Where friends meet

Our favorite square, about which I waxed lyrical just the other day, was voted as one of the seven most popular green getaways in Budapest in some kind of online poll that went on this summer.

This is how it was described:

Szabadsag ter is said by many to be Budapest's "most European square" with its well-tended lawn, historical buildings and old trees. This was the site of Pest's first pedestrian square, founded when the wife of great statesman István Széchenyi planted a tree there in 1846.

I'm not quite sure what they mean by it being "most European"--is this a synonym for clean and tidy? --but never mind, it gives me a perfect excuse to post some more pictures from the square, taken this Sunday.

The best thing about Szabadsag is that many of our friends love it, too, so it's a great place to meet and chat while kids run about doing their own thing...

or, less frequently, they sit in one place and share a rice cake...

occasionally harassed by smaller siblings wanting attention...

Age difference is no obstacle to this budding friendship between Lia (4.5) and Andrej (2.5)--kindred adventurous spirits that they are.

My coffee paradise

I found it!

I found a place that sells coffee beans and makes wonderful coffee to boot.

It was practically under my nose for years, in an inconspicuous corner of our food market. Ruslan discovered it, by chance--we are such creatures of habits, for years going to one and the same corner of the market, never venturing beyond (mainly because the pancakes place is in that corner, that being our first stop).

One Saturday morning Ruslan was in need of his caffein fix (I forgot to make it for him at home) so, on our way to pancakes, we made a detour through Cafe Semiramis. I loved it at first sight. I even dared try their cappuccino--my first proper, non-decaf coffee in five years. Then I came back for more so my abstinence is now officially over.

Let me take you on a tour...

The cappuccino in question, nice and frothy, with a little bit of cinnamon on top. Resistance is futile.

There are about a dozen baskets full of coffee beans from all corners of the (coffee-producing) globe: Kenya, Antigua, Guatemala, India, Mexico, Ethiopia. You can buy them by grams but only in pre-fixed measures: 125g, 250g, 500g and 1kg. They grind it for you on the spot, if you want.

To the left are coffee beans from Ethiopia and to the right those from Guatemala and Antigua. "Becsi" means Viennese in Hungarian and it signifies that these particular beans are good for the so-called Viennese coffee. Looking at their color they seem like a medium-roast and therefore suitable for Turkish coffee as well--I will try them as soon as we finish the big Jacobs pack I bought in a supermarket.

This is a kind of place where you can easily lose all sense of time...

EDIT: You can find this place on the uppermost floor of the Feny utca market, behind Mamut mall.

Roofs basking in the sun

The Hungarian Parliament in all its glory.

Behind the Castle District.

The church of St. Matthias is currently under renovation.

Budapest bridges: Erzsebet (Elisabeth) in the foreground, Szabadsag (Freedom) in the distance.

Saturday mornings on the Szena ter market

Saturday morning is a time for pancakes. I used to make them at home but it would eat a big chunk of our morning that we would prefer to dedicate to something more active. Then we discovered the palacsinta place on the first floor of the Szena ter market and became regulars. Their pancakes are fantastic, with a generous amount of filling, and also cheap.

In the middle of the ground floor is where you can buy fruit and veg from the producers. They do not necessarily have a bio or organic certificate but they are at least seasonal and local.

We buy our meat from the butchers' on the first floor of the market, although we never tried magyar szürke marha (pictured above) or Hungarian grey cattle--a breed of cattle that is specific to Hungarian lowlands.

Lots of potatoes, some scallions and pulses, as seen from the upper floor.

While our visit to the market gets off to a prosaic start (i.e. eating pancakes) it always ends with an aesthetic touch: buying a bouquet of flowers for our house.

What would Scarlett Johansson sound like in Hungarian?

Mozi
Originally uploaded by antaldaniel

I don't think I want to know, but I almost found out last night.

We were excited about going to the movies after a long time; yes, we've watched a lot of films in the past couple of weeks on DVDs but that's never quite the same. We miss proper cinema.

We're actually lucky to live in the city which managed to preserve a lot of its so-called art cinemas--places that are not part of some huge commercial chain but are small, independent with a friendly and cozy feel.

Yesterday, we picked one such spot and happily seated ourselves with popcorns and a packet of M&Ms in a tiny room (about 50 seats altogether), with only three more couples in the audience. We were goingto see 'Vicky Cristina Barcelona,' Woddy Allen's latest movie. We are both his fans and this fim was recommended to Ruslan by someone, although I read a damning review in 'The Guardian' months ago so I was a bit sceptical.

Unfortunately, we didn't get past the opening credits when we realised that we have bought tickets to see an American-Spanish movie with Hungarian dubbing. That's real bummer because:

a) as I mentioned, we came to see an American film, not a Hungarian take on an American film, and

b) we wouldn't be able to understand much of it because we don't speak enough Hungarian, but that is beside the point.

Speaking for myself here, even if I did speak fluent Hungarian, I want to hear the original language and the original actors acting, not some Hungarian chick impersonating Scarlett Johansson. In fact, when we are in Bulgaria and watch TV there, I am equally pissed off by this whole dubbing business, even though my Bulgarian is fluent.

It's not only unnatural, but so much of the acting is in the voices and you just completely kill that off when you dub a film. So why do they keep doing it in some countries? One of the arguments I heard was that it is cheaper, but that sounds pretty ridiculous, because you have to hire at least 3-4 people per film to read the stuff, whereas you only need one person to translate a film and put the subtitles in proper places. Not to mention that, when you dub, you still need someone to translate the film.

Another argument is that this is better for people who have reading difficulties but how many of those go to the cinema? Hungary has a pretty high literacy rate, as do most other countries in these parts, so it can't be that this is done for the sake of those 3% of general population who can't read?

Whatever the reason, I really wish they would stop doing it. It's STUPID!

Budapest Christmas market

The first stop on the market: the place that sells hefty, greasy sausages. For me personally, the biggest food attraction is kurtos kalacs, the traditional Transylvanian pastry that is baked above burning coals (but I couldn't get a nice shot of it).

The great thing about this market is that they don't seel cheap 'beads and trinkets' but good quality and often hand-made things.

Gingerbread is abundant at this time of the year.

Cups ready for mulled wine.

Every year I discover something new on the market--I don't remember seeing these colorful slippers before.

Christmas shopping coming to town

Already two weeks ago my local supermarket started offering Christmas-themed chocolate and candy, marking the official beginning of the (dreaded) Xmas shopping season. Just why would someone want to by Santa Claus-decorated sweets more than a month before the actual holiday is beyond me, but surely the supermarkets know what they are doing.

Of course, this is just a humble prologue to the full-fledged "festive season" kitsch that is soon to hit all the stores: the glitter, the omnipresent Santa, the over-decorated plastic Christmas trees... And the worst offender of all: the music! The same old, wretched, half a dozen songs with some kind of a Christmas motive that we are going to be hearing on an on, from now until December 25. If I were Santa, I'd be puking all the way from Lapland.

I don't know what's the deal: are the tunes supposed to work subliminaly, creating a cozy atmosphere (making you more predisposed to shop) or is it supposed to be a blatant reminder (omg, only X shopping days left, have to buy, buy, buy!)? Neither way is working with me. When you hear those songs once or twice it is actually ok, and some of the tunes are nice, so it does make you feel a bit... Christmas-y, I guess. But when it is hammered into your head for weeks on end, it's a major turn off.

That said, 'tis time to start making Christmas shopping lists (those of us anal-retentive types who can't shop otherwise), and I'm adding ear plugs to mine.

Budapest not so women-friendly?

Even though I've been living in Budapest for six years I didn't realise--until yesterday--that this city was not women-friendly at all. At least, that is what the "experts" from the local Social Research Institute are saying, as reported by Caboodle:

"At present women's perspectives are not represented either in Budapest's urban development strategy, in service planning, or crime prevention."

After this shocking revelation, the experts propose the following solutions to make Budapest a better place for ladies:

"Parking spaces designated for women, streets named after prominent women and public institutions with facilities for mothers with babies are among proposals seeking to make Budapest more women-friendly, Nepszabadsag daily said on Thursday."

So, another thing I learned yesterday (very productive day!)--that there is such a thing as a special parking for women. Perhaps this is my non-driver's perspective, but this sounds a bit condescending to me, implying, as it does, that women are less able to park properly and need special conditions. I'm sure a lot of women would be offended by the idea; as for guys, although they would probably agree that women have crappy parking skills, I'm not sure they would appreciate preferential treatment for women, given the dearth of parking spaces in downtown Budapest.

And how would you prevent guys from grabbing these spaces anyway? Well, you could paint them pink and surround them by flowers, as they do in Bern, Switzerland, where they believe that "the average male driver will be too embarrassed to use the pink parking spaces."

Fortunately for all, this eye-opening piece of research and its recommendations are probably going to be tossed on the dusty shelves of some local administrative office and quickly forgotten. How about tackling some real problems, instead? For example, making Budapest a more cycling-friendly city? Or more wheelchair-accessible? Or more green?

Farewells

Robert's pirate party was great--people really put some thought into their costumes and the atmosphere was cheerful and full of good humor (no doubt helped by generous quantities of booze).

Except that farewell parties are not supposed to be cheerful because the next day you not only wake up with a nasty hangover, but that's when the reality sinks in--yet another friend is gone for good.

I've had it with farewells. If I had a euro for each friend that left Budapest in the past two years, I'd earn a fortune (or at least considerably more than with our ill-timed investments).

We feel like the last survivors of a once great tribe. Ana Maria and Roberto, Tina and Marco, Iva and Codru, Giorgia and Marco, Dana, Eli, Todd and Radka, Laura and Claudio, Robin and Ayesha, Loucine and Tom, Natalie and Michael, Willo, Lucija and the rest of the Habitat crowd, Sergiu and Wiolka, Adriana, Pavel and Emese, and now Robert--all gone.

It's the downside of the expat life--you hang around with other foreigners and they tend to leave, sooner or later. Budapest is not the kind of place where many people come to stay and settle, unless they have Hungarian roots or a significant other. You come with a job, you leave with a job but the in-between can last for longer than you planned or predicted. It's a beautiful city, and it's an easy, comfortable living; even if it's not all perfect, it feels damn good most of the time.

Then someone leaves, again, and you're thinking, 'have we overstayed our welcome?' Whose turn now?