By Byron Lutz
Editor, The Shoestring Traveler
(c) Copyright 1989 - 2004

There aren't many places left in Europe where you can live like a king on a shoestring budget.

But Prague and Budapest are two cities where your dollars actually go much further than they do at home.

Stop by a street stand in downtown Budapest and you can get a hot dog for 45 cents, a soft drink for a quarter or an espresso coffee for 20 cents. Belly up to the bar at a working-class tavern and they'll pour you a cold draft of Hungarian beer for 40 cents.

Ride clear across town by bus and subway for 27 cents. Take a taxi to the suburbs for $6. Buy a bottle of wine for $1.25 at the local supermarket. Go to the opera or ballet for $3. Enjoy an invigorating massage for a full 30 minutes at a thermal bath and spa for $4.

Cheap Accommodations

Yet Budapest is not Third World. There are no gypsies in peasant dresses, no dancing bears in the streets. Budapest is high tech and it doesn't lag one step behind the rest of Europe; it's running neck-and-neck with every other cosmopolitan city on the continent.

The Museum of Fine Arts, one of Europe's finest, lets you in for only $1.50. It maintains an impressive collection that includes old masters, baroque art and 19th century painters like Boudin, Cezanne, Delacroix, Toulouse Lautrec, Monet, Pissarro, Renoir, Rousseau and Ruebens. The Spanish holdings are vast, including El Greco, Goya and Velasquez.

Low prices and affordable living is present in Budapest for those who want it. But you can also spend a fortune if you wish, which makes me wonder how much longer Budapest will remain a budget traveler's paradise.

I saw a fashion shop frequented by teens and 20-somethings where a denim jacket was on display for $250. Athletic shoes with popular Western brand names are no cheaper than in New York or London, perhaps a wee bit pricier.

American Influences

The four-color newspaper, "Budapest Week," is the most graphically exciting English-language publication on newsprint that you'll find in any non-English-speaking country. It serves as evidence that the ex-pat community is large and sophisticated.

As I walked downtown past Chicago, an upscale "yuppie" bar and restaurant, I heard music pouring out of an upmarket clothing store where young leggy models, wearing bright yellow rain-slicker minis, wheeled around on rollerblades, flaunted the cool look, and poured champagne for customers.

It's young people you must turn to if you want to communicate in Budapest. Almost everyone over the age of 23 was schooled in Russian as their second language. Today's youth study English, the language of consumerism. As Hungary's young learn to speak English, they learn to spend money American style.

The flashing lights, the casinos, the fast-food restaurants, the strip clubs and brothels may distract from the charm of Budapest, but they can't mask the city's beauty.

The medieval city of Buda lies on the west side of the River Danube, the 19th century city of Pest, with its broad boulevards and neoclassic architecture, sprawls along the eastern bank.

Parisian Flavor

Prague is another city often compared to Paris. Like Paris, Prague managed to escape the devastation of two world wars and communist occupation. Even Prague's break from Russia -- dubbed the Velvet Revolution -- came peacefully so that the city's 17th and 18th century architecture remains intact, as do Prague Castle (9th century) and the Basilica of St. George (1142).

The overriding architectural styles in Prague are Gothic and baroque, and I don't see much that resembles Paris, with the exception that in Prague, like Paris, proper hotels are extremely expensive.

You can beat the high price of hotel rooms by taking a private apartment downtown for as little as $40 a night. Apartments are even cheaper on the outskirts of the city.

Rental agents will approach you at the train station, and you can follow them to check out their offerings. Or you can book a room through dozens of accommodations services set up in and around the central station. Every money-exchange booth seems to deal in room bookings on the side.

$10 a Night

Prague, too, is a place where you can dine sumptuously for a pittance. Food and drink prices are so cheap that it's a waste of time and money to do your own cooking.

Hot dogs can be bought for 35 cents. Even in the tourist area, you can sit at a table in a nice cafe and have a waiter deliver you a cup of espresso coffee for less than 70 cents.

Czech beer -- they call it pivo -- is some of the finest in the world, and most places will pour you a tall, half-liter glass for 50 to 60 cents. Pivo was the first Czech work that I learned. Cigarettes are 70 cents to $1.35.

Cheap working-class buffets are a popular with the locals, although they aren't likely to list any menu items in English. You have to step up to the serving line and point to what you want. A hot cafeteria-style meal runs $1 to $1.50. There are no sit-down tables, just high stainless steel counters where you eat standing up. I ordered a spicy potato porridge of sausage, legumes, peas and parsley for KR11.50 (less than 50 cents).

Long subs --the kind made with a French baguette and ham, cheese, salami or French brie -- are enticing and sell for KR16 (65 cents).

U Flecku, the famous Prague beerhall that travelers used to say was so much fun because it was filled with fun-loving Czechs, is now a tourist trap. The fact is evident from the prices, which are approaching U.S. levels, and the kiosk which sells U Flecku T-shirts when you enter.

Prices were also higher at a large beautiful restaurant & pub downtown called Novomistsky Pivovar, which brews its own beer in huge copper brewing kettles. Like U Flecku, they charge nearly triple what you pay for beer at neighbood establishments, but $1.60 for a half-liter glass of excellent beer is still a bargain by any Western standards.

Neighborhood Restaurants

Our waiter had been trained in the French style of affected snobbery, and arrived at our table with an attitude that told us he was much too good to be waiting on us.

We each ordered a large bowl of goulash with bread, which was under a dollar, and my dinner companions both ordered steak dishes.

I spied a nice cucumber salad at the table next to us that came with tomatoes and onions. Since I wasn't very hungry, I found cucumber salad on the menu and requested it.

The waiter raised his nose into the air and looked at me like I was the cheapest American who had every darkened his doorstep. "Is that all you want?" he asked, unbelievingly.

"Yes, I'm not very hungry," I replied.

He shrugged his shoulders and disappeared into the kitchen. Later, after another round of beer, the waiter surfaced with our order. He remained perfectly quiet as he placed the steak dinners in front of my companions. Then he lifted his tray in the air, uncovered my dish, and presented it with a flourish in front of me.

It was two tiny pickles, plopped down in the center of a oversized dinner plate.

As the waiter stepped back his lips edged up in a wry smile. Then he bent forward so he could look me directly in the eyes.

"Here you are, monsieur. Bon appetit!"

The waiter rose to full height, tossed his head back, and walked off. It turns out that the English menu we consulted had translated cucumber salad as pickles, and the cucumber salad that I wanted was translated as "mixed vegetables."

Later, however, our waiter became quite chummy. Rob realized the waiter had been taking the micky out of us, so the next time the waiter swung by Rob stuck out his hand: "Great place you got here, mate! My name's Rob. What's yours?"

Tom, our surly waiter, warmed up immediately. Suddenly we were friends. He began talking about Prague, told jokes and offered us some tips. The episode gave me a good lesson in public relations. It's amazing what a handshake can do.