First Christmas mood in Budapest- by expat Amrit Chima

 Vörösmarty Tér:
the crowd drinking mulled wine

It’s getting cold here now and the days are becoming shorter and shorter. With only a wink of daylight before the sun dips back below the horizon around 4 in the afternoon, I’m left shivering in the dark beneath my down jacket. But although many grumble about it, I love these wintry days; I head to my favorite café on Andrássy út, to my cozy corner table where I write and meet friends.

Hungarian wedding and logic - by expat Amrit Chima

Homemade apricot pálinka with homemade tomato juice.
Beyond the table,

There’s been so much movement and sway this past year (as always). I didn’t even see it coming: Daniel and my one-year wedding anniversary.

Just like that it was upon us, a shocking reminder of how rapidly we’re propelled forward through time. Wasn’t I just moving from New York

to prepare for the wedding? Wasn’t I just enduring an onslaught of photographers surrounding me in the reception hall while I danced to Punjabi bhangra music holding a Hungarian paprika keychain in myhand?....

Hungarians do not smile but have nice Basilicas - by expat Amrit Chima

The Primatial Basilica of the Blessed Virgin Mary
Assumed Into Heaven and St Adalbert

Daniel took me away from the city to Esztergom.

The city is 28 miles northwest of Budapest where the Danube snakes west toward Austria, forming a natural border between Hungary and Slovakia. From the tenth to mid-thirteenth centuries, Esztergom was the country’s capital and is now the center for the Roman Catholic Archdiocese. Not much of a shock, then, that the highlight of our trip was a visit to the city’s church, which is also the tallest building in Hungary—The Primatial Basilica of the Blessed Virgin Mary Assumed Into Heaven and St. Adalbert.

I prefer to simply call it The Basilica.

Did NOT See that Coming! - expat tells us the strangest things about Hungary

Billboard of Dalbir, the new spokesperson for Budapest Bank

It’s been a challenge to unearth information about Budapest Bank’s reasoning behind their choice of spokesperson. One new acquaintance said that it was a social experiment to demonstrate that Hungarians are not racist. Upon voting among a Finish, a Spanish, and an Indian Sikh, the overwhelming choice was for Dalbir. And I’ve also seen a Chinese man modeling clothes in a storefront poster, the anomaly next to the other three white models, yet posing confidently and with a dour expression meant to convey his sex appeal. So I was not surprised then when I saw an Asian woman, flesh and blood, walk into a gyro eatery. In a little less than a week, that was about the extent of my exposure to non-Hungarians. It’s not exactly a melting pot, but perhaps it’s getting there—slowly.