Vienna v. Budapest

I adored Vienna. Even with the stress of my stolen wallet being fresh, it was the perfect city for self-discovery and hours of wandering. It seemed so livable and I spent plenty of time sitting outside at a park or cafe and writing and drinking aperol spritzes. I would start walking and just follow my way to the next beautiful building I spotted, until I realized I'd be turning in circles because everywhere I looked was another beautiful building. Vienna was definitely going to be my favorite city of the trip.

And then I got to Budapest.

Budapest had so much of what Vienna had, but with wonderfully friendly people and a much lower price tag. It's hard for me to define why Budapest had such an impact on me, but it just felt comfortable to me. Every time I thought of it as my favorite city of the trip, I felt like I was somehow betraying Vienna.

And then I came up with my delightful metaphor to make myself feel better.

Budapest is the woman I am now. She's beautiful, but rough around the edges and not entirely sure of herself. She's proud of her history and hopeful for her future, but struggling to go in the right direction and not entirely sure how to choose the correct path. And, of course, she loves art and music and literature and food and wine and dancing her face off.

Vienna is the woman I hope to be - beautiful and settled, mature and confident, full of art and creativity. She's classically stylish, with an air of not giving a shit about what anyone else thinks about her. And peaceful. Vienna feels a lot more peaceful.