The Hungarian countryside is stagnant and uniform, the same greenish brownish plants tumbling over flat terrain. The houses lining the highway are in relatively good shape, yet they still maintain a certain decrepit quality – maybe it’s because of the overgrown vegetation writhing about the buildings, or because of the ragged and unfinished wooden fences that separate each plot of land from the others. Towering Soviet apartment blocks loom from the horizon. They are intimidatingly boring, doing their best to cover up the residue of sadness and oppression with a faded coat of pastel paint. Closer to the city lie the fossils of hopeless industrialism. Unkempt railroad tracks feed into abandoned factories. Most of Budapest’s outskirts are covered in rust and graffiti, the heart of the city sleeping deep beneath the Stalinist grime.

The Buda side of the city, which sits on the western bank of the Danube, has a subtly ancient quality. It’s almost reminiscent of a Greek city: a single row of grand buildings with classical architecture stretch along for miles, backed from behind by an impossibly steep wall of rock that cascades over the horizon. Hungary’s own Statue of Liberty is perched at the top, clasping the city below her between outstretched palms.

The Pest side of the city, which I explored much more, is in brutal opposition of Buda. It straddles the threshold between East and West. It reminded me of Moscow, the way a shadow of Northwestern Asian culture is cast upon a classically noble European skeleton. The architecture is reminiscent of the intricate facades on the streets of Vienna or Prague, but it’s missing the quintessential aristocratic aesthetic. It has a darker, more rugged beauty, still able to exhibit grace without the pristine perfection of Baroque Europe. On the surface, many of the buildings are derelict and unkempt, but they communicate a different perspective on sophistication.

Maybe this architecture is just reflective of the Soviet influence, and the entire culture of Northwest Asia has been lumped together with the Soviet aesthetic within my Westernized capitalist brain. But regardless of which cultural influence Budapest’s architecture actually subscribes to, its almost brutish elegance was immediately captivating, and it made the city one of the most intriguing yet.