The fan in this flat is doing its best, but it's a losing battle. It's 9am and the air already has that shimmer, the one that tells you today will be a furnace. The weather app says a high of 39 degrees, and I've decided to take it personally. So this is the day to climb a hill, apparently. My logic is that the Buda side will be cooler, greener, and the views might just be worth a little cardiovascular effort. I grab my water bottle, my transit pass, and my sunhat, and I head out into the blast furnace.
I hop on tram 4-6, which is this constant artery of the city, and it's already humming with people. There's a group of tourists with maps, a couple of commuters with coffee, and an old woman with a bag of apricots. The tram rattles across the Margit Bridge, and for a moment I'm looking down at the Duna, that great silver ribbon cutting through the city. It's moving, it's alive, and it looks impossibly cool from up here. I get off at the stop near the foot of the hill and start the walk up. It's steep, but the tree cover is a godsend.
The plan is to explore the Castle District, but I'm not going to lie, I'm already dripping. The cobblestones are baking, and I'm glad for the hydration. I pass by a cluster of souvenir stalls, all selling the same paprika-scented trinkets, and I think about how this area is the postcard version of Budapest. It's grand, it's historic, and it's swarming. I duck into a quiet side street to catch my breath and just stand there for a minute under a chestnut tree, listening to the cicadas. That's when I see the real rhythm of the place. Not the tourist crowds, but the locals walking their dogs, a woman hanging laundry out a window, the sound of a radio playing somewhere.
My first proper stop is the Halászbástya, the Fisherman's Bastion. I know it's the classic view, the one on every fridge magnet, but I've been told you can't skip it. And alright, it's impressive. The white stone terraces and the little turrets are like something out of a fairy tale. I climb the steps and get my first proper panoramic view of Pest across the river. The Parliament building, the Országház, is a fantastic confection of spires and gothic details on the other side, and the whole city looks like it's simmering in a heat haze. It costs a few thousand forints to go right up to the top observation deck, and honestly, for the view, it's worth it.
Below the bastion, I find a bench in the shade and just watch the city for a while. There are the usual selfie sticks and tour groups, but if you wait, they pass. I sit there for a good twenty minutes, just letting the place soak in. There's a street musician playing a cimbalom, and the sound of the hammered strings is this sharp, metallic, beautiful clatter that feels very Hungarian. It's a moment, you know? The heat, the river, the music, the weight of history in the stones around me. This was the heart of the old Buda, and you can feel it if you just stop moving for a bit.
I wander deeper into the Budavári Palota, the old Royal Palace. It's a massive complex, mostly rebuilt after the war, and it houses a few museums now. I don't want to go inside a stuffy building today, though. Instead, I walk around the courtyards and along the castle walls, looking down over the rooftops of the Várnegyed. It's quieter back here, less organised chaos. I can see the Gellért Hill and the Citadella in the distance, and I make a mental note to tackle that climb another day. Maybe a less hot day. I decide this is already a solid win for the 'things I actually did' column.
For lunch, I'm looking for something simple and not a tourist trap. I remember a tip about the Napforduló étterem, but I'm not sure if it's open, so I decide to just wander. I find this small, nondescript place tucked into a residential courtyard. No English menu, just a chalkboard. The special is a gulyásleves, a thick, rich goulash soup with tender beef and paprika, and a plate of túrós csusza, these little pasta squares with cottage cheese and crispy bacon. It's the most local, generous, and delicious meal. I sit at a table by the window, watching the world go by, and the whole thing costs me around 2,900 forint. That's a triumph. The food here, outside the main squares, is still a genuine bargain.
After that, I'm in a food coma and the heat is back with a vengeance. Climbing back down the hill, my legs feel like jelly. I need a proper cool-down, and I know exactly the place. Not a huge, famous bath, but a local one. I head for the Lukács fürdő, which is on the Buda side, just past the Margaret Bridge. It's an institution, less flashy than Széchenyi, more real. I pay my entry fee, get my little wristband, and step into another world. The courtyard is a haven, shaded by huge trees, with steam rising from the pools. I find a quiet corner, ease myself into the cooler thermal water, and just melt. The cicadas are buzzing, the water is soft and mineral, and all the tension of the day simply floats away.
I stay at the Lukács fürdő for a good long while. There's something about the ritual of it, the mix of old men playing chess on the poolside, families, and people just soaking. It's less of a party than the big Széchenyi, and more of a daily routine. It's a civic amenity, almost. You can see why the city is built around these places. After my soak, I have a quick, cold draft beer at a little stand inside. It tastes incredible. A half-liter costs me about 850 forint, which seems right for the moment. I sit there on a lounger, feeling like a human again, and I decide that this is the single best way to end a 39-degree day in Budapest.
Recharged, I head back across the river to Pest. The evening is coming, and the light is turning golden and soft. I walk along the Duna promenade, past the Shoes on the Danube memorial, which always stops me in my tracks. It's a row of iron shoes left on the embankment, a memorial to the people shot into the river during the Arrow Cross terror. It's a somber reminder of the 20th century's darkness, sitting just below the beautiful Parliament building. It's important to remember, even when you're on holiday. I don't linger, but I always give it a moment of silence.
I'm staying in District XIII, and tonight I decide to just wander through my own neighbourhood, feeling the pulse of local life. I walk along the Pozsonyi út, which is this long, leafy street full of cafés and small shops. I find a table at a busy place I won't name, just to people-watch. There are students, families with strollers, couples on dates. The air is finally starting to cool to a manageable temperature, and the whole street feels like it's breathing a sigh of relief. I order a cappuccino, which costs about 1,100 forint, and just watch the evening unfold, feeling more at home by the minute. This, right here, is the Budapest I came for.
It's getting dark now, and I'm walking back to the flat. I take a detour down to the riverbank. The chain of lights along the Chain Bridge and the Parliament building just came on, and the whole panorama is reflected in the black water. The city looks like it's wearing its finest jewellery. I stand at the railing for a long time, listening to the water and the distant city hum. I think about the day: the hilltop fortress, the steam of the bath, the taste of the goulash. I'm starting to get the measure of this place. It's grand and historic, but it's also just a city of neighbourhoods, of daily rituals, of cooling off in the river breeze.
I get back to the flat and I'm wiped, but it's the good kind of tired. I have a plan for tomorrow, of course. I think I need to start thinking about the State Foundation Day on the 20th. That's a big national holiday, and I want to experience it right. But tonight, I'm just a guy in a rented flat in District XIII, listening to the hum of the city through the open window. The fan is still fighting its losing battle, but I don't even mind anymore. This is day four. The paperwork is done, the SIM is in my phone, and I have a favourite bath. I think I might be getting the hang of this. Jó napot, Budapest. See you tomorrow.
I'm going to head to the kitchen to get a glass of water and call it a night. I'll leave you with that image of the Danube at dusk. Tomorrow, we get back to the practical, but tonight, this is enough.