The floods that hit Budapest in early June have been an interesting experience. I would like to have reported from the front line - at the flood defences - but due to Hungarian bureaucracy, my application to be a volunteer somehow didn't succeed. So I have been an observer.
A city under flood might be similar to a city under siege. There is tension and anxiety, but also a sense of resignation. Nature cannot be fought, it can only be managed. And this flood didn't arrive as a rushing torrent, but as a steady, irresistible rise in the levels of the Danube, until it finally overreached its banks.
The river rose by one-third of its normal height. The corniche roads on both sides of the river disappeared under water. Margit Island, the large r&r islet in the middle of the river, was evacuated and closed down. One metro station was abandoned, and traffic and public road transport was redirected. The giant parliament building that faces the river became a moated palace, fronted by water at its foundations.
The magnificently sweeping Danube is undoubtedly at the heart of this city. Its reliable presence, whether in sight or not, is a constant for Budapest life. When it floods, it is like an ailment that afflicts the city. There is awareness, concern and assistance. Yet, no panic. Ultimately, it feels as if the Danube knows best how to deal with its own condition. Mere mortals can only help in limited ways, by channelling its flow and sandbagging higher levels where the Danube really doesn't want to go. A flood, it seems, is just another manifestation of the organic nature of this city.
Indeed, for people at large, including the many tourists now in Budapest, the flooding Danube became the latest and most popular public attraction. People flocked down to its banks, or its new shorelines, just to stand, watch and take photos of the spectacle. Welcome blue skies and hot temperatures on Sunday, when the flood was near its peak, drew heavy crowds keen to witness a Danube that had gained a third in width, and photograph ramparts, road signs and bus shelters that now peeked unnaturally above the flood.
Further out from the metropolitan city, concern for property, and indeed life, was greater. The Romai district, in north-west Budapest, is a frequent victim of even minor floods and sand-bagging volunteers were out in force to protect the area. Further north still, the beautiful town of Szentendre, and other towns and villages near the Danube bend, drew hundreds of volunteers as well as disaster professionals to help erect flood defences.
The waters will take some time to subside and will undoubtedly leave some chaos in their wake. But Budapest seems to have an army of clean-up workers, generally taken from the unemployed, to address such situations.
Much of Budapest's beauty is the result of human hand – but it is a very naturalistic hand, submissive to the city's organic nature. Budapest is quite simply an elemental city. And whatever the elements throw, it continues to impress as the most unique and special place on the Danube.
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