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Published: December 4th 2007
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Westminster rip-off
Hungarian Parliament building on the Danube After a horror overnight train stretch from Krakow punctuated by militantly officious border officials at both the Poland/Slovakia and Slovakia/Hungary borders, I arrived bleary eyed in Budapest. While having an armed, overzealous young guard barging into my cabin 4 times throughout the trip, shining a bright torch in my eyes and shouting at me in a foreign language afforded me the excitement of feeling like a fugitive on the lam, I'm sure that border crossings between three EU members could be handled with slightly more measured courtesy. I felt as though I was crossing Checkpoint Charlie at the height of Cold War tensions. As a result, I kept a very low profile all day and night upon arrival.
Sophie, Kelly and Tess, three Melbourne girls I had met in Krakow, arrived the following day however and brought fun and festivities with them. Kelly's birthday had been the previous day, and the day they turned up was both Tess's birthday and Halloween. Though Hungarians don't celebrate Halloween with nearly the same gusto as Americans there seemed to be more of an observance of it in Budapest than in Australia, so we though it best for us to get into the spirit
and find ourselves some costumes. Judge for yourself from the pictures, but I think considering the limited time and resources we all gave a reasonable account of ourselves. None of us stooped to the level of the good old white bedsheet with two eyes cut out, thanks in my case to a blanket ban (pardon the pun) placed by the girls on such lazy and unoriginal efforts.
Our very friendly and helpful hosts at the hostel had arranged for an outing to a rocking costume party at a local nightspot which seemed terrific on first impressions. However, as time wore on it became clear that the wonderful efforts put into decoration and costume was not matched by fast, efficient bar service. In fact, we decided to leave after waiting for a drink in a shoulder to shoulder queue for around 45 minutes. Agreeing that it was just too crowded to really have an enjoyable night, our hosts moved us on to another place.
Initially it seemed a far better choice, given that we could actually breathe and move. We were much faster to notice the extra comfort and room to move than we were the fact that we
Grand
Statue in front of the Royal Palace were the only people in the entire club wearing anything remotely close to a Halloween costume. It would be fair to say that confusion reigned when I checked my broom in along with my jacket at the cloakroom, and the feeling that it would be sent straight to the maintenance department was more or less confirmed when I returned to collect my belongings and the broom was gone. Nonetheless, I was surprised that our conspicuous attire didn't attract more attention (read ridicule), as none of us got a single comment. I think we would have been given a different reception in the same situation anywhere back home, assuming it we made it through the door of course.
Craving some relaxation the following day, we decided it was a good time to experience Budapest's world famous thermal baths. The Széchenyi Baths are marketed as "one of the biggest bathing complexes anywhere in Europe". Judging by the physiques of many of the other patrons, it was entirely possible that they chose Széchenyi because they couldn't fit into any of the others. So inspired was I by the mighty heft of a number of my fellow bathers that I began to wonder
The eagle has landed
Looking back across the Danube to Budapest from the Palace where Hungary placed in the list of the world's fattest nations, and even more so its position relative to Australia (as we more than hold our own in those stakes). Good old google told me that while Australia comes in at a respectable 21st, Hungary put in a comparatively lightweight effort at 84th.
Surprised by this, I investigated further and found that the list was compiled in descending order of the percentage of the total adult population of each country which is either overweight or obese. This made more sense, as on reflection there wasn't necessarily a large number of large people. It was just that those who did carry any extra weight carried with them enough to make up for perhaps five or six average people, hence skewing my perceptions and distorting the statistics.
I don't like to harp on about it but there should really be a category beyond morbidly obese to accurately describe some of the colossi I saw. Seeing the odd man-boob here and there is unavoidable on nearly any crowded beach around the world, but there is something to be said about a significant number of men with boobs both on the front
The blue Danube
View across Budapest from the Royal Palace and the back. It must be noted however that it would be unfair of me to make such critical observations without mentioning certain aspects of Hungarian cuisine. I can sympathise with Hungarian gluttons in the sense that their processed meats and smallgoods are some of the finest I have tried, and don't deny the possibility that I would become just another salami-related statistic if I was to take up residence in the country.
Another thing that was impossible to ignore while I was in the presence of the girls was the strict adherence of the Hungarian men to the time honoured tradition of staring. Admittedly all three were pretty attractive, and I might have stolen the odd glimpse here and there if I had gone for a soak and they had have been in my line of vision. What I wouldn't have done was to swim up to about five metres away and then circumnavigate for five or so minutes, staring the whole time. It didn't surprise me at all to learn that the girls all found this rather off-putting. At one stage we had about five or six blokes orbiting at various distances, their gazes only occasionally broken
Quaint
Looking back towards Fisherman's Bastion when one went in front of another, thereby causing an eclipse of sorts.
When the girls left for Ljubljana a couple of days later, I was the only person left in the entire hostel. Apparently early November isn't exactly peak tourist season in Budapest. While light was scarce (it was getting dark at around 4:30PM) I snuck in a few quality days of sightseeing. The Buda side of the Danube River is by far the best place for it, with the Royal Palace complex, Old Town, and Fisherman's Bastion all offering brilliant views over the flatter Pest side of the river. Some say that Budapest gives Prague a nudge as Europe's most beautiful city. A beautiful city it certainly is, but I think the latter still comfortably takes the cake from what I have seen.
My favourite attraction on the Pest side was probably the Museum of Terror, which documents the brutal crimes of both the Arrow Cross Party's Fascist regime during the War years and those of the Soviet-sponsored Communist regime until the Communist bloc collapsed in 1989. European museums seem to be mindful of the fact that there is a lot of competition out there and
Taking in the views
HJT on Fisherman's Bastion therefore try to present their exhibits in innovative ways. The Museum of Terror was actually in the building which housed the secret police of both regimes. Seeing the dungeon cells underneath the building sure gave me a strong sense of what the secret police were trying to do. So horrific were some of the cells that I could instantly understand why most who gained a release would be too terrified to ever cross the ruling party again. My favourite section though was the room with all the Communist propaganda. The Reds might have done economics, human rights and freedom pretty badly, but they sure were good at propaganda.
This view was reinforced when I went to the Statue Park museum outside Budapest, where all of the old Communist statues and monuments that once stood in and around the city have been collected. While it was billed as "Europe's most exciting open air museum", I thought it was pretty disappointing. It was great to see all the statues and to contemplate the ideas they were expressing, but a bit more narrative would have added plenty to the experience. I did enjoy seeing the boots of Stalin's statue that was torn
Stalin hit the deck here
Monuments at Heroes' Square down by the Hungarian people during the 1956 uprising against the Soviets. Just a pity they didn't get the chance to do it to him in real life before he died three years earlier. I don't imagine they would have been left wanting for volunteers if the Hungarians were given the opportunity.
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