned in the last post I finally have an apartment in Budapest. Now that I’m slowly adjusting to life with a toilet in a tiny closet far, far away from the rest of my bathroom fixtures, I can reminisce about the apartment hunt that got me here.

The Great Budapest Apartment Search is a rite of passage for every expatriate in my office. Everyone arrives in Budapest and is put up at a hotel on the company dime for two weeks. In those two weeks, you must get over jet lag, get over the culture shock, get used to a fast-paced job, adjust to a so-so hotel, deal with the language barrier and find an apartment before you’re homeless.

Everyone is curious how your hunt is going and happy to help out, because they’ve all gone through it. But it’s a lot like talking real estate in Toronto, everyone is also comparing apartments. Not in a negative way, but in that vicarious way you find yourself looking at other people’s domiciles.

Despite all the stress, there are upsides. Rent in Budapest, compared to other European capitals, is inexpensive. Great transit makes the commute to work easy no matter where you live. Plus, many apartments are decadently large. Look hard, choose wisely, and you’ll walk away with a nice home.

Despite world wars, invasions and a few occupations, downtown Budapest has many century-old apartment blocks. These are buildings of the old-style: a thick-walled structure built around a courtyard. You enter your apartment from an outdoor walkway along the courtyard. The apartments have massive windows, 20-foot ceilings, with an area between 70 and 90 m² for a one bedroom flat. That ‘m’ is for meters, folks.

I had heard about this, but didn’t take it completely seriously until I visited my first apartment. Most are even in great condition, despite their age. The buildings themselves are a whole other thing. Some are clean and well-lit. Others would be incredibly hazardous to traverse in night.

The third apartment I visited would have excited a horror movie location scout. The courtyard balcony was so dark the real estate agent couldn’t unlock a door without the light of her phone. Just steps away was a recess where I’m very certain there was a staircase – it was so dark and dank a bridge troll could have been living there. Inside, the apartment itself was very pleasant.

I might have had a Bridge Troll for a neighbour. 

I will point out now that in Budapest the landlords hire real estate agents to help rent out their places. This is awesome because, aside from having an expert that knows the lay of the land, I wasn’t plan on answering Hungarian craigslist ads and getting kidnapped and sold into white slavery. I’ve seen Taken, and that’s not going to be me.

Some real estate agents are a bit, well, clueless. I was shown an apartment at a square where Budapest’s metro lines all link at one station belowground. Aboveground are restaurants, boutiques, swank pedestrian avenues – all smack dab downtown. I was a little surprised the real estate agent found a place within my price range here.

It was owned by an Italian landlord who bought one large Budapest-style apartment, renovated it and divided into three small one-bedroom apartments. With its high ceilings, the apartment was higher than it was wide. While in the puny kitchenette, I looked to my right, out the front door, and realized anyone walking down the corridor could see straight in and catch me making my breakfast in my pajama-jammies. And it was €100 over my budge – an easy one to walk away from.

But then there are tough choices. One of the last apartments I looked at was a modern apartment. It had normal ceilings, normal square footage and, on the ninth floor with a balcony, had a beautiful view of the city, the basilica, the citadel, and the Buda hills. It was stunning.

The hitch? It was such a small space, made smaller with the gigantic furniture crammed in there, then made even smaller with the landlady, real estate agent, myself and a random Czech guy (a temporary tenant) all shoulder-to-shoulder, smiling awkwardly at each other. After the quick tour, the landlady was started repeating herself, the Czech guy was smiling and walking about like a Festrunk Brother from SNL, and even the real estate agent was looking uncomfortable. So we made a quick getaway.

In the end, I went for my current apartment. When I looked at it the first time, the real estate agent (my favourite of the lot) gave me the tour and then left me alone to “see if I see myself there.” It worked. The lobby might look like a catacomb, the hardwood floor is a bit rough and there’s no elevator, but the location is prime, the space is huge, and I couldn’t see myself anywhere else right now.

My modest living room.