Thirteen from the Thirteenth

Újlipótváros is where I go for donuts- and where I used to go for burek before it was widely available all over town courtesy of Croatian bakery Mlinar. The demise of Burekkirály was probably unavoidable once Mlinar offered a cheaper version in most of the city’s main thoroughfares, but it was with some sadness I noticed the boarded up shop windows this weekend.

The long and the short of it is that I was mainly familiar with one route through this neighbourhood, and rarely took any other, or attentively checked out my surroundings, since I was engaged in the primeval quest for nourishment. I therefore decided to venture over Váci avenue and explore the thirteenth district.

The conclusion would be that Saturday mornings feel a bit more French here than in Terézváros (which is decidedly Austrian). Maybe it’s the streets name checking French writers, or the insistent croissantish smell floating out of the bakeries. Or the slightly Parisian architecture. And the dog shit- well, there is enough of that all over the city, but at least this weekend I finally got a glimpse of a cat too- but she was just too devious to be photographed, which is what any proper cat should be like.

 

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