48 Hours in Szeged: Exploring Hungary's Sunniest City Off the Tourist Trail

Arriving in Szeged couldn't be simpler. I caught the direct train from Budapest's Nyugati station, a comfortable two-hour journey through Hungary's golden plains. The railway efficiently delivered me right to the heart of town, where I immediately felt the city's relaxed pace wash over me like a gentle current.

I'd booked a modest but charming guesthouse near Dom Square, perfectly positioned for exploration on foot. Szeged is wonderfully walkable—its center forms a neat grid around the magnificent Votive Church, making navigation intuitive even for directionally challenged travelers like myself. After settling in, I ventured out with my trusty crossbody bag (perfect for keeping essentials secure while staying hands-free for photography) and began orienting myself.

The city immediately struck me as having the architectural grandeur of Budapest but with a fraction of the crowds. Spring sunshine bathed the Art Nouveau facades in a golden light, and university students cycled leisurely along wide boulevards. The air carried the subtle scent of paprika—Hungary's culinary treasure that Szeged is famous for producing. As a midwife who's witnessed countless new beginnings, I felt a kinship with this resilient city that had essentially rebirthed itself after catastrophic flooding in 1879.

My first full day began with an early morning walk to Dom Square. In the gentle spring light, with few tourists around, I had the magnificent Votive Church almost to myself. Its twin spires reach skyward like determined hands—a physical manifestation of the city's resilience after the great flood. Inside, the organ pipes reminded me of geological formations, the way they curved and reached toward the heavens.

From there, I wandered to Széchenyi Square, where the City Hall's intricate facade tells stories of Hungarian history through its ornate carvings. What fascinates me about Szeged is how the catastrophic 1879 flood became a catalyst for rebirth—the city was rebuilt in a unified architectural style that gives it a harmonious feel rarely found in European cities. As a midwife, I've witnessed how moments of greatest challenge often precede the most beautiful transformations.

By mid-morning, I found myself at the bustling Szeged Market Hall. This iron-framed building houses a treasure trove of local products, but the undisputed star is the paprika. Szeged's microclimate along the Tisza creates ideal conditions for growing these peppers, which are then dried and ground into the spice that defines Hungarian cuisine. I purchased several varieties to bring home to Melbourne, where I use them in cooking classes I occasionally host for expectant mothers—sharing how different cultures incorporate specific foods into postpartum recovery.

The market vendors were delighted to explain the differences between sweet, hot, and smoked varieties, offering tastings with surprising generosity. I documented everything with my travel camera, which I've found perfect for capturing vibrant market scenes without drawing attention or weighing me down.

After a simple lunch of langos (fried bread topped with sour cream and cheese) from a riverside stand, I spent the afternoon exploring the banks of the Tisza River. As someone who's studied how waterways shape civilizations, I find rivers to be the perfect metaphor for birth—powerful, transformative, and following their own timeline despite our attempts to control them.

The Tisza embankment offers a lovely pedestrian promenade where locals fish, students read on benches, and families enjoy gelato from nearby shops. I walked across the iconic 'Old Bridge' (Belvárosi híd) for panoramic views of both riverbanks, taking note of how the city has adapted to live harmoniously with the water that once nearly destroyed it.

As afternoon turned to evening, I treated myself to Szeged's lesser-known but magnificent thermal baths at Anna Fürdő. While Budapest's baths draw international crowds, here I found myself among locals who have made this wellness ritual part of their weekly routine for generations. The Art Nouveau building houses several pools of varying temperatures, each rich in minerals from deep underground thermal springs.

Soaking in waters that had journeyed through geological layers formed millions of years ago, I couldn't help but draw parallels to the ancient birthing practices I'd studied in Peru, where thermal waters were used to ease labor pain. I struck up a conversation with an elderly Hungarian woman who explained how local midwives once recommended these specific mineral waters for postpartum recovery. These connections across cultures and time periods continue to fascinate me.

Before heading to the baths, I'd packed my essentials in a waterproof pouch that's been indispensable for protecting my phone and valuables during countless thermal bath visits across the globe.

Szeged truly comes alive in the evening, when the university population emerges to fill the outdoor terraces of cafés and restaurants around Klauzál Square. I found myself drawn to a small restaurant recommended by my guesthouse host, where I experienced authentic Szeged-style fish soup (halászlé). This paprika-infused broth with river fish is practically a religion here—each family guarding their own recipe variations like precious heirlooms.

The soup arrived at my table still bubbling in a traditional cauldron, its deep red color a testament to the generous use of local paprika. My server explained how fishermen along the Tisza would prepare this dish directly on riverbanks after a successful catch, a tradition dating back centuries. The complex flavors—simultaneously smoky, sweet, and carrying just the right amount of heat—told the story of this river city in a single spoonful.

After dinner, I was fortunate to catch a student performance at the magnificent Szeged National Theater. This neo-baroque building survived the great flood and stands as a cultural centerpiece of the city. The performance featured modern interpretations of Hungarian folk dances, the rhythmic movements echoing the flow and occasional turbulence of the nearby Tisza.

Later, I discovered a hidden courtyard café where local musicians were playing traditional instruments. Nursing a glass of Tokaji (Hungary's famous sweet wine), I recorded snippets of the music on my phone to share with my colleagues back in Melbourne. These authentic cultural moments—unplanned and discovered through wandering—are what make solo travel so rewarding for me.

Before leaving my guesthouse that evening, I'd applied some insect repellent as a precaution against the mosquitoes that sometimes appear near the river in spring. It's lightweight, non-greasy, and doesn't have that overwhelming chemical smell of many repellents—perfect for evenings out.

My second day began with a visit to the Pick Salami and Szeged Paprika Museum—an unexpectedly fascinating glimpse into the culinary heritage that defines this region. The museum chronicles how these two products shaped Szeged's economy and identity. I was particularly interested in learning how paprika was initially used medicinally before becoming a culinary staple, much like many herbs I've studied in traditional birthing practices around the world.

Midday found me exploring the charming neighborhood of Alsóváros, home to the 15th-century Franciscan Church and Monastery. This area feels frozen in time, with traditional low-slung houses painted in pastel colors and elderly residents tending to window boxes overflowing with geraniums. The monastery houses a small but significant collection of folk healing artifacts, including tools once used by traditional midwives—an unexpected professional connection that delighted me.

I spent the afternoon hunting for treasures in Szeged's vintage shops, which offer remarkably reasonable prices compared to similar stores in Western Europe. My favorite find was a hand-embroidered blouse with traditional Hungarian patterns that reminded me of similar needlework I'd seen in Peru—another beautiful example of how certain artistic expressions emerge independently across cultures.

As the day cooled into evening, I joined a small sunset boat tour on the Tisza. Our local guide pointed out wildlife along the shoreline and explained how the river's seasonal rhythms influenced everything from local agriculture to folklore. There's something universally sacred about rivers—they've witnessed the entirety of human history while remaining essentially unchanged, much like the birthing process itself.

The boat tour offered excellent photography opportunities, and I was grateful for my lens cleaning kit that kept my camera lenses free from water spots and dust. When you're capturing once-in-a-lifetime travel moments, these simple tools make all the difference.

My final evening ended with a visit to a small wine cellar specializing in regional varieties. The sommelier explained how the volcanic soils north of Szeged create distinctive mineral notes in their wines—another beautiful intersection of my interests in geology and local culture. I purchased a bottle of Kékfrankos (Blaufränkisch) to bring home to my husband, whose geological work has given us both an appreciation for how earth elements influence everything from wine to architecture.