I cycled through Hungary, and this was my favorite town

One of the things I love most about traveling by bicycle is that it lets me visit so many little towns and villages I would otherwise miss—or never even know about.

I primarily use Komoot for route-planning, which familiarizes me with the names of little towns and villages along the route. I think it’s good practice to study my maps ahead of time. Doing so better prepares me to navigate in the event there are unforeseen issues, such as technology snafus or construction on route - both of which I have experienced many times. Studying my route also helps me get an understanding of where I might resupply, camp, and rest. 

On a cool, crisp evening in late September, the day before October 1, I cycled into a small town in Hungary called Vàc. 

Prístaav Štúrovo on the way to Vác

The route in Szob before I got to Vác

I had been talking to a host via the couchsurfing app - she offered to host me, but as I was cycling into Vàc she notified me that they actually had to get up very early the next morning and would rather me pitch my tent in their garden than sleep on their couch. I don’t have any issue with that at all, but by the time I got to Vàc and received the message, the sun was already setting. To get to my host, I would need to catch the next ferry in an hour to the other side of the Danube, and from there cycle another 5 or so km. That would have me arriving at her house around 8pm. I wasn’t too keen on the idea of pitching my tent in the dark at such a late hour. I don’t like cycling in the dark too much either. 

I took a moment to look at my surroundings. It was a beautiful night. The Danube seemed to glimmer, reflecting the soft glow of the street lights in its still waters. The street lamps echoed the town’s timeless charm - gently burning lanterns supported by classic black iron, adorned with festive autumn leaf bouquets. It felt like an invitation.

I decided to stay the night in Vàc. Usually I camp, finding clearings in the woods along the Eurovelo 6, but tonight I would get a room.

I found an apartment in a corridor right on the main street at the waterfront, directly in front of where I had stopped on my bike. 

The landlady met me at the door. Well, it was two narrow wooden doors that were opened by an old iron key. She allowed me to park my bicycle against the little couch across from the bed. She recommended I take a walk to the town square and that I try the bakery just steps away, Eszerházy Kávézö. “They have really good desserts,” she noted.

After we said goodbye and the landlady left me with the key, I pulled out my devices for charging, and took a hot shower. After getting cleaned up, I put on a sweater and went for a stroll in the fall air. 

A stone walkway runs directly alongside the river, protected by a black iron fence. Benches invite passersby to rest and let their thoughts drift with the Danube. The cool autumn evening enveloped me in the most comforting way. You know that feeling; that coziness that wraps around your skin like a blanket. The Danish call it hygge. The smell of wood burning offers images of friends and family gathering around a fire. I could almost taste the crispness in the faint breeze, the warm, soft amber glow of the street lamps harmonizing with the warmth of the reds and golds of fall leaves.

I made my way up the cobblestone steps to the town square, a baroque-style gathering place graced by a flowing fountain in the center, and hugged by a towering church and pastel-colored buildings all around. The town square has a unique shape - not square at all, really, but more of an elongated ellipse. Groomed bushes are sure to bloom with bright-colored flowers in the spring.

An iron pavilion stood at a corner of the square, sheltering a handmade wooden tree. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that there were paper cutouts of leaves hanging from the branches, all in different colors. Each leaf had a message written in it. I think it was some sort of seasonal community project.

The town square morphs into a spacey stoned street that leads pedestrians (and cyclists) towards a bus station. On the way you pass many boutiques and shops, all of which were closed during my stroll, except the little neighborhood grocery that reminded me of those elegant urban markets frequented by city dwellers. 

I popped in to grab a few things. I came across what I could only assume was pumpkin spiced instant oatmeal. I can’t read Hungarian but the autumn colors and the jack-o-lantern on the package convinced me that this was a rare and special festive treat. I grabbed a few and stashed them away for camping. I also bought a package of Halloween-themed gummies, just to put myself in the spirit. The sugar would be needed later for a boost during hill climbs.

Maybe it was that hygge feeling; I couldn’t help but watch the locals as they filled their shopping baskets with fruits and cheese and wine. My imagination drifted as I envisioned their cozy nights in.

Hygge lingered with me throughout the rest of my walk. I basked in the autumn air until my tummy began to rumble. Passing by a cute little pizzeria just as my stomach decided it was time for dinner was surely a sign. As the server pulled the draught handle to pour a beer, the foam sprayed all over her computer and all over me. She tried to apologize through her giggles, but I waved it off, laughing along with her.

Once my pizza was ready I took it back to my room and enjoyed a few savory slices before turning in for a cozy, autumn sleep.

The next morning, I took the advice of my landlady and walked my bike just a few steps to the cukrászda (pastry shop). I settled on a fruit-filled sponge cake and a frothing cappuccino, though the decision was an excruciating one because all of the treats looked like they would send a person into a blissful sugar coma. 

After finishing my treat I tightened my helmet and mounted my bicycle for a short 43km (27 mile) ride to Budapest. 

As I made my exit I cycled through a green park on the riverbank, catching sight of some interesting sculptures. The riverwalk in Vác has numerous sculptures, all with their own stories. My two favorites were the tree with bicycle wheels and a cloaked figure holding out three steel roses.

As I cycled further on, I was presented with a final farewell via a large wooden gateway sign over the bicycle path. I kept thinking that I could see myself living in Vác, if only Hungarian weren’t such a difficult language to learn. 

Maybe it was the autumn air, maybe it was the warmth of the town, or maybe it was the good pizza. Whatever it was, Vác remains my favorite town in Hungary.