Farewell to Budapest, Hungary

After our full month of glorious travel, we returned to Budapest for our flight home. We got in at 6pm Saturday and our plane left on Monday morning. We needed to repack everything and say goodbye to Budapest, a city we had been to often and grown to love. Of all the European cities, it is the one we feel the most comfortable in. I’m sure the reason is that we know it the best. We know how to get around and feel safe here.

I did some last shopping for gifts despite the fact that our suitcases were straining. Tom returned our rental car. We had no one to say goodbye to at this point. We just needed to bid Hungary goodbye. We walked along the Danube at night and strolled the streets and squares one last time. But mainly we ate.

Yes, we made reservations at Bock Bistro for Saturday night. Although we had eaten often at Bock Bistro in Villanyi, we had never eaten at their new restaurant in Budapest; it was wonderful. The interior looks exactly like a French bistro, or I was reminded of New Orleans. Tile floors, wooden tables with white linen, shelves stocked with wine, and a man in the corner playing the accordion. Nothing overly formal. I was excited to be back to Hungarian wine and behaved accordingly.

Notice the clean platters and chewed over lamb bones. And the smile of contentment.

As if one night of gluttony wasn’t enough, we went for two. Our final night we returned to our favorite Budapest restaurant, Borsso Bistro, one we took all of our visitors to.

Tom and I sat outside on a warm evening and both ate monumentally good duck with Thai spring-roll ravioli and ginger mash potatoes. We just looked at one another in disbelief. How did we get to be so lucky?

We have had quite the journey through Central Europe and most of all Hungary, a country with a whole lotta soul.

Somehow the next morning we got all of our luggage to the airport and back to San Luis Obispo

And we are delighted to have returned to our family, friends, and our little Dilsey dog.

Vienna

This beautiful city was our last touring stop before going back to Budapest. We had heard what a magnificent city it was and it did not disappoint. The Danube is not a central feature in Vienna like it is in Prague and Budapest. The Innere Stadt or central city district, a UNESCO World Heritage site, is not built around the river. The area is filled with numerous museums, the Stephansdom (gothic cathedral), the Hofburg palace (the base for the Habsburgs for six centuries), and parliament.

The first day we spent touring the Schloss Schonbrunn, a magnificent palace commissioned by Leopold I and used by Franz Joseph I and Empress Elisabeth. We toured the apartments, reception rooms, ballroom, Chinese Rooms, Million Room (because it cost a million to decorate), and the sumptuous gardens.

It was also extremely hot, and I spent much of my time wondering how the women went around in their corsets, petticoats, and long, heavy dresses. No wonder they didn’t move and had ladies in waiting dress them.

The chief highlights for me were the art museums. The Kunsthistorisches Museum is one of Europe’s finest art museums and I had never heard of it. We went straight to the floor to see paintings by Bruegel, Durer, Rubens, Titan, Raphael, and Caravaggio among others. One whole gallery room displayed Bruegels, one of my very favorites. I spent an hour in that room alone looking at Hunters in the Snow and The Tower of Babel for example.

The Leopold Museum was another surprise. It displays a collection of 19 and 20^th century Austrian art. We went because I wanted to see Gustav Klimt. Tod and Leben or Death and Life is displayed there. Klimt is the only Austrian painter I really know.

The primary Austrian artist featured at the Leopold is Egon Schiele, a provocative painter who died young from the Spanish flu in 1918 after serving in WWI. His paintings were a revelation to me. His sketches were in the basement and his paintings on the ground floor. Schiele lived in Cesky Krumlov for a while (a Czech town we loved) and painted it several times. See what you think of his paintings.

One evening we attended a concert in the Hofburg. A small orchestra and opera singers entertained us and a packed house with Mozart and Strauss. It’s hard to top Strauss’ Viennese waltzes while in Vienna. We spent three days in Vienna and felt as if we could spend more. We were bathed in art, history, and culture.

Lake Balaton

As I am sure most everyone has figured out by now, Tom and I have returned home to California. It is wonderful being home. To feel complete with our Hungarian adventure, I have to post two more entries about our last week abroad: Lake Balaton and Vienna.

From the Danube Bend above Budapest, Tom and I drove to Lake Balaton to meet Gyozo and Andrea and their three kids. Gyozo represents a shoe company and is the businessman whom Tom accompanied to Romania.

We have gotten together with them often in Pecs. They spend their summers at a cottage on Lake Balaton, one her father built.

Lake Balaton is the largest lake in Europe and is the resort area for Hungarians. We also learned that the lake was a popular meeting place during the communist era for families from East Germany and West Germany because they could both travel there.

Gyozo and Andrea had booked us in a hotel where several Hungarians stayed with their families for a week or so. The hotel provided “half board”; they served breakfast and dinner. We felt slightly self-conscious because we were clearly not locals and appeared as intruders into this cozy Hungarian beach scene. Our English, manner, and dress give us away.

Everyone went around in bathing suits, no cover-ups, and I was struck by the different attitude toward the body. Many Hungarians are overweight (because of the high fat diet), yet no effort is made to cover the body. There is no evidence of shame or preoccupation with the body. Huge grandmas and grandpas go around in two piece suits and speedos. My one piece suit and Tom’s long leg suit were a novelty. Maybe Tom and I are not typical of American culture (perhaps more Southern culture), but I envied the Hungarian matter of fact attitude about the body as just a body, no residual puritan self-consciousness or the counter-response—preening and calling attention to it. In Hungary and probably all of Europe, it is what it is.

We kept noticing how everyone gathered up beach paraphernalia and headed down a path to the lake every morning. We walked down the path at dusk and were surprised to see that it ended on a very small wooden dock with metal steps leading down into the lake. No sand, no beach, no place to lay out. Only water surrounded by water reeds. Where was everyone going? The only option was in the water. The water stayed shallow for about a half a mile, I swear.

And it was cold, we thought. Nevertheless, everyone had a ball. The kids walked to the lake, played, got out, and simply walked back. No towels, no drying off.

We had a wonderful time visiting with our Hungarian friends. They grilled for us, and we sat around on beach chairs in their backyard chatting. I especially enjoyed talking with their children and listening to their attitudes toward Hungary. They complained a lot about how things don’t work and seem discouraged with their country. They also reported being tired of all the references to their tragic history: those days were over. Although impatience with the past is typical for this age, we did wonder how much this Hungarian generation would be willing to fight to make changes. We worry that many will just try to leave. These kids are very bright and have been provided with lots of opportunities and loving parents. Tom and I look forward to following their life paths.

This family became dear to us and we will miss them.

Danube Bend

We returned to Hungary. After our travels to Slovenia, Czech Republic, and Slovakia, we arrived back where we started, to a country that we have come to love. It’s not more beautiful than the other places we have visited, but this is the European country where we have made our friends and discovered a sense of place.

The one area that we had not visited was the Danube Bend, where the famous river curves around north of Budapest and makes a bend, thus the name.

From Kocise, Slovakia, we drove to and stayed in Szentendre, labeled as an artist colony. Arriving on Sunday evening, we saw people out strolling on the embankment above the Danube. Lots of families as well as lovers. Everyone seemed to be outside.

We didn’t have a reservation, the first time that we had done this. We decided that we would be spontaneous and see if we could luck out and find some perfect hideaway in this little town. After driving down a couple of quaint streets, we began to feel that this wasn’t going to happen and thus quickly consulted our Lonely Planet. So much for winging it. Locating Matthias Rex, one of the recommendations, we walked in at 6:30pm and asked if they had a room. The clerk didn’t seem to know. Fortunately, they did and this cute clerk, who clearly wanted to practice his English, became our best friend.

We joined the others strolling down the pedestrian walkway and the Danube. I hate to confess this, but the Danube looks like Bayou Teche in Lafayette, Louisiana, small and brown, yet people walk along the flowered sidewalk as if they are strolling the Seine. Something about water brings people outdoors; no matter what the size of the river or lake, people want to be near it. Yes, people settled near water for practical reasons, but they go outside to walk along, lie down, or picnic near it. We have noticed this everywhere we have been. It’s a human and communal ritual, so we joined.

Two important places exist along the Danube Bend: Visegrad and Esztergom, both important to Hungary’s history. First we went to the Visegrad Citadel, sitting atop a 350 meter hill, a very commanding defensive post. We walked along the ramparts and took in spectacular views of the Danube as it twists down below.

Next we drove to Esztergom about 66 kilometers north of Budapest and not far from the Slovakian border. Hungary’s first king, St. Stephen, who was responsible for uniting the seven tribes of Hungary, was born here. For a few centuries Esztergom is the place where the kings were coronated.

For over a thousand years the city has also served as the seat of Roman Catholicism. The highest ranking cleric is the archbishop of Esztergom and the basilica is the largest church in Hungary. As we drove into the city, we could see the colossal cathedral dome from a distance.

Two things of note: the painting above the altar and the treasury. Above the main altar hangs the world’s largest painting on a single canvas, a copy of Titian’s Assumption.

Also we spent quite a bit of time in awe of the contents of the cathedral’s treasury. The ecclesiastical relics, vestments, chalices, and other liturgical treasures were a testament to the wealth and artistry devoted to the Catholic Church over the centuries.

High Tetras – Stary Smokovec

If Carol had not given a paper at the Husse Conference when we first arrived, we would not have met Zsuzsa and if we not met Zsuzsa, we would never have had a desire to visit the High Tetras. She is from Slovakia and told us of the wonderful hiking and scenery in the mountains of the north eastern part of Slovakia. Carol and I decided to take a look for ourselves. Zsuzsa recommended a few hotels that we checked out on line and decided on the Grand Hotel. In its prime, it was certainly a “Grand Hotel.”

It is a little dated, but the staff is very helpful and friendly, and the building suggests the former grandeur. The rooms were spacious, with a balcony, very clean and comfortable. The hotel itself has an enormous bar area, a really formal dining room, a pool table, and a new wellness center.

The town of Stary Smokovec and the surrounding communities cater to the ski crowd in the winter and the hikers in the summer. We took a funicular up to the trailhead of a very rocky trail that led us to some waterfalls and then after about two hours of walking to a ski lift that gave us a ride down the mountain. There were a large number of hikers of all shapes, sizes, fitness levels, and all types of gear. There were families out for a day stroll and hard core backpackers who were going to go up into the mountains for a night or two.

A short tram ride back to our hotel, and we were ready to explore the wellness center. There was a soaking pool, whirlpool, cold dunk, dry sauna, wet sauna, and a room with tile covered lounge chairs and a starry night ceiling. All very nice and modern and obviously built to attract the after ski crowd. There were not many people taking advantage of the facilities and we enjoyed then immensely.

After two nights at the Grand, we got up to drive the three hours to Kosice to meet up with Zsuzsa and her boyfriend, Giovanni, who had come to visit her from his home in Sardenia. However, on the way, Carol found in the Lonely Planet that we would be going very close to Spis Castel. Since it had been a couple of days since our last castle visit, we naturally stopped to have a look. This is an enormous complex and it is tourist friendly with an informative audioguide and great views.

The really neat thing about our flexible itinerary is that we did not have a castle viewing planned for the day but took advantage of the sights on our route.

Anyway, in Kocise, we had a fun evening with Zsuzsa and Giovanni and left the next morning for our temporary home country, Hungary.

Random Observations about the Czech Republic (with ancillary comparisons to Hungary)

More castles than any sane person could possibly visit. All impressive. Why does the Czech Republic have so many? It seems like many more than Hungary.

Czechs love beer and produce lots of great beer. The people also support their indigenous industry. For the first time in my life, I asked Tom if it were beer o’clock. The Czech make some wonderful dark beer, not too heavy. We saw many a Czech drinking beer before noon; some for breakfast.

Okay, this is one to ponder. The Czech people don’t seem as full-bodied as the Hungarians. Go figure. They drink beer.

We can’t find bakeries selling wonderful bread and pastries. In Hungary there is one on every block. Now I am seeing a connection--you love bread, you be big.

The Hungarian towns also have many more bookstores.

We witnessed so many Hungarian students and young people carrying around instruments on their way to lessons or class. Everyone plays a musical instrument.

The Czech Republic appeared a little more prosperous to us. I don’t know if this is true. The people that you see on the streets in Prague and other small towns dress better and appear happier to the casual observer. Maybe it is that we got to know Hungarian culture more intimately and had more conversations, but they look more serious and downhearted on the whole. They are very thoughtful, not casual or superficial. Life seems harder for them.

Prague is a mecca of tourists. Hordes of people, lots of energy. Budapest feels different. It is beautiful, but in a different way than Prague. It has the majestic Danube and impressive squares and buildings. Some how it is a messier culture as the graffiti attests, but it goes beyond appearances. Its history speaks more of tragic past and people holding on to their national pride while fearing the worse/the future. They are not an optimistic bunch and understandably so. Prague has some public humor as well. Look at this statue appropriately named "Piss" that is right outside the Kafka Museum.

In Budapest we saw the efforts to attract tourists with the National Gallup and other huge events. Often they got rained on despite all the efforts. Prague doesn’t do anything. She’s like an old broad who knows she’s got it.

She also sells herself out on occasion. For example, the music that is offered to tourists in Prague is not the two hour and half hour concert of serious classical music. Hawkers pass out leaflets at many churches and other venues for a sixty minute concert of Vivaldi, Pachabel, and perhaps a little Mozart or the Brandenburg concerto. We went to two of these concerts: one at St. Nicholas Church and the other at the famous art deco Municipal House. The first concert at 6pm was billed as a choir singing with the old organ and included the program. We knew how long the program would last and frankly it was a draw. Go get a little culture and then time for daily hedonism of drink and dinner, all of which I am in favor of and enjoy not having to choose between my culture and my hedonism.

We were disappointed with the concert because it consisted of 18 singers (three with wonderful voices) and a small antique organ, not the cathedral’s massive organ that we had anticipated filling the cathedral and our lungs. We did enjoy the acoustics. The voices continued to ascend upward to the dome long after their lips closed.

Our second concert was billed as members of the Prague Royal Orchestra; there were twelve with no conductor. They did a mediocre to bad Pachabel and Mozart. Then a violin soloist from the Royal Orchestra came out and performed Vivaldi’s Four Season and the Brandenburg concerto, all crowd pleasers. He salvaged the evening as did the spectacular concert hall.

I have mixed feelings about the concerts. In Hungary there is no artistic compromise; they do the whole damn thing. I admire this. Prague knows what the tourist wants and gives it to them. We could have gone to a concert any night of the week, several compete against one another. For the choir, there were probably thirty people. For the other concert, the first thirty rows of reserved, expensive seats were barely occupied and then the seven rows of open seating were relatively full.

In Salzburg, I should mention that we saw a fabulous concert at the Mirabel Schloss (palace) that consisted of only a pianist and violinist who played magnificently for an hour and half. The two of them provided the whole experience and they were magnificent.

First Bad Day

Tom and I packed up our stuff in the apartment in Prague on a fairly timely basis (for me that is). I was ready and packed at 10am. Tom had already made one luggage trip to the illegally parked car down below. He came up to get me and the last load. He grabbed the suitcase, I snatched up the rest, and we walked out the door with my slamming it behind us. Tom said, “Did you get the key?” “No, I thought you had it…. No problem, they will have one at reception.” To make a long story short, they had to call a locksmith at our expense. We were delayed an hour.

We then set off to Kutna Hora, an old silver mining town, with a beautiful cathedral, the Cathedral of St. Barbara, the patron saint of the miners.

It was one of those jaw dropping cathedrals because of its height. You walk in and the vaults are meters above you.

We were glad that we made the detour to Kutna Hora even though we got very lost trying to get into town. Our friend Gyoso, the Hungarian businessman with whom Tom went to Romania, loaned us his GPS. This whole car trip would have been a disaster without it. Getting into old historic towns with small one-way streets and finding a small pension in the old city center is a nightmare. Our GPS, who is now our travelling companion and nicknamed ZsaZsa (thanks to our friend Kathryn) cannot navigate us through these areas very well. So imagine, a driver, a semi-navigator with a map, Zsazsa, and road construction with signs in a foreign language. Not pretty.

We got badly turned around and lost twice trying to get to places around Kutna Hora. It happened again getting out of town—you would think a simple task, but no. Our destination was a chapel that was supposed to be five minutes away, but for us an hour. I jumped out of the car at one point because I was convinced we were driving the wrong way. I jumped out because I spotted this lonely Czech man ambling leisurely down the sidewalk. This is always a mistake because they know no English and I know no Czech, yet we talk to one another as if the other understood. He gestured vehemently and spoke louder to make sure I understood. The one thing we did find out from him was that we were going the wrong way. It was one of those experiences where we circled our destination several times.

Again well worth the aggravation. Tom and I both said that we had never seen anything like it—the Sedlec Ossuary. Part of the problem was that all of the signs said Kostnice, which means ossuary in Czech. This small Bohemian chapel was overrun during the plague with bodies, and the cemetery couldn’t keep up. People began to just throw bodies on the other grave sites until eventually bones began to pile up. In 1870 the aristocratic Schwarzenberg family bought the chapel and asked a local woodcarver named Rint to design something with the bones. He had the bones of no fewer than 40,000 people. The result is astonishing: bone crests, bone chandeliers, a Schwartzberg coat of arms, crosses and four huge bone pyramids.

Oh, I forgot to mention our stop for a quick bite for lunch that turned into a hot stay on a sun-backed terrace while the chef ran out for groceries. We are lucky that we haven’t encountered many aggravations, and we have made a concerted effort not to be ugly Americans (as Tom referenced in his rant). Even given a run of bad luck, we still saw some incredible things.