Round and round and round they go on silver skates, some slip, some fall, some go fast, backwards and beat them all. The Mujegpalya in Városliget (City Park) sits just behind Heroes Square and is apparently the largest outdoor skating-rink in Central Europe. It attracts hordes of locals who glide in a slow circle of fortune; a unified swarm, a flock of families, couples, teens and toddlers skating into the night under the bright beam of stadium lights.

We rented skates, mine white, Michael's black, laced up and walked clunkily to the edge of the rink. The ice chilled my cheeks. Pop music and techno remixes blared from the rink's sound system. It had been years since I'd been on the ice. I grew up with a pond in my backyard. When the ice got thick, my family swirled around together, my mom always impressing us with her elegant figure-eights. Michael and I stepped onto the ice, wobbly at first, and took baby steps, awkward and tense, but laughing. We tried to remember the way to glide, gripped each other's hands and found our balance. We joined the wheel, slow at first and faster later. Around we went in the shadow of the gothic Vajdahunyad Castle and Heroes Square with its massive bronze tributes to Hungary's founding fathers and the neoclassical Museum of Fine Arts. Around and around the great rink we went, letting go and clasping our hands back together again. Michael took a break, bought us hot wine. I circled alone and I liked the breeze. I watched my feet slide over the white ice and I watched Budapest around me. We went around together again. I tried to skate backwards, Micheal tried a trick of his own and we held hands on the ice until it was time to turn in our skates, put on our sneakers and waltz back to steady ground.