Just Desserts

Yum.

As you'll read below from Yvonne, we spent a fair amount of time today in these veritable palaces of dessert. Edible works of art in immense, airy Gilded Age salons. They take their dessert seriously here, and I can respect that.

We're headed out tomorrow, having not taken a dip in Budapest's famous hot spring baths, which themselves are apparently like cathedrals. It sounded cool, and very do-as-the-locals do, except that the baths are split by sex, which meant we'd each have been alone. Plus, I didn't bring trunks. And with my glasses off, I wouldn't be able to see anything. Let's face it, being unable to see or communicate isn't the best condition to be in when you're wearing a rented swimsuit.

(They do rent them for about five bucks.)

I will leave with some fondness for Budapest. A very unthreatening medium-big city. The subways run on time -- they tell you exactly when the next train is coming -- and bus service is great, too. Really, the value of efficient mass transit can't be underestimated. (You don't think about it at first, but for the trains to run precisely on time, people have to not be blocking the doors in the station. Maybe that's not an issue when the trains aren't overcrowded. Or maybe New Yorkers just suck, thinking that their time is more important than the rest of the train's.)

The other main thing we did today was to tour the Museum of Terror. It's in the former home of the Secret Police, inconspicuously located on Budapest's grandest street, not far from the Opera House, and recounts the 45 years of torture and oppression that took place in the country and in the building's cellar dungeon. Heavy stuff. The museum is extremely well done--lots of thought put into the design, and the re-creations--although we missed out on a lot because very few of the videos were subtitled, and few of the exhibits were explained in English. Why didn't the girl at the admission desk offer us the audio tour? We didn't even know there was an audio tour until we saw one couple--and only one--with the headphones. If we buy the audio tour everybody wins!

We flipped through the guestbook on the way out--lots of Aussies, Brits and even a few Brazilian visitors lamented the lack of English in the displays. Constructive criticism, or snotty entitlement? A couple of Aussies wrote about how the whole tone of the museum was totally fraudulent because it fails to mention everyday Hungarians' role in allowing and perpetuating the oppression--valid point, but I don't think it's entirely fair. These cats weren't responsible for the reign of terror created by outside invaders (Nazis and then the Russians).

Anyway, you see what happened in this Secret Police headquarters, and all the torture that you know our country is doing just makes you ill.

The Hungarians love paprika. There it is on the table, with the pepper and salt.