The Hungary Cyclist

It seems like every time we roll into a new country we feel like we've finally entered Europe. In Bulgaria, it was because there were women on the streets wearing comfortable (and sexy clothes) and people drinking beer in public. In Romania, it was because they spoke a Latin language and ate pizza. But to pass into Hungary is to roll into this dreamy world of smooth roads, bike lanes(!), drivers that know how to brake... it's almost hard to believe. We were cycling along the highway from the border, delighted to have a paved shoulder for the first time in weeks, when we realized there was a bike path parallel to the road. A few minutes later the bike path passed under the highway, with a signed, ramped bicycle underpass. Wow.

This photo is from a small city near the border, where we felt like we'd landed in Amsterdam. Budapest's cycling scene is so huge it would be hard to capture in a photo: bicycle messengers, commuters, young people, everywhere zipping around on bikes. The Budapest Critical Mass ride last Earth Day got 10,000 riders, and in September they had 30,000 cyclists at the rally. It seems bicycle culture is alive and well, and hiding out in Hungary. (Helps that this part of the country is so flat.)

No bicycling for us for a few days. We've totally scored this amazing flat in Budapest. It's in an old building with a central courtyard. It belongs to a friend of a friend, a Japanese gal that Eve met in China and then Berlin, who's now working as a photographer in Budapest. Her Irish friends are back home for a wedding and kindlz offered us their place. The world is turning into one incredibly thick and rich stew. (Fumie's Web site has great photos of Eastern European musicians.)

It's impossible to resist Budapest's charms. Beautiful architecture, plenty of young expats, live jazz, folk, theater every night. The city also has a vibrant interest in the history of its Jews and a living, breathing Jewish community. A very pleasant change from the decrepit and abandoned synagogues to be found in every Romanian town, and no real interest in the Jews who are gone, or in the Gypsies who survived and are begging in the streets. We've happily spent a few days visiting the public baths, drinking beer with Fumie and Bob, and wandering about the city.

So it's kicking and screaming that we're finally leaving Budapest (in the rain, once again). We've met more than one person who came for a summer in the early 1990s and stayed for 15 years. So I guess at three days, we're not doing too badly.