This is a transcript of the diary I wrote three years ago in Budapest. Not very exciting but it puts the poem into perspective a bit I think. And there's more written here than I can recall in my memory, which is sad, but really drives home the point of this blog. If I don't write it down I'll forget, so. My notes from today are in italics.
Thursday 25th February 2010
Flight was long but I wasn’t as scared as I might have been (I'm not afraid of flying any more).
The architecture in Budapest is incredible but every possible surface is
covered in graffiti, except St Stephen’s Basilica. There are adverts for
escorts and sex shops everywhere, so strange. Ate in a restaurant called Kárpátia, the food was
incredible and so was the interior. High curved ceilings and huge wooden
divides and every surface painted on. Next door was live gypsy music, very
busy, but our room was quiet.
Friday 26th
Much nicer in the daylight. The architecture is really
beautiful if eclectic! Saw some sights via a tour bus, got off, went into the
labyrinth of Budavár.
Frightening. Lunch was soup in a café, spicy apple with ginger quice [sic] the
only vegetarian option, a bit too strong and sweet for me. Walked to Gellért
spa but too expensive, then to the Citadella, very high up. Have booked tickets
for a ballet at the opera house tomorrow, Mum & I. La Bayadère.
Parents
bought me Hungarian secret box. The key is hidden inside and it has the tree of
life on it, very beautiful. (I can't get the box open now.)
We ate
in a restaurant called Spoon, a boat moored in the Danube. The food was
amazing. I had gnocchi (for the first time, now I eat it all the time). The view of the palace and bridges lit up was
incredible.
Saturday
27th
Off to
the flea market at 9am, disappointing, very like a car boot though a bit
stranger (a lot more porn). National Gallery very beautiful from the outside but expensive so we
missed it out. The House of Terror museum was very sobering, the former
headquarters of the Nazi and Soviet governments, then called the House of
Loyalty. The cells in the basement where prisoners were tortured and killed
were near intact and particularly horrible.
Had a
muffin in the café and then went shopping. Bought a beautiful scarf and some clothes. Ate pizza, very good, in the
Queen café. Found the Guinness Pub for Dad’s rugby match, then Mum and I went
back, got changed and went out. Searched for the Marquis de Salade restaurant
(éterrem) but couldn’t find it, ate nachos and brownie instead in Balettcipo
which was very good, sweet pair of pointe shoes hanging in the doorway! Rushed
to the Opera House. Good seats though (very) uncomfortable. (We peeked into a box and took a picture there.) The performance was
amazing, particularly the sets and costumes, and La Bayadère is a really good
story. (Some gripping commentary.)
Sunday
28th
Went
looking for cruises this morning but there aren’t many in winter so we had to
leave it. Strolled up Vaci Útca, the main shopping street, and Mum & I
bought another scarf. Had a cake and hot chocolate in the Anna Café and then
went to the Basilica to have a look around. St Stephen’s hand was there and you
had to pay to light it up for two minutes. Walked over to Parliament and then
had lunch in Balletcipo, quesadillas for me. Went over to the Opera House but the
tour would have finished too late.
Taxi is
coming to pick us up in 45 minutes and flight is at 6:20pm.
My diary was pretty perfunctory back then I guess! The poem is a bit more exciting.
