‘Many ruin bars seem to be just tourist traps now,” says artist István, standing outside Instant-Fogas complex, which calls itself Europe’s biggest ruin pub, but looks more like a mammoth nightclub with several dancefloors.
“These bars were a hot topic 20 years ago, but many have become really commercial now,’ says István. “Ruin bars being expensive actually ruins their purpose. I’m a student, I like beers that are under 1,000 forints [about £2.50], and the big commercial ruin bars are typically much more expensive.”
Ruin bars (or romkocsmák) emerged mainly in Budapest’s historic Jewish Quarter (District VII) in the early 2000s when abandoned, prewar buildings and empty courtyards were transformed by young entrepreneurs into cheap bohemian art spaces that flaunted their dilapidation. They were typically peppered with fairy lights and mismatching secondhand furniture and artefacts.
Many have since lost their ruin bar essence and aesthetic, and simply host punters on the lash and a stream of guided pub crawls, stag and hen parties. But some proper ruin bars do still exist.
Szimpla Kert (or Simple Garden) is considered the pioneer of Budapest’s ruin bars and can feel overwhelming of an evening on your first visit; it’s much calmer in the day. Gigantic, buzzing, with multiple rooms on two levels, lots of colourful lights and pulsating music, it is undeniably a bit touristy, yet not unpleasantly so.
It has become a community centre, too, with film showings, an art gallery, a farmers’ market, flea market and other regular activities.
Suitably decrepit, with graffitied walls, rough wooden benches, concrete floors, a huge disco ball and plants lining the ceilings, it certainly has character. Nights may have live music and there are DJs, with small bars serving craft beers, cocktails and more. Prices are high for a Budapest bar – about 2,000 forints (£5) for a half litre of lager. Yet with a tatty bar space on such a huge scale completely assaulting your senses, there really is nowhere else like it.
9/10
The perfect example of a ruin bar being ruined. The night I visited, the clientele was 90% male, a high proportion of them out to get drunk.
It’s the kind of mainstream sports bar you’d find anywhere, with football screens and arcade games, but also some rather dilapidated areas (perhaps as a nod to the ruin bar concept, possibly through neglect) and a tree in the middle of an open courtyard.
A £1 charge is added to each relatively expensive drink as a deposit for the ugly plastic cup it’s served in – and that I have no interest in taking away. Of course, many people don’t realise this and don’t get their deposit back, and it is a difficult process if you do: customers are typically directed to another bar with a sizeable queue to get the money returned.
Unsurprisingly, there are critical reviews of Füge Udvar online.
0/10
With a collection of shabby bar stools and tables inside and out, a chaotic mishmash of artworks on the walls and windows covered in stickers, Fekete Kutya (or Black Dog) certainly cultivates the ruin bar vibe.
“It’s been here since 2013 and used to be a ruin bar for local people,” says student Milan Keleti while serving me a Postřižinské Francin lager (£2.10). “Initially, this was a place for artists, for people that couldn’t afford expensive bars. But, as this area has become more touristy, about half the custom is now from tourists. But it still has the atmosphere, the music, the decor that is fit for ruin bars.”
Although Fekete Kutya is becoming popular with tourists, it has noticeably lower prices than the big, commercial bars. It also has live music.
8/10
While this sizeable District IX space has elements of the ruin bar formula – rooms centred on a courtyard, worn plaster walls, exposed brick, industrial chic, rustic wooden tables and a tree in situ – it has more of the vibe of an east London craft beer bar.
Indeed, it focuses on beers for discerning drinkers – Hungarian and international – with more than 20 on draught each day. Beers from the nearby Fehér Nyúl brewery are particularly popular.
7/10
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Consisting of a large room with a high ceiling and a vintage cafe look, packed with artwork, graffiti, stickers, fairy lights, mannequins, toys, chandeliers and carpets scattered across the worn floorboards, this very much has the ruin bar vibe. Around two Roman-style pillars – presumably holding up the place – are lots of colourful, rickety little chairs and tables, where locals and visitors chat away, creating a laid-back atmosphere.
Originally a grand late-19th century coffee house frequented by Budapest’s intellectuals and writers, this is still a place to conduct a conversation (Csendes Létterem means “quiet restaurant” in Hungarian), something you might struggle with in some of the larger ruin bars pumping out loud music. Sometimes Csendes hosts events, such as live acoustic music and cinema nights.
A block away from Astoria or Calvin Square, you could perhaps try an Edelweiss wheat beer (half litre £5.70) or maybe a tequila (£4.45).
9/10
It is heavenly to walk down the steps into this little, off-the-beaten-track basement venue as a six-piece band is playing Hungarian folk songs with gusto, encircled by audience members dancing energetically – and everyone appears to be local.
The true spirit of the ruin bar is alive and well here.
Although, once again, the exact definition of a ruin bar seems to be rather elusive. “It’s not really a ruin bar – but then I suppose, come to think of it, it is a ruin bar,” says bartender Anna Horváth, serving me a gin and tonic in an old jam jar.
While ruin bars were “traditionally” located in District VII, this is very much a scaled-down version of the concept, in District VIII. Also known as Fővárosi Kulipintyó, it is suitably shabby, with a semicircular wooden slatted roof, a worn cream and brown tiled floor, antique posters, plates and, curiously, old boots on display, with beer barrels stacked up by the entrance.
“It’s like being in a second world war Anderson shelter,” says my son Jethro. Although, at 27 years of age, I’m not sure he’d really know what that would be like.
Zsír has live music most nights – which could be klezmer (instrumental Ashkenazi Jewish music), Balkan, Romanian or Latin.
“I come here every night for the live music,” says regular Gyula Márky, straight from the dancefloor. “It’s fantastic. It’s like you’re in a novel or something; it’s really, really special. Dancers, singers and musicians all together: that’s the best thing I can imagine.”
10/10
Accommodation was provided by Up Hotel Budapest, which has doubles from €92, room-only