Autumn Interrail 2024 — Story #7
Taken directly from my travel journal
Theme song of this story: Budapest by George Ezra
I arrived in Budapest around 9:40 in the morning, the city still stretching itself awake. The air had that early-day softness – not quite cold, not warm either. Our apartment was close to Margaret Island, and by the time I rang the bell, I was already carrying that familiar feeling of being somewhere else.
Job opened the door.
Instead of a hug, I was greeted with a confession.
The washing machine was broken. Not metaphorically – literally. His clothes were trapped inside, sealed behind like an exhibition of poor decisions. The door wouldn’t open. A mechanic had to be called. Job, temporarily without wearable identity, needed new clothes.
So this was how Budapest welcomed us.
We walked to a second-hand shop. We tried on everything: shirts that made us laugh, jackets that made us look serious, fabrics of various qualities. Because we had already decided – boldly, prematurely – that we would go to the opera on Wednesday.
Job found a deep blue coat, elegant and dramatic, perfectly unnecessary. Of course he did.
Later, in a small music store, surrounded by instruments waiting patiently for attention, I bought an egg shaker. Some objects don’t ask questions. They simply insist.
As evening fell, we walked toward the Hungarian Parliament Building. Its lights slowly turned on, illuminating the river, the stone, the symmetry. It looked impossibly grand. Many of my Hungarian friends say it’s one of the most beautiful parliaments in Europe – and then, almost always, add that their politicians don’t really deserve it.
Beauty, it seems, can exist independently of worth.
We crossed the Chain Bridge, watched over by its stone lions, silent and eternal. From there, we climbed up to Buda Castle. Night had already settled in, and the city below looked sparkling.
At the castle, we lingered near a tour group. We eavesdroppped a bit, the guide spoke about World War II, and how Pest was controlled by the Nazis, while Buda by the Soviets. They stood on opposite sides of the Danube, shooting at each other across the water.
A river dividing ideologies. A city split in two. History, standing exactly where we were standing.
We continued walking and stopped for chimney cakes, hot and heavy, coated in cocoa. Steam escaped from them like breath in winter. We sat at Fisherman’s Bastion, overlooking the city, while Job effortlessly charmed a group of travelers – mostly by being Dutch, which seems to function as a social credential.
Back home, the mechanic arrived. He examined the machine, sighed, failed. We laughed, opened wine, put on our formal clothes anyway, and watched the final episode of De Mol – the emotional one, the revealing one.
I fell asleep on the couch, wine glass still nearby.
Morning Budapest, moving quietly
The next morning came too soon.
I worked a bit, then slipped outside while Job continued sleeping – something he does with impressive dedication. Early Budapest feels like a city speaking softly to itself. Boats cut through the river without urgency. People sat on benches, wrapped in coats and thoughts.
I passed the Parliament again, walked along the river, crossed the lion bridge, and continued on the Pest side. In my headphones played the 21 Hungarian Dances. The fifth one is my favourite, in case you insist to know.
I crossed back over another bridge and wandered through Margaret Island, quiet and green. When Job texted “You’ve already left?”, I rushed to bring back Hungarian pastries and coffee, as a peace offering.
Esztergom: edges of countries, edges of light
Later, we decided to go to Esztergom, right at the border with Štúrovo. Job had seen its cathedral once before on one of his trips and wanted to return – some places call you back without explanation.
An hour by train, and the country changed pace.
We walked through the town square, past statues and churches that seemed slightly oversized for the number of people around. We found an old bookstore, full of words we couldn’t read (because they were in Hungarian!), and lingered anyway. Then we reached the cathedral – enormous, dominant, watching over everything.
The sunset turned the sky pink. From there, you could see Slovakia across the river.
I love how easily borders dissolve here. No fences, no drama. Just a bridge.
We crossed into Štúrovo. The town was quiet, almost emptied out. A main street, a few restaurants, a sign with a rooster that looked more like a deer. At the end of the street, an arrow pointed left: vegan burgers.
So we went.
After dinner, we walked back across the bridge and stopped in the middle – technically between countries. We stayed there longer than necessary. Some spaces deserve lingering.
Picnics, music, and pretending to belong
The next day, the mechanic returned. The problem was simple, it turns out. Job’s insurance would have covered everything.
Pro tip: always have insurance.
The day was warm enough for a picnic, so we went back to Margaret Island. Flowers were still blooming, stubborn despite November. We passed the water tower – tall, fairy-tale-like, almost theatrical.
We sat on the grass, overlooking the open field, and examined each other’s wallets like anthropologists – tickets, receipts, small personal archives. In the Japanese garden, Job played the kalimba, and I played the Jew’s harp. The sounds mixed gently with water and footsteps.
We walked to the musical fountain, which played Hungarian classical music. Fishermen lined the river. Some people were working. Others were simply walking. It was a regular Wednesday. Life happening quietly.
Opera night
That evening, we dressed formally and went to the Hungarian State Opera House. The building was overwhelming. I felt like a civilized Neanderthal, allowed inside by accident.
I wore my favorite green dress.
For 2.50 euros, we watched Murad IV – a Turkish opera filled with janissaries, viziers, sultans, and pashas. For a few hours, I wasn’t myself. I was someone else entirely – another Toni, from another timeline, important, elegant, belonging to a higher Hungarian class.
I liked her. Although I found her a bit odd.
We walked home afterward, and I packed my bag. The next day, I would head to Frankfurt, where my mum would fly in for the weekend. Job would go to Bratislava.
Morning would come quickly.
It was going to be a long, long day on the road.
Travel notes
- Arrival in Budapest around 9:40 in the morning
- Stayed near Margaret Island
- First day logistics: broken washing machine → mechanic → second-hand clothes
- Thrift shopping + music store (egg shaker acquired)
- Evening walk past the Hungarian Parliament Building as the lights turned on
- Crossed the Chain Bridge, up to Buda Castle
- Learned about post-WWII division of Buda and Pest across the Danube
- Chimney cakes with cocoa at Fisherman’s Bastion
- Watched the finale of De Mol
- Early morning solo walk along the river and bridges
- Soundtrack: Hungarian Dances (No. 5 on repeat)
- Day trip by train to Esztergom
- Sunset at the basilica overlooking the Danube and Slovakia
- Walked across the bridge into Štúrovo
- Vegan burgers in Štúrovo
- Picnic on Margaret Island: water tower, Japanese garden, kalimba & Jew’s harp
- Musical fountain playing Hungarian classical music
- Evening at the Hungarian State Opera House
- Watched Murad IV for 2.50€
- Packed late at night
- Next destinations: Frankfurt (me) / Bratislava (Job)
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