Last summer, I found myself sitting on a plane, heading for a city in a country I’d never previously considered a holiday destination. The country was Hungary and the city was Budapest, and anyone who’s visited this fabulous place, will no doubt be knowingly nodding and smiling as they read this. Anyone who hasn’t, I recommend you do, as unbeknownst to 2018 me, a world of magic and welcome was patiently awaiting me there.
My reasons for neglecting to consider Budapest’s merits as a tourist hot spot, were not due to ignorant disregard for its attributes. In fact, I’d always contemplated the city with romantic fascination after religiously watching, Queen Live in Budapest on VHS as a child, associating it with a mysterious exoticism from an early age, coupled with soul-warming and nostalgic living room memories.
Sharing borders with Slovakia, Ukraine, Austria, Romania, Serbia, Croatia and Slovenia, Hungary is a landlocked country in Central Europe with a rich political history. During my time in its capital of Budapest – the tenth largest city in the European Union – I saw and experienced many rare and enchanting things… fun-poking communist-themed rock bars, the withered hand of St. Stephen, writers’ cafes, thermal spas, moving memorials, mouth-watering cuisine and, on my very first Hungarian evening, the brightly lit beauty that is the Liberty Bridge.
Liberty Bridge is one of many infamous connecting overpasses linking two sides of the city together. Forged in half by the giant, winding stretch of the Danube River that flows through as many as ten countries, Budapest is a township of two halves. With Pest on the east side, and Buda on the west, these bisected sisters – unified since 1873 – stand in tranquil contrast to one other. While architecturally heavy Buda contains many of the city’s best-loved historical sites, Pest is the place for more metropolitan pleasures such as bars, restaurants and retail outlets. However, that’s not to say you can’t find the best of both worlds in each. The spellbinding Hungarian Houses of Parliament, for example, are located along the Pest side of the city, as is the majestic wonder of St. Stephen’s Basilica. Although I didn’t spend a great deal of time on the Buda side, except to languish in the heated waters of Gellért Spa, there are a wide range of eateries and drinking dens available for patrons to enjoy.
As with any new visit to an unfamiliar city, it’s important to research the right places that reflect and represent the heart of what it’s really about. My partner, thankfully, is one of those types who lets me take care of the quirky bookings, while he spends a great deal of time pouring over websites and relevant forums to find additional attractions he knows I’ll squeal in appreciation to have been taken. Hungarians really put the “h” in ‘hospitality’, so we were spoilt for choice for establishments to visit. Despite not being able to truthfully declare that any was better than another, I couldn’t help but highlight one attraction in particular that took my breath away… that breath-taking attraction was Szimpla Kert.
I’d heard of the notorious Ruin Bars from a friend who’d visited Budapest during the winter before my holiday. I was unfamiliar with the concept at the time and mentioned them in passing to my partner, who, unbeknownst to me, read up on the matter in order to then surprise me with the splendour of Szimpla Kert – Budapest’s jewel in the alternative Hungarian nightlife scene – soon after our arrival.
Opened in 2004, Szimpla Kert was the very first ruin bar to grace the streets of Budapest – the word, ‘Szimpla’ directly translates as ‘ruin’ – and was devised to save the area upon which it now stands from demolition. Located at 14 Kazinczy Street, in the Pest-Side Jewish Quarter, it’s not only marketed as a place in which to drink in an authentic, relaxing environment, but the large courtyard behind, which once a stove factory, also serves as an open-air cinema. Many businesses have since followed suit, with the movement for making use of recycled spaces soaring in Szimpla’s wake. Yet, although each has something unique to offer beneath the umbrella ethos of moral sustainability, there’s nothing quite as epic as Szimpla Kert, and I’m about to tell you why.
An aesthetic cacophony of beautiful chaos, Szimpla is described as a “symbolic milestone in the alternative life of Budapest”. It does not simply wish to entertain its clients, but educate them as well. Aside from housing Szimpla Kertmozi – the underground open-air cinema – Szimpla Kert helps support a range of initiatives around urban sustainability, promoting the push for greener ideas through creativity, community and culture. In a bid to encourage sustainable eating, a Farmer’s Market is hosted every Sunday, attracting customers far and wide, each seller producing homegrown food, made entirely by themselves. Live music is provided, along with a chance to buy breakfast alongside free coffee and wine, with special emphasis placed on love, friendship and social interaction.Â
When I first stepped into the realms of Szimpla Kert, I was immediately reminded of the fictional ‘Bartertown’ from Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. With that same address of found-things-thrown-together-yet-somehow-managing-to-look-fabulous, post-apocalyptic vibe of living in anarchic order, I felt I’d wandered into some dystopian theatre that made me yearn to be part of the performance.Â
Walking through the entrance hall – a long stretch of darkened corridor, illuminated by dimly coloured lanterns and sparkling disco balls lit by sunbeams dancing from a skylight adorned with plants and bicycle wheels – there was an immediate sense of being spoilt for choice in terms of which direction to head first. There was no shortage of places to sit. Stools and tables, like the eclectic curios hanging from each brick surface, lined the vibrantly inviting tunnel of lawless colour, while drinkers chattered happily, gazing with as much wide-eyed disbelief as I.
To the left, there was a shisha bar that resembled the inside of a Romany caravan, with stained glass lanterns suspended above squishy-looking armchairs and a feast of chintzy brick-a-brack. Strange ornamental wall hangings framed glass cases filled with oddities, as a giant pink and green rabbit greeted us beside a t-shirted silver mannequin. Despite being tempted to join the smokers inside, I contented myself with taking a few pictures before heading to the bar opposite. Although, throughout my visit, I detected a handful of small cocktail bars, they appeared to be temporarily closed, so I opted for a rum and coke, then made my way to another room.
Resembling some kind of fantastical shrine to Bandersnatch, this room was my dream room – a vision in 1980s neon, represented by an electric burst of fairy lights and disused monitors. Gadgets, wires and steampunk paraphernalia (not forgetting the obligatory disco ball) dangled and swung from one corner to another, with a myriad of shabby chic seating dotted beneath. Affixed beside the gaping archway leading to this retrofuturistic porthole, were a series of switches that, although seemed to have no logic to their powers, controlled a sequence of lights and static to appear upon the monitors, depending on which one the user pressed. Due to the bare-bricked darkness of the atrium’s interior, this arrangement of muted light and colour was so transfixing, one couldn’t help but dumbly stare at it for an amusing length of time, while drink glasses remained full from misuse, and silence befell the small cluster of persons huddled, entranced amongst the heady glow.
Loathe to leave my new-found haven, yet enticed by the knowledge there was more to discover, my partner and I finished our drinks and headed outside to the open-air courtyard. The atmosphere here was inevitably more summery, and, in keeping with the Szimpla ethos, a feast of potted flowers and plants formed a seasonal canopy over its laid-back clientele. An abundance of metal staircases going to and from the yard gave a labyrinthine ambience, as did the network of balconies and windows above, which acted as a viewing platform for those who like to people-watch. Upturned buckets acted as water resistant lampshades that dangled from wire structures on high, and figurines, bike wheels, benches, tables, graffiti and pop-up drinks bars co-existed together in marvellously mismatched harmony.
Though it is customary for most of my curious experiences to be written in the present tense, I found it difficult to do so with this account of Szimpla Kert, due to the fact it was so unbelievably dreamlike. Unable to remember this bohemian establishment in static form as, no doubt, with the aid of all who enter, it will have reinvented its magical shape by the time I next get around to visiting, just as the human mind flits from one thought to another. It exists as a place for those who fear the stagnant constrictions of certain aspects of modern civilisation – for those who see no harm in writing messages on walls, hanging out as though they’d never left the comfort of their own living rooms, or simply wish to be wowed by something they’ve never seen before.
If any one thing represents my overall experience of Hungary, it has to be the delightful joys and sights of Szimpla Kert. Surprised at every turn, as I wandered beneath its roof, it perfectly paralleled my all-too-short stay in one of the most otherworldly cities I’ve yet to visit. The plainspoken, accommodating geniality of the Hungarian people stayed with me long after I left, and their friendliness towards me – a British citizen – especially in the aftermath of national turbulence, of which I’d voted to avoid, reaffirmed my affection for cultures existing outside that of my own.
The deep regret I felt at having to leave Budapest, is coupled with intense excitement at the thought of one day returning and enjoying it all over again. For, who knows what form the Szimpla will have taken when I next step inside its walls… and who knows what delights I’ll find when I eventually get there…
A LIGHT THROUGH YONDER WINDOW 