the continent. The main riverside route is newer,
but boxy, Russian-made trains still rattle along
its rails – a relics from the days of socialism.
Above ground, on Pest’s waterfront, it’s
consumerism that rules, with pop-up boutiques
selling leather handbags, furry mink hats and
slices of gourmet pizza to the swarms of passing
tourists. A lucky dice throw (a four) meant I’d
be spending my first night here, at the Four
Seasons Budapest, an art-nouveau palace with
glittering mosaics and panoramic views over
Buda and the Danube. I would have happily
stayed for the whole trip, but by breakfast the
next day, it was clear the dice had other ideas.
Sitting in the gilt-edged restaurant, looking
out onto the river, I scribbled down six new
accommodation choices, from staying put at
the hotel to sleeping rough on the streets, and
gave the die a good shake under my napkin. An
elderly gentleman on the next table lowered
his newspaper and began eyeing me curiously
over his gold-rimmed glasses. Bounce, bounce…
clink! The die stopped beside a glass of orange
juice, showing a beady-eyed two. I’d soon be
swapping five-star luxury for a bunk bed at a
hostel, but at least it wasn’t the streets.
It’s not easy to secure a room at such short
notice. After some hit-and-miss searching on
Google, the only place I found with a spare
bed that night was the Grandio Party Hostel
(
budapestpartyhostels.com
),
across town in
the seventh district. Its motto – “You can sleep
when you’re dead, so don’t expect to get any
here” – wasn't exactly comforting, but if the die
wanted me to party, who was I to object? First
though, the city beckoned.
To choose an area to explore, I grabbed a map
of Budapest, divided it up into a six-by-six grid
–
each section corresponding to a number - and
rolled two dice. At this point, the still-intrigued
Mr Spectacles started shaking his head, looking
concerned for my mental health. “Having fun?”
he asked as I drew a ring around City Park, my
first dice-influenced destination for the day.
Walking to the park
along traffic-choked
Rákóczi út, the glitzy
designer outlets are
quickly replaced by
sex shops, Chinese
takeaways and discount
electrical stores, with
windows cluttered
by yellowing
appliances. I’d
just reached
the bustling
junction outside Keleti
train station, a short walk
from the park, when a wide-eyed
teenager stepped into my path. “Smoke
weed, boss?” he asked, raising his eyebrows
expectantly. I said no, and then smiled as
I thought about getting the dice out to decide.
I don’t think it would have gone down well.
Once a swamp, then a hunting ground for
noblemen, the City Park is now open to all 1.7
million of Budapest’s residents, with museums,
cafés and concert venues dotted between its
lofty trees. Lady Luck wasn’t interested in these,
though. Instead, the dice sent me on a solo trip
to the Széchenyi thermal baths (
szechenyibath.
0 5 1
B U D A P E S T
