Travel Diary: Budapest Day 2

.

On our second, and first full, day in Budapest we woke to the birthday of one certain Mr M. Challenged by the prospect of a big birthday he needed a little spring putting in his step so after a session of card opening I dragged him down to breakfast and to a plateful of what are argued to be the best waffles in Budapest.

.

 

.

Sumptuously dressed in little more than sweet maple syrup and adorned with the most beautiful crispy bacon these little waffles were the perfect start to what was set to be a perfect day.

The sun was shining and it was warm enough to head out without a jacket, so with our bellies full and a smile creeping on Mr’s face we headed off towards the Central Market.

It was on the journey to, and while we were wandering around, the market that we both admitted how in love with the place we already were. When you go abroad one of the keys to knowing whether or not you love the place is how safe and comfortable you feel. I’ve found myself wandering around places in the past feeling distinctly uncomfortable, as though I don’t belong there, and sometimes intimidated – not by the locals, but by not feeling comfortable with the culture. Budapest is not one of those places.

For me Greece has always been my benchmark to judge new destinations against; it’s so chilled out, relaxed and welcoming on every Greek island I’ve been on. It’s a great yardstick to use because it feels just like home but warmer whenever we go.

I never thought I’d find a place that I felt more comfortable in. Until I wandered down the streets in Budapest.

We slowly made our way to the market, taking in the culture as we went.

.

.

This is a statue created to commemorate the fallen Hungarian soldiers of WWII.

.

.

.

.

.

As we neared the market (having gotten only a little lost) the streets started to get busier. We got to the market, walked through the doors and suddenly felt like we were at the heart of the city.

.

.

.

Surrounded in every direction by mountains of deep, red cherries, traditional pastries and handmade breads we dived straight in collecting goodies for a birthday picnic.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Once laden with lunch we headed upstairs to have a “quick” nosey around the more souvenir-y side to the market. Where we may or may not have bought Christmas decorations. In June.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

It was actually little versions of this chap, who we met in the streets around the market, on our way to the picnic destination; Margaret Island. This suave specimen was resident of a Christmas shop which we wandered around in feeling oddly surreal surrounded by snow yet clammy from the heat. And there lies the reason I couldn’t move to Australia; Christmas should be cold.

.

.

We made our way slowly to Margaret island, which sits firmly on my top 3 places to visit in Budapest. Welcomed onto the island by a musical fountain you are taken away from the hustle of a busy city and plunged into a tranquil haven of flowers and nature. That is if you’re not knocked down by a renegade on a pedalo.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Soon enough avoiding pedalos was the least of our worries when in a mere matter of minutes the sky went from dazzling clear blue to huge black clouds rumbling with thunder. There came a few strikes of lightening before the heavens opened and we were drenched to the bone.

After only a few short hours on the island we ran between covers in attempt to aviod getting any more drenched, making our way slowly back to the hotel for a warm shower and to get ready for the birthday dinner. Dinner on the Danube promised to be a taste of traditional Hungarian dishes, accompanied with classical music all while gently drifting down the river.

.

.

.

At first bite of the goulash on offer I knew the experience was a winner; it was the best I had ever tasted, better than my first try and anything I’ve had since. Unfortunately that’s where my food experience ended. A history of sea-sickness reared its ugly head and rendered me powerless to doing anything other than sipping on the welcome champagne we had been given on arrival.  

.

.

.

.

As we slowly made our way down river it struck me why people refer to the city as the Paris of the East.

.

.

The one thing I wanted more than anything was for Mr M to enjoy the evening so when realisation dawned across his face I promptly turned the conversation to the views and how beautiful the city was lit up as we drifted slowly by (and by that I mean it felt like we were rolling through the 30ft waves of the Bearing sea to me but I’m assured it was just drifting).

.

.

All too quickly dinner was over, our cruise down the Danube was finished and we found ourselves wandering into the hotel bar in search of cocktails.

.

.

Drinking Vesper Martinis and a cosmo’s we mused over ageing, our future trips and how surprised we had been by the city of Budapest so far. It really was a shock how quickly and how much we had both fallen in love with the city so far.