When we decided to spend three weeks in Budapest, we told ourselves we wanted to meet “the people.” We didn’t exactly define who the “people” were, but I’m pretty sure we didn’t mean tourists. We were thinking “the people who have lived here all their lives.” We wanted to know more about those lives, even if we had to rely on a translator app to do so.
Yesterday we explored the waterfront, following a walkway down along the Danube past tour boats resting at their piers, the famously beautiful parliament building, three bridges, the cast iron shoes reminding us of the Jews who were slaughtered, and a steady stream of fellow walkers, bicyclists, and scooter whizzes.
NOTE: If I die here, or am seriously maimed, it won’t be because I crossed the street at the wrong spot. It will be because I inadvertently stepped into the bike lane and got knocked off by a kid on an electric scooter. They know nothing of my legal status as a pedestrian.
When we finally stopped for lunch, it was at a Lebanese restaurant that looked like a 5-star hotel. I mean really, a button to push to open the restroom door, as if we were going into an elevator instead of a toilet? The whole place was beyond posh and photoworthy and in the end we mistakenly ordered enough food for a whole family of Lebanese Maronites. It was a delicious plate for 2 of varied shishkebobs: beef, sausage, chicken, lamb…. False advertising: It was a plate for 4. We ate less than half of it.
However, it would have been nice to have some company, like a couple of Lebanese Maronites. We were the only patrons in the place, waited on by a succession of charming Philipinos. We had to remind ourselves that it wasn’t dinner hour, so more sensible diners of course wouldn’t be there when we were. Still… it was soooo quiet.
We walked home a different route just for the fun of it and stumbled onto the perfect street: one of those outdoor malls that goes on block after block with nary a car, bicyle or scooter in sight. What we did see was throngs of people enjoying the unseasonable warmth, walking past the shops, eating and chatting around outdoor tables. We felt like part of a great collection of humanity that we weren’t a part of. Perfect.
Of course we didn’t learn any more about their lives than we had at the Lebanese restaurant, except that we got this beautiful sense of what Magyars look like, which is like a mixture of everything. And we saw where they like to amass. It was a perfect spot for some gelato.
By the time we got home, we were yet again ready for bed. It was, after all, 6:00. We fought off the temptation to call it a day and two hours later realized that I didn’t have any coffee for the morning. Should we run to the grocery store and get some? Why not?
Which is how we realized that if we want to be with “the people,” after dark is a perfect time to do it. The sidewalk eateries and dineries were crowded and lively conversations filled the air. Far from feeling in danger from the dark, we felt life being lived. Relaxed. Communal.
We walked back to the river’s edge to take pictures of the beautifully lit bridge next to us and discovered others doing the same. One pair of women swapping selfies were dressed like gypsies, and when I offered to take a picture of the two of them together they asked if I spoke Italian or Romanian. “No,” I said. “Spanish, English and Indonesian.” Zero overlap. That didn’t stop us from interacting enough to include Nora in a picture of them, and laughing, and leaving each other as if we had actually understood something basic about ourselves. Maybe we did.
We will spend more time out after dark, meeting “the people.” And we will look for the crowds when we look for lunch. Elegance is fabulous. The people are fascinating.