On a windy European evening last June, I set out to explore the city of Budapest. Walking the streets of the Inner City lined with tables set with wine glasses, I stopped in front of the St. Stephen’s Basilica to stand in the square and admire the structure for a good thirty minutes.
Budapest is a medley of old architectures housing an abundance of culture, intercepted by modern buildings. This distinction stands out the most when the city is viewed from the steps leading up to the Liberty Statue located on the Citadella — the highest point in the city, as the name suggests. I started noticing the gradual change in scenery as I took breaks to admire the view while climbing up the Gellért Hill.
The Citadella can also be reached via bus or trolley, but I preferred to walk — though I underestimated the never-ending path. However, it had a peaceful aspect to it — it seemed detached from the hustle and bustle of the city. It was quiet, canopied by trees and shrubs and the chirping of a million insects. I was grateful for the rainy weather of the day; it made the journey even more exciting. And even though the journey always trumps the destination, that was not the case here.
The top — the ultimate peak of Budapest — was enchanting, to say the least. In the center there was a huge statue of a woman raising a palm leaf, built on a pedestal about 85 feet tall, surrounded by two smaller statues on each side. The Liberty Statue was erected in 1947 to celebrate the freedom and prosperity of the Hungarian people after the Second World War. I was unable to decipher the context and historical background of the structures at the time, but they were too alluring even without meaning. The Liberty Statue is visible from various points in the city — from Buda to Pest — and is lit up at night, resembling a goddess descending upon the hill. It looked magical and haunting under the rumbling grey sky.
I sat down on the steps leading up to the sculptures and looked around. The place was scattered with tourists clicking pictures, with the wind gushing everyone’s hair away. It was loud and strong, alerting us of the storm clouds floating our way. You could see faint flashes of lightning among overhead fields of grey. I walked a little further behind, following the road lined up with a couple of food trucks, hoping to get a glass of wine to accompany me on this evening. To my disappointment, they were all closing down early due to the oncoming storm. And then — I felt the drops on my shoulder. That was my cue.
The descent was much quicker and a lot kinder on my lungs. The trees, which earlier annoyed me for harbouring swarms of mosquitoes, turned into saviours as the rain poured.
As night falls during summer, the city lights up. From the top it looks like a million fireflies floating through the air, twinkling. The Parliament building, the Liberty Statue, the Chain Bridge, the Budapest Eye — all the major sites are glowing at night. There are street performers at every corner, people walking — almost skipping — in glee, and the sound of chattering everywhere. Traffic is kept to a minimum in the Inner City, and the air is brimming with the smell of delicious food and melodious tunes.
When in Budapest, one always stumbles back to the St. Stephen’s Basilica when they don’t know where to go, as I did that day. Like any European city, the town square is always crowded with both tourists and locals, mingling and enjoying a music or dance performance in front of the Basilica on most evenings. “Every summer day is Christmas Day in the city,” a Hungarian friend had said to me as we were carrying our artsy pizza and a fancy bottle of Rosé in search of a good spot to enjoy our dinner on a Thursday night. She was right, there is a lightness in the air in the month of June. Summer here is a long weekend when everyone comes out to party and has absolutely no care in the world.
The beauty of places like Budapest is the anonymity it allows one to revel in. You can easily spend the whole day only walking around, visiting gift shops, and feeling at home among the invigorating crowds. It is close-knit yet diverse, and there is a comfort in knowing that you can never lose your way, even if you are walking along unknown streets.
