The April Random

So this is the April random which has marginally less flowers than the botanical gardens post, which was all flowers. These blooms, however, come from many sources. The beginning of the month was spent with magnolia watch- namely watching the two magnolias in the Kogart garden stubbornly refuse to bloom when many other magnolias were already hysterically pink.

There’s some lilac too, which, strangely is neither from Margit island or Gellért hill, but was found in the most unlikely of places- a china pot on Vörösmarty tér, amidst some kind of spring fair, which they insisted on having even if Easter was ridiculously early this year and did not allow for much fair weather marketing.

Pink blossoms were spotted in Városliget, where we indulged in the first Pántlika burger of the year, and in Tabán, where we were half blown away by what would have been titled as Lent winds if, as already touched upon above, Easter hadn’t pulled that nasty trick on us. Mind you, Orthodox Easter is still up ahead, so maybe Lent winds follow irrespective of the geographical location you find yourself in.

Tulips and hydrangeas were spotted in front of Gerlóczy café, in the desolate emptiness that is not their wonderful terrace- it’s pretty saddening to see that when local authorities make a real effort, it’s to destroy something that the community has built. A terrace where people sip coffee and tea under the shade of trees is apparently the worst offence against law and order this city’s seen.

We also engaged in something that, judging by the standards above, is pure anarchy and vandalism: we brought József Attila’s statue some flowers for his birthday. He wasn’t much impressed of course and kept staring at the Danube, which is something I occasionally feel like doing, when the world around me just turns out to be way too senseless for comfort.

That’s partly because I lack the basic skills to sit perched on a platform number in Keleti and look at all life and the entire universe in profound contempt. That’s a pigeon’s job and the one I caught red-handed, or should I say, clawed, was quite splendid at it.

I can however console myself knowing that, although I cannot soar towards the skies, well, not unless I am on a plane and that’s not half as fun as having your own wings, I would say, I can always have good coffee, or a good whiskey sour, of which the best kind in town can be found in Boutiq bar. And while you wait for your drink you can also snap an artsy shot and feel decidedly better about yourself than before.

Post with Many Flowers and a Squirrel

The now traditional Sakura celebration taking place in ELTE's botanical garden is the best excuse for going on a mindless flower shooting rampage and not feeling bad about it- frankly, I never feel bad about flower shooting rampages, but this one simply has a particular charm.

This year the event was spread over two weekends- which was rather fortunate, as last week's weather was not necessarily dreamed up for carelessly frolicking under the cherry blossoms. Naturally, it was last weekend that the blossoms were actually in full bloom, so that the famed prunus japonica of the garden was by now exhibiting no flowers but tiny baby cherries.

There was other silliness as well-  I wonder where this world is going if plants can't be trusted to keep a schedule- yes, I know, it's us changing the climate so most likely it's going to the dogs. Returning to our more mundane matters, the tulips were mostly faded this time, but there were already plenty of peonies and even lily of the valley, of which it was clearly specified that it should bloom in May. 

Although something was aflame with flowers in every corner of the garden, I managed to take a break and shoot a kumquat and a chinotto too, and even recommended the last one as the 'Campari fruit', well, at least I know the bottle doesn't grow straight on the tree, enticing as that might sound. And there was a pretty fat squirrel too, inspecting the crowds with a certain disgust and then perching itself on the highest branch it could locate, probably in a bid to feel decidedly superior.

I obviously have not footage of the Sakura events themselves- as they are not flowers, but there was some Japanese archery going on, people painted Kokeshi dolls and played go. No tea testing this time though, which is pretty much a humbug, but then again I can have Japanese tea any time of the year, but the cherry blossoms bloom but once- and that was last week.

Walk the LIne

About two weeks ago, we set out for a casual walk into a springish Saturday morning. Which reminds me, isn’t it great how weekend days don’t wash into each other anymore, as you damn well know which one is the Saturday, because the stores are open? Well no, it isn’t, actually,  the jolliness lasts up until the second you realize you’re out of butter on a Sunday morning, and start on a journey far more impressive than the one I’ll be writing about here.

For so it happened that our casual walk, which was intended as a yearly pilgrimage to the strategically placed early blooming tree that makes for ridiculously scenic shots with Freedom bridge, became an outright odyssey that took us full circle across the hills of Buda, through Tabán and all the way to Margit island.

One of the first things we learned on the way, and pretty much of capital importance, is that the waffle place near Ferenciek square opens at 11. So, should you set out on a jolly and ridiculously early morning walk and suddenly feel a devastating urge to eat waffles (trust me, the struggle is real) , you must settle for the considerably more expensive ones on Váci street. The only way I can explain the steep difference in price is that they are Belgian- a trick which works splendidly with chocolate and beer as well, just add Belgian and sell it at triple the price and no one bats an eye.

The waffle detour did however take us through the Astoria underground passage, where some people were, quite naturally, playing Bach. Later on during the day, after having successfully summited and then descended from Gellért hill, we ventured into one of those restaurants I keep ogling at through the window, say they’re nice, then move on. Turns out it was a real shame we’d never been to Lánchíd Söröző before: their beer is Czech, the food is tasty and affordable, and also totally naturally, they have Bono’s autograph in a frame.

The final stretch took us to Margit Island, which was still in a rather incipient state of bloom at the time-much progress has been made since in that direction. And to end the entry with factual and possibly useful information, we counted the length of our journey, and came to the conclusion it was a whopping 15 kilometres, on the Oktogon- Deák square- Ferenciek square- Freedom bridge- Gellért hill- Batthyány square- Margit Island- Nyugati square- Oktogon route.