Abby and I spent the weekend eating, drinking, and walking our way through Budapest in what amounted to a gluttonous couple of days.
A highlight of this trip to Budapest was Memento Park. It’s a statue park outside city center. After about a 30-minute bus ride you get off on the side of a road near what I think was a tiling business.
Across the street massive statues poke up over the horizon. After the Velvet Revolution, some of the biggest soviet statues in Budapest were collected and consolidated here as an open-air exhibition.
If you like art and are interested in Eastern European history than this statue park is a must-visit. Everything is self-guided. As of 2019, the museum is still under construction. In unfinished unlit rooms, massive busts of Lenin and of kid-Lenin jump out at you.
Creepy kid Lenin
In the completed statue park there are some magnificent pieces of art and monuments to oppression.
After Monument Park, we headed for the thermal baths at Széchenyi where we enjoyed a relaxed afternoon.
Strike a pose
We finished the night with a late-night falafel fueled walk along the Danube.
Falafel time
On Sunday, we ventured across the river from Pest to Buda to explore a local market. We got veg sausage, langos, olives, bread, veg cheese, Hungarian sweetbreads, and pickles then found a picnic spot. Lucky me, the park had a fitness park where I completed the pull-up challenge.
I spent most of the rest of our time together urging Abby to blow off her job and join me in Belgrade, to no avail.
Vegazzi has the best pizza in Eastern Europe, at least. This isn’t the last time it’ll appear in today’s miscellany
You gotta have a lángos
Picnic on the Buda side of the river
After Abby left, I found this spot for my first dinner of the night. As it turns out, Bollywood Vegi Bar has some really good naan.
Vegazzi has its own gravitational field in which I was caught on my way back from Bollywood. I wanted to try the pesto pizza and the margherita, so I ordered one pizza with half of each. Instead, I ended up two full pizzas and a journey to the limits of distention.
Action shot in Csakajósör Kft., the best place for a beer in Budapest
Last night at camp I met a Turkish man and his daughter who are taking a cycling trip to celebrate her high school graduation. I’ve been wondering about what it’s like to cycle into Istanbul so I walked up to them and introduced myself. This turned out to be a great move. They cooked up a pot of Turkish tea and we talked for a couple of hours before calling it a night.
We decided to ride into Budapest together this morning. Throughout the ride I listened as my new friend told me about Turkish politics and history. Turns out that they were even more directionally challenged than me. Every 10 minutes we just had to stop to check the map and ensure we were headed in the right direction. This didn’t help much, we often made the wrong turn regardless.
We braked for breakfast pastries then again for lunch and beer.
What was supposed to be a short 35km ride ended up taking all day due to our (fun) stops and (frustrating) wrong turns. We made one last stop for a drink along the Danube just before Budapest then parted ways as we crossed into the city. They went on to meet with a friend working as a Turkish attache in Hungary and I was off to find Abby’s and my Airbnb.
After hauling my bike and gear up four stories into the Airbnb, I immediately smelled a gas leak in the kitchen. After some sniffing around I found that the source of the leak was the meter. The host assured me there was no leak but the stench of mercaptan told me otherwise. There was no way in hell we’d be staying there.
I booked a last-minute room at Hotel Memories Oldtown. It was so much better than any comparably priced Airbnb. I recommend this hotel.
The ticking time bomb
My new gas-free digs
Abby’s flight was scheduled to arrive after 10 pm, so I was on the hook for dinner alone. I wasted no time picking a restaurant, Napfenyes for their vegan sarmale is a no-brainer.
I woke up at 7:30 am, so I don’t think Budapest is gonna happen. I decided to explore Komárom and Komárno instead of pushing hard to make it to Hungary’s capital.
Komárom and Komárno are on either side of the Danube, one in Slovakia and the other in Hungary. Komárno is the bigger city and sits on the Slovakian side. Both towns have interesting histories as shifting borders for various empires, kingdoms, and countries. Komárom was the last stand in Hungary’s 1848 uprising.
I visited Fort Monostor, a sort of Hungarian Alamo, where the last stand…stood. Fort Monostor has a dark history too. It was taken by the Nazis and used as a concentration camp for the Roma.
From Fort Monostor it was off to the other side of the river back into Slovakia. I spent a good 40 minutes tooling around in Komárno where I found a redeveloped old-town. Someone must have put some serious dough into this square. There are restored buildings, statues of local historical figures like Maria Theresa, hotels, and restaurants.
Just outside the square, I met two American bike tourers from DC on my way out of Komarno. It is nice to stop and talk with other cyclists as I get lonely after a few days of not crossing paths with another English speaker.
Soon after Komarno, there is this really cool viewpoint. It’s a wood-paneled stand-alone spiral staircase with a fitness park at its base. You have to go up to the top of this tower where you’ll get panoramic views of the Danube.
Today’s ride was a mix of great paths, more sand, a scary highway called The 11, and a delightful ferry ride. I got a beer, peanuts, and some cookies while I waited for the ferry. The cookies were good as hell and the Czech IPA hit the spot.
There was a split second here where I thought I’d have to swim across
Ferry snacks
After the ferry, there was still 15km to the campsite. This was some of the best riding so far on the trip. All downhill, a bike-only path, along the water, a fitness park, deep greens and blues, good looking people everywhere, and a clear line of sight up to the imposing Visegrád Castle (the former summer residence of King Matthias). I’ve taken to calling Hungary, Hungary the Beautiful. The country has amazing natural beauty.
Some of my family members are Hungarian, so it has been a little weird seeing people who look vaguely like my relatives. I saw one kid today who I swore was a carbon copy of my little sister at 10 years old. I’ve seen about five or six versions of my grandpa too, despite him being Transylvanian.
One last note from today: there is a group of German ladies I’ve been trading places with since yesterday. I caught up to them today while they were picking fruit and veg along the side of the trail. They kindly picked me some baby corn, a fruit I don’t remember the name of, and some apples. Delicious!
After I set up camp, I ventured back along the path to find some dinner. I ordered a veg burger from a kiosk and to my surprise “veg burger” meant a huge slab of grilled cheese in place of a patty. I must admit, it was tasty.
Visegrád views
Today’s Miscellany
Said veg burger
Bridge views of Esztergom Basilica as I crossed back into Hungary
Esztergom Basilica is probably worth visiting. I was over-eager to finish the day’s ride so I skipped it and missed out
This marks my first day in Hungary. The ride out of Slovakia was frustrating despite its gorgeous scenery. I pedaled past adolescent sunflowers eager to outcompete each other for the sun’s rays like newborn puppies blindly in search of a teat. The roads were so full of sand and gravel though that I couldn’t look away from them to admire the sunflowers’ glow for more than a just couple of seconds at a time.
Perhaps the prettiest invasive species on the planet apart from people
I’m spending tonight at a campsite here in Komárom called Hotel Thermal on the recommendation of my Polish friend, Simon. Thermal baths included in the price of admission.
Once I checked in and set up camp, I headed straight for the baths to relax. Today’s sandy ride was especially hard on my knees.
After returning shivering from the baths to my tent, I met a nice family from Belgium who offered me a chair in which to read and a beer to drink. Both of which I gladly accepted.
The object of many-a-curses
Tomorrow it’s on to Budapest (I hope), one of my favorite cities.
“Sunflower fields forever.” – John Lennon, first draft
Today’s Miscellany
America’s cultural contribution to this part of Slovakia is the name of a 24-hour roadside strip joint called the Hollywood Club.
Our weekend in Bratislava was wonderful. Bratislava is a well-kept secret to most Americans. Anyone going to Vienna should consider at least a couple of days here in Slovakia’s capital. It’s a day’s bike ride and an hour or so bus or train ride from Vienna.
Bratislava is home to plenty of good vegan food, cheap local beer, a fantastic selection of local wines for less than two euros per glass, a depressing but “nice” American styled mall, a charming old town, and Soviet-era buildings still in use.
Abby and I stayed at the Marrol’s Boutique Hotel. This is a great place to stay in Bratislava because it is walking distance to anything you’d want to do here on a 4 day trip. Plus it has a more than satisfactory hotel breakfast replete with veggies, sweets, unlimited espresso drinks, filter coffee, and the like.
I’m not one to shop except out of necessity, but even I must admit that Bratislava has a nice assortment of boutique stores with quality clothes at unbeatable prices. I picked up a linen shirt and fall jacket.
Just past the Aupark mall lays the city’s collection of dense soviet prefabbed housing. They’re called panelaks and they are bleak.
This neighborhood is among densest in Eastern Europe. It has thousands of units tucked beneath and along the freeway leading into the city center and feels more like public storage for humans than a neighborhood. This is no knock on the people who still live here. Mistakes in urban planning are hard to reverse. One generation’s fuck up can keep screwing people long after the builders die.
Abby and I had so much fun in Bratislava that we realized she needs to visit me in Budapest next weekend too. We bit the bullet and bought her plane ticket.
Abby arrives in Bratislava in just a few hours. In the meantime, I’m relaxing in the only open cafe here, Káva. Today’s a bank holiday and Slovakia is taking it very seriously, as they should.
I’m sitting here re-reading Letters to a Young Contrarian and Hitchens is urging me “travel as much as (I) can.” I am, I promise. The more I travel the farther I want to go. And with this thought, I took his advice and travelled across the street to a French-style bakery called Le Miam.
I stumbled into the best almond croissant I’ve ever tasted. The bakers at Le Miam are dedicated professionals, croissant craftsmen.
I finished Letters and my croissant then walked over to a bus station to wait for Abby, the wrong bus station as it turned out. On the way, I stopped to have some fun on a swingset. Pure enjoyment. What is it about whooshing back and forth and up and down that’s so fun?
I awoke at 6:48 am to the loud sound of a Serbian guy snoring in the bunk across from me. But it wasn’t until 9 am that I’d managed to pack up, eat the hostel breakfast, and start riding.
Today’s ride was pretty boring. The normal route was under maintenance so there was a large detour that took me on some busy roads past endless and uninspiring wheatfields. The highlight of the ride was meeting an Australian family that was on a day trip from Vienna to Bratislava. The dad and I rode together for 3km or so.
Ok, “uninspiring” might have been a little harsh
He told me how he’d spent four years straight traveling overland around the world. He saved up as a bartender (he even lived above the bar) in London for a year, then off he went for the next four to slow travel and work. He talked about being in Ireland for the end of The Troubles and having experienced other world events at a personal scale.
Returning to the humdrum of one place after four years on the move must have been quite the shock. I didn’t get to ask him about it though because he decided to hang back with his family – fair enough – and I zoomed onward toward city center to find a room.
A warning to riders who are sensitive to loud noises: the way into Bratislava is, mercifully, separate from cars but holy shit is it loud.
I was hungry as hell so I fired up my HappyCow app as soon as I made it into Bratislava. Lucky me, a spot with rave reviews called Vegan Kiosk was nearby. I had the Tempeh Burger. Yuhm. I ended up back there for dinner too and had the Classic Cheeseburger, and a slice of their sweet bread. Yuhuhm. This place gets 10/10 from me. I recommend their Tempeh Burger without reservation but I’d avoid the panini, it does not compare to the other items on the menu.
Between meals, I found a craft beer pub where I thought I’d sit down for a pint and search the internet for a room. €23 and a couple hours later I had made four Slovakian friends and drank a lot of really good Eastern European beer. One of the two couples were into cycling. The guy was a bike messenger and the woman a photographer. They suggested my next tour should be around the Baltic Sea. I’m in!
I rode with this couple for a few minutes toward my hostel then said goodbye. My first night in Bratislava was a success.
I moved on from The Leopold and lucked into a vegan counter service restaurant called Venuss. This place was awesome. The prices, portions, and quality were all just right. I got up to the register and learned that they do a 60% discount after 6 pm! What a find.
After my first round, I ran it back with another serving of Viennese dumplings, goulash, and beer. I enjoyed a nice chat with a German woman who was in Vienna for her work in hospitality. I declined her invitation for dessert at Venuss and instead went back to Veganista for two more scoops of their ice cream: one basil and one chocolate banana. I’m nothing if not a loyal customer.
I walked around Vienna’s neighborhoods as I made my way back to the hostel. On the way, I heard an irresistible sound: a basketball being dribbled. Like a dog on his favorite scent, I walked toward the noise. Things were hopping and bopping. Food vendors, a live Q&A session, and, most importantly, people were playing pickup basketball.
gametime
I stopped and played for a few games. 3-on-3 with one Austrian and three recent American college grads from the UCs and UW. It felt good and terrible to play. Good because I was playing basketball again. Bad because Ireland’s complete lack of basketball has me way out of practice. Anyways, a few wins and many missed layups later and it was time to call it a night.
Tomorrow it’s on to Bratislava, Slovakia where Abby and I will reunite for the weekend.
I’ve been excited about this day for a while so after delicious baked goods from Omas Backstube, I walked to the museum and waited with anticipation for it to open. The Leopold is ground zero for the legal dispute over the Schiele painting Portrait of Wally, which is housed there. It also has the largest collection of Schiele paintings anywhere in the world.
A carrot cake and two horseshoe-shaped treats that tasted nothing like a horseshoe
What a fantastic museum. I saw art by artists I’ve never seen or paid attention to before such as Max Oppenheimer, Albert Birkle, Rudolf Wacker, Oskar Kokoschka, Olga Wisinger-Florian, Edmund Kalb, Peter Altenberg, Richard Englander, Hans Kelsen, Rosa Mayreder, Martin Buber, Käthe Leichter, and Koloman Moser.
I wrote observations in my journal on what I saw but I’ll spare you most them.
Edmund Kalb never sold a single painting and spent much of his life tilling an independent farm
By the time I finished the Edmund Kalb exhibition it was 12:36 pm and time for lunch so I walked up to the museum restaurant on Floor 2. First order of business: espresso. Second? A tofu Japanese curry, what else?
After lunch, it was back to the art. I’d saved the best for last. I felt trepidatious walking to the Schiele rooms, as though I needed the art’s approval instead of the other way around. I savored every second in these rooms and looked through each at least twice.
As the meandering looks from the museum staff turned from bored to hostile I sensed that The Leopold was closing. ‘I don’t want this to be over,’ I thought. I felt at once satisfied and melancholic. Until yesterday, I had only seen one-off pieces of Schiele’s work. A couple of paintings at the Neue Galerie in New York and that was about it. Then in just two afternoons, I’d seen almost all of his publicly exhibited work, from years of anticipation to completion in under 48 hours. It was an experience I won’t soon forget. Schiele was 28 years old when he died—my age now—and he painted enough high-quality art to reverberate across generations and bring joy to people like me.
I’ll treasure my day at The Leopold for as long as I remember it.
A street sign in Tulln signifying the beginning of two days full of the artist
When I stopped to throw away an empty bag yesterday I noticed a map. On it, I saw that the Egon Schiele Museum was nearby. This was great news! If I had to pick a favorite artist, Schiele’d be the one so I headed for the museum this morning.
It didn’t open until 10 am, so once I reached Tulln (Schiele’s birthplace) I stopped for some coffee and too many baked goods: one nut bread, one apple pastry, and one poppy seed roll to ensure that I’d feel sick.
I spent about two hours at the Schiele Museum. It’s a gem, a small space with one room full of 13 paintings by Schiele from between 1905 to 1907 when he was about 15 to 18 years old.
Please open this awesome gate so that I can run like an excited kid at Disney Land through this museum
The Schiele Museum is unique because its paintings aren’t in the style one imagines when one thinks of Schiele (assuming one thinks of him and his art at all)—no spindly limbs or tortured poses. All but one of the paintings look as though they could have been painted by someone else. A forest landscape in the gallery is the only piece in which there are any hints as to what his art would become.
After going upstairs through the secondary exhibition on Schiele’s life, which I highly recommend—they’ve filmed a bunch of interviews with experts on his life and art—I stopped at a riverside food shack outside of Vienna for a veg platter full of halloumi and grilled veggies plus some good beer. Today’s ride was easy going without hills, heat, and just a little rain.
The ride into Vienna is an urban cyclist’s dream. There are fully protected bike bridges and lanes that plopped me right into the city zentrum. From the center, I cycled onto the medieval ring road that’s been turned into a protected bike lane. I zipped around to the parks, monuments, and past the museums. It is the best way to see Vienna. While riding the ring road I tried to imagine how medieval Austrian’s would react to learning that the wall separating them from oblivion had been turned into a bike lane. I settled on, “Bike lane? Vut is a bike?”
I snagged a nice hostel in the Leopoldstadt neighborhood for 24eur. After unpacking my stuff I rode back out into the city for dinner at the Beaver Brewing Co. where I ordered a beer sampler and the seitan burger with seaweed salad and guac. An unexpectedly good combo.
After dinner, I crossed the street to Veganista. My favorite ice cream shop in Vienna. One scoop of cookies and cream in a waffle cone, please.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better I found 15eur on the ground.
If you’re visiting Vienna and find yourself in the Leopoldstadt neighborhood then you simply have to take a walk around the Augarten park. Augarten is adjacent to an old porcelain factory. The grounds have what appear to be decaying water towers juxtaposed with meticulously manicured gardens. The lighting in Augarten during a summer evening is straight off of the Lion King VHS sleeve.
Dusk at Augarten
Tomorrow is a rest day in Vienna. I’m going to the Leopold Museum and I could not be more excited. A course I took spent a good deal of time discussing the Leopold collection and its implications on the recovery of Nazi loot. The Leopold houses the world’s largest collection of Schiele’s work too; so, there is lot’s to see and think about there. I can’t wait.
Portrait of Wally tells the engrossing story of Schiele’s painting by the same name, which was stolen by the Nazi’s, purchased by Professor Leopold, and the subject of a decades-long dispute
