A
Transitory Existence
Budapest, Hungary
When long hours
need filling and unoccupied minds need stimulating it comes as no surprise that
the majority of travel journals are written whilst actually in transit. With patience it can provide the greatest of
entertainment, even whilst awkwardly sat in a stuffy train carriage and logged
between the highlights of ticket checks, passport checks and expeditions to the
bathroom. Recent travels need
documenting essentially when the senses, smells and tastes of a place are still
fresh and ripe. Even brief notes made in
a scrubby notebook can allow for a plethora of description to emerge. When reading an old travel diary, sprung from
the depths of my own subconscious mind, and carved from my own memories were
imaginative accounts, the likes of which I had not initially realised existed
on these scuffled pages.
On the
evening of September 3rd, 2007, our party of five nineteen-year-old
English girls trawled under beaten raincoats to Krakow’s Dworzec Glowny train
station. Through the sodden streets the
heavy bellowing rain bounded at the ground and bounced off the pavement to soak
our flip-flopped feet. So far our stay
here had been smothered in speckles of sunshine and sprightly breezes. This unexpected turn in the weather welcomed
the 182.35 mile journey south that Fiona, Tash, Ursula, Catherine and I were
about to embark on. Failing to feel
disheartened by the rain and in the hope of escaping the dark grey clouds we dried
off on the train, read our wearying novels and enjoyed each other’s company. The dynamics of a five-girl group frequently
became complex or strained with such a high number of people. All with strong yet entirely different
personalities, we wanted to do different things, we disagreed sometimes and the
group would often happily split into twos or threes to suit everyone’s needs
and tempers. Other times and particularly
when travelling from place to place we became a unit, with the same destination
in mind. On this twelve-hour night train
the combination worked, we consumed Tyskie lager and a group of rather cheery,
rather giddy Belgian boys in the compartment next to ours invited us in. They were slightly younger than us, and plentifully
poured out plastic cups full of cherry vodka whilst we struggled to hide our amusement
at their goofy manners and Belgian accents.
At six the
next morning we were woken up by a woman from Tourist Information. Still an hour away from Budapest we grumpily
declined her offer of answering any questions about the city, and then on
arrival walked in the completely wrong direction. In the rain that had followed us from Poland,
what we saw of Budapest felt like a combination of a number of contrasting
worlds, modern and stylish yet definite and traditional. Classicalist and gothic architecture contrasts
with Art Nouveau and Turkish forming an eclectic mix of styles, and provoking the
feeling that Budapest really is at the heart of Europe. The capital features a mass array of
creations from the tranquil manmade lake of Millenar
Park to the odd
sculptures of the CowParade exhibition;
the world’s largest public art event which included rubixcube, zebra and
watermelon cow sculpture designs. Budapest is swamped with architectural,
artistic and visual variety.
The view from Gellert Hill, Buda
The city itself
is divided into Buda and Pest by the Danube River. We booked two nights at Eleventh Hour Hostel
in Pest where I noticed a sign reading ‘I’d
rather be a good liver than have one’ and instantly diagnosed this as our
sort of place. The small, dark-haired amiable
girl who ran the hostel made us tea, coffee, popcorn and even brought us vodka. Her upfront friendliness was endearing. She wanted to be involved in the activity that
surrounded us and made a great effort to please her guests. I felt this rather unlike the prim, boring sort
of people I had previously met in these sorts of establishments in England.
Thermal Roman Baths at the Gellert Hotel
The next
day the weather was still awful so we got a bus to Buda to the thermal Roman
baths at the Gellert Hotel, which perches on the north bank of the Danube. Gellert Hill boasts vast views of the river
and the turquoise Turkish domes of the city; breathtaking despite the
drizzle. The baths are the perfect idea
for a rainy day. The walls and ceilings
are lavishly decorated and boldly gold in colour which complements the strong
cerulean blue of the pools, a simultaneous air of royalty and communality simmers
about this place. The pools vary from
those cool in temperature, to those with bubbles that swell beneath swimmers,
to hot ones where both locals and tourists relax with eyes closed at the
edges. The minerals in the water are
thick and cloudy causing a floating sensation, going from the cold plunge pool
to the hot pools causes the skin to tingle and rejoice in the experience. Various water fountains, sauna, eucalyptus
steam room and massaging power showers complete an invigorating afternoon, and
I had never felt so clean.
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