Budapest

This could be our home—or could’ve been our temporary home. Budapest is the first city we felt we could’ve set up shop for a bit. Our neighborhood was exactly that, a neighborhood. There’s old women pushing shopping carts and au pair’s rocking strollers from half broken benches. There’s a small coffee shop with carelessly slow service. Closet sized delis with no English translations. Not one single curb-side sign advertising the ‘tourist menu.’

There’s an old market full of meat counters, and fruit stands, and Hungarian leather goods. Tucked in it’s corners are little old ladies selling small handfuls of chanterelles they’ve foraged, or farmed in small gardens.

It’s so gritty but so charming. The paint is peeling off all the Neo-Renaissance architecture. Years of repairs are done and undone. Budapest is actually two regions—Buda and Pest, split by the Danube River. Its bridges are gorgeous, but daunting for tourists. This keeps them safely circling the landmarks, monuments, and castles of Pest. And far from the alleys of our perfectly imperfect neighborhood.