Lipótváros, from the Parliament to the Chain Bridge
Hungarian Parliament (Országház)
Szabadság Tér (Liberty Square)
Monument to the Hungarian Victims of the Nazis
St. István’s Basilica (Szent István Bazilika)
Chain Bridge (Széchenyi Lánchíd)
The Parliament building, which dominates Pest’s skyline, is the centerpiece of a banking and business district that bustles by day, but is relatively quiet at night and on weekends. Called Lipótváros (“Leopold Town”), this area is one of Budapest’s most genteel quarters, and features some of the best of Budapest’s many monuments. This walk also takes in several of the city’s most grandiose landmarks: the Parliament, St. István’s Basilica, the Gresham Palace, and the Chain Bridge.
Note: If you’re planning to tour the Parliament interior, get tickets before you begin this walk (as explained on here). Then do the first part of this walk while waiting for your Parliament tour to begin.
(See "Leopold Town Walk" map, here.)
Length of This Walk: Allow 1.5 hours, not including time to enter the sights.
Getting There: We’ll begin on Kossuth tér, behind the Parliament. You can take the M2/red line to the Kossuth tér stop; or, from southern Pest (such as the Great Market Hall—at the end of the Pest Town Center Walk; or Vigadó tér near Vörösmarty tér), take tram #2 along the Danube embankment, and hop off at the looming Parliament building (you can get off either at the Kossuth tér stop, at the south end of the Parliament, or at the Országház stop, at the north end, near the visitors center). From near the Opera House, hop on trolley bus #70 or #78.
Parliament: 5,200 Ft; English tours usually daily at 10:00, 12:00, 13:00, 14:00, and 15:00—confirm times and book online in advance; Kossuth tér 1, tel. 1/441-4904, www.parlament.hu.
St. István’s Basilica: Interior—free, but 200-Ft donation strongly suggested, open to tourists Mon 9:00-16:30, Tue-Fri 9:00-17:00, Sat 9:00-13:00, Sun 13:00-17:00, open later for worshippers; panorama terrace—500 Ft, daily June-Sept 10:00-18:30, March-May and Oct 10:00-17:30, Nov-Feb 10:00-16:30; treasury—400 Ft, same hours as terrace; Szent István tér, district V, M1: Bajcsy-Zsilinszky út or M3: Arany János utca.
Starring: Grand buildings, fine facades, contemporary politics, and monuments, monuments, monuments.
(See "Leopold Town Walk" map, here.)
• Start in the vast square on the non-river side of the gigantic, can’t-miss-it, red-domed Parliament building. Position yourself near the bottom of the very tall, pointy flagpole, near the stiff guards. Follow their gaze to the...
The Parliament was built from 1885 to 1902 to celebrate the Hungarian millennium year of 1896 (see sidebar on here). Its elegant, frilly spires and riverside location were inspired by its counterpart in London (where the architect studied). When completed, the Parliament was a striking and cutting-edge example of the mix-and-match Historicist style of the day—just as Frank Gehry’s undulating buildings are examples of today’s bold new aesthetic. Like the Hungarian people, this building is at once grandly ambitious and a somewhat motley hodgepodge of various influences—a Neo-Gothic palace topped with a Neo-Renaissance dome, which once had a huge, red communist star on top of the tallest spire. Fittingly, it’s the city’s top icon. The best views of the Parliament are from across the Danube—especially in the late-afternoon sunlight.
The enormous building—with literally miles of stairs—was appropriate for a time when Budapest ruled much of Eastern Europe. The Parliament was built in an exuberant age, when Hungary was part of the Dual Monarchy—the “Austro-Hungarian Empire”—and triple the size it is today. Look at the Parliament with an 1896 Hungarian state of mind. The building is a celebration of Hungary, built with Hungarian hands and of Hungarian materials. But now it feels just plain too big—the legislature only occupies an eighth of the space.
The interior—decorated with 84 pounds of gold—is even more glorious than the facade. Apart from all that opulence, it also holds the Hungarian crown (directly under the dome—surrounded, as if at a tribal summit, by over a thousand years’ worth of Hungary’s great kings). This quintessential symbol of Hungarian sovereignty is supposedly the original one that Pope Sylvester II sent to Hungary to crown István on Christmas Day in the year 1000. Since then, the crown has been hidden, stolen, lost, and found again and again...supposedly bending the cross on top in the process. That original, simple crown has been encrusted with jewels and (as a gift from a Byzantine emperor) adorned with a circlet. This makes the crown look like a hybrid of East and West—perhaps appropriately, as for much of history Budapest was seen as the gateway to the Orient. In modern times, the crown actually spent time in Fort Knox, Kentucky, where the US government kept it safe between the end of World War II and 1978, when Jimmy Carter returned it to Hungary. (For details on touring the Parliament, see here).
During the 20th century, this building saw monarchists, nationalists, democrats, fascists, and communists. Today, the Hungarian Parliament is controlled by the Fidesz party, led by Viktor Orbán. In addition to introducing you to old buildings and monuments, this tour will familiarize you with some of the contemporary politics in Hungary—including the controversial reforms of Orbán and Fidesz. A highly nationalistic, right-wing party, which swept to power after Hungarians grew weary of the bumblings of the poorly organized, shortsighted left-wing opposition party, Fidesz has exerted its influence over every walk of Hungarian life...beginning with the look of this building and square.
• The vast square behind the Parliament is studded with attractions. Stay where you are for a quick...
This square is sprinkled with interesting monuments and packed with Hungarian history. But it’s gone through a lot of changes in the last few years, at the hands of architects and urban planners working under the steady guidance of Fidesz. The first big change was the square itself, which used to be a more higgledy-piggledy mix of ragged asphalt, parks, monuments, and trees. But Fidesz wanted the mighty Parliament building to stand bold and unobstructed. Several ragtag older monuments (including, ironically, an “eternal” flame honoring victims of the communists) were swept away. Trees were cut down overnight, before would-be protesters could make a peep. And today the square has a scrubbed-clean look that some critics consider almost fascist.
Check out the flags that are being flown from the Parliament building. In addition to the Hungarian flag (red, white, and green stripes), you may also see the flag of Transylvania (blue flag with a yellow stripe, and a star and crescent moon in the corner). Like many Hungarians, the leaders of Fidesz cling to the memory of a much larger, pre-WWI Hungary, which included Transylvania. Although the treaty ceding Transylvania to Romania was signed nearly a century ago, Fidesz stubbornly flies this flag to bolster their suggestion that Romania grant Transylvania its independence (an idea that almost nobody takes seriously). Meanwhile, Fidesz has refused to fly the European Union’s flag (a circle of yellow stars on a blue background). The particular flags you see today serve as a barometer of Fidesz’s current level of feistiness.
Look to the right end of the Parliament. Poking up is a pillar topped by a lion being strangled and bitten by a giant snake—a proud, noble nation laid low by an insidious enemy. At the base of the pillar stands István Tisza, who was prime minister of Hungary when the Austro-Hungarian Empire was pulled into World War I—which, despite Tisza’s best efforts, led to the loss of Hungary’s outlying territories. This pillar marks the entrance to the Parliament visitors center; if you want to check on the availability of tours today, now’s a good time (for details, see here).
Looking a bit to the right, at the end of the park you’ll see another stony tribute, this one to the square’s namesake, Lajos Kossuth, who led the 1848 Revolution against the Habsburgs. A previous monument to Kossuth on this very spot showed him rallying people from all walks of life to join him in the revolution. The current version, from Fidesz, isolates the great patriot with a downcast, almost lonesome gaze. (Some suggest that the earlier version was a bit too populist for the liking of the hardline Fidesz.) For more on Kossuth, see here.
The street that leaves this square behind Kossuth’s right shoulder is Falk Miksa utca, Budapest’s “antique row”—a great place to browse for nostalgic souvenirs (see here).
Panning right from the Kossuth statue, across the tram tracks you’ll see the stately home of the Museum of Ethnography. While its collection of Hungarian folk artifacts is good (closed Mon, see here), the building is even more notable. The design was the first runner-up for the Parliament building, so they built it here, where it originally housed the Supreme Court.
To the right, the Ministry of Agriculture was the second runner-up for the Parliament. Today it features a very low-profile, but poignant, monument to the victims of the 1956 Uprising against Soviet rule (see the “1956” sidebar): At the right end of the protruding arcade, notice that the walls are pockmarked with little metal dollops (you may have to walk closer to see these clearly). Two days into the uprising, on October 25, the ÁVH (communist police) and Soviet troops on the rooftop above opened fire on demonstrators gathered in this square—massacring many and leaving no doubt that Moscow would not tolerate dissent. In the monument, each of the little metal knobs represents a bullet.
Spin farther to the right, where a dramatic equestrian statue of Ferenc Rákóczi stands in the park. Rákóczi valiantly—but unsuccessfully—led the Hungarians in their War of Independence (1703-1711) against the Habsburgs. (For more on this leader, see here.) Although they lived more than a century apart, Rákóczi and Kossuth—who now face each other across this square—were aligned in their rebellion against the Habsburgs.
Complete your 360 and face the Parliament again. Every so often, costumed soldiers appear on the front steps for a brief “changing of the guard” ceremony set to recorded music...another very new, very patriotic custom, compliments of Fidesz.
Along the two grassy parks that flank the dome, look for low-profile black walls marked 1956, which enclose staircases leading down under the square. These lead to a new museum dedicated to the 1956 Uprising (which may be open during your visit).
• Now we’ll head to a nice riverfront viewpoint—and, of course, more monuments. Circle around the left side of the giant Parliament building, passing another statue on a pillar (Gulya Andrássy, described in the sidebar on here). Belly up to the bannister overlooking a spectacular...
Slowly scan the skyline to get oriented to the older, hillier half of Buda-Pest. Far to the left, the Gellért Hill is topped by the Soviet-era Liberation Monument. Castle Hill is dominated by the sprawling Royal Palace (with its green dome). Across the river from you, the pointy hilltop spires mark the Matthias Church and Fishermen’s Bastion; below that is the riverbank neighborhood called Víziváros. Just to the right, the two onion-domed churches bookend Batthyány tér, a local transportation hub. And far to the right, in the middle of the Danube, sits the tree-filled city park of Margaret Island, connected to both Pest and Buda by Margaret Bridge.
There’s a reason why Budapest is so monument-crazy. In 1897, German Emperor Wilhelm II came to visit his ally and rival, Habsburg Emperor Franz Josef, here in Budapest. Wilhelm commented on how few monuments graced the city streets, prompting a jealous Franz Josef to fund the immediate creation of 10 new statues around town. The Budapesters’ enjoyment of a good monument continues today. Here are a few favorites, scattered around the city:
• Attila József, the brooding young poet, on the riverbank by the Parliament (see here).
• Imre Nagy, the brave anti-communist leader, standing pensively on a bridge just behind Parliament (see here).
• Empty Shoes lining the Danube riverbank between the Parliament and the Chain Bridge, honoring Jews who stood there before being executed by the Nazis (see here).
• Anonymous, the first scribe to chronicle the history of the Hungarian people, in City Park’s Vajdahunyad Castle (see here).
• George Washington, minding his own business deep in City Park near Vajdahunyad Castle (see here).
• 1956, a gigantic rusted-metal hull in City Park, honoring the way Hungarians came together to attempt to throw off Soviet rule (see here).
• Heroes’ Square, where 21 Hungarian leaders (and one angel) stand sternly as a Who’s Who of Hungarian history (see here).
• Memento Park, a collection of surviving communist-era statues and monuments that evoke the Red old days (see here).
• Now walk along the banister to the left until you come upon a statue of a young man, lost deep in thought, gazing into the Danube.
This beloved modern poet lived a tumultuous, productive, and short life before he killed himself by jumping in front of a train at age 32. József’s poems of life, love, and death—mostly written in the 1920s and 1930s—are considered the high point of Hungarian literature. His birthday (April 11) is celebrated as National Hungarian Poetry Day.
Here József re-enacts a scene from one of his best poems, “At the Danube.” It’s a hot day—his jacket lies in a heap next to him, his shirtsleeves are rolled up, and he cradles his hat loosely in his left hand. “As I sat on the bank of the Danube, I watched a watermelon float by,” he begins. “As if flowing out of my heart, murky, wise, and great was the Danube.” In the poem, József uses the Danube as a metaphor for life—for the way it has interconnected cities and also times—as he reflects that his ancestors likely pondered the Danube from this same spot. Looking into his profound eyes, you sense the depth of this artist’s tortured inner life.
• Walk down the steps next to József, and stand at the railing just above the busy road. If you visually trace the Pest riverbank to the left about 100 yards, just before the tree-filled, riverfront park, you can just barely see several low-profile dots lining the embankment. This is a...
Consisting of 50 pairs of bronze shoes, this monument commemorates the Jews who were killed when the Nazis’ puppet government, the Arrow Cross, came to power in Hungary in 1944. While many Jews were sent to concentration camps, the Arrow Cross massacred some of them right here, shooting them and letting their bodies fall into the Danube.
• If you’d like a closer look at the shoes, use the crosswalk (50 yards to your right) to cross the busy embankment road and follow the waterline. I’ll wait right here.
When you’re ready to move on, turn your back to the Danube and walk inland, along the ugly building (with an entrance to the Metró), up to the back corner of Kossuth tér. Cross the street in a little park (at Vértanúk tere), where you’ll see a monument to...
The Hungarian politician Imre Nagy (EEM-ray nodge), now thought of as an anti-communist hero, was actually a lifelong communist. In the 1930s, he allegedly worked for the Soviet secret police. In the late 1940s, he quickly moved up the hierarchy of Hungary’s communist government, becoming prime minister during a period of reform in 1953. But when his proposed changes alarmed Moscow, Nagy was quickly demoted.
When the 1956 Uprising broke out on October 23, Imre Nagy was drafted (reluctantly, some say) to become the head of the movement to soften the severity of the communist regime. Because he was an insider, it briefly seemed that Nagy might hold the key to finding a middle path (represented by the bridge he’s standing on) between the suffocating totalitarian model of Moscow and the freedom of the West. Some suspect that Nagy himself didn’t fully grasp the dramatic sea change represented by the uprising. When he appeared at the Parliament building on the night of October 23 to speak to the reform-craving crowds for the first time, he began by addressing his countrymen—as communist politicians always did—with, “Dear comrades...” When the audience booed, he amended it: “Dear friends...”
But the optimism was short-lived. The Soviets violently put down the uprising, arrested and sham-tried Nagy, executed him, and buried him disgracefully, face-down in an unmarked grave. The regime forced Hungary to forget about Nagy.
Later, when communism was in its death throes in 1989, the Hungarian people rediscovered Nagy as a hero. His body was located, exhumed, and given a ceremonial funeral at Heroes’ Square. (It was also something of a coming-out party for Viktor Orbán—now the prime minister—who, as a twentysomething rebel, delivered an impassioned speech at the ceremony.) This event is considered a pivotal benchmark in that year of tremendous change. By the year’s end, the Berlin Wall would fall, and the Czechs and Slovaks would stage their Velvet Revolution. But Nagy’s reburial was the first in that series of toppling dominoes. And today, thanks to this monument, Nagy keeps a watchful eye on today’s lawmakers in the Parliament across the way. Since Fidesz took power, democracy-loving locals swear that every so often, they see Nagy wince.
The year 1956 is etched into the Hungarian psyche. In that year, the people of Budapest staged the first major uprising against the communist regime. It also marked the first time that the Soviets implicitly acknowledged, in brutally putting down the uprising, that the people of Eastern Europe were not “communist by choice.”
The seeds of revolution were sown with the death of a tyrant: Josef Stalin passed away on March 5, 1953. Suddenly the choke-hold that Moscow had held on its satellite states loosened. During this time of “de-Stalinization,” Hungarian premier Imre Nagy presided over two years of mild reform, before his political opponents (and Moscow) became nervous and demoted him. (For more on Nagy, see here.)
In 1955, Austria declared its neutrality in the Cold War. This thrust Hungary to the front line of the Iron Curtain, and raised the stakes both for Hungarians who wanted freedom and for Soviets who wanted to preserve their buffer zone. When Stalin’s successor, Nikita Khrushchev, condemned Stalin’s crimes in a “secret speech” to communist leaders in February of 1956, it emboldened the Soviet Bloc’s dissidents. A workers’ strike in Poznań, Poland, in October inspired Hungarians to follow their example.
On October 23, 1956, the Hungarian uprising began. A student union group gathered in Budapest at 15:00 to articulate a list of 16 demands against the communist regime. Then they marched toward Parliament, their numbers gradually swelling. One protester defiantly cut the Soviet-style insignia out of the center of the Hungarian flag, which would become the uprising’s symbol.
By nightfall, some 200,000 protesters filled Kossuth tér behind Parliament, calling for Imre Nagy, the one communist leader they believed could bring change. Nagy finally appeared around 21:00. Ever the pragmatic politician, he implored patience. Following the speech, a large band of protesters took matters into their own hands, marched to City Park, and tore down the hated Stalin statue that stood there (see here).
Another group went to the National Radio building to read their demands on the air. The ÁVH (communist police) refused to let them do it, and eventually opened fire on the protesters. The peaceful protests evolved into an armed insurrection, as frightened civilians gathered weapons and supplies.
Overnight, Moscow decided to intervene. Budapesters awoke on October 24 to find Red Army troops occupying their city. That morning, Imre Nagy—who had just been promoted again to prime minister—promised reforms and tried to keep a lid on the simmering discontent.
The next day, October 25, a huge crowd gathered on Kossuth tér behind the Parliament to hear from Nagy. In the hubbub, shots rang out as Hungarian and Soviet soldiers opened fire on the (mostly unarmed) crowd. At least 70 protesters were killed and more than 100 injured.
The Hungarians fought back with an improvised guerilla resistance. They made use of any guns they could get their hands on, as well as Molotov cocktails, to strike against the Soviet occupiers. Many adolescents (the celebrated “Pest Youth”) participated. The fighting tore apart the city, and some of the fallen were buried in impromptu graves in city parks.
Political infighting in Moscow paralyzed the Soviet response, and an uneasy ceasefire fell over Budapest. For 10 tense days, it appeared that the Soviets might allow Nagy to push through some reforms. Nagy, a firmly entrenched communist, had always envisioned a less repressive regime...but within limits. While he was at first reluctant to take on the mantle of the uprising’s leadership, he gradually began to echo what he was hearing on the streets. He called for free elections, the abolishment of the ÁVH, the withdrawal of Soviet troops, and Hungary’s secession from the Warsaw Pact.
But when the uprisers attacked and killed ÁVH officers and communist leaders in Budapest, it bolstered the case of the Moscow hardliners. On November 4, the Red Army launched a brutal counterattack in Budapest that left the rebels reeling. At 5:20 that morning, Imre Nagy’s voice came over the radio to beg the world for assistance. Later that morning, he sought asylum at the Yugoslav Embassy across the street from City Park. He was never seen alive in public again.
János Kádár—an ally of Nagy’s who was palatable to the uprisers, yet firmly loyal to Moscow—was installed as prime minister. The fighting dragged on for about another week, but the uprising was eventually crushed. By the end, 2,500 Hungarians and more than 700 Soviets were dead, and 20,000 Hungarians were injured. Communist authorities arrested more than 15,000 people, of whom at least 200 were executed (including Imre Nagy). Anyone who had participated in the uprising was blacklisted; fearing this and other forms of retribution, some 200,000 Hungarians fled to the West.
Though the 1956 Uprising met a tragic end, within a few years Kádár did succeed in softening the regime, and the milder, so-called “goulash communism” emerged. And today, even though the communists are long gone, the legacy of 1956 pervades the Hungarian consciousness. Some Budapest buildings are still pockmarked with bullet holes from ’56, and many Hungarians who fled the country in that year still have not returned. October 23 remains Hungary’s most cherished holiday.
• Go up the short, diagonal street behind Nagy, called Vécsey utca. After just one block, you emerge into...
“Liberty Square”—one of Budapest’s most inviting public spaces—was so named when a Habsburg barracks here was torn down after the Hungarians gained some autonomy in the late 19th century.
• The first person you’ll see as you enter the square, striding confidently and charismatically away from the Parliament, is an actor-turned-politician you may recognize...
Ronald Reagan is respected in Hungary for his role as a Cold Warrior. But don’t take this monument as a sign that he’s universally adored by Hungarians. In truth, this statue, the result of a political stunt, was erected in 2011 to deflect attention from a brewing scandal: When Fidesz took power in 2010, they quickly began rolling back previous democratic reforms and placing alarming constraints on the media. Many international observers—including the US government—spoke out against what they considered an infringement on freedom of the press. In an effort to appease American concerns, Prime Minister Viktor Orbán erected this statue on one of his capital’s main squares—and then, perhaps not quite grasping the subtleties of American political divisions, invited Secretary of State Hillary Clinton to the unveiling. While Reagan played a role in ending the Cold War, many Hungarian patriots are offended that this monument overshadows the contributions and sacrifices of so many other important figures, including Imre Nagy. Either way, it’s fun to watch the steady stream of passersby (both Hungarians and tourists) do a double-take, chuckle, then snap a photo with The Gipper.
• Walk around the stout obelisk to the center of the square. Stand facing the obelisk.
This is the Soviet War Memorial, commemorating “Liberation Day”: April 4, 1945, when the Soviets officially forced the Nazis out of Hungary. As a very rare reminder of the Soviet days—you almost never see hammers-and-sickles in the streets of Hungary anymore—it has often been defaced. Some Budapesters feel that the memorial should be removed. Ponder for a moment this complex issue: Soviet troops did liberate Hungary from the Nazis. Does their leaders’ later oppression of the Hungarians make these soldiers’ sacrifice less worthy of being honored? One way or another, there’s a certain irony now that Ronald Reagan stands just a few yards from the Soviet War Memorial—perhaps a fittingly schizophrenic metaphor for this city’s complex history and allegiances.
Ringing the top of Szabadság tér (behind the memorial) are four ornate apartment buildings, typical of high-class townhouses from Budapest’s Golden Age in the late 1800s. While each one is strikingly different from the next, they are all typical of Historicism—the mix-and-match aesthetic that was popular at the time. Like residential buildings throughout Pest, the ground floor has particularly high ceilings. But the second and third floors were more desirable—up away from the rabble of street life, but with relatively few stairs (in a time before elevators were common). Notice that in each of these buildings, those are the only floors with balconies.
Here’s an optional detour for architecture buffs: If you go up the middle street between these buildings (Honvéd utca, straight ahead from the middle of Szabadság tér), a few doors down on the right you’ll find one of Budapest’s finest Art Nouveau buildings, Bedő-Ház. The curvy green facade is a textbook example of the Hungarian Secession style. Built in 1903, the building was dilapidated for decades before a studs-out restoration in 2007. Inside is a small café and three floors with a modest but interesting exhibit of elegantly delicate Art Nouveau furniture, dishes, and other decorative arts (2,000 Ft, Mon-Sat 10:00-17:00, closed Sun, Honvéd utca 3, tel. 1/269-4622). For just a peek, duck into the next-door Secessió Café & Delikat, which occupies part of the building (Mon-Fri 8:00-19:00, Sat 10:00-17:00, closed Sun).
• Back in the middle of Szabadság tér, turn with your back to the Soviet memorial, and look down to the far end of the square.
On the right is a giant, twin-spired building that once housed the stock exchange and, later, Hungarian State Television, or MTV—not music television, but Magyar television. Now the building has been converted into luxury offices and apartments.
The genteel open-air café in the middle of the park is an inviting place for a coffee break.
On the left side of the square, behind car-bomb barriers and a heavily fortified fence, the yellow corner building is the US Embassy. This is where Cardinal József Mindszenty holed up for 15 years during the Cold War to evade arrest by the communist authorities (see here). A hundred yards down the left side of the square (and worth a detour for military buffs) stands a statue of Harry Hill Bandholtz, a US officer from World War I who prevented treasured Hungarian art from being taken by Romania. This statue stood inside the US Embassy for 40 chilly years (1949-1989), but now it’s back out in the open.
• We’re headed down Perczel Mór utca, the street next to the US Embassy—but you’ll have to detour a bit to the left (and tiptoe around some barricades) to get there. Follow the oversized fortifications one block along Perczel Mór utca, and you’ll run right into...
Look for the big Belvárosi Piac sign over the door, and step inside. This market hall was built around the same time as the Great Market Hall, but it’s smaller and less touristy—worth poking around inside. If you’re hungry, sit down at one of several dirt-cheap market eateries upstairs, or gather a picnic here to eat at nearby Szabadság tér (Mon 6:30-17:00, Tue-Fri 6:30-18:00, Sat 6:30-14:00, closed Sun).
Exit the market building and turn left onto Hold utca. As you walk down this street, keep your eyes high on the green-and-yellow roofline of the building on the right. This Postal Savings Bank, designed by Ödön Lechner in the late 19th century, combines traditional folk motifs with cutting-edge Art Nouveau in an attempt to forge a new, distinctly Hungarian national style. A key element of this emerging style was the use of colorful mosaic tiles to decorate the roof. (In its truest form, this style uses pyrogranite ceramic tiles from the famous Zsolnay porcelain factory in the city of Pécs—see here.) The beehives along the rooftop are an appropriate symbol for a bank—where people store money as bees store honey. When asked why he lavished such attention on the rooftop, which few people can see, Lechner said, “To please the birds.” The next building is the grand National Bank of Hungary, with entertaining reliefs tracing the history of money.
• Return to Liberty Square by taking the street between these two banks, Kiss Ernő utca. Again you’ll be following an almost comically heavy-duty fence for the US Embassy. (Ponder for a moment why the US feels the need to build a fortress in the most tranquil corner of a relatively powerless European nation’s capital.) Emerging back into the square, angle left past the playground to reach yet another controversial monument, at the end of the square, near the fountain.
This recent addition to the square—another heavy-handed Fidesz production—commemorates the German invasion of Hungary on March 19, 1944. Standing in the middle of a broken colonnade, an immaculate angel holds a sphere with a double cross (part of the crown jewels and a symbol of Hungarian sovereignty). Overhead, a mechanical-looking black eagle (a traditional symbol of Germany) screeches in, its talons poised to strike. In case the symbolism weren’t clear enough, the eagle wears a hit-you-over-the-head armband that says 1944.
Although offensive enough for its lack of artistry, this monument was instantly controversial for the way it whitewashes Hungarian history. Viewing this, you might imagine that Hungary was a peaceful land that was unwittingly caught up in the Nazi war machine. In fact, the Hungarian government was an ally of Nazi Germany for more than three years before this invasion. While many Hungarians today emphasize that Jews here were not executed before the Germans arrived, tens of thousands of Jews did die from forced labor or through being exported to Nazi-controlled lands. And there’s no question that, after the invasion, many Hungarians enthusiastically collaborated with their new Nazi overlords.
Mindful of the old adage about people who forget their own history, locals have created a makeshift memorial to the victims of the World War II-era Hungarians (not just Germans) in front of this official monument. (If this informal memorial—a gathering of faded photographs and handwritten signs—is nowhere to be seen, it’s a safe guess that Fidesz is cracking down on free speech.)
On a lighter note, the fountain that faces the monument is particularly entertaining. Sensors can tell when you’re about to walk through the wall of water...and the curtain of water automatically parts just long enough for you to pass. Try it.
• Turning your back to the monument, go left, then take the first right (before the big, blocky bank building), and head down Sas utca for two blocks. Sas utca and neighboring streets are home to several good and trendy restaurants (including the recommended Café Kör and Borkonyha). Consider window-shopping here and reserving a place for dinner tonight.
You’ll emerge into a broad plaza in front of Budapest’s biggest Catholic church...
The church is only about 100 years old—like most Budapest landmarks, it was built around the millennial celebrations of 1896. Designed by three architects over more than 50 years, St. István’s is particularly eclectic. Each architect had a favorite style: Neoclassical, Neo-Renaissance, and Neo-Baroque. Construction was delayed for a while when the giant dome collapsed midway through.
Head up the grand stairs to get oriented. To the right is the ticket desk, the elevator to the treasury, and the entrance to the church. To the left is the elevator to the panoramic tower.
The church’s interior is dimly lit but gorgeously restored; all the gilded decorations glitter in the low light. You’ll see not Jesus, but St. István (Stephen), Hungary’s first Christian king, glowing above the high altar.
The church’s main claim to fame is the “holy right hand” of St. István. The sacred fist—a somewhat grotesque, 1,000-year-old withered stump—is in a jeweled box in the chapel to the left of the main altar (follow signs for Szent Jobb Kápolna, chapel often closed). Pop in a 200-Ft coin for two minutes of light. Posted information describes the hand’s unlikely journey to this spot (chapel open April-Sept Mon-Sat 9:00-16:30, Sun 13:00-16:30; Oct-March Mon-Sat 10:00-16:00, Sun 13:00-16:30).
On your way out, in the exit foyer, you’ll find a small exhibit about the building’s history.
There are two other attractions at St. István’s, each covered by a separate ticket. The panoramic tower offers views over Budapest’s rooftops that are pretty distant (and disappointing without a good zoom lens), but it does provide a good sense of the sprawl of the city. You have various options: You can walk up the entire way (302 steps); or you can take an elevator to midlevel (with WCs), where you can follow signs to another elevator (plus 42 steps) or climb 137 steps to the top. To the right as you face the church, an elevator zips up to the skippable church treasury, a small collection of vestments, ecclesiastical gear, a model of the building, exhibits about its construction, a porcelain replica of the Hungarian crown, and a fine Murillo Holy Family—all well-described in English.
The church also hosts regular organ concerts (advertised near the entry).
• The square in front of the church is called, logically...
This grand plaza is a classic example of how Budapest has spiffed up its once-gloomy downtown. A decade ago, this space was an ugly parking lot. Then, a few years back, a German engineering firm created an experimental, cutting-edge parking garage beneath this square. Instead of finding a parking space, drivers simply leave their car on a pallet and walk up to the square—while the car-loaded pallet is moved with a series of giant elevators and conveyor belts to a parking space. This futuristic system is all going on underfoot. Meanwhile, over the last few years, the streets around this plaza—once sleepy—have been transformed into one of Budapest’s trendiest nightlife zones, with lots of bars, restaurants, and cafés catering to local yuppies. The DiVino wine bar, on your left as you leave the church, is a perfect place to sample a variety of Hungarian vintages by the glass; this and other nearby eateries are recommended on here.
• From here, you have two options. If you’d like to skip ahead to my Andrássy Út Walk, you’re very close: Walk around the right side of the basilica, turn right on busy Bajcsy-Zsilinszky út, and you’re one block from the start of Andrássy út (across the street, on your left).
Or you can complete this walk to Vörösmarty tér, where you can begin the Pest Town Center Walk. For this option, walk straight ahead from St. István’s main staircase down...
Traffic-free Zrínyi utca is a fine people zone, and a handy way to connect St. István’s to the river. Plans are in the works to redevelop other central Pest streets to be as pedestrian-friendly as this one.
At the start of Zrínyi utca, on the right-hand corner (in front of the gelato shop), look for the red fire hydrant with a blue attachment on one end. This contraption—called ivócsap (“drinking tap”), the winner of a recent citywide design competition—allows passersby to use the hydrant as a drinking fountain. It’s a typically clever Hungarian solution.
At the next corner (on the right), look for the bushy-mustachioed police officer statue, evoking the grand old days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire (just before World War I). There’s no particular story for this character: he’s just for fun. In keeping with their rich tradition of monuments, the local district sponsors a contest each year to come up with the best statues.
Farther down this block, on the right-hand corner, is Central European University. Offering graduate study for Americans and students from all over Central and Eastern Europe, this school is predominantly funded by George Soros, a Hungarian who escaped communism by emigrating to the US, then became a billionaire through shrewd investments. Today Soros is loved by the left and loathed by the right as a major contributor to liberal campaigns. But he hasn’t forgotten worthy causes back home. In addition to funding this university, he is at the forefront of a movement for Central Europeans to better protect the rights of their huge Roma (Gypsy) population. The university’s CEU Bookshop, a few steps up Zrínyi utca toward the basilica, is the best place in town to find academic books about the region in English (listed on here).
Continue down Zrínyi utca. After crossing Nádor utca, on the left you’ll see Duna Palota (“Danube Palace”)—a former casino, and today a venue and ticket office for Hungária Koncert’s popular tourist shows. If you’re up for a crowd-pleasing show of either classical or folk music, drop in here to check your options (see here in the Entertainment in Budapest chapter).
Zrínyi utca dead-ends at the big traffic circle called Széchenyi István tér. For decades, this was called Roosevelt tér, in honor of the American statesman who helped defeat the Nazis in World War II. But in 2010, Fidesz went on a renaming binge around the city, and decided to christen this square for the Hungarian statesman whose statue stands on the right: István Széchenyi, the early 19th-century nobleman who, among other deeds, built the Chain Bridge and founded the Hungarian Academy of Sciences (both of which face this square). On the left is the statesman Ferenc Deák, who fought for Hungarian autonomy using peaceful means.
• Turn left and walk a half-block to the entrance (on the left) of the...
The Gresham Palace was Budapest’s first building in the popular Historicist style, and also incorporates elements of Art Nouveau. Budapest boomed at a time when architectural eclecticism—mashing together bits and pieces of different styles—was in vogue. But because much of the city’s construction was compressed into a short window of time, even these disparate styles enjoy an unusual harmony. Damaged in World War II, the building was an eyesore for decades. (Reportedly, an aging local actress refused to move out, so developers had to wait for her to, ahem, vacate before they could reclaim the building.) In 1999, the Gresham Palace was meticulously restored to its former glory. Even if you can’t afford to stay here (see here in the Sleeping in Budapest chapter), saunter into the lobby and absorb the gorgeous details. For example, not only did they have to re-create the unique decorative tiles—they had to rebuild the original machines that made the tiles.
• Be sure to get a good look at the Gresham Palace’s fine facade—consider circling around the park and looking back. This also puts you right next to the bridge that grandly spans the Danube from here.
One of the world’s great bridges connects Pest’s Széchenyi tér and Buda’s Clark Ádám tér. This historic, iconic bridge, guarded by lions (symbolizing power), is Budapest’s most enjoyable and convenient bridge to cross on foot.
Until the mid-19th century, only pontoon barges spanned the Danube between Buda and Pest. In the winter, the pontoons had to be pulled in, leaving locals to rely on ferries (in good weather) or a frozen river. People often walked across the frozen Danube, only to get stuck on the other side during a thaw, with nothing to do but wait for another cold snap.
Count István Széchenyi was stranded for a week trying to get to his father’s funeral. After missing it, Széchenyi commissioned Budapest’s first permanent bridge—which was also a major symbolic step toward another of Széchenyi’s pet causes, the unification of Buda and Pest. The Chain Bridge was built by Scotsman Adam Clark between 1842 and 1849, and it immediately became an important symbol of Budapest. Széchenyi—a man of the Enlightenment—charged both commoners and nobles a toll for crossing his bridge, making it an emblem of equality in those tense times. Like all of the city’s bridges, the Chain Bridge was destroyed by the Nazis at the end of World War II, but was quickly rebuilt.
• Our walk is over. From Széchenyi tér, you can catch bus #16 from in front of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences (at the right end of the square) to Castle Hill, or simply walk across the Chain Bridge for great views.
If you’d like to wind up in the heart of Pest, Vörösmarty tér (and the start of my Pest Town Center Walk—see next chapter) is just two long blocks away: Turn left out of the Gresham Palace, and walk straight on Dorottya utca.