We had finally made it to Budapest on our designated arrival
date of December 23rd. For the past month or so we’d been in such a
huge rush and unfortunately toured the Balkans very quickly for the sake of
this deadline, but we wanted to have Christmas somewhere where we could make it
special, and with Tom Unkles’ family in Budapest seemed like a fantastic
option.
Budapest is a beautiful city and covered in snow and
Christmas lights it really is like something out of a fairytale. On the evening
that we arrived, Christmas markets were dotted around the city, selling their
array of Christmas decorations, sweets, hot food and drinks, souvenirs, hats,
jewellery, other bits and pieces and most importantly gluhwein (mulled wine).
With steaming cups of delicious gluhwein in hand we meandered around the
temporary wooden structures, taking in the quaintness of the very European
style Christmas market.
I feel a general sense of bafflement, indignation and mild
disdain towards the worldwide obsession with roasted chestnut stands which
never seem to actually have any customers. (Who eats roasted chestnuts? I don’t
think I’ve ever stopped at one of those roadside stands and purchased a roasted
chestnut, and as far as I’m aware I don’t know anybody that has. Why are there
so many if nobody ever buys them? Do people actually buy them? Who are these
people?) But somehow the tail-coated, top-hatted slender man roasting chestnuts
on an old-fashioned steel stove in front of the opera house in Budapest, even made
me feel warm and festive.
For Hungarians Christmas Eve is the big day, which we were
aware of, but hadn’t quite prepared for. Stupidly we assumed that while some
things might be closed, a lot wouldn’t, and we found ourselves with nowhere to
buy groceries, drinks or the frustratingly last-minute Christmas presents we
had all inevitably left until now to think of. We’ve been through so many cheap
countries where we could have bought myriads of cool stuff for really cheap,
but of course we waited until everything was closed in the most expensive city
we’ve visited on this trip (except Melbourne, Adelaide and Darwin). We have a
fun present giving “tradition” that has developed over the trip whereby we take
it in turns to intermittently give presents to each other. It started off with
silly gifts such as Tunkles giving Ben a small jar of lobster paste in Darwin
and Denner giving Tunkles a pink sunhat from Boracay in the Philippines, but in
time has become a way in which we help each other to collect the souvenirs that
we want but can’t justify buying for ourselves. Why hadn’t we just saved some
of the recent gifts from this system for Christmas and avoided this unfortunate
situation where no-one had presents for anyone else? Alas, we found what we
could, paid the horrendous prices and actually ended up with a fairly good
selection.
We had a lovely meal with some relatives of Tom Unkles on
Christmas Eve night, and spent Christmas Day afternoon with some other
relatives who took us ice-skating. We had intended to cook ourselves a nice
Christmas Day meal where we would each contribute something from our own family
traditions, but of course every single supermarket in the city was closed so we
ended up with Subway. Even McDonald’s was closed.
Most things were still closed on Boxing Day, but this was
the day we had designated to going to the famous Széchenyi Baths. We caught the
metro which makes evacuation noises and flashes intense light displays at every
stop, and got out at the station named after the Baths. Making our way around
the vast Roman building to the entrance where we discovered that despite the fact
that according to the website it was open, even this was closed today.
Disappointedly we circled the building anyway, observing the architecture
itself, checking all the doors and gates just in case one was open, and feeling
sorry for ourselves at having missed this delightful experience. At the far end
though we heard some peculiar noises coming from some piping and wondered
“could this be the sound of people, a lot of people, inside the Baths?” We
continued on and the noises got louder until we had covered almost the entire
perimeter of the building and came to another entrance, this one of which was
definitely open and buzzing with bathers.
We paid our small fortune (3,550 Florins ($15.50) per person)
and donned the allocated rubber bracelet which somehow magically knows exactly
how much you’ve paid and which areas you’re allowed into. Avoiding the Thai
massage spruikers reminded us of a previous time on this trip – the difference
being that these Thai massages were priced at €50 per 30 minutes instead of the
€1 or €2 per hour we became accustomed to in and around Thailand.
From the indoor entrance foyer and change rooms, we came to
the courtyard in the centre of the building and found ourselves face to face
with the magnificent open-air baths, adorned with a selection of Roman statues,
some majestically looking over the bathing proceedings, some issuing water from
various body parts. With the outside air temperature at around the 0°C
mark, the 38°C
water was steaming ferociously, hovering over the baths in a sort of heavenly
cloud. We stored our towels in a corner and ran on tip-toes across the chilly
brick floor to the edge of the water where we immersed ourselves in the warmth,
relieved to be out of the cold. Despite the fact that the place was heaving
with old men playing chess (yep – right there in the water), couples, families,
groups of youngsters, tourists and locals, the thick fog of steam served as a
mythical wall between each group of bathers. Over the noise of the ancient
Roman water features you could hear a faint buzz of sound from everyone else,
but surrounded by endless wisps of white it felt as if you were there all by
yourself. And as you moved through the water there was the occasional couple
acting as if they really were in a private room.
As we reached the end of our visit it began raining, which
is an incredible sensation when submerged in hot, steamy water. It made us
think about how remarkable the experience would be if it was snowing.
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