All the Mornings of the World-----

--- if only they could begin like this: hearing the bells of Budapest ringing, then opening the windows to see the church tower glowing in the sun, no cats yet on the adjoining roof, a clear blue sky above. Time for breakfast, walking down the stairs where at each turn of the stairwell, the church tower greets us through the window.



(Later we learned that this church was built on the site of a mosque, built during the Turkish occupation of Hungary.)

The breakfast room is filled with different languages--French, German, proper British, some Australian accents, and Hungarian, of course--and fresh coffee waits on the small table where we sit down. On the buffet an array of cheeses, meats, yogurt, cereals, and wonderful European bread of several varieties. Real butter. A jam called Fruits of the Forest. Outside, the tour buses labor through the small street, and the natives hurry on foot to jobs or classes. Beyond them, the Danube begins its morning, the tugboats chugging along, the cruise ships gearing up for another day of business.



We decide to cross the Danube on the Chain Bridge, bicycles whizzing past us, not to mention cars. And tourists! One couple walking toward us looks American (how can we tell such things about people?) and I see on the woman's vest an Obama button, so I know I'm right. We chat for a little while about the Presidential debate the night before, which we are glad we missed. When we reach the other side of the bridge, police cars and emergency vans are everywhere. Has there been a terrorist attack? No, NATO is in town, having one of its big meetings and all the big shots are nearby, needing police escorts and secret service protection.



We look around several well maintained parks and then head for the opera house, where we hope we can buy tickets for Fidelio and Die Meistersinger. The street leading to the opera is lined with outdoor cafes, banks, and shoe stores. Yes, shoe stores. They are everywhere in Budapest, and I see some fine looking legs wearing snazzy shoes, including boots to die for, walking around the city.




At the opera house we buy our tickets, listening while we wait to sopranos in their practice rooms above us, running through their scales. Across the street, Bel Canto, a charming looking cafe and bar is opening up for business, but we decide to continue our walking tour through the center of the Pest side of the city.






































After strolling through the always crowded pedestrian freeway named Vaci Utca (pronounced vahsi ootsa), the big tourist-shopping section in the city, we stop at an elegant restaurant just off the Danube for lunch. It looks a bit too elegant for two tired Americans, but despite a snotty waiter, we enjoy the meal, my dish being a vegetable "tower" of roasted egglplant, zucchini, tomato, onion, melted cheese in an incredible sauce, and Jim's being a fish with a tasty paprika sauce. We cross the Danube at the Elisabeth Bridge, with a nap on our minds. We will think about where to have dinner when we wake up.