That is the exterior of the Nyugati Railway Terminal, designed by Eiffel.
Photo taken on a cold October day. A day later, my bride was busted at Keleti Station.
Excerpt from travel letter at the time.
Keleti Polizia
Zelda and Budapest did NOT become friends. Zelda loved the architecture, adored the skyline. Despite the wealth of sights, Budapest just rubbed her wrong. Plus, she didn't care for the residents. Guidebooks commented on Hungarian reserve. Glum and morose, they always looked like their mother or dog had recently died. 19th century travellers also commented on this malaise. Budapest was the black hole for happiness.
What truly soured Zelda's opinion was the "sorry, no help" attitude. The bus driver's NO CHANGE sign. Info booths with: NO ENGLISH, NON FRANCAIS, NINE DEUTSCH. Sometimes staff would tap their sign, usually they kept smoking.
Me? I didn't care. I was in Hungary! Zelda may have high expectations of humanity, but I don't. I racheted up the day trips to keep us out of the city.
We returned early from Esztergom, home of Hungary's largest cathedral. I wanted to check prices and train stations for our upcoming Romanian push. Stepped off the subway at Keleti and headed for the station. Top of the stairs, a pack of officials stopped passengers and examined tickets. Now, we had bought a booklet of tickets. Still -- those cops. They reminded me of random inspections, speed traps. Cops. My radar wailed full alert, as had the locals'. I followed four other people and smoothed my way between two preoccupied agents. Reached back for Zelda ... gone. She patiently waited in another line, holding her punched subway ticket.
Quick ticket check, Zelda was arrested.
I hurried back. She and the female official were arguing intensely.
" ... no, is problem. Budapest so large. Understand?"
"I bought a ticket. See? I validated it, look, it's punched."
"Budapest so large. Read back of booklet. Is English. You have problem. Sorry."
The back cover of the booklet explained that a ticket was good for one ride, and that a ticket had to be validated before the ride. Zelda seemed legal. No other officials intervened, they were too busy "detaining" other riders. Guilty were exclusively visitors. This was an obvious sting designed for new arrivals. Next to us, four Brits had been apprehended and were now exploding in outrage.
" ... Bloody hell? We just arrived today!"
"Look! We punched your damned ticket!"
"How much?"
"Oh, thank you so very much! Welcome to fucking Budapest!"
Meanwhile ...
" ... is problem, but not so bad. Make a smile. Please no cry."
Zelda rarely cries. I looked at her expression. No tears welled, she was primed to detonate. I opened my wallet and paid her guard "a fine." Who knows where the money went? I dragged Zelda away; she was now white hot with fury.
"I had a ticket. I had validated their damned ticket!"
"I know ... I know ..."
"Even if I made a mistake, I had acted in good faith!"
"I know ... I know ..."
"And that woman! Don't cry. Smile. I wanted to smack her!"
"I know ... "
"I'm mad at myself for getting caught. You didn't get caught."
"You're a better person than I'll ever be, princess. You were caught because you were honorable."
Well, we found train info for Romania and I bought two tickets. Zelda couldn't leave Budapest soon enough. I located an exchange booth and traded for Romanian currency.
" ... 700,000, 800, 900, one million!" the woman laughed. "You are rich!"
Rich. No one had ever said that. For the first time in our lives, we were millionaires. Romanian lei. Zelda's mood remained black, but my naivete amused her. Millionaires. Rich. Great! I already loved Romania.