Deep into the dark of the National Graveyard

The prettiest parks are not parks, they are cemeteries. It’s not appropriate to have a picnic and toss around a Frisbee, but there a few equals in beauty and calm than a stroll in a cemetery.

Budapest’s National Graveyard is no exception. It is similar to the big one in Paris. There are men of letters buried there, especially the poets, they love their poets here. Hungarian movie starlets. A few politicians: Deak, Kossuth, Batthyany, Antall.

Deak's mausoleum

Kossuth got a big monument.

Beyond the big names, there are richly decorative grave markers and crypts shaded by old, tall trees (a rarity in Pest’s centre).

It’s easy to forget to visit since it lacks the international resident's of Paris' cemetery, but it is no less compelling. Kata and I dropped in for one-hour walk to digest breakfast. It turned into an afternoon tour. We saw the great monuments and mausoleums near the entrance then, as we got deeper, saw the more remote corners of the cemetery. The grass was overgrown, the forest was taking over, and the stones were covered in vines and bushes.

Some markers were over 100 years old, others just 50 years old, many you simply could not tell. Had their families forgotten about them? Or was there no one left to pay the bills?

We went deeper into the darker ends of the cemetery, towards the walled edges where it backs up against the abandoned factories of Kobanya.

As the sun set and the air cooling, we left for sunnier parts of the cemetery, past newer grave markers. With little sun it got colder, so we settled in for warm goulash at a nearby restaurant.

A bit of Kobanya peeking over the wall.

Deep into the far corners of the cemetery.