It doesn''t matter what is the reason behind the walk (romance, clearing your head, or chilling after work), this trip is a must for every Budapest-wanderer.
The spot where we begin this journey is close to every kind of Margaret around here. We mean Margaret Island, Margaret Avenue and Margaret Bridge, which gives us the feeling, we are balancing on the edge of a big city's natural part and a classic noisy big city. The urban elements are definitely more intense: the choking smoke coming out from the cars, the fatty döner kebab, the suntanned hobo checking his gadgets, the street marketing (meaning sandwich woman dressed as a hippie) and a few spiritless little shops. We feel like we're almost up on Melancholy Hill with the Gorillaz, but let's just move along.argim
While we are walking on Margit Street (where Margaretkert Restaurant is located, just to keep on with the Margaret fetish) we get a glimpse of tranquility and pure nature. On the other side of the street there are a few stairs leading to a shaded park with a playground in the middle of it, and at the end there is a fountain (called The Fountain of Youth made by Ötvös Fülöp Beck from 1938). Unfortunately the fountain is out of order, so we can't get any younger, and obviously the statue on it misses the ever youth water as well, because it has cracks and graffitis all over on it. Despite the fact, that in this park (which is called Margaret Square by the way) there are mostly kids and dogs, the peaceful mood is torn apart by the noise of the vehicles climbing up to Rózsadomb.
As we turn to Apostol Street we find ourselves facing a road construction, diverted traffic, machines like the monsters from Transformers, but with the perfect partner the sound of an excavator or a rock-drill can be as romantic as Princess Katherine's bouquet from The Royal Wedding.
The stairs only a few steps away from the construction seems to be longer, than the uncut version of a Béla Tarr-movie for the first sight, but it is luring at the same time, because the end of it proposes something really special.
There are three different thoughts circling around our head, while we climb the stairs. First, the end justifies the means, second, we have immense amount of respect for the Sherpas, and third, we are jealous of the owners of the apartments up here. The bushes around the stairs are filled with the smog over Budapest, so we wouldn't call it a green area, but even this is better, than the all-urban atmosphere.
We arrive to a park in the end, which was named after Péter Mansfeld, one of the most famous martyrs of the uprising in 1956. Luckily there is not even a single Margaret around here (the closest street here has the name of Veronika), but the biggest gift is the city's landscape in front of us. An old guy is reading his newspaper on the world’s not the most comfortable chair; a dog sneaks out from the bushes suddenly, while the noise of the city becomes peaceful silence. As the overused phrase would say, we are far away from the city, but still close - do we need anything else?
