Four Languages, Countless Christmas Markets

Temperatures are down and I’m in a winter wonderland dotted with Christmas markets! Here in Budapest, there is an abundance of vendors lining streets and squares in their wooden booths throughout the city. This weekend I left the Hungarian language behind for Barcelona, Spain – though the flight there and back was conducted in English, Hungarian, Spanish, and Catalan.

Christmas Season in Budapest

It already looks a lot like Christmas in Budapest: main streets and buildings are lit up with twinkle lights, streets and squares have turned into villages of vendors, and a #2 tram is wrapped in lights. I’m in my glory!

Here are some of the many markets around the city:

Advent Feast at the Basilica

This market is located directly in front of St. Stephen’s Basilica and features an ice-skating rink with a large decorated tree in the center and several food trucks down the road opposite. In the evenings, there is a short video version of The Nutcracker projected onto the face of the basilica (as you can see in last week’s post).

 

Fashion Street Advent

High-end stores on Fashion Street face the wooden booths that line the center of the pedestrian road. Large lights are suspended in the air above in the shape of gift boxes, umbrellas, purses, and shoes.

Budapest Christmas Fair at Vörösmarty Tér

At the end of the touristic street of Váci Utca you will find a Christmas haven in Vörösmarty Tér. It’s considered one of the prettiest markets of the city and hosts specifically chosen vendors of high-quality handmade products.

Four Seasons Christmas Market

The Christmas market of the Four Seasons Gresham Palace is a window-shopping experience for many, selling mostly luxury-type products. Still, the hall dedicated to the market is beautifully decorated and indoor, serving as a good place to warm your fingers between hot apple ciders and mulled wines on cold winter evenings.

Nativity in Barcelona

We got lost trying to follow a map to a Christmas market, but we found it shortly after. It reminded me of Spain’s heavy Catholicism. About 90% of the market stalls only sold nativity scenes and related items. There were also several small nativity “towns” throughout the city for people to walk through.

We stumbled upon one of these whilst walking through some Roman ruins. We followed the crowds and ended up in the central courtyard of the Cathedral de la Santa Creu i Santa Eulàlia where geese wandered as people walked through the little village in the center.

We didn’t keep only to Christmas-related events and places. We visited the famous Roman Catholic church, La Sagrada Familia, with its incredible details and amazing acoustics. The sun shined through the massive stained-glass windows so that the walls appeared to be painted with color.

 

In the afternoon we searched for a late lunch and ended up at Melic del Gòtic, a traditional charcoal grill restaurant. When the waiter brought our breadbasket he asked, “Do you know how to do it?” We looked at each other wondering what he was talking about and gave a unanimous “No.” He then taught us how to properly prepare the bread with garlic, tomatoes, olive oil, and salt for a delicious outcome.

The grilled corn on the cob was delightful and the (white) house wine was phenomenal. The meal took longer than we anticipated because of the laid-back, slower-paced culture, but it was worth it. It was also very reasonably priced!

From there we went to the Gaudi House in Park Güell, where the architect of La Sagrada Familia lived. Our visit there was brief because arrived late and the building had to close. We took our time leaving through the park and stopped to take in the night view of Barcelona below.

On Sunday two of us were able to appease some nostalgia by going to the beach. We walked past the Arc de Triomf and through the Parc de la Ciutadella to reach the Spanish coast and touch the sand for the first time in three months.

Most study abroad students will be heading back to the U.S. in the next two weeks, but I look forward to travelling with my best friend for a couple weeks after the semester. Time will fly, as it already has, and soon it will be January and I will be standing on the Maine coast again (but maybe with a few more layers of clothing).

Crossing Bridges

There's a proverb that became all too relevant to me in this bittersweet weekend: "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

I had the privilege of crossing bridges over canals in Amsterdam with two of my closest friends this weekend. But this joy was interrupted when we had to cross a different kind of bridge: making decisions in light of tragic events that were far too close for comfort.

Amsterdam: Bridges Adorned with Bicycles


I happened to have the same Thursday night flight as two others in my program and so we kept each other entertained on the way to and while waiting in the Budapest airport. It was nice to have the company and someone to hold my bag while I got my shoes off to go through security - even though I forgot to take off my jewelry.

My first friend landed in Amsterdam shortly after me and we met at the end of the hike it took to get to the arrivals hall (that airport is HUGE). We took a bus to the hotel, got off at the wrong stop and, once we became too skeptical of the directions I got from Google Maps, stopped in a gym to ask the reception for directions. It was another 20 minutes walking but (as we constantly reminded ourselves) we were in Amsterdam - where canals make navigation easier and excessive bicyclists make crossing streets scarier.

Street-sized hallway in the Amsterdam airport

Amsterdam sign by the Van Gogh museum - nearly empty in the rain

Street and bridge completely covered by bicycles. They even had their own parking lots!

More bicycles in front of the palace by the Red Light district

We finally found and checked into our hotel - a Best Western half an hour out of the city - before venturing back out for dinner. We decided to stay in the area so we didn't have to attempt navigating night buses. We ended up at a restaurant down the road where only one waiter seemed to speak English and the menu was only in Turkish and Dutch, but the food was good and we got two mugs each of Turkish tea on the house.

The next day we met our other friend at the train station and found a café for breakfast in the city center. It was delicious and they had two cats! That wandered freely and received attention from whomever they pleased. We intended to go from there to the Anne Frank House but thought the line was too long (this will come back later) so we went to the Van Gogh museum instead and followed that with a tour of the Heineken Factory.

Heineken Factory

Heineken Factory

Cat in the cafê

Saturday was emotionally sobering. We woke to the full news of the attacks and to friends, family, and school officials confirming our locations and well-being. My friends had to confirm they had safe travel back to their cities and one of them had to completely change her plans to avoid flying in to Paris. It was stressful, it was frustrating, and it was sad.

For comfort we returned to the café with the cats for breakfast. We went to the Anne Frank House - only this time the line was three times as long and we waited (freezing) for two hours. But it was incredibly worth it.

We saw the bookcase that hid the doorway to the secret apartment where she and seven others lived in hiding. I learned things I didn't know about the holocaust, about Anne Frank, and about her diary itself. For example, she rewrote most of it with the hope and intention of it being published after the war.

Canal by the Anne Frank House

Once we let it all sink in and got our thoughts together again, we walked to the Red Light district to see what all the hype is about. It's exactly what you'd expect from the Red Light district.

Christmas decorations in the Red Light district

The rest of the night was spent back at the hotel pre-packing and watching Netflix before calling it an early night - one of my friends had to leave shortly after four in the morning because of adjusting her flights. It was fun as always to see them, especially in a pretty European city, but it did not go as planned.

Bridges of Nightmares 


This weekend was the closest I've gotten to being ready to go home. In the wake of tragedy I missed the comfort of home, of my native tongue, of distance, and of being able to go in to the next room to hug my friends and family.

I'm mad.

I'm mad that we had to cross this bridge. I'm mad that one of my friends had to deal with the stress of finding the safest way back to her study abroad city in Western France. I'm mad that we cancelled our trip to Paris next weekend out of safety - out of fear.

I'm mad that nearly every conversation I've heard in English since has been related to the attacks; that this is what preoccupies minds. I'm mad that it is a conversation that has to be had. Most of all, I'm mad that we live in a world where such a tragedy, such a violation, may occur at all.

I'm also lucky.

I'm lucky that we happened to schedule our Paris trip for the following weekend. I'm lucky that my biggest loss in all this is $80 and a few extra days with my friends who I will see again in a couple months regardless.

I'm lucky to attend a school that was proactive and sure to check on the locations and well-being of all students currently abroad and to update students and families frequently. I'm lucky to live in an age where technology makes that so easy; even Facebook activated a safety feature that allowed people to check in and check for others. I'm lucky not to have lost anyone in the attacks.

But many people were not as lucky. My thoughts and prayers are with those whose lives were lost as well as with those who remain but will never forget. I hope that they can recover and move on.

In the words of Anne Frank: “... in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.”

 

The Art of Getting Lost and Being Alone

A Plan-less Itinerary

This weekend I decided to take a solo trip to Vienna, Austria. This was the first I’ve travelled during the semester outside of trips coordinated by CIEE and my first trip completely alone.

I bought bus tickets at 2 a.m. two days before I was set to leave and accommodations later that same day.

I chose to book an AirBNB based on several of my friends’ positive experiences with it. I did my research to find a private room in an apartment with a reputable host not far from the inner city. I communicated with my host before making my reservation, as I recommend to all considering AirBNB.

There was nothing on my to-do list for this trip. Even when I was waking up in Vienna, I didn’t have a plan. It was unlike anything I’d done before, and it was one of the best experiences I have ever had.

One of the first places I found - a park by the Habsburg Palace

Being Lost and Alone (and Incredibly Happy)

The best part of traveling solo? There were no expectations. I put no pressure on myself. Instead of focusing on experiencing everything I could fit in, I focused on taking my time and relaxing, because that’s what I wanted out of the trip.

B Vocal - a pop-comedy a cappella group, one of many a cappella groups performing Friday on balconies to start a month-long festival. I heard them sing "The Circle of Life" in German and a 60-second version of "Les Misérables."

A street made for window-shopping

The first day, I slept in as late as I could and only walked around for a few hours before going back to the apartment to Skype with friends from home and watch Netflix until I went to bed. It gave me a taste of the city, so I wanted to get an earlier start to explore on Saturday.

But you can’t always get what you want and I left the apartment shortly before 11 a.m. That morning I went on the hunt for a specific café, got very lost, and ended up at a different café. There I met an older couple from New Jersey who were in Europe for vacation and who thought I was Viennese until I started talking to them (so I must have been doing something right).

I actually don’t know any German at all and I even found myself missing the Hungarian language. Most times I heard English speakers in Vienna, they were searching (in vain) for signs in English so they could figure out where they were. I was no help, seeing as I also didn’t know where I was at the time.

Austrian Parliament - I missed this building completely the first time I passed it.

Once I ate, I walked around for hours, going wherever I thought looked pretty. I let myself get lost until I couldn’t anymore. After a while, I found that I’d turn a new or unfamiliar corner and suddenly know exactly where I was and another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

I found the Sisi Museum and walked through the Imperial Apartments, home of Empress Elisabeth (aka “Sisi”) and Franz Joseph I of the Habsburg Empire. The apartments shed light on the life and assassination of the empress. Pictures were restricted but I got a couple small souvenirs from the (moderately overpriced) gift shop.

Sisi Museum and Imperial Apartments

Habsburg Palace

The weather was uncharacteristically warm for November and I got outdoor seating at a busy café to enjoy apple strudel and mélange (coffee with milk typical for Vienna). For dinner I found an Italian restaurant on one of the many simple side streets (I simply can’t resist the possibility of a good Italian meal - and it was good!).

Mélange and apple strudel from Aida

I let myself get distracted on the way back to the apartment and followed the light and noise from a small shopping corridor. There I found Xocolat, a chocolate store where I spent way too much money on treats for family and myself. Okay - mostly myself.

My final day was wrapped up with sunshine and temps in the mid-60s (Fahrenheit). I went to a café around the corner from the too-busy café I originally had my sights set on. It had a limited and mostly elderly crowd but it felt homey and the waitress was one of the kindest I encountered in Vienna. I even ran into the couple from New Jersey there that I had met the previous morning!

Vienna may be a big city – the Imperial City –, but it’s in a small world, the perfect size to lose and find yourself again. Still, coming home, even to a temporary home, with familiar terrain and language (yes, even Hungarian is more comforting to me than German now) will never get old!

Back of Habsburg Palace on Sunday