Budapest Travel Diaries: Walking Tours and Ruin Bars

Planning a city break to the Hungarian capital of Budapest? Then let Part 1 of A Brummie Home and Abroad’s Budapest Travel Diaries help you!

It’s our first ever non-direct flight. And not only is it our first ever non-direct flight, it’s our first ever time flying with different carriers on the outbound and return journeys. But I had found a package that was too good to resist which involved flying out with Air France via Paris, and returning with KLM via Amsterdam.

So it was with some trepidation that we split our worldly belongings between two suitcases, just in case one decides not to take the same route around Europe as we do. Which led to the following dilemma: Do I put make-up in one suitcase and GHDs in the other? If one case gets lost I may have a  pale ghostly complexion but glossy hair. If the other case gets lost, I may have frizzy hair but perfectly pencilled eyebrows.

First world packing problem sorted, we start out on the first leg from Birmingham to Charles De Gaulle.  Smooth sailing. Soon we’re on our second leg from Paris to Budapest. At Ferenc Liszt airport we do a little prayer to the luggage gods that our suitcases have also landed successfully.  Result. Not only have the luggage gods answered our prayers, they have also arranged for our suitcases to be the very first out on the carousel.   Bravo, Air France; you have been marvellous.  I look forward to the same happy experience with KLM on our return. (Spoiler alert. We did not have the same happy experience with KLM on our return)

Szia Budapest!

We pre-booked a taxi transfer through Airport Transfer Budapest. Our driver is outside in minutes and we’re dropped outside our hotel within forty-five minutes of landing. We booked Hotel Palazzo Zichy as part of the Expedia package, and it was worth every 5-star review on TripAdvisor.

I love it when you stay at a hotel which makes you feel like you’ve spent a lot of money, and yet you paid a bargain price. Anywhere that leaves a little chocolate on your pillow gets a tick in my book.

We are unpacking, and I am reuniting my make-up bag and GHDs, reassuring them I will never choose between them again. Mr Fletche has a slight look of panic on his normally unpanicked face. Mr Fletche, visual documenter of this Hungarian adventure, has forgotten his spare camera battery. And his battery is clinging on to its last 25%. 

Luckily, our hotel comes with wi-fi and we are able to scan the local area for camera shops. And useful phrases. Mr Fletche is now fluent in “photography Hungarian”. He can now converse in length about batteries (akkumulátor) and chargers (akkumulátortöltő). 

The great camera treasure hunt of Budapest

So we venture out onto the streets of Budapest in search of a local camera store. Thanks to Google Maps, we know EXACTLY where it is. Except we don’t. We systematically scan every store and every alleyway in case we are missing some hidden location. Some sort of photographer’s speakeasy that can only be accessed through a phone box, with a special password. 

As much as I am enjoying this game of hide and seek, I look longingly into bars where people are enjoying a late afternoon beer or glass of wine. But I have promised Mr Fletche we will not stop until this camera shop is located and the required battery acquired. This is our holy grail. Eventually, soaking wet and chilled to the bone, we concede defeat. Did I mention it was raining? We decide that Google has lied to us; the camera shop does not exist. We will continue our search tomorrow. Only a drink or two can cheer us now.

We are close to the Central Market Hall so we walk through, taking in the sensory overload of brightly coloured fruit and vegetables, pungent sausages, and masses and masses of paprika. Back out into the rain briefly, before the warm candle-lit glow of the For Sale pub and restaurant beckons. Straw and peanut shells on the floor contribute to a rustic décor. The walls and ceiling are covered with handwritten notes from previous patrons.  Not so rustic, the 80s and 90s Europop mash-ups playlist.

One beer turns into two. Which turns into us deciding to eat there rather than head back out into the rain.  The menu is extensive, but on closer inspection appears to be made up of 100 versions of the same dish. It’s tasty and plentiful, if not a traditional Hungarian gourmet experience.

Back out into the rain we go.  It’s dark and it feels as if it’s about 10pm.  It’s not. It’s 8 o’clock. But tomorrow is the day for exploring and seeing the sights so we make our way back to the hotel to dry off.

Langos. Lucky horse balls. Carrot sellers.

The alarm goes off at 7:30am. A tweak of the blackout curtains reveals a blue sky with not a cloud in sight. We stuff ourselves with coffee, cheese and cold meats for breakfast which sets us up for the day.

I am not fooled by the blue skies and sunshine. It is February after all. I dress as if we are embarking on an expedition to the North Pole. You can never wear enough layers. Mr Fletche has tracked down a second camera store; it is not far from where we plan to meet this morning’s free walking tour. I have planned our metro and tram routes meticulously, so we purchase our tickets at Kalvin tér metro station.

At the kiosk we deliberate between a 24 hour unlimited pass, and a book of 10 single tickets. We go with the 24-hour pass; if we have it, we’ll use it, right? We’ll get our money’s worth. And we can just hop on public transport whenever we feel a bit tired and footsore. Spoiler alert: we didn’t use it.  Our feet hurt. Our knees ached. We (I) got crabby and miserable. And we ask ourselves why we always end up walking miles and miles and miles in cities which have perfectly good and efficient transport systems.

On our way to the meeting point, and the promised camera store, we stop by a coffee shop to purchase beverages to keep us going.

“What’s that place then?”

“What place?”

“That big church-like place that we’re standing next to”

“No idea”

This big church-like place is St Stephen’s Basilica. The largest church in Budapest. Named after the man who brought Christianity to Hungary.  Home of the mummified right hand of St Stephen himself. This is why we take tours; otherwise we walk round oblivious to everything around us.

With half an hour to kill before the 10:30am start, we walk to where the internet has reliably informed us there is another camera store.  And indeed there is a camera store. However despite the door being open, and the sign saying open, the store is closed. Mr Hungarian Camera Store Owner takes pity on Mr Fletche, clutching his camera like a child clutching his favourite teddy bear.  

Mr Fletche converses with Mr Hungarian Camera Store Owner, using his hastily learned Hungarian camera phrases, and manages to convey his need. Using the international language of mime, Mr Hungarian Camera Store Owner regretfully informs Mr Fletche that he does not have the required battery in stock. Thankfully, the battery has managed to regenerate slightly and is now hovering around the 30% mark.  As long as Mr Fletche resists the urge to review his photos, it may just hang on.

We hover by the fountain at Vörösmarty tér looking for what may be the walking tour. And soon we are being shepherded along by a Hungarian called Zoltan who has the enthusiasm of a small puppy out for his first walk. From Zoltan we learn that famous inventions from Budapest include the Rubiks Cube, the biro pen and “do-re-mi” (not invented by Julie Andrews). Hungarian is one of the hardest languages to learn but what sounds like “t-shirt” means “ten beers”. Budapest is pronounced Buda-pesht. (Imagine you’re Sean Connery when you say it.  Go on.  Say it now.  In a Sean-Connery-stylee). And Hungarians naturally look unfriendly but liven up when you find them in bars nursing a unicum or a palinka.

The tour takes us over the Danube via the Chain Bridge and up to Buda Castle via a big hill. The funicular is for losers according to Zoltan. I am jealous of those losers when I am hyperventilating halfway up the hill.  Zoltan introduces us to the “fake” guards at the presidential building (which now appears to be occupied solely by a cute cat rolling around in the sunshine) and to the statue of Hussar general Andras Hadik, whose horse’s testicles have long been rubbed as a good luck charm and bedroom booster for local university students.

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Zoltan leaves us at Fisherman’s Bastion, to take in the views over the Danube towards Pest and the Hungarian Parliament Building.  The tour has been excellent, and well worth the 20 euro tip we give to Zoltan at the end.  We wander around Fisherman’s Bastion for a while, like children who have been let out on their own for the first time.  I lovingly finger the travel pass in my pocket, looking forward to the bus/tram/metro ride back towards home. Lunch is in a lovely little café where we enjoy an exceedingly hot but tasty bowl of goulash, followed by equally tasty strudel.

After lunch, it’s time to descend Castle Hill.  Despite the travel ticket burning a hole in my pocket, and the number 16 bus hovering around, beckoning to us like an illicit lover, we descend the hill via a combination of steps and slope. The descent is easier than the ascent. The legs however are just starting to feel the burn. 

“Let’s walk along the river” Mr Fletche suggests. I nod enthusiastically, whilst in my head I envisage throwing myself to the ground like a small child throwing a tantrum and refusing to walk another step. We walk the 1.5 miles from Chain Bridge down to Liberty Bridge.  And then the mile to our hotel. My hips, knees, calves and ankles are pleading with me to rest awhile.

After a much deserved rest, our enthusiasm is as recharged as Mr Fletche’s camera battery.  It had been blinking somewhere around the empty mark, but somehow we have found untapped reserves.  It was the mention of a newly created drinking tour from our tour guides earlier today that has sparked our interest.  The chance to seek out some of the hidden gems and experience the hidden drinking culture in Budapest’s Jewish district.

Meet at the fountain in Vörösmarty tér they said. Meet at 8pm they said.  Fuelled by a deliciously unhealthy lángos, we hover around waiting for the hordes eager to experience a slice of authentic Budapest nightlife. There is no-one in sight. We peer around the corner at 8pm, and there is one man, who may or may not be holding a leaflet saying “Drinking tour here!” We feel it may be a little awkward should it be just the three of us (if indeed this is the drinking tour man, and not just a fellow hoverer) so we decide to embark on our own tour.  First step.  Find the Jewish district.

Like everything in Budapest, everything is actually closer than you think it is. If you go the right way. After another convoluted route, we discover that the Jewish district is practically next door to our hotel. Mr Fletche is tempted into the Kings 3D pub on Izabella utca by the selection of Belgian beers on offer, and we plot our next move. The best way to experience proper Budapest nightlife is to experience a ruin pub. And without a trusted Budapest tour guide, the ruin pub of choice has to be the most famous of them all. Szimpla Kert.

Ruin pubs are derelict buildings which have been transformed into quirky bars.  And Szimpla is undoubtedly the most tourist-friendly option, despite the big burly security men on the door.  Enter through a maze of doorways and plastic curtains, and you’re in a rabbit warren of rooms and bars and quirky artefacts. Want to sit in half a bath? This is the place to do it. Although it didn’t look like the comfiest of seating options. Want a shisha water pipe with a range of fruity flavours? Yep, this is the place. Want to buy a carrot?  Um, yes, this is also an option at Szimpla Kert.

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We stick with beer to start off with, but if you’re going to try the traditional bitter liqueur called Unicum, then this is as good a place as any.  Unicum sounds a little like the ejaculatory fluid of a mythical animal. And after drinking it? Yep, tastes like I imagined.  Not one we’ll be repeating, but at least we can say we tried it.

Another beer takes the Unicum taste out of our mouths and we people-watch for a while, particularly enjoying the faces of newbies as they walked through the door/plastic curtain, like Alice entering Wonderland for the first time. It’s a fun way of spending a couple of hours, and we were surprised how quiet it was on a Thursday night. After such an exhausting day (another 3 miles walked this evening, that 24 hour transport ticket is still unused), we decide the next stop will be back to home base.

Want to know what happens on Day 2?  Here’s a sneak peek.  Mummified hands. Another very long walk.  And sloths. Yes, Budapest Zoo has a large, friendly sloth population.  I may never leave.