Road trip from Budapest to Slovakia and Exploring an Abandoned 1800’s Era Fortress Used by Nazi and Soviet Troops 

May 2022: Tracing Empires in Eastern Europe

From Roman Ruins to Communist Relics on the Road Through Hungary

Completing the Map

In May 2022, I returned to Eastern Europe with a specific goal: to visit the last countries I had left in Europe. After years of weaving together stories across the continent, I had saved a few key pieces for the end — and now it was time to fit them into place.

I chose Budapest, Hungary as my starting point. I’d been wanting to visit Hungary for a long time. It’s a country layered with history — an intersection of civilizations, empires, and ideologies that have all left their mark.

A Land of Shifting Borders and Lasting Legacies

Hungary’s story reads like a collision of empires. Once part of the Roman world, it fell to the barbarian invasions led by Attila the Hun. Centuries later came the Mongol and Ottoman invasions, followed by the rise of the Austro-Hungarian Empire — a dominant force in Central Europe that would later collapse after World War I, in which Hungary fought alongside Germany. It would do so again in World War II, aligning with Nazi Germany, and later fall behind the Iron Curtain, absorbed into the Eastern Bloc under the Soviet Union.

Only in 1990, with the collapse of the USSR, did Hungary reemerge as a sovereign state — and today it’s part of NATO, balancing its rich past with a complex present.

The Road to Veszprém

I landed in Budapest, picked up a rental car, and hit the road — heading west toward the small town of Veszprém, about 100 miles away and not far from Lake Balaton. Rather than linger in the capital, I wanted to dive directly into the countryside, using Veszprém as a base to explore Hungary’s lesser-seen history.

My first target was a forgotten Soviet-era ruin — the abandoned barracks of Hajmáskér, a massive, fortress-like complex with roots stretching back to the Austro-Hungarian military machine. From there, I planned to continue driving through rural Hungary, soaking in villages, landscapes, and roadside history as I worked my way north.

Crossing into Slovakia — and Back Again

My route would eventually take me across the Danube River and into Slovakia, where I planned to trace the river’s edge along the Slovakian side, enjoying a new angle on this historic waterway. From there, I would loop back into Hungary at Esztergom, home to one of the most iconic basilicas in Central Europe, before returning to Budapest.

I had 2 nights and 3 days to make the circuit — just enough time for a whirlwind dive through borderlands, bunkers, and baroque towns — before catching a flight north to the Baltic States to complete the final leg of my trip in Lithuania and Estonia.

Day 1: Into the Past at Hajmáskér

A Treasure Trove for Urban Explorers

One of my favorite things about traveling through Eastern Europe is the sheer number of abandoned buildings scattered across the landscape — relics of empires, wars, and ideologies long gone. Unlike in Western Europe, many of these sites are still publicly accessible, sitting wide open for anyone willing to explore them.

Hungary is no exception.

After doing some digging, I came across what might be the most fascinating abandoned building I’ve ever had the chance to explore: the Hajmáskér Barracks.

A Fortress of Forgotten Empires

Tucked away in the countryside near Veszprém, the Hajmáskér Barracks are a sprawling, fortress-like complex that looks like something out of a war movie — and in many ways, it is.

Built in the late 1800s by none other than Emperor Franz Joseph I of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the barracks originally housed thousands of troops and heavy artillery. It was designed as a stronghold — a hub of military might in the heart of Central Europe.

But like everything in this region, its purpose changed with the tides of history.

During World War I, the barracks were converted into a prison camp. In World War II, they became a Nazi military base. And after the war, when Hungary fell under Soviet control, Hajmáskér was occupied by the Red Army, serving as a Soviet base all the way up until the fall of the Soviet Union in 1990.

A Living Museum of Decay

Today, the massive structure stands abandoned — forgotten by most, but not by urban explorers. As I walked through its empty halls, faded murals, rusted gates, and crumbling staircases, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of layered history — Austro-Hungarian grandeur, Nazi occupation, Soviet power, all silently collapsing into dust.

It’s these moments — raw, unsanitized, and eerily still — that remind me why I love traveling to places like this.

Map showing my route. The Hajmáskér Barracks location is identified by the red pin

(Evening): A Castle Inn and a Midnight Plan

A Close Call on the Hungarian Highway

The drive from Budapest to Veszprém took a few hours and was mostly uneventful — with one notable exception. While navigating a winding freeway off-ramp, a truck suddenly charged up behind me, riding my tail aggressively and blasting its horn. The vehicle swerved so close it felt like it might try to force me off the road.

I like to think of myself as an assertive, but not reckless driver — confident behind the wheel but aware of my surroundings. Still, this was a reminder that Hungarian roads come with a certain intensity. I quickly learned that some local drivers can be both impatient and dangerously aggressive, especially on rural highways.

Veszprém: Castle-Inn for One

I arrived in Veszprém late in the afternoon and checked into a small roadside inn shaped like a castle — complete with turrets, faux stone walls, and a bar out front that seemed to cater mostly to truckers and locals passing through. I was the only guest in the place.

After a cold beer and a hearty local meal — something warm, salty, and heavy enough to ward off the coming chill — I settled into my room and tried to get some sleep. The next part of my adventure would start early. Very early.

The Plan: Ghost-Hunting Before Dawn

My goal was to visit the Hajmáskér Barracks before sunrise. Just 10 miles from Veszprém, they’re located on the edge of the village of Hajmáskér, and though the ruins are technically abandoned, I suspected that entering them was illegal.

From my research, I knew that two rows of Soviet-era bloc apartments sit just outside the barracks — still occupied, still watching. During daylight hours, any number of those residents could easily report a trespasser to the authorities. But at 3:00 a.m., under the cover of darkness, I’d have a better chance of slipping in undetected.

And, honestly, ruined buildings are always better in the dark. That’s when the past feels close. That’s when the ghosts come out.

Day 2: A Pre-Dawn Infiltration at Hajmáskér Barracks

A Sleepless Night and a Haunting Wake-Up Call

After barely sleeping — a mix of anticipation and nerves — I set out at 3 a.m., creeping down the creaky hallway of the castle-themed inn. As I passed through the empty lobby, motion-sensor lights blinked on, casting an unsettling glow across the furniture.

That’s when I saw him.

Sprawled naked and spread-eagle on the couch was an uncovered man, dead asleep. Pale skin. Mouth open. Completely oblivious to the world. I didn’t linger. Just one of those surreal travel moments you file away and try to forget.

A Quiet Road, a Sleeping Town, a Broken Fence

The drive to Hajmáskér was calm and dark, the headlights cutting through quiet farmland and past sleepy cottages. I rolled slowly into the village, watching for signs of the barracks. But I needn’t have worried — the place is impossible to miss. The complex is massive, rising like a forgotten fortress just off the town’s main road.

I parked a little distance away to avoid attracting attention. The nearby communist-era bloc apartments were still cloaked in darkness — most of their residents fast asleep at this hour. Perfect.

I approached the main entrance, just below a towering section of the structure. A section of fence was broken, just wide enough to squeeze through. It felt like a quiet invitation.

I took a deep breath, flicked on my flashlight, and stepped inside.

Echoes in the Dark

The interior was exactly what I’d hoped — and feared. A vast network of crumbling hallways, shattered glass, graffiti-covered walls, and piles of rubble told the story of decades of neglect. It was cold, damp, and absolutely silent, save for the crunch of my own footsteps and the occasional drip of water echoing through the dark.

I moved carefully. Many of the floors felt unstable, and I avoided going too deep into any side rooms — I didn’t want to get cornered or trapped. In my experience, abandoned buildings in Eastern Europe are sometimes claimed by Roma squatters or the homeless, and I didn’t want to stumble into someone’s makeshift shelter in the dark.

A Black Cat and Cold War Ghosts

After sweeping several sections of the barracks, I began to relax slightly. The place felt completely empty — devoid of human life. Just as that thought settled, something darted out of the darkness.

I jumped back, my light swinging wildly, only to see the classic gothic cliché come to life: a black cat had just launched itself across the hallway and vanished into the shadows.

I let out a breath. Perfect timing.

Artifacts of Empire (or the Hunt for Them)

I had read online that some rooms in the Hajmáskér Barracks still contained artifacts — old Soviet newspapers, forgotten documents, maybe even personal belongings left behind during the Red Army’s hasty departure. I searched a few likely areas, hoping to stumble on something evocative.

But in a place like this — alone, in the pitch-black silence of a building that feels like it’s watching you — I found myself less concerned with Cold War relics and more focused on staying alert.

Every sound, every shadow, every echo carried weight. Even when you’re alone, it doesn’t feel like you are.

 Hajmáskér Barracks

The Forest Within the Fortress

An Abandoned Empire Swallowed by Nature

The Hajmáskér Barracks aren’t just a building — they’re a compound. A massive, rectangular maze of towers and four-story structures linked together in a hollow square, all built in the grand, utilitarian style of a military empire.

At the center lies what was once a parade ground or training yard — now completely overtaken by nature. The courtyard has become a tangled, overgrown forest, thick with brush, spider webs, and thorn bushes. A few narrow footpaths wind through it, but they’re barely visible and offer little guidance.

Even well past sunrise, the courtyard remained pitch dark, the dense canopy of branches above blocking out most of the early morning light. It felt like walking into an enchanted forest with a Cold War hangover — wild, eerie, and eerily silent.

Climbing Through Ruin and Memory

For the next few hours, I immersed myself in the decaying structure — crawling through broken windows, cautiously climbing unstable stairwells, and ducking beneath sagging doorframes. Some corridors were wide open, others completely blocked by collapsed ceilings and debris. Every level of the building offered new scenes of abandonment — rusted bed frames, crumbling concrete, forgotten alcoves.

Every creak, every sudden gust of wind through broken panes, made me pause.

It was less a building and more a wound in time, slowly being reclaimed by nature and left behind by history.

The Sun Rises — and So Do the Neighbors

Eventually, sunlight filtered through the gaps in the broken roof. With it came signs of life in the world outside — voices, clanking dishes, a radio playing from one of the nearby bloc apartments. The town was waking up.

And I realized it was time to disappear again.

I retraced my steps through the forested courtyard, slipping back out the broken fence and toward my parked car. I hadn’t seen anyone, hadn’t been stopped, but I knew from my research that the local residents might report trespassers, especially someone carrying a camera and wandering solo.

Better to leave on my own terms — before I had to explain myself to local police.

A Fortress Full of Ghosts

Hajmáskér was everything I hoped it would be: massive, moody, decaying, and steeped in history. It’s the kind of place where time collapses — where you walk through layers of empire, war, and ideology without ever leaving the building.

And in a strange way, it reminded me why I chase places like this. Not just for the thrill — but to witness what’s left behind, what refuses to be forgotten, and what waits quietly for those willing to step into the dark.

The theatre room where movies and live performances were once held

Dark aboding corridors with one room’s entrance spray painted over the entrance -Demons inside

Dark, aboding corridor

Not sure what this building was but it was completely sealed closed so I couldn’t get in. 

Barrack Buildings

Crumbling rooftop

Top floor of one of the buildings

Theatre

View of tower from courtyard

Main tower

Main tower

Barracks with tower view

Into the Hungarian Countryside

The Freedom of the Open Road

I’ve always believed that the best way to explore a country is by renting a car and hitting the rural roads. Cities might hold the museums and nightlife, but it’s in the countryside where you find the soul of a place — and often its most surprising, unvisited corners.

Hungary was no exception.

After leaving Hajmáskér behind, I spent the next day winding my way through small cobblestone villages, passing centuries-old churches, and occasionally catching sight of hilltop castles rising above the trees like forgotten sentinels. Some were little more than crumbling stone towers, others were still remarkably intact — tucked quietly into rolling hills, far from tourist paths.

Springtime in Hungary

The weather was perfect. It was spring, and the countryside had come alive. The fields were green, the air was fresh, and wildflowers splashed color along the roadside.

I rolled the windows down and let the breeze pour in, passing through patches of forest, farmland, and sleepy hamlets where time seemed to move slower. Every so often I’d stop at a roadside bakery or corner shop, where people were friendly, curious, and always eager to chat — even if we didn’t share a language.

There’s something about rural people — their honesty, their warmth, their lack of pretense — that feels refreshing after days in cities or abandoned ruins.

Life Was Good

For a few hours, I wasn’t chasing history or creeping through ruins. I was just driving, enjoying the rhythm of the road, and soaking in the quiet joy of wandering with no real plan.

And in those moments, with the sun shining, the land blooming, and the car humming down a country lane, life was simple.

Life was great.

Countryside village home

Hilltop castle

World War I Memorial

Echoes of War and the Quiet Roads of Hungary

Statues That Speak — and Those That Don’t

One of the things I noticed while driving through rural Hungary was how many small towns had World War I memorials — often standing quietly in churchyards, dedicated to local soldiers who never returned. Simple statues, usually depicting a grieving soldier or a broken sword, surrounded by neat flowers or crumbling stone. They stood as solemn reminders of Hungary’s role in the Great War.

But what stood out even more was the absence of World War II memorials.

I didn’t see a single one.

I began to suspect the reason why: Hungary was an ally of Nazi Germany during World War II. As uncomfortable as that legacy is, it’s one that modern Hungary, like many countries with complex pasts, seems to quietly sidestep. There’s no glory in memorializing that alliance — and perhaps, no consensus on how to publicly confront it.

Instead, World War I becomes the easier conflict to remember — a time before fascism, before the Red Army, before Hungary became part of something it would later try to forget.

A Landscape Still Marked by Ideology

Along the way, I passed several roadside signs commemorating old World War I battlefields, faded but still standing — as well as a few communist-era structures, instantly recognizable by their architecture. Some were industrial buildings, others looked like former collective farms, relics of Hungary’s decades as a Soviet satellite.

Even in the countryside, the layers of history are visible — some restored, some left to rot, some quietly ignored.

Quiet Roads, Fast Drivers

Though I stuck mostly to relaxed, single-lane country roads, driving in Hungary wasn’t always peaceful. On more than one occasion, impatient drivers would aggressively overtake me, even when it was clearly unsafe — swerving into the oncoming lane on blind curves or barely squeezing past before hitting oncoming traffic. A few times, I was almost pushed off the road and into a tree by a driver trying to pass me and the car in front of me at the same time.

It was a good reminder to never get too relaxed, no matter how tranquil the setting may appear.

Assumed to Belong

Most people I met in rural Hungary spoke very little English — which wasn’t surprising or unwelcome. What did surprise me was how often people approached me assuming I was Hungarian, greeting me in their language with no hesitation. It was only when I fumbled a reply or shrugged apologetically that they’d pause, realize I was a foreigner, and smile or gesture instead.

It made me feel like I blended in just enough to be seen as local — at least until I opened my mouth.

Slow Roads and Spring Blossoms in Slovakia

Crossing Into My Second New Country

After exploring Hungary’s backroads, ruins, and relics, I crossed the Danube River into Slovakia — my second new country on this trip. The crossing was quiet and uneventful, taking me from Hungary into the small Slovakian town of Komárno, which sits directly opposite its Hungarian twin city, Komárom.

Slovakia, once part of Czechoslovakia during the communist era, became its own independent country after the fall of communism and the peaceful dissolution of the federation in 1993 — what’s often referred to as the Velvet Divorce. Today, Slovakia feels like a place still shaped by those transitions.

A Landscape of Slower Rhythms and Communist Echoes

What immediately struck me about Slovakia was its slower pace. Compared to Hungary, everything felt more relaxed — even the drivers, who gave me space and didn’t seem to be racing the clock (or pushing me into a ditch).

There were also more remnants of communism on display — from decaying Soviet-style apartment blocks to stark concrete monuments and half-abandoned industrial zones scattered across the countryside. The buildings are bold and unadorned, the kind of architecture that doesn’t apologize for its existence. Some were crumbling, others repurposed, but all seemed to hum with historical weight.

Slow Travel Along the Danube

I spent much of the day driving slowly along the banks of the Danube, meandering through small villages, and pulling over whenever something caught my eye. It was spring, and the countryside was in full bloom — forests exploding with wildflowers, bees humming through open meadows, the air warm and clean.

I hiked short trails through the woods, explored quiet town squares, and wandered through abandoned structures that stood like ghosts of a different time. No crowds, no noise — just space to breathe, think, and wander.

Return to Hungary — Through Esztergom

Eventually, I crossed the Danube again — this time back into Hungary via the bridge into Esztergom, home to one of the largest and most iconic basilicas in Central Europe. I didn’t linger long in town, just long enough to take in the skyline, the domed cathedral towering above the river like a crown on a borderland.

From there, I made the final drive back to Budapest, where I would spend the night before catching a flight the next day to the Baltics — the final leg of my journey to complete every country in Europe.

Komárno, Slovakia

Old River Fort in Komárno, Slovakia that was never taken not even by the Ottomans

Ruined Communist Era Collective Farm

Old Growth Forest along Danube River

Abandoned factory made of bricks

Danube River

Danube River

Candles, lanterns and gifts were scattered along the banks of the Danube River brought by local people and presented as offerings. 

Huge communist era towers

Esztergom

Arrival in Budapest and a River of Light

The Last Stretch on the Road

After a long day of slow travel through Slovakia and a brief stop in Esztergom, the drive back to Budapest was far from relaxing. The roads were single-lane and busy, and Hungarian drivers seemed even more aggressive as I neared the capital — tailgating, flashing their lights, pushing up behind me with zero patience.

By the time I reached the city outskirts, I was mentally exhausted.

Thankfully, I had planned ahead. I purposely booked a hotel on the edge of town, far from the chaotic center, so I wouldn’t have to deal with inner-city traffic or the nightmare of finding parking. After checking in and catching my breath, I grabbed a taxi and made my way into Budapest’s old city along the banks of the Danube.

Wandering the Pearl of the Danube

From the moment I stepped out into the streets of Budapest, the energy hit me. The golden-hour light bathed the old buildings in warmth, and the cobblestone streets buzzed with life — cafés spilling out onto the sidewalks, trams rattling by, voices echoing across bridges. It was the kind of European capital that rewards aimless wandering.

I had no agenda. I just drifted — up hills, into plazas, past churches and street musicians — letting the city pull me wherever it wanted. And it didn’t disappoint.

Sunset on the Danube

The highlight of the night came just before dusk: a sunset cruise on the Danube.

For $30, including a few cocktails, I joined a small group of travelers aboard a modest cruise boat. As we drifted down the river, past illuminated bridges and under towering cathedrals, I sank into a couch-style sofa on the deck, cocktail in hand, wrapped in the hum of the water and the glow of the city.

Parliament lit up the skyline, Buda Castle watched from the heights, and the bridges glowed like necklaces linking both halves of the city. It was one of the most beautiful urban views I’ve ever seen in Europe — timeless, majestic, and deeply calming after a day on the road.

A City to End On

That night, as the boat drifted beneath the glowing Chain Bridge and the lights of Budapest shimmered across the water, it felt like the perfect close to this leg of the journey. After exploring ruins, crossing borders, navigating chaos, and chasing history, I was now drifting quietly down a river of light.

Budapest Parliament Building Along Danube River-simply stunning

Locals Relaxing on the Danube River Bridge

Old Brick Building