Budapest: The City That Guides and Speaks 🇭🇺

Sitting on a Danube cruise, the city lights of Budapest glowing around me, I felt the bittersweet tug of a solo trip drawing to a close. The cool breeze caressed my skin and I was lost in the beauty of the sight. The Buda Castle and Matthias Church, to my left in the “Buda” district, and the Hungarian Parliament, to my right in the “Pest” district, were all dressed up for my send-off evening. Under the night sky, their reflections danced on the water — golden and alive. I was snapped back to reality when two passengers sneaked into the captain’s room, only to be scolded by the cruise captain in rapid Hungarian. As I sipped my ginger lemon soda (don’t laugh) and watched the city drift by, I realized Budapest had quietly begun to speak to me in ways I hadn’t expected. Budapest is a great communicator, but she takes time to start the conversation.

Night views of the Hungarian Parliament and Buda Castle

I hadn’t really planned to fall for this city. I only knew I wanted to explore somewhere in Central or Eastern Europe, and I’d been scanning ticket prices more out of curiosity than intent. Then Budapest popped up — cheapest among the bunch. I booked it without much planning, without expectations. It was more of a spontaneous “let’s go and see” kind of choice. While the other cities I had looked at came with more hype, Budapest felt like a quiet mystery. And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need. Not Vienna, not Prague, not Berlin- Budapest had chosen me.

The journey began a little earlier than planned — thanks to an NS (the Dutch Railway) strike. I checked into a hotel close to the Eindhoven airport and passed time hunting for episodes of Dutch Bhagyalakshmi (A tamil soap opera). Don’t ask me why. After grabbing breakfast from the airport’s AH To Go the next morning, I waited — 8 hours, though it felt like a week. Eventually boarded the flight. A middle seat, a book in hand (barely a page read), and I slept. When I opened my eyes, I was already descending into Budapest with the pilot saying “jbkdsjabf” on the mic. Stepping out into thirty-degree heat, I was instantly sweating. It was the first time I’d seen a 30 on the thermometer since leaving India six months ago.

At the airport, I hopped on the 100E express shuttle into the city. The bus dropped me off at a place named after a cluster of consonants — I couldn’t pronounce it, but I was told it was the city center, so I went with that. As I walked toward my stay, a family on the street shouted something in my direction — maybe asking for money. I was too focused on finding food for myself. Luckily, a Nepali-run Indian restaurant appeared like a sign from above. I grabbed a Hyderabadi biryani and made my way to my Airbnb.

Now, this Airbnb felt more like entering an escape room than checking into a holiday rental. Codes, gates, back entrances. But once I cracked the sequence and stepped inside, it was worth the mission. Spacious and clean— everything I could’ve hoped for… except for one thing. No AC remote. I repeat: the AC was very much there, mocking me silently from the wall, but the remote was missing. The host promised to send it the next day. But the Budapest heat wasn’t waiting. So, I did the only logical thing — knocked on my neighbor’s door and asked a complete stranger if he could turn on the AC using his remote. Not only did he help me, but he also placed the controller in a shared area so we could both use it. That tiny act of kindness set the tone for what this trip would become — not just about the places I saw, but the people I met. A recurring theme in my travels (yes, that was a shameless callback to my earlier blogs, in case you haven’t read them yet).

Day one started early. A protein bar for breakfast, then a tram and bus ride to the other side of the Chain Bridge. No facial expressions on anyone’s face yet. Maybe I was too early—people were still in their drowsy autopilot mode. I climbed up to Buda Castle via a quiet path, not a soul in sight, and took photos with the statue of Marsigli, the Italian scientist. The way he’s positioned—gazing straight at the camera—it almost felt like the statue was made for selfies. Slowly, the place began to get lively- tourists appeared, cameras clicked.

Marsigli looking straight into the camera

I had a walking tour booked through GetYourGuide, and it was brilliant. One of the highlights was the Matthias Fountain, where there’s a statue of a hunting party and a dog. Our guide pointed out how this particular dog was on a leash—because the previous version wasn’t, and apparently some invaders thought it would make a great souvenir and took it back home. So now, the dog stays leashed. Budapest: one, invaders: zero. The contrast between a communist-era dining room (a simple table with four chairs) and the extravagant Habsburg one from the tour stuck with me. After all it’s a place you would sit and eat (at least that’s what the communists would say).

After the tour, I treated myself to a coffee and chimney cake. Somewhere near Buda Castle, a cheerful Indian uncle greeted me — “Hey young man!” (Don’t look at me with suspicion, he really said that!) — and shared tales of his travels through Slovakia, Austria, Hungary, and Germany with his wife. He even asked me for recommendations in Budapest (as if I had the answers!). After a brief interaction, we parted ways.

Later, I visited Fisherman's Bastion and Matthias Church. The Bastion offers stunning photo opportunities across the Danube, with a clear view of the low-lying Pest district. After that, I made my way to the Hospital in the Rock — once an emergency medical facility, now a museum. Our guide, who introduced himself as the grandson of a nurse who had worked there in her youth, walked us through the harrowing history of World War II and the siege of Budapest. He shared a deeply moving story about a Japanese child from the times of WW2, which I’ll deliberately leave out here because of its heavy nature. He ended with a hopeful message: while many may want war, there are even more who long for peace — and that gives hope. As I write this, I know so many places in the world are still caught in conflict, and I can only wish for peace to prevail everywhere. War should never be glorified.

I had planned to visit Memento Park, a collection of statues of communist leaders, but it was too far away and required two train changes. While waiting at Budapest-Déli station, I encountered a drunk Hungarian man who, out of all the thousands of people who could understand and speak Hungarian around, chose to explain to me why he was drunk. I tried to follow along, explaining I didn’t speak Hungarian, but after a few failed attempts, I just nodded as if he had perfectly good reasons. Then, amid some announcements in Hungarian, a kind local woman translated for me: “trains will run late.” After thanking her, I dropped my plan to visit Memento Park and decided to head to Gellért Hill- a little climb near the Danube instead. Because of ongoing construction on the cathedral there, I got lost—along with another solo traveler—and we ended up climbing the hill together.

Buda (Left) and Pest (Right) as seen from the Gellért Hill

As evening fell, I made my way down the hill and looked back up at the top of the Buda district. For some reason, I felt like going back up again- near the castle where I took the walking tour this morning. Too tired to climb, I took the funicular just for the ride. I found a perfect view—the Chain Bridge, the Danube, the Pest district, and the setting sun all in one frame. It could have been a great picture for my Instagram. I asked a random granny to take a picture of me by the bridge. Instead, she ended up taking a photo with me completely blocking the bridge. Then she confidently asked, “How’s it?” I smiled and said, “Perfect.” Sometimes, a picture is more about the moment than the frame.

The Granny's memorable picture with the hiding bridge

Back down the hill, I crossed the Chain Bridge and took a tram ride before finding an Asian restaurant that had some vegan options. When I got back to my Airbnb, the AC remote had finally arrived.

The next day started with one question: why are the metro escalators here so steep and long? I was amazed to see people walking up and down them so comfortably. Making my way to the Parliament building, I clicked photos from every possible angle. Hungarians turned out to be warm hosts and excellent baristas, but not the best photographers — at least, not the ones I met. After several failed attempts, I finally managed to get a good shot. There was something about that building that made me briefly imagine myself as a member of parliament… back in India, of course. But that’s a story for another day.

Next on my itinerary was the House of Terror museum. I boarded a bus near the Chain Bridge and pressed the stop button where I wanted to get off — but it didn’t work. The bus dropped me off 800 meters further, at the next stop. I was irritated at first, until I spotted the vintage yellow metro line, the second oldest in Europe after London, which I’d been planning to ride anyway. Excited I took that iconic metro one stop backwards. This was the moment Budapest really began to speak to me. The House of Terror had the iron curtain at the entrance to the haunting testimonies of Hungary’s communist past. It was dense and deeply moving. I even took a photo with the iron curtain itself, literally. 

At the Iron Curtain

I left feeling drained and hungry, grabbed a quick bite at Burger King, then headed to St. Stephen’s Basilica. The cathedral was far more magnificent in person than any photograph could capture. I climbed to the top, and the breathtaking view nearly swept me off my feet — and nearly my phone too, thanks to the strong winds.

It had started to drizzle, but I didn’t mind. I caught a bus to the Great Synagogue — the largest in Europe — where visitors were handed small caps for head covering. Our guide, patient, walked us through Hungary’s Jewish history. She spoke about how the country was caught between two brutal forces — the Nazis and the Soviets- and all associated sufferings from the past.

Later, I stepped into a cozy bookstore cafe. I ordered a coffee and picked up a collection of Hungarian short stories, inspired by my uncle’s tip to buy local literature while traveling. When I told the owner how much I loved the space and wished I had more time to spend, his face lit up with pride. Dinner was a vegan lángos, and I described it to the owner as “like an Indian poori.” She was curious, so I pulled up Google images of poori on my phone. Her reaction was one of amused surprise — probably realizing that she’s a global cook now.

The cozy bookshop + cafe

Day three was about two things — Szentendre, a tiny art village, and of course, the famed thermal baths.

I set out for a half-day trip to Szentendre — just a short ride from Budapest, but it felt like stepping into a completely different world. I boarded the suburban train from Batthyány tér, and although my pronunciation of “Szentendre” was nowhere near correct, the staff at the station were patient and helpful. The train itself rattled and swayed like it belonged to another era. Sitting across from me was an elderly man with thick glasses, deeply focused on a crossword puzzle from a newspaper. Every now and then, he’d murmur something under his breath and shake his head. I wished I could help, but the crossword was in Hungarian. Szentendre welcomed me with cobblestone streets, charming little cafés, and quirky art galleries every corner. As I wandered aimlessly, just like many other travelers there, I stumbled upon a “Belgrade” church — a beautiful Serbian Orthodox building. Apparently, it was built by Serbian settlers who once lived in the village.

The Belgrade Church

I was back in Budapest, riding those shaky dancing trains again. Next up: the thermal baths. But first, I had to buy flip-flops and swimwear. The staff at the store weren’t exactly warm or welcoming — but it’s okay- if everyone were nice, the blog might get boring.

After a quick snack and a coffee, I hopped onto the trolley bus headed to Széchenyi Thermal Baths. Two short hours followed — soaking in warm water under the open sky, surrounded by clouds of steam. The outdoor pools had a quiet kind of magic, the kind the indoor ones just couldn’t match. I was secretly grateful that most people chose the indoor pools — more space out here for me.

Post-bath hunger hit me hard. I found a vegan Hungarian spot and went with the waitress’s recommendation of a “very Hungarian” stuffed cabbage meal. I followed it up with a scoop of ice cream. On my way back to the room, I opened my notes app, just to double-check if I’d covered everything I had planned. And of course — oops — I realized I’d missed Heroes’ Square. Ironically, it was right next to the baths where I had been soaking just a couple of hours earlier.

Hungarian Stuffed Cabbage meal (At least, that's what they said)

So I hopped on the trolley bus again. Somehow, seeing Heroes’ Square at night felt like exactly what I needed. Maybe the city whispered, “Don’t go in daylight. The square looks better under the lights.” And just like that, Budapest spoke to me again — and she was right. The square, lit up and was much quieter and more magical than I could’ve imagined.

A glowing hero's square

That night, I took the vintage yellow metro one last time. By the time I reached the terminal, only two people were left — both wearing gloves, staring into the distance. For a moment, it felt like the start of a suspense film.

Vintage yellow metro

I stepped out, intending to take a quiet stroll along the glowing Danube. That’s when I spotted a cruise — the last one for the day — about to depart. And of course, it had to happen. Budapest spoke again: “The views from the cruise are better than the ones you get while walking.” As always, she was right. I paid for a ticket, stepped aboard, and as the boat pulled away from the shore, this blog began.

Every monument glowed like a postcard. The buildings, the bridges, the churches, the roads, the hills — everything I had been visiting over the past three days — now reappeared like scenes from a nostalgic memory reel. It felt like the city was gently wrapping up my trip and I didn’t want the ride to end.

After a brief nap, I headed to the airport in a pre-booked cab. At one point, a car ahead of us lost its rim frame, and my driver glanced over, waiting for a reaction. I was already smiling, and he seemed pleased that someone else found it just as funny. As he dropped me off, he asked, “Hope you liked our city?” I replied loudly, “Absolutely.” And quietly to myself, I thought, Who wouldn’t like a city that talks and guides your journey?

The return to the Netherlands was its own little adventure. NS went on strike again — this time on the day of my return (Did you track my flight bookings, NS?). What should’ve been a simple journey from Eindhoven to The Hague turned into a five-hour saga of long bus rides, rideshares, metros, and what not. At one point, while I was standing around waiting for the next leg of this travel, a police officer gave me a long look. Maybe I looked too lost or too suspicious. I explained my story — tired, honest, and mildly dramatic. He listened, nodded, and said with a smile, “You’re fine.”

And with that, the journey ended just the way it had begun — unplanned, a little chaotic, and filled with strangers who quietly became part of my story. Budapest was never supposed to be this memorable. But maybe that’s the charm of places you don’t over plan, don’t over expect. They surprise you in the best ways.

Budapest will make a brief cameo in my next blog—whether it’s about Vienna, Prague, Berlin, or Belgrade. And the deciding factor for which city the blog will focus on? The cheapest flight, of course.