BudaPESHT

This morning I woke up in Budapest. It was a lovely morning, with sun beaming in through the window for the first time in days, the fresh smell of early-day air wafting by my face. What a great way to wake up. I spent an hour or two reading in bed. I love being here for a whole week - there's no pressure to get up and GO every day just so I can see and do all I want to. Of course, this is made even easier by the fact that most of what I want to do is stroll around, people watch, gaze appreciatively at elegantly adorned architecture, and eat pastry by the river.

I met up with my friend in Slovenia about a week ago, and we have gone to Lake Bled, Bratislava, and now Budapest together. While I enjoy the company, I have also discovered that I quite like traveling alone. Yesterday we took the free walking tour of the city (only a small part, to be fair, but an interesting tour nonetheless). Because it was *free*, it was stuffed with people like us - 20 somethings, college students and backpackers, traveling on a budget and from all over the world. While in a way these are "my people" - the kind of people I would want to be friends with, those with adventurous outlooks who use their own two legs to get around just because they can - I nevertheless found myself wishing I were alone.

It's terribly liberating, to wander the streets by oneself, pausing to look at anything you want, skipping by the things that don't interest you. I stop to take a lot of pictures as well, when the mood strikes, and I don't have to tell myself to "wait up" while I take 20 shots of a nearby doorway. When I was younger I didn't think I would ever enjoy travelling alone. I thought it would be lonely and boring. But I'm delighted to have proved myself wrong. It's good to know I am content with my own company, as I firmly believe this an excellent skill to have.

Being alone for a while, I discovered something about myself I never would have ventured to guess in the past. I have a good sense of direction. It's quite incredible, I'm still a bit shocked at the discovery, nevertheless it's true! It may not be so innately wired that it was apparent my whole life, but I've realized that all I need to do is pay attention, and voila! I know where I am and where I'm going and how to get there.


Anyways, it has also been fun having a travelling companion. Last night we went to the Opera house to see the only thing playing during our stay - a ballet version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. It was absolutely adorable. I can't say the dancers were the most refined I had ever seen, but it didn't matter at all. A large percentage of the audience was small children and their parents, and the night was really about them. They filled the lobby and hallways before the performance, little girls tugging on their stockings, classmates smiling and waving when they saw each other, particularly tiny tots sitting in their parents' laps.

I imagine the interior of the Opera House would stun any small child, because it sure blew me away. It was opulent and stately, with red velvet seats and oodles of gold embellishments around the delicately painted wall and ceiling panels, all illuminated by an imposing chandelier (of which I had a spectacular view, being on the very top balcony). But the refined surroundings were soon forgotten as soon as the curtains lifted to the sounds of jaunty music and the sight of seven marching dwarfs on the stage. The stage set was wonderful, the costumes delightful, and the dancers able to convey exactly which dwarf they were meant to be. I spent quite some time in the beginning mentally listing names and counting on my fingers until I was satisfied I had remembered them all: Doc, Happy, Sleepy, Sneezy, Grumpy, Bashful, and Dopey.
It didn't take long for the children to learn the tune that signaled a dwarf march across the set, and they began to clap along every time it played. There was a very young boy sitting behind me on his father's lap - occasionally, he would start to clap his little hands at random points through the performance, and his father would hold them together and tell him "not yet!"

On Tuesday we went to the Széchenyi thermal baths in City park - it was a fun experience, though not what I was expecting. The mineral water bubbles up in abundance from beneath the city, a vivid blue that advertises its supposed healing and restorative properties. I just thought it was a lot of fun. There were over a dozen pools inside the building, varying in temperature from 20 to 38°C. That's about 100°F at the hottest, and it turns out that's not that hot. But certainly warm enough to be an enjoyable soaking spot. The appropriate order of actions went completely over my head, and I just hopped around from pool to pool to sauna to sauna back to pool. I never went in a cold one, but I know you're supposed to. The saunas were fascinating to me. There was an aromatherapy room. There was a room where the lights changed color (red, yellow, green and blue). There was a sauna so hot that I couldn't stay in it because my feet were bare on the tile floors and felt like they would catch fire. Then, in addition to all that, there was the outdoor section. One large pool that was more like a regular swimming pool - cool temperature, with people doing laps etc. It was flanked by two smaller, warmer pools. They were surrounded by fountains and little waterfalls where people would stand to get a mild head or neck massage. Large (but not too forceful) jets dotted the bottom of the pool on the sides - I imitated the locals and spent some time hovering over one. It crossed my mind that a horse may feel a similar sensation when being rubbed down. Gentle, soothing and pleasant. But then I discovered the real fun - two concentric C-shaped walls in the center of the pool surrounded a benched, jacuzzi-like relaxation area with bubbles coming up from the seat on the inside, and a strong circular current between the two walls. It was like a very small, round, lazy river, but faster and with jets studding the side of the wall. I nearly lost my swimsuit several times before I figured out I just had to keep a hold of it, and then it was by far the best part of my thermal-bath experience. It was great fun, but also relaxing, as the more powerful jets hit all the right places on my back, and I found myself laughing out loud in the crowds of geriatric locals and young tourists circling with me.

I have been to several museums here as well - the House of Terror, which chronicles Budapest's history of Nazi and Communist occupation, was a sobering experience, while the museum of Fine Arts had an excellent photography exhibit following the art from 1894 to 1929 and providing a fascinating history lesson.

But the streets of the city remain the main attraction for me. The buildings tell the history of the city, if you look for it. The beautiful St. Stephen's basilica stands next to an ugly communist-era building, and bullet holes (from WWII or the revolution? no one can say) still riddle facades in the Jewish quarter. And now, the signs of rebuilding and revitalization prevail. Not on the main drags, where everything already looks perfect and tourist-ready. But in the side streets, the back ways, where no one goes unless they live there, you can see the disheveled buildings that are literally falling apart, the construction working to replace them, the incredibly loud high-pressure water guns used to clean the facades of blackened buildings and workers facing the seemingly impossible task of cleaning massive brick exteriors with hand-held sandpaper. The guide of the walking tour referenced Hungary's desire to show its Greatness and Might! which had often gotten it into trouble... but I see only good things in Budapest's future.