Bath Time in Hungary

It's hard to put your finger on the appeal of swimming in water that smells like it's just been used to poach two dozen eggs. There's the alleged healing qualities of the mineral-rich springs bubbling up from subterranean Hungary - does wonders for your rheumatism, I'm told. The novelty of doing the breast-stroke in an outdoor pool, kept comfortably warm by natural aqua thermals, while surrounded by pink and purple water lilies, must count for something. It's also kind of soothing to watch so many of the geriatrically challenged (I'm trying to be politically correct about the huge numbers of wrinklies and crumblies - oh, damn, sorry) bobbing about in their swimming caps and rubber rings.

Whatever the reason, Theo and I certainly enjoyed ourselves taking the waters at the world famous Heviz crater in Hungary, close to the largest European freshwater lake outside Scandinavia, Lake Balaton. The wooden-built bath house can be reached through a number of walkways jutting into the centre of the thermal pool. From the outside, the spa complex looks turn of the century. Inside, parts of it are so bang up to date, the lockers are managed by an electronic system where each bather is given a watch-type device which, when scanned in the changing room, allocates a vacant locker. Henleaze Swimming Lake it is not!

Theo and I spent an hour or so in the water, first swimming outdoors, then floating around and underneath the struts holding up the bath house and jostling for position close to the warmest part of the pool, where the thermal spring bubbles up at an initial temperature of 37 degrees C. By the time you get into the open air, the water has cooled to around 27 degrees, but is still very pleasant for swimming. Probably about the same temperature as the Adriatic when we swam in it near Rimini back in June, but not as murky.

I'm not sure if our sojourn in the thermal waters cured us of any bodily ailments, but they did have one dramatic result. The hydrogen sulphide (or whatever it was) giving the water its distinctive eggy smell reacted with the solid silver of our wedding rings turning them both an oily black. And despite both of us taking showers after our dip, it wasn't until the next day that we managed to wash away the subtle whiff of eau de scrambled oeuf.

Budapest - The Sociable City

I think our main impression of the Hungarian capital is how its citizens love to be part of a big crowd. On our first night in Budapest, we watched intrigued as several hundred young people wearing red or yellow armbands amassed in one of the city's main squares. As Theo drank dark Magyar beer and I sipped a palinka, they stood around in groups, then dispersed and re-grouped with occasional breakaway contingents suddenly chasing one another pell-mell through the chairs and tables set up outside the bars. Our waiter was similarly nonplussed, but eventually he discovered it was a game of "Capture The Flag". We were greatly taken with the scale of the event, it made quite spectacle.

The next day our sightseeing was livened up by big screens, amplified music and a hell of a lot of flags. Twenty thousand or so Hungarians had taken to the streets in a pro-democracy march, concerned by the faltering economy and the country's vociferous fascist minority. "It's all a bit bullshit, really", commented the TV journalist who told us what the protest was about, "They don't really know what they want." It didn't stop us feeling impressed, though.

Mind you, it wasn't long before we saw the focus of those people's worries - particularly the sizable group of Roma demonstrators. Having just had an afternoon cuppa in the gorgeous, Art Nouveau cafe Lukacs, we intended to visit the Terror House - the museum chronicling the atrocities experienced in Hungary under the communists and before them, the Nazis. Ironically, our plan was scuppered by the appearance of another march, which turned out to be the modern fascists, the ultra right, complete with skin-head haircuts and racist chants.

As we watched the thousand or so marchers pass us on Andrassy Utca, the owner of Cafe Lukacs stood beside us, bemoaning the demo's effect on his business. "It's all a bit bloody bullshit, really," he told us. "They don't really know what they want."


The next day, Sunday, we decided to take a dip in Budapest's famous, century-old public thermal baths. Once again, there were crowds of people. Many were obviously tourists; as one French girl said to another "c'est plein d'Anglais". But many were clearly local and came to enjoy the twenty or so different pools, saunas and steam-rooms as much for the socialising as their health. It was a grand excuse to hang around and have a bit of a chit-chat with your mates or, indeed, a game of chess. We saw at least three boards set up on one side of the outdoor pool, while various middle-aged men stood chest-deep in the water, solemnly working out their moves.

If that wasn't enough, we also wandered through a free, green-themed street party, complete with children's games and outdoor concert and a market with another stage and yet more live music.

And then there is the willingness with which various people joined us in conversation. As well as the journalist and the businessman, a teacher of English and ice-skating had helped us on the trams and ended up sharing a bit of her life-story as we all negotiated the public transport disruptions. For all our wanderings in the various foreign capitals we have visited, we have seldom managed to talk to the people who live there, unless we already knew them. Budapest is different. It's a lively place and I think I can honestly say we both got thoroughly caught up in the action.