Second Spire to the Right

Hungary was the first place I’ve ever visited where I didn’t speak one word of the language.

The first time I saw a word in Hungarian written out, dauntingly long and heavily consonented, I had a sinking realization that I didn’t know even the most basic of phrases. For months, I had packed as much Romanian into my language-learning brain space as possible. The majority of the trip would be spent in Romania, after all, with just a short weekend in Budapest tacked on to the end before flying out. Despite my earnest efforts to prepare for Romania, I discovered that I entered my time in Budapest woefully unprepared. While I would normally consider this an irresponsible way to approach a country, in this case, it set me up to be delightfully surprised by a weekend that has remained vibrant in my memory a decade later. 

My first impression of Hungary was intimidating more than anything. A dozen or so of us arrived at Budapest airport, jetlagged, and immediately prepared for a tense border crossing. We had been told that the neighboring countries’ relations are not exactly warm and fuzzy. Nonetheless, our drivers managed to take us safely to our destination, several hours into Romania. We enjoyed a life-changing week with a heroic Romanian organization that serves the most marginalized in their society. Romania deserves its own post in the future, so stay tuned for a full report of that trip. 

For now, I will skip ahead to the drive from Arad, Romania, back to Budapest. We drove in the stillness following tearful goodbyes, resting in the familial comfort of relationships fortified through the meaningful experiences of the past week. It was as I watched the Hungarian countryside bustling past in faded spring hues outside the window that I realized with some embarrassment that I knew so little of this place and these people. The landscape achieved midwestern levels of flatness, but the buildings and homes held the charming eastern European aesthetic. 

I was not prepared for the city that awaited as we finally disembarked in the city center of Budapest. As we lunched at a charming sidewalk cafe, I was taken with the beauty contained in just that one side street. Art exudes every inch of the city, from the street lamps to the fence posts. Over the next two days, I would learn that the view from the sidewalk cafe was just the beginning. 

Budapest is not just beautiful, but fiercely beautiful. I’ve always loved the music inspired by Hungary: the passion and intrigue Franz Lizst infused in his Hungarian Rhapsodies or Johann Strauss replicated in the Hungarian number “My Homeland” in Die Fledermaus. There’s an emotional depth and complexity to it that makes it sound sublime, a kind of strong, brooding, loveliness. Taking in the city for the first time, I felt like I could see that same spirit echoed architecturally. 

The glorious Danube river flows through the center of the city, and rocky hillsides provide stunning vistas.

Bridges span the river at a number of points, but my personal favorite was the Szabadság híd or the Liberty Bridge. The intricacy of the design, the richness of the color, and even musicians jamming on one perch of the bridge encapsulate what makes Budapest so special. The city exudes artistry. While completely different culturally and aesthetically, I remembered feeling the same way upon visiting New Orleans. The very bricks of the city feel alive with art, music, beauty, and life. 

I entered Budapest with a blank canvas of expectations and left with a vibrant palette of inspiration. I dream of returning one day.  This time, I would love to linger for a few weeks to write and soak in the creative spirit of the city.