No sleep till Venice

Now on to Budapest! Which is beautiful, and a bargain, and a great place to enjoy summer solstice. As always, our first stop was a city tour....well really it was lunch at 2 Spaghi for handmade pasta, but then on to the culture! We took a history of communism tour which actually covered the majority of Hungarian history pre-communism too. Sally and I both noticed that this guide repeatedly talked about all the instances Hungarians tried to fight oppressive regimes and lost. You just don't hear that often, the constant refrain of, "we fought this war and lost. We started this revolution but it was quashed. We tried to free ourselves from communism but couldn't accomplish it." A very unique perspective. 

Also a delight to hear that Budapest has always been flush with excesses of money and invested way too much in building projects, such as their parliament. In 1873 the city held a competition for architects to propose the design of the new parliamentary building and received so many good options they couldn't just pick one. So they picked three. The first place winner built a bigger version of London's Westminster parliament building, which is positioned on an enormous square right in the river, and opposite to the second and third place designs, which are perhaps half as large as the winner, in different architectural styles, and currently home to other governmental ministries and a museum. A marvel to see, but one also wonders if this economic surplus could have been better spent on social programs. Ah, another highlight of the tour was seeing the larger than life Ronald Reagan statue that our guide, a native Budapest-an, had no explanation for. He'd not ever been to that spot, nor had he particularly focused on Hungarian liberation from the communist regimes. The statues reception has been thus: if you like him, you can shake his bronze hand, but if you don't you can step on his toes. 

 

Budapest has a surfeit of wine bars, and plenty of Hungarian wine to enjoy, so we sat for after dinner drinks in Doblo wine bar, then made our way for a late night beer to Szimpla Kert, where two American soldiers chatted with us about traveling, but couldn't confirm or deny where they may have been stationed. Perhaps that is something women are dying to pry out of them, but we were pretty unconcerned. In fact, it was way more interesting to take in the atmosphere of our first "ruin bar," which is I guess a bombed out building that was never rebuilt, allowing plant life to grow in through the cracks and then taken back by the community as an open air bar. Even more appealing, the next morning the same venue houses a farmer's market full of juicy cherries and plums, hefty wheels of cheese, a ten-person deep queue for flax covered loaves of bread, long paprika-infused links of sausages and dry rubbed cuts of ham, fresh yogurts, juices, and the odd handmade bath products. 

   

Aside from our walking tour, we loved Budapest for the truly casual tourism it cultivated. There weren't endless lists of the best 2,481 museums you just have to visit or an obligation to dine at a Michelin rated restaurant. Budapest's loveliness isn't in its exclusivity but its delight of simply being. We booked sensational massages, floated about in the Veli Bej baths, enjoyed free concerts in the park on Margrit Island, let the breeze ruffle our hair on a river cruise, and of course, walked and walked and walked. The weather was ideal, the city is pretty and expansive for a smaller capital, and the wine and food were a delight. Add to that the hour or so we spent in Budapest's cat cafe, and I think I can safely say that Budapest was a budget friendly favorite for both Sally and me.

   

  

 

Ahh, what a crest of perfect days in Budapest. I pitched a fit about leaving and was summarily underwhelmed (and foggy with a raging head cold) by the time we reached Vienna. Vienna was cold and anonymous and generally unwelcoming to budget travelers. Had I endless wealth and a burning passion for opera and symphonic orchestras, I probably would have enjoyed it.

This is how Vienna feels

It was with great joy that our ten hour layover in Vienna ended and we boarded an overnight train to Venice. That is, until I realized I'd only bought seats in a cabin...not beds. Once five people are crammed into a train cabin with all their luggage, you realize you aren't going to have the most restful of nights. And then when the Spanish couple next to you starts their roaring snores, and Sally starts weeping from exhaustion somewhere in western Austria, you realize you've made a huge mistake. (The upside is I started smacking the Spaniard guy every time he launched into an aggressive snorting, thus ruining his night as well.)

This was how we arrived to Venice; Sally on the edge of mutiny, bags under my eyes large enough to require luggage tags. Then we walked out of the Santa Lucia train station. "Wow," said Sally, "that is Venice." It sure was. The sun was high in the sky already, street vendors  scuttling energetically around prospective buyers, and the grand canal sloshing wildly against the water ferries, gondolas, and private boats that heave past fairly sinking under the sheer volume of tourists crowding for a ride. So we stepped out into the city, wide eyed.

It was like living in Disneyland

Our stay in Venice heralded our very first AirBnB stay, sharing a bedroom in a Florentine woman's home steps away from the Rialto bridge. Francesca is an Etruscan pottery archaeologist turned private tour guide, competitive international folk dancer and a consummate host. She met us in an easy-to-locate piazza, then wound us through the narrow stone streets to her flat, and was always available to offer up sights and experiences off the beaten path. (If you are planning your trip to Venice you must email me for her listing information. Truly!) We had heard a fair bit of negative press about the smelly, cliched tourist-traps that made up Venice, but we experienced a very different Venice. On the morning we arrived, we set off on a standard walkabout, getting thoroughly lost in very peaceful and empty alleys. We were happy, but exhausted, so when Sally asked if we could go home for a mid-afternoon rest, I had to sadly point out it was only noon. We did keep moving the whole day, bumbling our way back to the Piazza San Marco, squeezing through tourists packed eight deep to look at a wall or a bridge or a seagull, and rationalizing that with 13 miles already logged by 5pm, we could absolutely crash early.

 

One evening Francesca offered to take us out to a local gathering spot with some friends of hers, and at sunset we found ourselves sitting on the edge of the canal listening to a rockabilly cover band, drinking aperol spritzes and recounting tales of traveling with friendly Italians. After dark we made our way to a series of cicchetti hot spots. Cicchetti are the Italian equivalent of tapas, and in Venice are very seafood driven. We enjoyed a deep fried hard boiled egg with anchovy, salt cod pate on toast, calamari, meatballs, tuna carpaccio, and a few glasses of white wine to wash it all down.  We finished off the night sprawled on the deck of a boat bobbing outside a bar as extra seating talking about wine and our unknown futures; it was wonderful!

While in Venice we took a day trip to Padua, my paternal grandfather's birthplace, and enjoyed a sunny day of street markets, parks, and cobblestone streets. That side of the family was historically very musically inclined, a branch of ancestors full of symphonic composers, cellists and the like. It is very sad indeed how that fell to the wayside in my generation, as my musical ability reaches its zenith in humming. Nevermind. We also rode the water ferry out to a few island towns, the famous glass blowing community of Murano, the colorful photographer's haven Burano, and a very un-Venetian-like beach town called Lido, and spent a few hours soaking up the sun and luxuriating in the Adriatic ocean.

 

 

For a trip segment packed with travel annoyances and frustrations, Venice had a tall order in improving our moods. We left Francesca and her city nearly floating with contentment and looking forward to what is truly the end of our journey. 

Living the dream in Lido