Never before in my life had I ever considered traveling to Budapest, so here is how the scenario came to be: with the dozens of Hungarians that go to my school here in Kraków, I have made friends with some of them. Of course you from know from previous posts that Tomi and I pretty close, and if anyone could be a walking tourism bureau, it would be him. This guy, the son of a travel agent, is a certified tour guide in Hungary, and he'll never miss an opportunity to invite you to his favorite city. Back in November for my birthday, I was presented with a certificate for a "Free Walking Tour of Budapest, (valid only in March 2008)". So with a few days of Easter vacation (plus one because I am a bad student who never goes to class anymore), and a $20 bus ticket, I headed south.
There was, of course, the pressure to squeeze in such a trip before Tom left for Germany, but there was also another reason that made all the train and bus travel worth it -- ice cream. OK, I am not so shallow as to only be motivated by sweets. Another friend of mine, Péter, was going to be home. The Hungarian countryside was a nice contrast to the hustle and bustle of the city, and time spent with Péter is always time well spent. Getting to him involved me buying my first -and most likely only- ticket in Hungarian. (I may have accidentally bought two, but I can't tell...) I spent the morning in the picturesque town of Kecskemét and, despite the language barrier, a most enjoyable afternoon in Péter's home with his generous and good-natured parents. Now you may be asking, where are the sweets? Péter's family owns an ice cream parlor in a small resort town maybe 100 km from the capitol, hence ice cream. And did I also mention chocolate? ;)
Back to Budapest. The architecture and city planning are at times astounding. It might be the place with the most statues and monuments per capita that I have ever visited. But what really struck me was the contradictions I felt in having to remind myself that I was in still in Europe while surrounded by decidedly non-European language. The city has the look of another Vienna, but it's soul is decidedly its own.And I suppose I can't finish this post without explaining the allusions to Europeans in Speedos in the title. With the concurrence of Tom's mother, I left their house in the morning with the intention of finishing the day relaxing at the famous Széchenyi Baths. First I needed a suit. Sure you could rent one there, but Tom's mother insisted I check out a cheap clothing store just down the street from their house. There, her and I mixed and matched suits and underwear, bottoms and tops until I found an acceptable combination. She even walked in on me in the dressing room to offer her observations like a true mother. With a bra and little boy's red speedo-like bottom in my bag, I was ready to hit the town.
I am so glad I allowed myself to be convinced to go to the baths. I arrived to observe my favorite time of day, where the sun's waining light cast golden hues on the clouds and on the already yellow building. The warm water outdoors evaporated into visible wisps of steam in the chilly spring air. Jumping from sweltering sauna to a 10º C pool (5oº F) was invigorating. And I felt no trace of self-consciousness with my makeshift bathing suit because, like I said, based on some other choices of swimwear among locals and tourists alike, let's just say that no one was lacking a healthy body image.Relaxed, well-fed, and blessed via a Good Friday service (my first, and most likely only in Hungarian), I reluctantly headed back to Poland. The Rudniks would be waiting for me! But first I had to pass through the mountainous Slovakian landscape. Contemplating the snowy peaks and the villages below (between catnaps because I was up at 4:45 that morning!) I couldn't help but think again that this trip was pure magic.
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