Up and down the Danube with CEO István Csanády
There is Buda and there is Pest. Two cities joined into one to become Budapest. Pronounce it boo-da-pesht.
We are getting a tour of Budapest—and an education on the city—from István Csanády, CEO and founder of Shapr3D, who shows us the city of his birth. “Live in Buda and work in Pest,” he tells us. My daughter and I are visiting at Shapr3D’s invitation. Buda is less developed, has more trees, and is less crowded, and across the Danube, is Pest, which is more commercial and more expensive.
A mostly walking tour of Pest and Buda follow. We see the Palace, the Parliament building (“it’s on every picture of Budapest”), the Danube and from the middle of one of the bridges (“my favorite place in the whole city”) as well as several statues of heroes and villains and grand churches. The perspective and insight of a local guide is priceless.
Normally, this place would be packed with tourists, says Csanády of the Palace grounds and in reference to the time before the pandemic. Can we say we are lucky? The word doesn’t seem to fit. We move on.
With every step, the blank spot on a map is filled in. Where has Budapest been all our lives? How has it escaped our attention, been ignored on countless trips to other European capitals—like Prague.
No comparison, says Csanády. Prague is smaller. Not so vibrant … it’s older. It is Ralph Grabowski’s favorite city. It makes sense.
The city’s history unfurls before us. So much to learn, so much territory lost—failed revolutions, much death and torture. The Terror House Museum is recommended.
Hungary used to be much bigger, Csanády says. In the 5th century, Atilla the Hun ruled a large part of Eastern Europe, including modern-day Hungary. The relationship between Huns and Hungarians is complicated. The country’s name is a compound of Hun and ungrai—the ancient people east of the Urals. Skipping ahead many a century, Hungary ceded over 70 percent of its territory after finding itself on the losing side of the First World War.
We used to have the mountains all around us—now we are left with a few hills, says Csanády. Budapest and Vienna were the capitals of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and Budapest was once the fastest growing city in Europe. During the next World War, Budapest was shot and bombed into submission by Nazi Germany, then bombed by the Allies to rid the country of Nazis.
You can dig the bullets out of the walls in the city, says Csanády. We see pockmarks and bullet holes on the exterior walls of buildings.
Only in Budapest were the buildings restored to their original design after the bombs were dropped, we are told. Every other city—Berlin, London—buildings were razed and rebuilt as modern buildings. We see examples of bricks replacing stones that were missing after the bombing, preserving the shape of the original buildings.
The city is no longer worried about bombs, unlike every other city in Europe and the U.S. that lives under constant threat of terrorism. We walk inside what would surely be blast radius of several government buildings. No one questions us. No bags are searched, no streets are fenced off. I count fewer than 10 police officers during all of that Sunday.
“We don’t care about terrorism,” says Csanády. I knock on wood.
There is so much to see that lunch is delayed until after 2 p.m. That’s fine. We’ve had part of a chimney cake each. It’s a traditional cake. So good, Csanády says, who orders one for my daughter Elaine and me but says he is saving his appetite.
We find out why over lunch. Csanády has been waiting to Gettó Gulyás and to his joy, it has paprikash. “The paprikash is as good my mother’s,” he says. We have bone marrow on toast for a starter. Then lamb paprikash with noodles for Csanády and me and a mushroom paprikash for Elaine. What could we do? Paprika must be in every Hungarian food. It just might be the law. They have five different types of paprika, each with a different heat and different flavor. We have glasses of wine because the beer is “no good” [compared to craft beers that are now in vogue]. The English description of dessert (cottage cheese ball with crunchy breadcrumbs and sour cream sauce) fails to do it justice. It is delicious.
Hungarian wine is favored in Hungary over all others. “We don’t care what the French say,” says Csanády. It is good enough and surprisingly inexpensive. Our foray to the supermarket (for research purposes, only) looks expensive (the Hungarian unit of currency, the forint, has an incomprehensible number of zeroes) but converts to all of $2 for bottles on the lowest store shelf. We wonder if Trader Joe’s “Two Buck Chuck” was Hungarian. We are advised to get bottles on the higher shelves, which top out at about $10.
Over lunch, we find that Csanády gets into food and cooking. Why are we so surprised? A lot of Hungarian men cook, he says. And him especially.
“It’s a creative process. And it’s not like software. You have to wait for feedback from users. With food, you know instantly.”
Csanády travels a lot—or at least he used to, before the pandemic.
“We fly on WizzAir. I was flying to London for 10 bucks, he says.
The city is a haven for dogs, and Hungary has several of their own dog breeds. Mark Zuckerberg made the Budapest news when he swooped into town to pick up a Puli, a Hungarian sheepdog, a couple of years ago.
The cheap European travel and a dog-friendly culture almost makes Elaine cancel her return flight—until she hears that nurses make a pittance. “You make more in private practice,” says Csanády, wary of losing the sale.
Indeed, Budapest is one of the great undiscovered capitals of Europe. Or are we just missing traveling, as is Csanády? The river is not blue, but it’s not dirty. The sidewalks are clean and uncrowded. The food is fantastic and multicultural. And we like Americans, says Csanády, quite genuinely.
It’s the British that Csanády has a difficulty welcoming. Not all the Brits, mind you, just the few—the loud and the drunk, the ones who come for bachelor parties, who chain themselves to dwarves. Dwarves? Chains? What? Apparently, dwarves are a key component of a “stag do.” A Google search reveals that this practice is alarmingly commonplace with UK companies offering stag dos with drinking, strippers and dwarves. You pay per dwarf, per hour of his (we did not see females involved) time handcuffed to your wrist. They go “everywhere with you, even to the lavatory,” says one website.
Csanády says the VC game in Budapest is weak. He wants nothing to do with them. He has raised over $12 million in capital, a recent $6 million from Sweden’s Creandum and Germany’s Point Nine Capital. Budapest investors favor companies that make products for Hungary. Csanády has set his sights on a far greater market.
While there is no CAD blood in his veins or in his education (he has a master’s degree in software technology), Csanády has nevertheless seized on CAD as his opportunity. CAD has tremendous staying power, he says. Compare CAD to messaging apps. We have Slack, WeChat, Snapchat, WhatsApp … whatever.… every one is replaced with another every couple of years. They take no time to learn, no money to buy. Users are not invested in them. It’s not like CAD. CAD takes years to learn. Users stay loyal.
So, Csanády has taken on the challenge, taking on CAD—one class of applications—for its staying power. He is prepared for the years of growth of the vine—before the grapes can make wine. It takes seven years, he says, for both wine and CAD. PTC and SOLIDWORKS are offered as examples.
About Shapr3D
Shapr3D has 120 employees after a big expansion and plans to have 200 employees by 2022. All of the Shapr3D’s current employees have been called back to its expanded, Euro-chic headquarters in the heart of Budapest. COVID may have flared up elsewhere, but “85 percent of Budapest is vaccinated.” Indeed, we see masks only on tourists and health care workers administering COVID tests.
Despite Budapest being a bargain as far as the cost of living and visiting, and wages being commensurate, software engineers, with their much sought-after skills, command world-class salaries. A software engineer can make as much in Budapest as almost anywhere, says Csanády. Shapr3D scours for talent worldwide, relocates them, and intends to keep them. The company has hired developers from Argentina, India and Brazil.
“It is best when you hire several from one country,” he explains. “They can talk to each other. They won’t get homesick.”
English is the common language in the office. It has to be. It’s the only language everyone knows.
Speaking English does not tax Csanády. He is a fluent speaker … as are most of the Hungarians we have met.
Competing on an international level for talent takes considerable effort for Shapr3D. “We have six full-time people who do nothing but recruit.”
With lunch over, we head back to the hotel. Our taxi driver’s first name is Atilla.
