Five Days in Budapest

SUNDAY

Those of you who have read the Mongolia road trip and Istanbul by rail articles will know I’m rather fond of Budapest – and that this is by no means my first time there. In fact, this break would be the fifth occasion I’d spent time in the Hungarian capital, but there were some crucial reasons for my visit.

On my previous visits, I’d spent most of my time at either the Sziget festival, or drinking in Erzsébetváros. I blame this almost entirely on the fact I’d been with other people – I’m clearly very easily swayed! When I went with the Other Half, we had only one full day in the city so I took her to the same tourist places I’d been to before: the market, Fisherman’s Bastion and Széchenyi baths. If I was on my own for four days, I could do whatever I wanted. This would include many tourist destinations I’d never previously managed to get to and, of course, some bars – but different bars in different areas. Mostly.

With that in mind, I made sure I didn’t book myself into a hotel in Erzsébetváros – the area between Astoria and Oktogon, and Blaha Lujza and Déak Ferenc térs. The Maverick Hostel and Ensuites fit the bill perfectly. It had nice en-suite double rooms situated in a stunning building, was a few steps from the Ferenciek Tere metro station and a short walk from Déak Ferenc, Astoria and Kálvin metro stations, and was walkable from Gellért baths on the Buda side, and the drinking haven of Erzsébetváros. And it was relatively cheap too.

Getting there was easy as well. At Ferenc Liszt airport I did my usual trick of withdrawing stupidly large notes from the bank machine so didn’t have enough small notes to purchase a seven-day travel card. Thankfully, a kindly supervisor took pity on me and exchanged one of my larger notes, and then showed me how to work the machine. This was a plus as I’ve usually found getting travelcards in Budapest to be troublesome. So there I was, sat on the 200E bus from the airport to the Köbánya-Kispest metro station where the bus terminated. All this in a little under 20 minutes. Happy days. The connecting metro took me straight to Ferenciek Tere, with the hostel entrance just outside the metro exit.

Almost anywhere else, the building containing the hostel would be stunning, but here in the heart of the inner city it nestles to the side of the Klotild and Matild palaces and opposite Brudern-Ház. The latter was closed for refurbishments, which is a shame as it featured in the scene in the recent remake of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy in which Mark Strong’s character gets shot. The entrance to the hostel is impressive, as grand steps lead you through an equally grand door to the hostel. Inside, the staff are friendly, rooms clean and a decent size – and coffee, tea and water free. A great bonus in the heat of mid-September.

The lively Krúdy Gyula utca with the Jézus Szíve templom in the background

But I wasn’t here to explore a boutique hostel, even if all the rooms were named after Big Lebowski characters. There was a wonderful city out there, with beer. I had decided to sample a few different drinking holes this evening, so to carry out my plan of venturing to a new area, I headed south-east to Mikszáth Kálmán tér in the Palotanegyed (Palace District). With a variety of bars and cafes dotted around its perimeter, this square immediately proved I was right to explore new districts. Budapest is a very seasonal city, so some bars are closed during the winter. I had a feeling Garzonkert would be one such bar, so I went here. On previous visits I had sampled a few ruin bars. In Erzsébetváros they get packed to the rafters, especially the world-renowned Szimpla Kert. Garzon was quite quiet, save for a few locals of all ages enjoying their Sunday night.

Determined not to have too many beers, I took a lazy wander around the district with the intention of eventually winding up at Blaha Lujza tér and heading in to Erzsébetváros (for old times’ sake, you understand!) At Lörinc Pap tér I noticed a throng of 20somethings  heading into the Jésus Szíve Templom opposite. There appeared to be some sort of concert starting and it was reassuring to see people venturing in to places such as this when the easy alternative would be to head to one of the many bars I had just passed. Other than this congregation, the Palotanegyed was rather quiet. Certainly much quieter than its neighbouring zone across Rákóczi Út.

The large beer garden at Köloves Kert on Kazinczy Utca

Even on a Sunday night, this area is thriving. It’s still possible to find a quiet corner, even of a bustling bar like the student-heavy Lámpás bar, an underground warren of rooms. Needless to say, I did return to Szimpla if only to see if it had changed. Even though I was late to the party, it’s changed since I first frequented it. Sadly, not for the better. Although the decorations are still impressive, it now seems to be solely a tourist destination where you can get a drink. It remains worth a visit, but I’m not sure how long I’ll feel that way – especially with what else was to come in the following four days.

‘Refreshed’, I returned to the hostel. But still had time to get confused about which exit to use while taking an underground shortcut through Astoria metro station. Standard.

MONDAY

It’s hard to understand why I felt so jet-lagged after a short flight that I left my hostel at 3am in search of a falafel wrap, but I did.

Anyway, I was back out by 10am to enjoy my first full solo day in Budapest. It started with a walk. A rather tough walk up the Gellért hill to be precise. A few stops later (to savour the view, rather than keep myself from collapsing, of course) and I appeared at the tourist-thronged Citadella. But this wasn’t what I or most of the tourists were here for. Nor was it the impressive minimalist Liberty Statue. It was the view up the Danube. The bridges, the bustling rakparts, Fisherman’s Bastion, Mátyás Templom, St Stephen’s Basilica, the Hungarian Parliament and the hills of northern Buda can all be enjoyed from various vantage points and it’s got to be one of the most photographed views in Budapest. It is breathtaking though. The last thing I needed after the walk up the hill…

The view of the Danube and the Hungarian parliament from the Citadella

But what goes up must come down, and so I did, finding myself at the entrance to the Gellért baths. Having been weighed down by my bag carrying trunks and a towel, I took full advantage. Hint: It’s always wise to pack trunks and a towel when wandering round Budapest as the spa culture is one of its highlights. The architecture of the Gellért baths can be a touch imposing, and I’ve often presumed it was for the very rich and well-to-do. Not true. The outside pool even turns into a wave-pool sometime around the hour mark. It’s impossible not to enjoy it – just make sure your trunks are firmly attached. The best place to stand is on the left of the pool, facing the building, at about the 1-metre mark. That seems to be where the best waves hit. It’s a wonderful feeling knowing that everyone from young kids, backpackers and young professionals to elderly folk are having the time of their lives, beaming from ear to ear. There’s quite a range of other indoor pools and these are worth visiting too, but the main indoor one is for people with swimming caps only. These can be purchased at reception. I could have stayed all day, but I was beginning to prune.

The warm indoor pools at the Gellért baths

Properly refreshed this time, as opposed to last night, I was keen to sample more panoramas of Budapest so took a stroll up Váci Utca (Budapest’s premier shopping street) to Saint Stephen’s Basilica. For the paltry sum of 500 HUF you can walk up the 364 steps to the cupola for a stunning view of the Buda side. The steps are narrow, winding and constant. It’s a tiring affair and, halfway up, I did wonder why someone who occasionally suffers from vertigo would want to put themselves through such an ordeal. However, the views were amazing. The Gellért Hill and the Citadella, Fisherman’s Bastion, the Hungarian Parliament and the Buda hills all dotted the stunning landscape. I even attempted to walk round the narrow walkway, but I only took a few steps before my vertigo decided I shouldn’t go any further. For the equivalent of £1.50 it was still hugely worth the vertigo and the tiring walk up.

The view from St Stephen’s cupola, with the Hungarian parliament in the background

But lunchtime was calling. Being Budapest, there was only one thing to get for lunch – a lángos. For those unfamiliar with this Hungarian staple, it’s a sort of deep-fried flatbread covered in a variety of toppings, usually cheese and sour cream. However, dear readers, this was no ordinary lángos. From the Retro Büfé stall outside Arany János Utca metro station, you can get a töltött lángos, a stuffed lángos. Feeling hungry after the walking, climbing and swimming, I plumped for one called the atomtámadás (nuclear attack). It contained three types of chilli pepper, ham, cheese, sausage and onion. Despite a raging hunger, I couldn’t finish this delicious 790 HUF (£2.50) feast.

I needed to walk off this supreme stodge, so decided to treat myself by visiting the birthplace of a slight hero of mine. Hidden in an office car park on the corner of Tüköry Utca and Arany János Utca is a plaque commemorating the now destroyed home of Marc Aurel Stein. The archaeologist is a controversial character, no doubt. He’s mostly remembered for ‘stealing’ thousands of important Chinese statues and books from the old Silk Road towns in Chinese Turkestan (now known as the area around the Taklamakan desert). He certainly removed these items and most are now hidden away in the British Museum,  but he did pay the caretaker-monk of the caves near Dunhuang. I also completely understand why the Chinese are furious with him and why they want these treasures back, but I would suggest their anger is aimed at the wrong people. With the Russian invaders and the destruction of the Cultural Revolution still to come, a lot of the treasures remaining in China were desecrated and lost for good. Stein’s cart-loads of goods still remain and have helped scholars forge new understandings into the lost cities of the Taklamakan. But one thing myself and the Chinese will definitely agree on is their return to China. In the modern world, I’m still unsure of the need for countries to hoard other cultures’ iconic treasures. Surely the best place to see items of cultural significance is in their original environs. What’s more, the British Museum doesn’t even display most of these pieces, rendering Britain’s possession of them even more futile.

Anyway, after spending a few contemplative moments stood in a car park, I moved on. If I thought the birthplace of Aurel Stein was thought-provoking, it had nothing on the next place.

One of the pair of Shoes on the Danube

On the very edge of the riverbank at the end of Zoltán Utca is a memorial to the 3,500 people (nearly a quarter of whom were Jewish) who were shot by the Arrow Cross militiamen in 1944 and 1945. Sixty pairs of iron shoes line the Danube because the victims were lined up on this site and shot into the river, with the water washing their bodies away. The Arrow Cross was an ultra-nationalist party who ran the Hungarian government for just over five months. In that time they managed to murder up to 15,000 people, mostly Gypsies and Jews. This set of tiny sculptures is a poignant reminder of an evil that we must never let resurface, and the beauty of the Shoes on the Danube Bank is considerably at odds with its meaning. Just standing there, staring at this serene scene, I couldn’t begin to imagine those horrors. Despite being stood next to a busy rakpart with lorries, cars and trams whizzing by, there seemed to be complete silence. It also seemed to be a hub of segway hiring.

Turning to my right, I saw my next destination. It’s a place I had seen from afar on every previous visit to Budapest, and one I had also viewed twice today – but I had never been close to it. Just a few steps from the Shoes on the Danube is the Országház, or the Hungarian Parliament. Apparently it divides opinion, but I’m absolutely fascinated by it. I’ve heard people describe this monumental Gothic revival edifice as over the top – and it is – but that’s part of its beauty. It must be one of the world’s most iconic buildings as I’ve not seen anything like it, even if it is claimed that the inspiration for its construction came from London’s Houses of Parliament. The intricacy of the porticoes and many little turrets bamboozle the eyes, while the cream-coloured brick means the building shines beautifully in the sun. I had considered going in to the building, but was enjoying the exterior view too much and, coupled with the emotions of the afternoon, decided a drink was in order.

Getting the number 6 tram from Jászai Mari tér, I alighted at Oktogon. Whereas I’d usually head south from here towards the busy areas of Király utca, I instead decided to try out a new area for me and sampled a few drinks in the B City Pub and Instant ruin bar. The former professes to be open 24 hours, but I was the only customer in the late afternoon – apart from a large sleeping dog which I, of course, let lie. The tables were packed in tight under hundreds of photos of actors, and the beer was very cheap. Instant seemed interesting, with a selection of bizarre animals cluttering the walls and hanging overhead, but the beer wasn’t the best – and I’m not usually one to notice such things.

The busy day had tired me out, so I went back to the hostel for a quick siesta before grabbing some food at the vegan restaurant attached to the building. Unless you turn up dressed as a businessman, I have discovered that solo diners receive strange looks from waiting staff, and the polite woman at Napfényes Étterem és Cukrászda was no different. I asked for a table for one and, try as she might, she couldn’t hide her surprise. “Just one?!” she replied with obvious incredulity. Falafel and a hummus platter gave me a bit more energy so I ventured out to a few more pubs.

I was keen to see more of the Palotanegyed so returned to Krúdy Gyula utca which was as lively as ever. This time, I carried on further up the street to Andersen, a subterranean Canadian-themed student-friendly bar with cheap, decent beer. There were strong cocktails and minimeters to share and I felt slightly out of place as a solo traveller, so I moved on. Gravitating back to my natural home, I considered going to Szimpla but thankfully decided against it. Before arriving at Szimpla, I noticed the StArt cafe bar, but it looked tiny and too full of craft beer for my liking. After walking round for a while, I decided to go in to StArt – it was a decision I was delighted I made. For such a small space, there’s a huge selection of beers on offer. My second choice was possibly my favourite beer I’ve ever had. It seemed an odd choice – flavoured with green tea and jasmine – but it was delicious. By that time, I’d even figured out there was a quiet mezzanine level. A thoroughly pleasant hour or so!

Making a brief return to Szimpla Kert, I instantly regretted it. A drunken British girl pushed me out of the way so she could order a couple of “Jägerbombs, yah” for her and the bored looking guy she had latched on to. I had hoped the gap year students would have left Hungary by now. I wandered round the upstairs rooms, finished my drink and left. A woman spoke to me as I eventually emerged from the correct exit of the Astoria metro underpass. I took my earphones out and she spoke again: “You want nice massage?” Oh…

I returned to the Maverick hostel.

TUESDAY

Today pretty much summed up my reason for returning to Budapest by myself. I can’t really think of anyone else who would have enjoyed every part of this day. Apart from me, of course.

But firstly, I had some large bank notes to change and, for the first time ever, I succeeded. Eventually. I now know how to use Hungarian banks. To be fair, it wasn’t that difficult, but it had always puzzled me.

Feeling flush with both success and spendable currency, I boarded the metro up to my first site of interest: the Puskás Ferenc Stadion. It was rather impressive and a lot newer than I expected. It turns out I was actually looking at the Budapest Arena and the national football had been demolished. Success… waning.

Hopping on to tram 1 for two stops, I came to my next football stadium: Hidegkuti Nándor Stadion, home to the famed MTK Budapest team and named after one of their star strikers from the Hungarian golden age. This stadium was definitely here. However, in a turn of events that recalled the scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail in which a king discusses his previous unsuccessful attempts to build a castle on a swamp, this stadium hadn’t quite been finished. The skeleton of it suggested it would be a mighty structure when completed, but I had a feeling this day that started off so promising was about to peter out into farce.

Then I looked to my right and saw another stadium. BKV Előre isn’t a name as glamorous as MTK but I was glad to see an actual stadium. The fact that it was literally across the road from their more illustrious neighbours’ made the trip even better. As did the view of the pitch – a team appeared to be training on it. Sadly, my knowledge of lower-league Hungarian football isn’t up to scratch, but I presumed it was Előre themselves, so I stayed to watch a while before carrying on.

The Groupama Aréna, home of Ferencvaros

Any self-respecting MTK fan would be furious with me for where I went next, so I apologise to them. But Ferencváros are one of the most – if not the most – recognisable names in Hungarian football. Their stadium, just another few stops on tram 1, is also home to the national team. Formerly the Stadion Albert Flórián, this new behemoth of a ground with a capacity of just under 24,000 is genuinely impressive. The Groupama Aréna oozes success and confidence in the importance of the Fradi (Ferencváros’ nickname) – and the massive steel eagle on a ball emphasises this.

Before my final stadium, I had a non-football location to visit. I emerged from the Határ út metro station into a very suburban interchange. I love Budapest, but I was glad I didn’t have to linger here. More on Határ út on Thursday…

Pannónia út and the Wekerle housing estate could not be more different from its incredibly gritty approach. Around the turn of the 20th Century, Budapest experienced a rapid influx of people from Transylvania. During Britain’s rush for urbanisation, rural migrants were housed in tiny, cramped terraced houses or slums. But no, not in Budapest. Granted the Wekerle estate was created to mainly house government employees, but this is social housing where the lives of its residents are taken into account – and at least a quarter of its original residents were private-sector workers from local factories. Hungarian Prime Minister Sándor Wekerle and architect Károly Kós came up with a garden-city type estate with Transylvanian-style housing. Even today, it’s a refreshing sight as the little cottages on the outer streets have their own gardens blooming with flowers, vegetables and fruit trees. The centre of the estate focuses on Kós Károly ter and is absolutely stunning. The three- and four-storey villas surrounding the square are in typical eastern Hungary/Transylvanian style, with huge swooping roofs, the likes of which are common in places like Sibiu in Romania. It’s such a peaceful, happy environment, and even has amenities like pubs and restaurants.

Kós Károly square in the centre of the Wekerle estate

And that’s why I was glad I’d come on my own. Telling a group of friends that a social housing estate is a tourist destination is sure to be met with suspicious glares or even hilarity.

But I was soon back on the football train, or rather tram. Boarding at the end of Hungária út, I travelled south until the end of the line. If it wasn’t for the appeal of the football stadium just over the train tracks, I would have looked very out of place. The rest of the passengers were elderly and very, very local. But they must be aware of what lies across the tracks.

It’s the Bozsik Stadion, home of Ferenc Puskás’ Budapest Honvéd FC. There’s something magical, almost mythical, about Puskás and Honvéd. For more than 50 years, Hungarian football has been viewed by many as insignificant, but even the most blinkered fan would never view the Mighty Magyars of the 1950s as insignificant. Puskás, Hidegkuti, Kocsis and Bozsik, to name but four, changed football for ever. In 1953, my home nation of England ruled football. It had invented it, it had given it to the world. England had only ever been beaten once at home – until Puskás et al arrived at Wembley. The match has gone on to be known as the “Match of the Century”, with the Hungarians completely outplaying England and beating them 6-3. Having watched highlights on YouTube, some of the play remains impressive to this day. To be here at the stadium where Bozsik and Puskás made their names was breath-taking. Even if Dzsudzsák, Szalai, Kleinheisler and Nagy don’t make my heart beat as fast, to also be here in the year when the Hungarians made their long-awaited return to tournament football was beautifully appropriate. I even tried to sneak in to the Bozsik Stadion, but the guard said something in Hungarian which I presumed to be “you can’t go in here” and I left.

I had just missed the bus to Kőbánya-Kispest so I decided to walk a few stops. It was hot. So very hot. I stood, baking, at a tram/bus stop on Üllői út for what seemed like an age. I had worked up a thirst and needed shelter.

Emerging back into the sun at Klinikák metro station, I walked up Bókay János utca to Gólya Presszó. This old, scruffy building in the middle of an up-and-coming new area is at odds with the plush new apartment buildings springing up all around it, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Entering this little community-run bar, I immediately fell in love with the place. Everyone was welcome here: trendy twentysomethings, blue-collar locals and even solo British tourists. Gólya Presszó is a beautiful, cosy find off the beaten track and even the food looked good.

It was much cosier than A Grund, a couple of streets to the west. However, this place was vast, with a massive open-air area containing a children’s playground. It was a weird mixture of ruin pub, community centre and even office complex. Elesztő, over Üllői út from A Grund, came recommended as a craft-beer haven. There’s a wide selection and a lively atmosphere and, as with the previous pubs, a distinct lack of English-speaking tourists – which was nice. This theme carried on at the Cseh In on Lónyay utca in the Inner City. As the name suggests, this was a Czech bar and had a lovely terrace outside and a homely wooden bar on the mezzanine. There was also a confusing conversation with the bar girl, of which I got the impression that drinks may be cheaper upstairs. Either way we both laughed for no real reason and I enjoyed a refreshing Czech lager in what came across as a mountain cabin.

The bad news is this had given me a taste for beer, so I decided to hop across the Danube to Buda. At a street up the road from the Margit híd is the Margit Utca Kilenc, a hidden open-air bar – and very friendly. This was the first place I had heard English today. In fact, the whole table of strangers behind me was talking in English: a few Finns, a Swede, a deeply un-American sounding American and a Hungarian. We got chatting and the Hungarian was a teacher of English and Swedish, so was enjoying putting his excellent knowledge into practice. He also expressed delight at hearing a northern English accent, so I tested him with a rapid colloquial sentence – it blew him away but he understood more than even southern English people would. Myself and the quiet New Yorker were also quizzed on Brexit and Donald Trump. It was all cordial and I enjoyed talking in fluent, relaxed English for once. But I had to move on from this Szimpla-for-a-slightly-more-mature-crowd and venture in to the past.

By the side of Millenáris park is Marxim, a Communism themed bar complete with barbed wire, mannequins wearing gas masks and pizzas with socialist monikers, ie Snow White and the Seven Little Proletariats, and Siberian Dreams. It’s a bizarre turn of affairs that Communism has become an attraction. Is it a draw for ‘westerners’ who never experienced the dark side to life behind the Iron Curtain? Is it the new generation poking fun at their early years and all that is considered old? Or is it an attempt to provide an educational type of living museum? Either way, it’s an interesting place and, although surely a caricature, is somewhere a little different from the norm in which to while away an hour.

Party time: The wall decoration at Red Ruin

But that wasn’t the end of my Communist adventure. Behind the Maverick Hostel is Red Ruin, another Communist-themed bar. Being in the Inner City, this was a lot busier and considerably more raucous. As with Marxim, the wall decorations were excellent – a mural of global Communist leaders drinking and wearing hats under the slogan “Communist Party” and a “Learn Hungarian in Two Minutes” poster which showed a woman holding a bottle of palinka.

While yesterday had been relaxing, invigorating and classical, today had been beautifully crazy and shattering. Tomorrow had better be peaceful.

WEDNESDAY

After the exertions of yesterday, I needed a quiet day. I’ve often found that when the going gets tough, it’s best to run to the hills. So that’s what I did. Dragging myself over the Erzsébet híd, I eventually found a tram at Döbrentei tér that would take me all the way to Hűvösvölgy, high up in the Buda hills. The trip took over 30 minutes, which afforded me the opportunity to get to grips with my hangover a little. Today would be a quiet day.

The air in this quietly busy suburb (translating as Cool Valley) was fresher and the scenery had a certain alpine feel to it. I had chosen…wisely. A peaceful stroll along the residential Ördögárok utca brought me to Náncsi Néni Vendéglője – a converted 17th-century farmhouse now acting as a restaurant serving classic Hungarian home cooking. It looked closed, but I had suspected I was too early, so I carried on walking down the road. The houses here were large and the tree cover almost constant, a leafy suburb if you will. I realised I looked hugely out of place so I returned to the restaurant, where I was greeted and seated by a friendly waiter. Whether his menu suggestions were entirely altruistic I’m not sure, but I was in a malleable mood. Either way, I ended up with a traditional cucumber salad, veal stew with gnocchi or spaetzle, and a big glass of homemade lemonade. It was exactly what the doctor ordered and, despite feeling very full, I returned to Hűvösvölgy a happy man.

The platform at Hüvösvölgy

Walking through the interchange and into a wooden hillside, I was trying but struggling to find my next destination. Then, appearing from among the trees I saw an old train station. I walked up to the platform and tried to buy a ticket, but the office was deserted. Soon after a load of school children in white shirts and blue pilotkas (hats) appeared. This was the Gyermekvasút, or Children’s Railway. At 11.2km, it is the longest children’s railway in the world and, apart from the train driver, is staffed entirely by children aged 10-14. The station at Hűvösvölgy is a proper, Communist-era edifice and looks the part as the old engine comes chugging in to view through the thick forest. For just 600HUF (about £1.50), you wind your way through the beautiful Buda hills for 40 minutes, stopping at a handful of stations. Along the way, the young ticket collectors also announce the stations. Due to the noise prior to the first stop, the girl in my carriage shouted her line… just as the noise stopped. The look on her face was priceless as she quickly changed from embarrassment to a wry smile. At each station, the train staff salute their counterparts on the platform. It’s a wonderful way to spend an hour away from the hustle and bustle of Budapest, all the while catching fleeting glimpses of the city far below.

The train eventually terminated at Széchenyihegy from where I took a short stroll to the cogwheel railway stop. Travel on this strange form of transport is valid as part of the Budapest travel card as it is classed as Tram 60. The cogwheel element is crucial as it winds its way up and down the steep Buda hills eventually arriving in its own little station at Városmajor near Széll Kálmán tér. As it looked like rain, I retreated to my hostel instead of exploring this area further. As is typical for Budapest, as soon as I had made it back to the Maverick, the rain subsided. Not being in the mood for many drinks, I had a quick siesta before venturing out into the unknown once more.

The cogwheel tram arrives

I had intended to catch another new form of transport – the trolleybus – from Dohány utca, but the electronic sign told me there was a wait of 50 minutes for the next one. This seemed unlikely but I wasn’t willing to hang around to check, so I caught the metro up to Keleti station and a busy, rush-hour bus up Thököly út before alighting confused and strangely disorientated near Stefánia út. Walking towards the City Park, I discovered this was an embassy area (there are also many embassies near the park end of Andrássy út). Italy, Iran, Switzerland and Libya had their embassies along Stefánia út, at the end of which was a large block of flats hiding a great surprise. In the garden of this unassuming block of concrete is Jaromir 68, an open-air Czech bar. The waiter looked puzzled as a solo visitor arrived, but I sat down at the far end of the garden so I could have a good view of everything. For under 2000HUF (£5) I had a good pint of unusual Czech lager and a brilliant burger and chips. All while the Libyan flag fluttered behind me. I liked Jaromir. It was unusual and quietly welcoming. As with the other bars I had been to outside Erzsébetváros, there was a clear mixed clientele and a distinct lack of pretensions.

This couldn’t be said of the large ruin bar across the street. Don’t get me wrong, Dürer Kert was good but its clientele was clear. This huge multi-room bar and massive garden catered mainly for rock fans. There’s a gig venue upstairs and an outdoor stage and I’m sure I would have appreciated this on another day. But I wanted a quieter evening.

So, ironically, I returned to Wesselényi utca. I was fortunate enough to time my exit from Dürer Kert to coincide with the arrival of a trolleybus that would take me into the belly of boozy Budapest. The story goes that the red trolleys were rolled out to coincide with Stalin’s 70th birthday and, consequently, all routes are numbered in the 70s. I boarded route 74 and enjoyed a journey through the back streets to Nyár utca.

The reason for my return to this particular zone was to see if a homely little bar was open. I had tried to go in on previous nights but to no avail. The first time I went into Füvész Bár was when myself and a few friends were staying at the King’s Hotel next door. I found it quiet and a safe haven in the middle of the raucous partying elsewhere. Indeed, on the Istanbul trip, a shattered me sought refuge here. That’s how I felt today. Thankfully it was open, but shock horror – it was busy! It appears to have reinvented itself as a Belgian beer bar but I plumped for a nice Czech lager again. Due to its diminutive size, half a dozen people make Füvész Bár seem full but it still gives one the impression of a local and remains one of my favourite spots in Budapest.

THURSDAY

It must have been the dread of leaving Budapest that made me wake up so early but I was determined to go out with a bang. That’s why I found myself at Széchenyi baths at such an hour. Being the only person enjoying the whirlpool was a delight but other bathers must have sensed the unbridled delight because others soon joined me.

I had been to Széchenyi baths numerous times before but had never bothered to find the indoor pools. I’m not sure why because they’re extensive and stunning – apart from the freezing plunge pool. That came as quite a surprise. I’m not sure which of the baths I prefer, but I think Széchenyi just nudges Gellért into second place. Riding on a Unesco World Heritage site to get to the baths does add something. Budapest’s Metro 1 line was the first on mainland Europe on its construction at the end of the 19th Century and it is the grandest I’ve ever ridden on.

But today wasn’t about railways. Today was about completing nearly-dones. By visiting the indoor baths at Széchenyi, I had ticked one of these things off already, but there were a couple of other things I still wanted to do that I had previously come close to achieving, without success. Trams 19 and 41 on the Buda embankment are almost a tourist attraction in themselves. They run from south of Gellért baths up the rakparts and past Margitsziget into Óbuda, affording stunning views of the Hungarian parliament building as they pass Batthyány tér, or Bem József tér where I alighted.

In the north-west corner of this quiet square is Bambi Eszpresszó, a coffee shop that doesn’t appear to have changed since its 1960s heyday. As I sat outside nursing my americano and reading George A Birmingham’s A Wayfarer in Hungary, I felt strangely satisfied. As a non-coffee drinker, I’ve rarely – if ever – spent time like this but I could definitely get used to it, although I doubt other locations would come close to Bambi.

Imre Varga’s sculptures just off Fö tér

If I didn’t have other places to be, I would have stayed for brunch. With what was next on my agenda, food here was a definite no-no. The HEV is a suburban commuter railway service , with lines running north, south and east. As long as your journey is in the Budapest city limits, this form of transport is also included in your travel pass. Szentlélek tér is the stop for Óbuda, the oldest part of Budapest. Standing in Fő tér (Main Square), you could be forgiven for thinking you had arrived in provincial Hungary, except for the tower blocks in the background. The beautiful low-rise buildings give Fő tér the air of a historical theme park. Hiding behind Imre Varga’s sculpture of women holding umbrellas is the Trófea Grill. There are various branches of this all-you-can-eat-and-drink restaurant around Budapest, with the main one on Király utca near Andrássy út. The one in Óbuda was much nicer. The food is of a decent standard, nothing special but certainly palatable and the house wine was fine too. The extra aspect came with feeling as if I had escaped the city and was enjoying lunch in a rural farmhouse. It was good to finally see what other Trófeas offer.

Ironically, this could easily have been the first Trófea I had gone into if I knew what Fő tér had to offer when I went to the Sziget festival. One HEV stop away is Filatorigát, a name that makes me smile. Even six years after last visiting this location, I instantly knew where to go – and there it was… the big iron bridge that acted as the entrance to Sziget. As someone who has been to Glastonbury festival a number of times, I had never yet been to a festival site ‘out of season’. Without all the construction that comes with a huge festival, I hadn’t realised just how big Óbudaisziget was. This massive, empty island hosts some of the biggest names in music for a week every August: Iron Maiden, Faithless and Muse were all on the bill when I went, as well as bands the like of which you rarely see in the UK, such as Germany/Ukraine’s Rotfront and Romania’s Fanfare Vagabontu. Seeing these two acts changed my taste in music for ever so to be back on the festival ground delighted me. Moreso when I stumbled across our old camping location. I tried to take some photographs but from a distance it looked like a couple may have been getting amorous. After standing near the location of the Chuck Norris bar and main stage, I found the ferry terminal. As you may expect on an uninhibited island, there was no one else there. A boat heading south approached and, despite having headphones in and not speaking Hungarian, I managed to communicate with the boatman that he needn’t stop here. I was heading to the only stop further north.

Beer and food shacks by the Danube at Római part

Quite why myself and fellow festival-goer Jim never made it to Római part is beyond me. It is exactly the type of place we would have loved – an off-the-beaten-track Danube-side food and drink haven that I could only describe as being a small version of a Spring Break location. Little shacks selling lángos, fried fish and beer dot the riverbank.

The Japanese Garden on Margitsziget

On a weekday in the middle of September, this was pleasantly quiet but I can readily imagine it being packed on a summer’s weekend. As I sat there on Jancsi büfé’s wooden patio staring at the Danube and sipping a nice cold beer, I thought of my friends back home and how I couldn’t wait to tell them of this place – and all the other new places I had visited. We all loved Budapest but had never been to Római part before. That must surely change.

The boat and I left Római part, but I wasn’t quite ready to bid farewell to Budapest. I alighted at Margitsziget and explored this leisure-packed island. Joggers rushed past the little zoo and people in motorised carts scooted past the Japanese garden, a tranquil and hidden zone full of little bridges and ponds.

As I walked up to the Margit Híd (Margaret Bridge) I noticed the sun was setting, both figuratively on my time in Budapest and literally on this beautiful city. The sunset cast stunning hues on the parliament building and I decided to have one last farewell.

If I thought trams 19 and 41 were spectacular, Tram 2 from Jászai Mari tér was something else. It wound its way past the parliament building and on to the Pest rakparts, affording views of the Fisherman’s Bastion, Buda castle and the Citadella before I jumped off at Fővám tér.

Sunset on the Hungarian parliament from Margit Hid

By now, the sun was really setting so I rushed to the relatively upmarket Bálna Terasz which has the best views of Gellért Hill at sunset. I eked out a few more pleasurable moments while sipping on my first fröccs – a famous Hungarian white wine spritzer – before I had to leave.

Fröccs at Bálna Terasz as the sun sets behind Gellért hill

Having hardly slept, I found that 1am arrived much sooner than I wished. Quite why I had decided to use public transport to get to the airport for a 6am flight is beyond me now. But there I was, rucksack on my back, at Astoria bus stop waiting for a bus to Határ út. This bus arrived and I was at Határ út by about 2.30am. I had seen on the internet that the 200E departed from here at 3.30am, arriving at the airport about 4am. This would do me fine. However, after much searching at this interchange I couldn’t find evidence of this. I had found the appropriate bus stop but no timings. Then the LED sign changed and revealed that the bus would depart at 4am. I’d made a huge mistake. There was nothing I could do but sit here by myself and wait.

I recalled the other day when I had passed through Határ út on the way to the picturesque Wekerle estate. Back then it was insignificant, just a few square metres of concrete and tarmac in between the Metro and adventure. It felt different now. In the dark of early morning it felt old, haggard and deprived. People appeared, but these weren’t passengers, they were the night folk who collect bottles and such in the hope of exchanging them for money. One old man was looking for cigarette ends with useful amounts of tobacco in them. These people barely noticed me but I noticed them. But they didn’t seem dangerous at all. In fact, one woman looked well dressed, only the dirt on her face suggested otherwise. Other tourists eventually arrived and looked equally out of place. To pass the time, I read a couple of pages of my book then walked round the interchange. Repeat until the bus arrived.

Despite this misery, I still had a smile on my face and a sparkle in my eyes. Five days in Budapest will do that to you. There are few cities in the world that feel so homely, yet have so much to offer. Having spent five days exploring predominantly new areas, I still feel as if it has much, much more to offer. In fact I know it does. Will I ever return? Of course. Will I ever get to spend as much time there by myself again? I don’t know. What I do know, though, is that even if I never do, I can still say I’ve seen more to Budapest than Szimpla Kert, and that I’ve seen almost as much of the city as a tourist ever could.

It took only a few months back in the UK for a few friends to suggest they’d like to come to Budapest with me so, as I write this, my eyes are sparkling and my smile beaming. In just four months, I will be back in the Hungarian capital. Will I show my friends all it has to offer? No, there just isn’t time. But I do hope we get to enjoy Római part. And StArt. And Marxim. And maybe Jaromír too…