Gem is Truly Outragious

Dora and I had house guests this weekend. Jamie and Pete came in from London and we all spent a few days wandering about the city. They have been fabulous house guests, and if they ever read this, please know that Dora and I hope you will visit more often. I know we will try to get up to see you in the near future.

Showing the city to guests gave me the opportunity to consider Budapest from the perspective of an outsider for the first time in few years, and this weekend I was struck, once again, by a certain something about Budapest.

Say you’re a curious traveler walking through the smaller streets of Budapest’s Seventh District. It’s got some nice old turn-of-the-century buildings and a few cobblestone streets, but for the most part the place is ragged at the edges. It is clear on these streets that Budapest is a once-great city that has slipped slowly into disrepair. Perhaps you will leave Budapest and go tell your friends back home that this is a nice little burg, but still a far cry from its former glory.

Interestingly, if you had been less curious and stuck to the more-maintained Castle District or the walking streets near the river, you’d head back swearing up and down that Budapest was a cultural gem preserved with the tenderest of care.

If, however, before you decided to explore the district that once housed the Jewish Ghetto, you thought to ask an honest concierge or an English-speaking resident where to go or what to visit, then you might be lucky enough to stumble into one of the places that illustrates just how subtlety Budapest has linked its past, present, and future. For reasons that are difficult to explain, this city is keeping its real recovery a secret.

The places have unobtrusive signs hung over non-descript doors: Lampas or Szimpla. (In other districts the entrances are the same but the names change: West Balkan or Pot Kulcs) If no one told you where to look, you would walk right by. If you were told where to look, however, then you would step into the Budapest only spoken about in hushed tones, a Budapest full of lively bars filled with young people and artists, a Budapest where folk musicians open for rockabilly blues bands, a Budapest where video art and cutting-edge paintings adorn the walls of pubs, a Budapest where classic movies are shown on the brick walls of vacant buildings.

While the government, UNESCO, and private investors renovate the tourist attractions in an effort to make the city more lucrative, the citizens here are working to make the city more livable.

It’s a slow process. There is an ongoing effort to teach people to clean up after their dogs (and themselves). The homeless don’t have any significant support system, so they sit on the street and drink the days away. The political situation is a disaster, and the economy could use a jump start. Still, the young people wanted a vibrant scene they can call their own, and they’ve built it on the ruins of a once great city. Artists wanted unique places to display their work, and they’ve hunted through the abandoned courtyards and cellars to find those places. Musicians wanted to play for a young excited crowd, and they’ve built stages in the tiniest corners of the city – covered the walls in spray-painted egg-cartons to dampen the sound – and started playing music to people who feel like they are in on a special little secret.

Budapest may be a far cry from its former glory, but something precious remains; even if the word gem, with all its showy connotations, fails to depict the source of that nature.