Home again, home again...

Well, we’re safely home in Berlin. How strange to think of this foreign city as home but indeed as we rode the bus from the airport and saw our neighborhood, there was a collective sigh and delight in returning to the familiar. There’s no great way to tell you about all of Budapest but we have compared notes and decided the following thoughts might give you a glimpse of our trip.

Safety in the City

Despite warnings of pickpockets we felt safe the entirety of the trip until....we approached the metro system. There were several reasons to fear for your life: escalators in Budapest move at break-neck speeds. No, we’re not exaggerating, you literally had to jump on and then hold on to the rails for dear life. Getting off was equally exhilarating/terrifying and required much shuffling of feet, determining of vectors, and a quick prayer. The second reason you might contemplate the afterlife in the metro was the speed at which the doors of the trains opened and closed. From the moment the train arrived, you had less than 10 seconds to allow passengers off and to board the train yourself. Yes, I actually counted. (Fun fact dear readers: the Budapest metro is the oldest subway system in continental Europe.) As a final note, it appeared that a majority of the busses in the city were of Soviet origin and may or may not have had a tune up since the 60s. They rattled, fumed and shuddered up the hills of Buda.

Chowing Down

Overall our food experiences in Budapest were wunderbar. Hungarian food lives up to its hearty reputation. Portions were large, much was fried, and paprika was everywhere. This ain’t no American paprika thrown on potato salad for color. This stuff was potent and featured prominently on every menu.

Then we had dinner Wednesday night. We went to the 24-hour Pancake house. Now, we knew this was no Ihop. We expected a variety of crepes. What we did not predict was the preparation of the crepes. Have you seen...correction, have we made you watch Jim Gaffigan’s stand-up about Hot Pockets? Do you remember how they are cooked? Our crepes, like the Hot Pocket, were cooked in a dirty microwave. This wasn’t even done in secret; nope, right there behind the counter they threw in each dish, let it spin for 60 seconds, and then tossed your now boiling, lava hot pocket-o-goodness on your tray. If those microwaves are ever cleaned, it would be a miracle (much like the existence of St. Stephen’s shriveled right hand - see pictures for more information).

There is more to tell but I will leave that to my illustrious husband and tomorrow’s post. Until then, check out Budapest Day 3 pictures. Much love!