Budapest

When I was 13 I had a great friend named Jared. We would spend hours on the phone night after night talking about everything from our tweenage crushes to Bryan Adams' new CD. You would think that after all that time over the phone I would know his voice well enough to not be taken by his frequent prank calls, yet somehow that wasn't the case. Despite my naivety, Jared and I would have heart-to-hearts that were about as deep as a pair of 13-year olds can produce. Time after time, he would remind me that I was a very deep thinker for my age, which, of course, was absolutely true. I remember the first time he said, 'Gosh you're deep.' The truth of it caught me by surprise and as a result has stuck with me. In all my deep thinking I had never stopped to think that it was anything different from any other middle-schooler. He meant no criticism, he was simply stating the obvious. And, of course, he was absolutely right. 


I think of Jared's comment every time I catch myself lost in thought instead of enjoying the moment. There you go being deep again.


Recently Reggie and I had the extraordinary opportunity to visit Budapest, Hungary. Halfway into our trip we went to a pub to meet friends of a friend to watch the Champions' League Final soccer match. Because Budapest is in Europe and all European countries love themselves some soccer the place was P-A-C-K-E-D. This is nothing new for us and we loved it. Standing at the bar with Reggie, intermittently being pushed and shoved by Hungarians, Brits, and everything in between, and desperately trying to catch the waitress' attention to no avail, I caught myself tuning out of real time and being deep. Again.

Budapest is the most recent on the list of great cities I have visited since this unequivocal adventure started. Prior to this I spent years collecting travel books and maps awaiting my chance to see the world. This year the opportunity presented itself and for that I couldn't possibly be more grateful. The fact that this adventure is a rare one is not lost on me. And so, standing with Reg in a crowded pub in Budapest, I caught myself smiling for reasons only clear to me (and my deep, deep self).


Until now Budapest seemed light years away, an Eastern European city I knew I'd fall in love with but never expected to get to. This sense of satisfaction, mixed in with my natural sense of bottomless depth, brought on a rush of serenity that somehow sang louder than the Barcelona supporters when Messi and his teammates began their domination of Manchester United. I cheered with them, but not because Barcelona was blowing MU away, but instead because life feels really good these days. It doesn't even take me digging below surface level to recognize that.


Beauty-pest served us well. Our friend Ingo served as our travel partner and tour guide as we gawked our way through Buda, Pest, and the darling Danube River that divides them.

Hilly Buda on the left, metropolitan Pest on the right, and the purdy Danube River in the middle

Until 1873 Buda and Pest were two separate cities divided both by geography and personality differences. Though they are now united courtesy of a handful of pretty bridges, the two halves of Budapest are completely different.


We started with Buda:

Buda is antiquated, hilly, green, and bold. It is dominated by Castle Hill, the city's highest-profile tourist zone. Castle Hill is a historic chunk of land looming above the bank of the Danube. On the breather breaks we took on our hike to the top, we caught some great views: 

The Royal Palace dominates Castle Hill. It houses the Hungarian National Gallery and the Budapest History Museum.

The walk from the Royal Palace to the other sites in Buda provided for lots of ooohing and ahhing opps.

A short, 90-degree-walk-that-felt-really-long later, we came upon this beauty:

The current Matthias Church is a ornate rebuild of the 800-year old original. It's lovely orange roof is unlike any I have seen and gives this beauty its striking splendor.


Next to Matthias Church is the Fisherman's Bastion, or Halaszbastya in Hungarian. (I went to and left Budapest without knowing a single Hungarian word, and words like this are the reason why.) The Bastion offers beautiful views over the Danube to Pest.

After we strolled and sweated our way through Buda, we headed over to purdy Pest. Our first stop was the Hungarian Parliament Building. This spiky thing looks just like London Parliament's little brother and it kind of is--it was designed by an architect that did his schooling in London. As much as I am absolutely obsessed with London, it would be a lie not to say that the Hungarian Parliament building is more than just slightly cooler.

Next up was Great Hall Market, a monsterous indoor flea and farmer's marketplace. Goose liver, golden Tokaji Aszu Wine, and kitchy Communism tees are among the M-A-N-Y goods for purchase. As I always do when there's a market to visit, I bee-lined my way to Great Hall Market with my biggest purse.

The quintessential ingredient in Hungarian cooking, hot-ish bell peppers were everywhere.

After two historic sites we were ready for a break. Though now rare, grandeur cafes are a big part of Hungarian history. In the late 19th century, a vibrant cafe culture erupted in Budapest, as it did in Vienna and Paris. Coffee houses became an institution--people unable to afford heating in their homes during the day or those just looking to escape their tiny flats spent their days in these comfortable coffee houses. For nothing more than the price of a coffee, folks could enjoy fancy leather seating, loaner newspapers, and the company of their friends. The Communists became wary of all of this socialization and shut down the cafes or converted them into less comfortable hang outs. Nostalgia has recently brought back these super fun coffee houses, and luckily we were able to take part in the fun.


Our guidebook suggested Central Coffee House, and we are glad it did. So glad that we even went twice.

Central is as grand as it is famous, with ridiculously inventive and scrumptious eats and drinks to boot. Located across the street from the university library, Central offers modern choices that I wouldn't have expected from the look of the interiors. Here I had my most memorable coffee experience to date. After a very, very long deliberation I finally decided on a coffee with local honey, milk, and cinnamon. When it arrived it was even prettier than I had dreamt it would be.

The bottom layer is local honey, followed by a layer of local milk, then the best bio decaf coffee on the planet, and finally froth covered with cinnamon. Hellooo, heavenly coffee!

On multiple occasions I heard waiters tell guests that Central's pastries are Pest's best.  After seeing these I'm pretty sure he wasn't being arrogant and was just stating the facts.

This spinach salad knocked the wind out of any other spinach salad I have had before. Plain and simple. 

 I had never seen a ceramic fry-sleeve. Impressive. 

When we had tackled the big touristy sites we were ready for relaxation. Like Baden Baden in Germany and Bath in England, Budapest sits on a thin layer of earth above thermal springs that power its many thermal baths. Because we never turn down a good bath, we headed to Szechenyi Baths to soak with the locals awhile. 

Szechenyi boasts two outdoor and at least five indoor pools. Unlike the other baths we've visited, this one felt like the neighborhood swimming hole, only a heck of a lot fancier. The 100-degree water came with a 20-minute advisory that we neglected completely. When we stepped out into the rain-cooled air it was a good hour before I felt anything but boiling inside. Now THAT's the way to relax. 








All that relaxation brought on a monster appetite, so we arranged to have dinner at Sir Lancelot, a medieval restaurant catering to large groups of people looking for comedic peasants and knights and an unusually social fire eater. Not sure if this was us, I tried to keep an open mind and, of course, loved it. 

You never know what you're going to get when you order from a country other than your own--even when the menu is in English. This menu, in old English, was not quite as confusing as one in Hungarian, but close. I was pleasantly surprised with my feast of apples, cucumber, and walnuts cooked in honey, with potato dumplings and a strangely large amount of fresh fruit. The verdict: really unusual and really delicious.

Reg had baked chicken with smashed potatoes and awesome BBQ sauce...and, oddly enough, fruit.

In case we wanted to smoke, the largest ashtray in history was on our table ready and waiting.  

According to Sir Lancelot himself only cheaters use silverware, and we were cheaters. Something about sticking my hands into honey-soaked fruit at the dinner table was too far out of my norm. Next time, Sir Lancelot, I'll do it your way. Promise. 








In any city we visit we attempt to see all of the 1,000 Places to See Before You Die mentions. I also seek out the city's best dark chocolate to bring home. This time, I really lucked out. One of Budpest's mentions was Gerbeaud, referred to by Patricia Schultz as, "...a temple of delectables." Yep, she's right. This gorgeous coffee house and confisserie certainly deserved the mention...and their dark chocolate should have, too.  

It doesn't take a philosopher such as myself to enjoy the heck out of Budapest. It's beauty supplies a shock factor that will appeal to anyone lucky enough to witness it. For me, though, enjoying city as far off the normal tourist track as this great place offered the chance to be overly reflective, which in turn became a reminder of how great life can be. 

Budapest's famous Chain Bridge connects Buda and Pest. 

The handmade wares were exceptional. This lovely dish was crafted just outside of Budapest by an art school student.

Sheesh. And I thought German was tough!

Inside Prague's St. Vitus Cathedral

A naïve path carries me through the Castle Courtyard. I barely notice the lights go out; the tunnel that was once in the distance is covering me now. All feet have stopped and all chins are pointing up. All eyes are instantly drawn up by the unannounced appearance of a gracefully massive gothic construction, and higher still to peaks nearly touching the top of the sky. I blink.


A Honey, I Shrunk the Kids complex sweeps over me. Just as quickly I am inside the fanny-packed parish, my eyes darting about without any effort. I have not yet been able to control my breathing. I make the choice not to mind.

“Oh, wow.”

“Oh…WOW.”

The high altar catches me first and stops me like a brick wall would. I can hear the rustling of the contents of the tombs and relics buried below my feet and I can feel the parishioners celebrating the Czech spirit. I can feel 750 years worth of celebration. My altar pictures are coming out blurry. All pictures I’ve ever seen of this place have a lack of crispness. I understand why now, I understand that this cannot be captured by a soul-less device. I have been standing here for ten minutes now and I have yet to make sense of it.

Now I’m in front of the Art Nouveau windows. They had waved me over and I can see why— they have nearly as much to offer as the altar. There is a story in the art on these windows that tells of the fathers of Slavic-style Christianity. I have read about it over and over, first as a teenager and again last night, but all of it escapes me now. I forget about remembering and painlessly allow the art to be a joy to behold.

My eyes are on the ceiling now. Stained glass decorations pull me in and hold me tightly. A strong, conscious effort is all that saves me from spending the rest of my visit eye-locked there. I glance back at the sites I have seen and study them carefully so as not to forget. My heartbeat and breathing entwine themselves into a meditation and I forget briefly where I am and where I am going.

Heavy steps to the door. And then I’m out.

The One and Only Prague

When I was in high school I surprised myself and won a writing competition, earning myself the title of "Teen Correspondent" for the Oakland Press. Look out! I was in my glory and so was my dad. With all the help he gave me with the articles I submitted he may as well have had his name right alongside mine. He was too busy collecting stacks of the Oakland Press to mind helping me with each and every article I submitted. The first article we co-wrote was about the ten-day school trip I had taken to Italy. That was the first taste I had of travel-writing. The travel bug first laid it's jaws on me in Italy, and the writing bug followed right along behind it. At 17-years old I hadn't done much traveling other than to Italy and rather than making up my next big story I grudgingly opted to write about something I actually knew about. So, the next Dean & Dean article recounted my life as a member of a blended family. As an emotional teenager just learning to cope with the early loss of my mom, writing the article at that time made perfect sense. Even though my support system was impenetrable, my mother's passing had, in part, defined me until then.
For years I attempted to write my confusion away. I filled countless journals, often times with letters to my mom. I told her about me and asked her about her. There were so many things I wondered about her; aside from knowing that her parents had moved from Czechoslovakia to Ohio to work in the paper mills, I knew very little about her. So, I held onto what I knew. I treasured the fact that her parents were from a country other than the US and as I kid as enthused about the world outside of Waterford, Michigan as I was I thought Czechoslovakia must be the coolest place on the planet. I bragged to everyone that would listen. I knew I would get there someday. I had to. I already had my tour mapped out.

Living in Germany has countless perks. Not only have I been fortunate enough to have the unbelievably incredible opportunity to travel my new continent, but I have the opportunity to do it with Reggie. While all of our trips have been eye-opening, beautiful, and just plain fun, having the chance to finally make it to my mother's country touched me deeper than any other place will.

The beauty of Prague strikes you like a sudden explosion. This stunning city supplies all the beauty that you expect it to, a challenge many cities are simply unable to meet. Prague produces the take-your-breath-away, knock-your-socks-off, and whoa moments that are not present in many destinations. For all the things you hope for, Prague delivers.

The Charles Bridge is one of Prague's defining landmarks, probably because it's foundation was laid in 1357 (That's right, the US is a spring chicken compared to Europe). Strolling along this handsome bridge is one of the best way to spend 500-yards. It is tastefully adorned with bronze Baroque statues, anxious vendors, and gobs of gawkers.

The illuminated structure looming over the city is Prague Castle. "I don't care how we get there, we just have to get THERE," was one of many thoughts I had when I first laid eyes on this fairytale formation.  

 Just across The Charles Bridge is Little Quarter, a charming neighborhood hiding underneath the castle. In Little Quarter Reggie and I visited the Lennon Wall. While Prague, once ruled by Communism, was in essence tortured by the ideas of Lenin, John Lennon's suggestions of peace offered hope to the Czech people. Immediately following the death of Lennon a wall was covered with grafitti-art in honor of the love the Czech people have for him. The wall is considered a place that offered peace to locals craving freedom from the Communism that was their everyday.

Past Little Quarter is Castle Quarter. On our way we stopped at Strahov Monastery for even more pretty, pretty views of the city.

Strahov has REALLY big doors.

Even though every stop we made was worthwhile, it was impossible not to be anxious about getting to the gorgeous cathedral and castle off to the left poking their heads up and waving me over.

As enticing as Prague Castle is, it is quite easy to get distracted along the way:

Loreta Church

 

LOOK! There she is!

Prague Castle is the biggest intact castle on earth and Czech leaders have ruled from there for more than a thousand years. It sits at the head of the Castle Square table like a no-nonsense king. In medieval times Castle Square housed the king, the most important noblemen, and the archbishop. It turns out this was quite the place to be back in the day.

Prague Castle

Prague Castle refers to a complex of structures including two churches and a palace. Inside the castle entrance is a massive courtyard which includes a tunnel that leads directly to this sweet thing:

The brilliantly beautiful spires of St. Vitus Cathedral can be seen from just about anywhere in the city. This 760-year old masterpiece contains the tombs and relics of the most important local saints and kings, as well as the ability to supply an awe-inspiring experience.



A lovely 14th century mosaic depiction of the Last Judgment.



Whoa, right?

 

This gentleman can guard the castle...

And Reggie can guard the view...

Like so many attractive cities in Europe Prague supplies visitors with a moving Jewish Memorial quarter. Prague's Jewish Quarter houses seven memorial sites scattered over a few blocks. Reggie and I both find Jewish memorial sites incredibly interesting and very moving and enjoyed our time here.

Pinkas Synagogue, a 400-year old site of Jewish worship is a poignant tribute to victims of Nazi force. The synagogue's walls are covered with the names of the Czech Jews that were sent to concentration camps. All 77,297 names are handwritten. Adding to the sadness of viewing this memorial is the reading of each of the names over speakers throughout the site.

The names of the concentration camps associated with the deaths of the Czech people included in this memorial are listed here.

 

As you exit Pinkas you enter Old Jewish Cemetery, one of the most surprisingly wistful scenes I have come across. Here there are 12,000 reminiscent tombstones as close together as physics would allow. From 1439-1787 Prague Jews were only allowed to be buried in this small space, making it necessary to pile tombs on top of each other.

Maisel Synagogue was built in the 16th century as a private place of worship for the Maisel family. Like many memorials photos are not allowed, but I can assure you that Mr. Maisel had a heck of a collection of Jewish history treasures.

The Old-New Synagogue has been the most important place of worship in the Jewish Quarter for more than 700 years. It's rugged and roughed up, an appearance that suggests it has stood the test of time repeatedly.



A cute walk from the Jewish Quarter is Prague's Old Town. While some might skip the history lesson delivered by the Jewish Quarter, no visitors skip Old Town. There are many, many reasons why this is so:

Old Town Hall



With celestial symbols, hands, and moving disks this super neat astrological clock keeps multiple versions of time. I am amazed at the complexity of it now and marvel at the geniuses that created it 500 years ago. At the top of the hour the clock strikes and a massive crowd always forms to witness it.





Old Town Square has been a market square since the 11th-century. Lucky for us it just so happened that the Christmas Markets were in full effect on our Prague weekend. That beauty of a beast behind the markets is the lovely Tyn Church, a 500-year old Catholic church.




It's a tough call, but I think she looks even prettier all lit up at night.



Reggie + scrumptious handmade potato chips = true happiness.

Those awesomely tasty chips weren't the only good eats we enjoyed. We made our way to several great eateries in between the must-sees.

Cafe Louvre, named after the museum, opened in 1902 and has belonged to the first rank of Prague cafes since then. Cafe Louvre is very proud of the fact that Einstein and Kafka frequented their marble-clad establishment upon stays in the city.

Even the vegetarian is good here. Score.

The restaurants said to be traditional Czech restaurants have a medieval flare, like this one which was tucked away deep down a dark, windy, and damp staircase:

The original Budweiser recipe came from Prague a looooong time ago. It's still darn good.

While moving memorials and endless eating options make Prague a stellar destination, it is it's incomparable eye-appeal that make this place so perfect.

Touring the country of my mother's family with Reggie was as lovely as I had imagined it would be. It just felt right. Having the chance to write about it all, well that feels--perfect.