"They say these waters cure all sorts of diseases if you drink it," my personal tour guide Janos shares with me. He shrugs and says he prefers regular water, as we stand in line at the Széchenyi Thermal Baths, the end of our comprehensive eight-hour, multi-mile, 100 -degrees-with-hmidity tour of Budapest.
Janos is a handsome student in his 20s who studies commerce by day, works a graveyard shift at a hotel by night, and sometimes gives personal city tours. He says the tours, which he is very good at, were his brother David's idea. David is hosting me through AirBNB and I'm staying at David's apartment.
The woman behind the counter barks something to Janos in Hungarian. It's sold out today, but Janos insists it's something I should do while I'm in Budapest, especially the wave pool.
The first wave pool was designed and built in Budapest in 1927. Bath culture is huge in Hungary, brought over by the Turks in the 1500s. It's thrived in large part because of Hungary's estimated 1,300 underground thermal springs. Water from these springs are claimed to heal everything from aches, to low metabolism, to arthritis. But can they cure me of heat exhaustion?
The next day, swimsuit and sunblock in tow, I make my way back to Széchenyi Baths. It's a complex so large, it has it's own map. Winding through the mazes of lockers, gyms and massage rooms, I finally arrive at the main pool area where I hear sounds of splashing and laughter coming from the center of the pool. I had found the wave pool.
The wave pool is like a donut placed in the middle of the pool with a static hot tub in the center. I dipped my body slowly into the water, it was warm and the water was soft. I tentatively entered the wave pool, but was quickly swept into it with a swoosh. The waves pushed me forward and before I knew it, I was in the middle of it.
Everyone in the wave pool was smiling, laughing, participating. Hungarian woman with their strong beak noses, gap teeth and raspberry-colored hair were gliding along with the waves. Little old ladies in their black-one piece bathing suits, swim goggles and blue hair caps were bobbing along like rubber duckies in a bathtub. Old men in Speedos, with gold cross necklaces dangling down their hairy chests, weave in an intoxicated manner like drunks stumbling home from the bar. The faint smell of hot dogs from the cafeteria hangs in the air. Around they go, a human Merry-Go-Round, swirling, twirling, wobbling up and down. Under a fountain outside the wave pool, a chubby kid in glasses keeps watch like a hawk. Sometimes he smiles his cheshire cat grin and nods to his friends, as if giving his approval...
Approval, disapproval, who's watching, who's not. It's still ingrained in the Hungarian culture, even after the fall of communism over 20 years ago. Over beer and spritzers (wine mixed with soda water), David confided that distrust is still prevalent, even among the younger generations.
This wasn't confined to his opinion but a shared sentiment. One person I met didn't trust fellow Hungarians to drink responsibly, another didn't trust them to spend responsibly, no one trusted the government. Police roam the streets, parks and Metro. "When we had our gay pride parade," Janos told me, "they had them march down the streets behind a fence."
Another round in the wave pool I go, like a needle undulating against an old record. A group of rowdy teenage boys in boxer shorts enter the pool. Some swim forward, some try to swim backward without much luck. SWOOSH! Waves pull them under and they cackle with laughter. The few that have girlfriends wave to them sitting on the sidelines. The ones that don't try to impress others by splashing around. The sun gets hotter. It smells of wet pavement and coconut oil. In the corner of the next pool, a group of older gentlemen in black Speedos are playing chess. Each move is carefully considered and a group has formed to watch the outcome...
Bathtub seating at a local Ruin PubWhat's the next move for Hungary? Innovation, enterprise and ingenuity have blossomed since the communist days and Hungarians seem to be master magicians at turning something out of nothing. One such example are the "Ruin Pubs." Young entrepreneurs took "ruined" buildings, many every bit as glorious as those in Paris, and transformed them into social pubs. Any scrap left behind, old chairs and even bathtubs, have been reused as seating or decor. David told me not long ago the government offered subsidies for people to renovate these buildings. But now those subsidies are gone. Pigeons occupy these spaces. Jobs are scarce and many are migrating to the Netherlands or the United Kingdom to find work. In addition to his job at a call center, his own online coupon business and renting apartments on AirBNB, David is starting a recruiting company to help people find jobs in these countries...
Finding footing in the wave pool is a challenge. If you try, you will most certainly lose it. A surge of water hits a teenager carrying his young brother on his shoulders. He slips and they splash into the pool, laughing "WHAAAAA!" like the high pitched shrill of a blackbird. Sometimes you can smell the ponies from the zoo next door. Two little girls wearing bright pink arm floaties tentatively enter the pool, accompanied by their dad. He holds one of their hands as he guides them into the pool. Their tentativeness is soon replaced by animated grins as they get swept into the motion of the waves. Spinning like tops, they giggle and wave. Mom in her floppy hat eating watermelon, and grandma with her over-sized sunglasses, watch from the sidelines. They cheer, take photos, film video. Proud.
Budapest is still in the process of renaming their streets from their Communist Era names back to their pre-World War II titles. I was told on average, 30 street names are changed each month. Hungarians are a proud people. They treasure their culture, their Goulash soup, their Palinka. Palinka is a traditional fruit brandy, usually made from plum or peaches, invented in the Middle Ages. David told me that under a recent "Hungarian Palinka Law" only distilled beverages made using special methods and technology from fruits produced in Hungary and distilled locally can be called Palinka. They still make Palinka in Romania, he told me but, "it's not real Palinka." Rivalry with Romania still exists. Some are still sore about traditional Hungarian territory that was sliced off to Romania after World War I. A small faction even disagreed with naming the city Budapest because it sounded too much like Bucharest.
"Egészségedre," or "to your health," David said before we downed our plum Palinka. It stung my lips, burned my throat and warmed my stomach. Egészségedre? I think my health may disagree...
After 20 minutes in the wave pool, my health feels better. I'm relaxed, at ease and filled with a sense of contentment I haven't felt in a long time. With each oscillation, I see the faces of the beautiful Hungarian people surrounding me. Not beautiful because of any particular physical merit, but beautiful because they are beaming, joyful, holding hands, united and enjoying the moment. For a minute I wonder what the world would be like if we were all placed in one giant wave pool with no choice but to either go with the flow or laugh at ourselves for fighting against it? Would our problems dissipate in the thermal waters? Just maybe the Hungarians were onto something when they claimed their waters a cure-all...
Thank you to my host David and tour guide Janos for letting me into their worlds and sharing what makes Budapest special.
I wish I would have brought my camera to the baths, but was not certain it would be allowed. You can see more of my photos from Budapest by clicking here.
carrie breinholt Posted on 
The last time I visited Venice was 16 years ago. I was a bright-eyed, poor college student who decided to catch the train from Florence to Venice on a whim. When I arrived, the hostels were booked and I didn’t have enough money for a hotel, so I came up with an ingenious plan: I would walk the streets of Venice all night!
