tantalizing job, she and Tia might be making wedding plans at this very moment.
A narrow escape, she realized as she showed her boarding pass to the attendant at the flight gate, then joined the line of passengers to board the plane.
*
London’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the pilot’s voice.
“We have just arrived at the Budapest Ferenc Liszt International Airport, named for the virtuoso pianist, conductor, organist, and composer, Franz Liszt …”
She smiled as the same announcement was repeated in French, German, Italian, and of course Hungarian. It felt wonderful to wake up to the sounds of all those languages.
I’m really in Europe again, she realized.
It was now just after eight in the morning here in Budapest, although London knew that her body would keep trying to convince her that it was hours earlier. But as a seasoned traveler, she had tricks for diminishing jetlag from her transatlantic trip. For one thing, she’d slept as much as she possibly could during the eight-and-a-half-hour flight. At the moment she felt quite refreshed.
She got up from her seat and opened the luggage compartment and took down her carry-on bags, then squeezed her way off the plane with the other passengers. She felt exhilarated even by the crush of bodies as she made her way toward the immigration desks and presented the form she’d filled out during the flight.
“Enjoy your stay in Budapest,” the smiling immigration official said to her in accented English.
London summoned up the courage to try a Hungarian word.
“Köszönöm,” she replied, smiling back at him.
His amused nod told her that she might not have pronounced “thanks” perfectly, but that he appreciated the effort.
Then she went to the baggage pickup area, where her bags quickly arrived on the carousel. Since she had no goods to declare, she didn’t have to make a stop at customs. A porter put her bags onto a handcart, and she followed him into the main terminal.
She gasped aloud as the vast, modern “Sky Court” spread all around her with its soaring ceiling and overhanging gallery and newspaper and gift stalls.
London suddenly felt freer than she had in a long time. She took special delight in the crowds of people darting about everywhere, some of them speaking languages of which she didn’t know a single word. It was chaotic, certainly—but it was the kind of chaos that suited her, nothing like the chaos of her sister’s home.
She followed the porter outside, where he quickly flagged down a little yellow cab and loaded her bags into its trunk.
The driver drove her into the heart of the part of the city known as Pest, where shiny glass office buildings gradually gave way to older brick buildings, and the city revealed more and more of its ancient character.
Finally, London Rose gasped with delight as the little yellow cab turned onto Soroksári Road. A familiar melody lilted through her mind—“The Blue Danube.”
The magnificent river had just come fully into view, and the breathtaking scene proved that the famous waltz was aptly titled. The Danube was a luscious shade of blue in the morning light, and it was flanked on either side by one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
Budapest was spread out around her like some sort of half-forgotten dream. The grand sights of this ancient city fairly shimmered with her pleasant memories of wide brick buildings, domes and towers, parks, shops, and street performers.
London smiled at what Ian had said to her before her departure.
“Hungary sounds like a very depressing place to me.”
She wondered where on earth he had gotten such an idea. There was nothing the least bit depressing about this gorgeous city.
She rolled down the cab window and breathed the fresh, clean air. It was promising to be a cool, lovely day, and Budapest sparkled all around her, truly living up to its nickname, the “Pearl of the Danube.”
And now here she was on a riverfront drive, looking out her taxi window at the lovely Danube with its beautiful bridges. All kinds of boats were docked along the waterfront, ranging from private yachts to long, low river tour ships, some of which could hold nearly two hundred passengers. Across the river was the part of the city known as Buda, hilly and wooded with old, red-roofed buildings.
This seemed like a good time to give her small Hungarian vocabulary another bit of exercise.
“I haven’t been to Budapest in a while,” she said to the driver in Hungarian.
“When was your last visit?” the driver asked, sounding pleased