Tourists in Budapest

Taking in the Danube from atop Gellert.

We had less than a day in Budapest, so we left our hotel and went for a walk, heading south towards Gellert Hill.

We went along the Danube on the Buda side, strolling beside the river, avoiding bicyclists, dodging rollerbladers, weaving past tourists stopping to snap photos of the Hungarian Parliament Building across the river – and pausing to snap our own. Then under the Chain Bridge, through a side street, browsing in a small design shop, until finally reaching the foot of Gellert Hill.

We climbed the switch-backing paths, catching glimpses of the city below, and savouring the spring flowers. We were hungry when we reached the top, but we still lingered to appreciate the view.

Then we walked down the hill, through the park on the backside of Gellert and, without really meaning to, we went to a touristic, Hungarian restaurant.

The restaurant looked traditional. There was a big, old ceramic furnace in the corner and red,table clothes with traditional Great Plains-ish patterns draped atop the tables. Even the waiters seemed authentic –  grumpy, old men in white shirts idly walking around and waiting on the three occupied tables, but mostly trying unsuccessfully to look as busy as they could in a not so busy restaurant.

We sat down, ordered our food. My novice food-ordering Hungarian language skills seemed to brighten the grumpy waiter's mood. We even earned a further nod of approval when we ordered a bottle of Kadarka.

When our food arrived – which was delicious, by the way – a traditional Hungarian band was tuning up. Why would a band get ready to play so early? we wondered.

At 6:03pm, they started playing a Hungarian folk tune that sounded familiar from my years spent living above touristy Hungarian restaurants with outdoor bands on Vaci utca. At 6:04pm, a table beside the band abruptly stood up and left while the band played, eliciting an angry, hurt, surprised reaction from the first violinist.

At 6:05pm, a busload of Chinese tourists filed into the restaurant, occupying every spare table. The grumpy old waiters lept into action, taking orders and bringing drinks. As the band played, most of the tourists stared longingly into their phones. Some did talked among themselves. One old lady put her head in their hands and dozed off.

The band started playing the Blue Danube – the 2001 song... the spaceship one, not the bone smashing song, which is not a dinner-eating tune –  as the grumpy old waiters hustled from table to table, bringing food to tables filled with filled to delighted tourists. Even the dozing old lady took her head out of her hands.

The familiar tune was treated with indifference. The tourists remained glued to their phones  as they ate or poked suspiciously at their nokedli, while the violinist strolled up and down the aisles, playing his violin solo.

The dessert was served and the the band took a break. They smoked outside and sipped water at the bar. While the grumpy old waiters to carried away the plates, we drained our wine, settled our bill – which brightened our grumpy waiter's mood – and walked into Budapest's gathering dusk.

One of the prettiest parts of BP is the other side of Gellert Hill.

The First Five Years

It was a foggy day when I arrived to Budapest, five years ago today.

Five years ago, the Toronto Blue Jays seemed like a lost team, years away from a playoff appearance. Stephen Harper was Canada's prime minister. Rob Ford was Toronto's mayor, and we only knew about his penchant for racial slurs, drunk driving, and public intoxication, not the crack smoking – we were so innocent then. It was also the year the European Union won the Nobel Peace Prize, and the year I moved to the EU 

And it was on this day, five years ago, that I boarded a plane for Budapest, a city I only knew through history books and google images. 

A job at an ad agency working for a tobacco company. An opportunity for some international job experience. A rare chance live and travel in Europe. Those were the reasons I made the move. Just a year, I figured, and I'd be back to the grind in Toronto. 

But I stayed.  

This blog has been a chronicle of my Euro-adventures and my misadventures integrating. That's been the larger story. At some point during my time here – when I got  serious about a lovely Hungarian girl – I stopped being a temporary guest worker and became a resident.  

In some ways, I started integrating not long after I arrived: taking language lessons, trying and loving the food, making friends with some locals. That city, that I only knew through google and books, gradually became home.  

I worked hard for that commitment a little later. Kata had gone to Berlin to work and wait while I searched for a job in Germany. That time was tough. Monthly overnight trains to Berlin. Dozens of job applications, emails, check-ups, follow-ups. All while the ad agency that offered me this opportunity sank. Colleagues were laid off in waves. Goodbye parties became weekly events. 

It was the end of an era for some people, especially the expats, who packed their two allowable checked bags and returned home. It was the end of a chapter for many Hungarian friends, who moved on to new jobs or started their own businesses.  

For me, it was the beginning of something else. I found work in Düsseldorf. Kata followed. I had committed to the idea of staying in Europe months ago, and the concept became very real. We moved in together, bought furniture, and made plans. It's still an adventure, but it's become bigger than myself. A relationship does that: makes you think beyond yourself.  

As I lived the evolving adventure here, life moved on for everyone else. After my first year, I came back for a best friend's wedding. I met their son during my next visit. I streamed another best friend's Vegas wedding over the internet. Other friends bought houses or bright yellow cars. Jobs became careers. Girlfriends became wives. Wives became mothers. We all moved along, maybe not in the same stream, but certainly parallel to each other.   

Putting it all in perspective, I've been lucky. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for a few chance meetings. If I didn't join an ad industry boxing event, I wouldn't have met Joe. If I didn't take a job at an agency some years later, I wouldn't have met a former employee of that agency (Joe), who offered to tell me about any job openings, which led to a job offer, which led to moving to Budapest, which lead to meeting Kata, which led to moving to Germany together, which leads to... And on it goes.

Taking one opportunity leads to another – that's the way life goes.  

It's easy to get nostalgic during a big milestone. I think about the nervous lead-up to that flight to Budapest and the strange, exciting feeling I had driving through the city in the fog to my hotel in the Buda hills. It was something I had never felt before, not even when I was traveling in Asia. It wasn't just about being in a new, strange place, but it was an excitement about where it will lead. And so today I find myself thinking about the next five years, and what opportunities lay ahead for me, and for us.

Berlin

Throwing Out People's Stuff

Packing light is easy for a weekender trip; it's difficult when you're settling for a year or two or less.

Take my old shared flat. 

A few guys took out the original lease, then transferred the lease – and furniture – to others when they moved on. Then those guys passed on their lease, and on it went until I came along.

At least eleven tenants – including, who I know of, a Canadian (me), a Brit, a Portuguese, an Argentinian, a Venezuelan, a Brazilian, a couple of French – have lived in my old shared apartment. 

When it was time for me to move on, the landlord company decided they had enough of changing people's name on the lease – and keeping the rent at the same price. It was time to move out, not just move on.

I spent the better part of August clearing it out those tenants' accumulated possessions they left behind. There was a kitchen full of stuff, a bedroom that served as a storage room, and actual storage room in the basement. All filled with stuff from people who came to the Dorf and then moved on elsewhere. 

There were beds, tables, and wardrobes to be sold or given away. Deep in the basement storage room, I discovered another desk, a bed, and two coffee tables among boxes and bags of odds and ends that belonged to tenants long moved out. It was like roommate archeology. 

The furniture could have been sold, but I figured it was was better to give it away to the million refugees in Germany. It seemed like the proper, and admittedly easier, thing to do. 

No charity would pick up furniture, despite being on the ground floor. One simply told its facebook friends about it. Another told me I must bring my furniture to them. All that was picked up was some kitchen stuff, a table, and some wardrobes.

I had helped a few refugees, but as many as I had hoped, and I faced the prospect of putting perfectly fine furniture to the curb. 

You cannot just put your stuff out on garbage day. There are specific days and, if you can't wait for those specific days, you have to fill out a form (because it's Germany) for Sperrmüll, or the bulk garbage pick-up.

It's still not that easy. You can only put out maximum five items, otherwise you must pay. I had a flat of items, well over the five limit.

I booked the free pick-up anyway and I put out over a dozen items a few days before. I hoped thrifty Germans would whittle the pile down before the garbage guys would come.

As I painted – remember, it's a ground floor apartment – I could see passers-by poking through the boxes, flipping through the romance novels, eyeing the kitchen bric-a-brac, appraising the coffee tables. The thrifty Germans came through, and stuff disappeared.

Our very own spring cleaning...
in the late summer. 

Purging Stuff in Budapest

On the right day, take a walk in a Budapest district and witness a sight: Furniture, old newspapers, books, lamps, electronics, punching bags, knick knacks and schnick schnack all piled on the sidewalks and curbs. 

You will see people hovering over their prizes, claiming them before their ride comes to pick it up, glaring at passers-by who linger to long over their claimed pile.

This is Lomtalanítás, Budapest's bulk garbage day that makes it rounds district by district through Budapest.

Kata and I had only a few days while we were visiting a few weeks ago to clear out her apartment for a renovation, so there would be no Lomtalanítás for us. There was also no time to put things on the internet and wait for someone to come along and buy them. Kata's stuff had to go fast.

Once again it was archeology. Everything was dug out, sorted, and its fate was decided as quickly as possible. There were eight years of habitation to go through. The stuff that was to be kept – books, art, mementos – went into boxes and was set aside. The stuff that was nice – more clothes, some books, kitchen stuff – but for keeping were bagged or boxed and walked down the street around the corner to a second-hand store, where these items were happily received by the proprietor.

The rest was bagged or boxed or simply set just outside the apartment and was picked up by a junk man, who undoubtedly sold the stuff worth selling later. It was like our own little Lomtalanítás for this one guy.

Me and My Stuff

You might have noticed all this stuff belonged to others. I am also guilty of some mild hoarding.

I came over to Europe four years ago with a backpack, a rolly-wheely duffle, and a hockey bag. I have added another bag, but got rid of the hockey bag due to airline size restrictions, while still trying to limit my possessions to what I can fit into my bags. I failed.

Over time, despite my minimalist tendencies, I have still managed to accumulate stuff over the years, clothes, mementos, books, have all been picked up and kept. And that's just here in Europe. I have furniture and kitchen stuff spread across a couple of basements in London, Ontario that await a verdict on their fate.

Despite the urge to limit my possession, there seems to still be a tendency to put down roots, spread out my stuff, and get comfortable. 

Sissi 2012-2015

The Long Short (Probably Happy) Life of Sissi

Sissi on her house.

Sissi was a hamster. She was suspicious of strangers. She hated being touched by people. She had three different homes and four different owners in her life.

Despite all of that, she lived three years – three lifetimes for a Siberian hamster – and most of it was good.

Kata inherited Sissi from her ex, so the pet-to-owner relationship started off awkwardly. Sissi's cage sat beside Kata's desk, so while she was freelancing they spent a lot of time together. Gradually, they came around and developed an understanding.

Sissi moved in with me when Kata left to Berlin for work. I don't think she liked me in the beginning. When I came over to Kata's place, she'd squeak at me and keep me awake in the night, digging in her wood shavings and shimmying on the bars of her cage.

I put her in my front hall, where her nocturnal shenanigans would not disturb me. I also refused to get attached, since she was over a year old at the time – an old lady in hamster years. Kata would ask after her and I would worry about having to tell her that Sissi died.

She didn't die, so I didn't have to follow through on any strange plans of burying her in Karoly Kert at night. Like all good roommate arrangements, we gave each other space. She had her room, I had mine. I would only take her out to put her in her hamster ball while I cleaned the cage. As time went by, we developed a rhythm, I'd feed her and talk to her (I was told you're supposed to do that) and she would do her usual hamster-y things. 

Then I left Budapest. 

Once more Sissi was passed on, this time to Monica, who wanted a pet. I walked Sissi in her cage to Monica's place. She cried and screeched the whole way down Vaci utca. I kept it together, mostly.

Once again, Sissi somehow lived beyond expectations. Monica and her spent a year together – until last night – which was likely the most stable and comfortable Sissi had been since leaving Kata's flat. For a short life, it was a long one, and likely a happy one.

Kata freelancing alongside Sissi.
Drawing by Kata Varga.

Guide To Budapest

I wrote some notes that turned into a visitor's guide before going for a brief vacation in Budapest. As usual, I was the lazy blogger and didn't finish before I left, so here it is, after the fact.

Doing Stuff in BP

Gellert Hill

Gellert Hill is one of the best places in the city and walking to its summit is awesome. It's a long, hard walk up the hill – it's a harder run, but that's another story – yet the view is absolutely worth it. Bring a bottle of something and begin your walk just before dusk to watch the city light up as the sun sets.

Gellert Hegy.

The Baths of Budapest

I'm all for lazy days, but my traditional idea of a lazy day made me feel guilty: watching an entire season of some television show, ordering takeout, and wondering if sweatpants is appropriate for picking up my Korean takeout.

On the other hand, Hungarians know how to handle a lazy day: Head to the baths. You get out of the house, put on your bathing suit, and laze comfortably in the thermal mineral water.

My pick: Szechenyi. It has a sunny main bath in the middle of its courtyard and a bevy of smaller mineral pools. It was the first bath I visited on my first New Year's Eve and it's the one I soaked in this weekend.

Just go for a walk

Be your own Hop-On-Hop-Off Tour and walk around the town. It's a big city, so I wouldn't recommend this if you're trying to get somewhere in a hurry, but otherwise Budapest is made for the Discovery Walker. There are surprises down every side street and I would recommend this for the architecture alone.

Side streets of Budapest.

Drinking in BP

For starters

The beer in Hungary is good, but Hungary is a great wine country. On offer are great dry whites and full-bodied reds. I appreciate this more now that I've moved to beer-chugging Germany.

And, of course there is the palinka. Drink one to try it and see what it's all about. Drink a few more for better stories, and rougher mornings.

Wine Tips

I'm no wine connoisseur, but after almost two years in Hungary, I learned a few things. If you're in the mood for a red, reach for the Bikaver, which translates to Bull's Blood. It's a full red from Eger with a badass story about its name.


As for whites, if you like dry stuff then you're in the right country. Kata and I spent some time crawling from one winery to another in Badacsony on Lake Balaton. I recommend almost any white from there.

Oh! Fröccs! Let's say you meet a few friends on a terrace or patio for some day drinking, then the fröccs is your friend. Wine and sparkling water is refreshing, light, and will keep hydrated, unless you throw palinka into the mix.

Ruin Bars

My tenure in Budapest happened to include many visitsto pubs in the courtyards of old apartment blocks. There are more than I can keep track of, so you can probably find nice, random drinking holes by simply wandering the Jewish Quarter. 

You should at least have an afternoon drink in Szimpla to take in its glorious squalor and its weekend farmers market – while avoiding the multiple UK bachelor parties bar crawls that pass through at night. For an evening ruin pub experience, try an evening at one of my favourites: Fogashaz.

Fogashaz! In all its Tueday afternoon glory.

Haunts in My Old Hood

During the winter, Csendes is an unassuming, yet cool, bar with cheap drinks and walls covered with knick-knacks and what-nots. During the summer, they put out tables and chairs beside Karoly Kert, where you can munch on breads with yummy spreads and sip coffee and/or fröccs. Go there, sit on a quiet street under the shade of the trees and sip a beverage.

It took months for me to get around to hitting my friendly, neighbourhood rooftop patio: Tip Top Bar. I confess, I was far too focused on the breakfast bagels from their ground floor walk-up bar. I was also intimidated by their complete lack of signage out front, which means it's a cool place, I suppose

Down by the River

When in doubt, grab a friend and bottle, and drink by the Danube River.

RIP Kertem 

Budapest is changing fast, and in its haste to update itself, the city is eliminating some of the things that make Budapest beautiful. Calling Kertem a bar isn't quite accurate. It's more like a garden or backyard where you hang out with live music, a bar, and a grill. 

This is its last summer before it closes forever and construction on museums begin. Get there for a drink before the Kertem era is over.

Eating in BP

Primer on eating like a Hungarian

Yes, you're going to eat goulash. It's going to be good. But remember that goulash tastes great because of the paprika, which is liberally added to many Hungarian dishes. When you tire of the goulash, try the pokolt, lecso, or the fish soup – definitely the fish soup.

Do you like cabbage? Well you should, because it's delicious, healthy, and smells great. So try the stuffed cabbage.

While you're eating your goulash and cabbage, remember there is more to Hungarian food than the traditional Hungarian foods. Go beyond the traditional fare. 

I firmly believe Budapest is a fantastic burger city and W35 has the best burgers in the city. There, I said it. 

New, cool restaurants are opening every weekend. There are even vegetarian places. What I'm trying to say is eat the goulash, but think (and eat) beyond the goulash and try something else out.

Eat like Marshall in a Strange Place

If you want brunch, or a nice dinner, go to Jelen. It's a true 7th district dining experience. You sit at a sidewalk patio, enjoy your Eggs Benny, and watch the sketchiness at the sketchy internet cafe across the street.

On the Buda side of the river, Majorka has a great tree-covered patio (well, they call them terraces in Europe) and some great grilled foods on offer.

Someone is going to say something about Raday utca, which is lined with restuarants. If you venture that way, go to Puder. It's great food, verging on gourmet, but the prices don't verge on gourmet.

A girl and her burger at W35

One more thing

Everyone's Budapest experience is different. Some love the city. Some don't, which is sad but it happens.

My experience was unique. No one knows what happens when they leap at a job in a strange, new city they know nothing about. The stuff I have just listed are my favourites, and is a product of my unique experience with the city. It is by no means the final say on what's good in Budapest.

Budapest's greatness doesn't come from its bars, parks, restaurants, or baths. It comes from its people, who are constantly opening new bars, parks, restaurants, or baths – or making the existing one's better. So, trust the people, and take this list as a guidelines and ask the locals for advice, they might grumble about their city, but they are proud of it. 

Windsprints on the Danube and into the Hills

Buda Hills

I moved from apartment to apartment often in Toronto, which meant there were always new neighbourhoods to discover. Running was the best way to get to know a new hood. Going out for a half hour meant you could run along the streets, explore little side alleys, and hidden corners of the area. When I was living in Cracktown I also discovered the sketchy courtyards of Regent’s Park – a great place to work on my windsprints.

I brought this habit to Budapest. Running along the Danube and seeing the sights, ducking into side streets in Pest or Buda. There is plenty to see. Looking for a challenge, I even tried running up Gellert Hill – a brutal, heart-hammering run with a view of the city at the end.

Being an impatient runner, I like to finish my runs in less than 45 minutes, so no races or half marathons or anything like that. I run, I see stuff, and I eat right away afterwards. But I couldn’t pass an invitation from two colleagues to join a trail running group. The group meets up in the hills and run 10km every Tuesday. I wasn’t even sure if I had ran that far before, but I joined.

I showed up in my usual running gear, which isn’t running gear: a black Cephalic Carnage hoodie and a pair of cross trainers. The rest of the runners wore sturdy trail running shoes. I was handed my headlamp and off we went.

I was hooked. My heavy metal hoodie became a common sight on the trails, showing up every couple of weeks (I was alternating between squash and trail running). It turned out my near-suicidal runs up Gellert prepared me for the rugged Buda Hills.

It’s just nice and pretty up there. You’re not dodging traffic, or Regent Park gangsters. You’re running through the trees breathing fresh air and seeing incredible views of the city. I kept up the trail running until neck problems (from other things) put me out of commission.

The running group with
the clueless metal hoodie-wearing foreigner in the middle.

Trail Running to Trail Walking

The first time I took to the hills for something other than a death-defying run was a picnic with Kata. We packed our food, packed our wine, even packed glasses, but didn’t bother checking the weather. When we reached our desired picnic spot, the storm clouds rolled in and the lightning flashed before we could set up.

Seeking shelter, we rode the Children’s Railway until the rain cleared up and got off at the end of the line. With the ground too soggy for picnicking we settled on a bench at a corner of a small intersection. We ate our soggy crackers and cheese, and drank our wine as cars and dogwalkers awkwardly passed us.

For those less inclined to running or walking up sharp inclines, Budapest’s transit authority runs a few unconventional modes of transportation up into the hills. Along with the Children’s Railway, there’s a chair lift. Mountain bikers without the vigor for the climb up can be seen ascending on the cog train. The transportation options defy conventionality, which is so common you might as well consider it conventional.

Running, walking, or getting stuck in a rainstorm, I have returned to the hills over and over again. Kata and I have hiked the trails and I’ve enjoyed a few BBQs at Normafa with fellow Canadian and head chef, Joe. 

It’s rare that in a major city, you can head for the hills in the early afternoon and be back in time for dinner and drinks in the evening. What’s rarer still is that in Budapest all of this wild nature is only a tram ride away. It’s a nature-loving quality that’s unique to Budapest and something I did not expect.

Chairlift yourself.

Another BBQ at Normafa.

Gellert Hill, the site of many humbling, stumbling runs.

Budapest’s Beautiful Perplexities

Budapest has an easy claim to being one of the most beautiful cities in Europe. But, for a Canadian boy like myself, its beauty is tempered with the little peculiarities that come with leaving in a faraway land.

Bread with f***ing stickers

The biggest that leaps to my mind is sticker on the bread. Yes, it tells you the date it was made, but it’s a sticker on my freakin’ bread.

Ugh, bread stickers.

Bus Drivers driving with two feet

When I discovered a quicker bus route to the office from my home, I quickly made it a daily habit. Unlike the subway, I can look out the window. The caveat? Almost every bus driver in Budapest drives with both feet. The bus jerks to a sudden stop at every streetlight. If you’re not holding on you end up bumping into fellow passengers who are more accustomed to the herky-jerky nuances of the Budapest bus ride.

ROADY BEERS!!!

For the most part, Budapest has no open container laws, meaning that you can have a beer in the park with friends or take a roady beer for a walk. This isn’t exclusively Hungarian, but it is nice to live in a place where people are trusted to be responsible with their alcohol consumption.

No dryers. Small fridges.

Electricity is more expensive here. So, people have adjusted accordingly. You get used to a small fridge that North Americans would scoff at and label a beer fridge. You end up buying only the groceries that you need. Dryers are few and fair between, meaning I’ve had to learn to iron. Ironing sucks.

People selling belts, iPhones, and onions

The first time I stepped into Szell Kalman I was kind of overwhelmed by the peddlers and their wares. I haven't made a purchase, but I know where to go for a belt or a set of ceramic knives in a pinch.

My first time in Szell Kalman ter