Budapest: Post 1

I wish I had been able to truly follow in Paddy’s footsteps, of starting gently from the Hook of Holland and meandering through the Netherlands before he arrived in Germany to be shocked by the reality of Nazism.  But economic reality – and the age factor – meant that it was wiser to fly to Budapest and start my experiences there. 

I suppose coming to a city never visited before is always going to provide challenges that one would rather forget, not unlike Paddy losing his passport, money and notebooks in Munich.   But I also realise that these challenges have no relevance to my main motivation for creating my blog, so I will not include them here.  But I was tempted, as Paddy was, by the Sam Weller look-alike, to divert to the Italian trail!  

But my experiences yesterday were of relevance to my main intention, of following in Paddy Leigh Fermor’s footsteps, investigating the more recent historical background and chatting to all and sundry as he did, discovering their political and cultural attitudes.  

 After scouting around my B&B (and locking myself out in the process – just one of those adventures) I decided on a visit to the Hungarian National Museum.  I think Paddy visited much later, mentioning his visit in relation to the return of the coronation regalia.

Later, in the room containing the coronation regalia, I was pounced on by another lady who demanded to see my ticket.  I couldn’t find it initially, and while I was searching, I asked why there was so much security.  She hadn’t much English, and she actually pulled up the corner of her eyes to indicate it was a concern about Chinese freeloaders!   We had a surprisingly interesting conversation.  She mimed Communism and blamed the excess security on the above – I wondered if she meant President Orban!   

After a while I decided to leave and return later.  Fearing those long staircases, I asked an attendant for directions to a lift.  He said that there was indeed a lift, but that he would need to call for an escort.  Why I asked?  He told me, in English, that sometime in the past, the staff had hidden the lifts behind walls!  I was somewhat surprised but had no time to ask why.  I was escorted by yet another rather grim lady to the outside world.  Hmm! 

My Starting Point

(I’m starting in Budapest and working backwards to the Hook of Holland – to make sure that my budget allows me to see the many sights he describes, whilst listening to his books on audio.)

“Széchényi chain-bridge was built by two Scotsmen, the Brothers Clark. Apart from a few old streets and squares, the smart Dunapalota Hotel and the cheerful and pleasure-loving waterfront – especially the Patisserie Gerbaud, a dashing Gunters-like meeting place by the statue of the poet Vörösmarty – I liked Pest much less than my own side of the town, but I never tired of surveying it from the Fisher Bastion. This vantage point by the Coronation Church commanded steep descending layers plumed all the way down with trees, then a sweep of the Danube, crossed by half a dozen bridges. St Margaret’s Island expanded upstream and the Houses of Parliament loomed from the opposite shore.”