BUDAPEST: EDIFICE ENVY
HE SAYS:
If Vienna competed with Berlin for political and cultural
grandiosity, Budapest tried to mimic Vienna as part of the dual monarchy. Today Budapest is a poor man’s Vienna. Its buildings are grandiose, large, and
ornate, in some ways more so than in Vienna. It reminds one of the fading glories
that were once Venice’s. But Budapest, like Venice, is now like an old whore without
any makeup.
Our entrance into Budapest by boat was truly spectacular:
a gorgeous light show that lit up all the massive buildings, with their spires
and domes, along the Danube. Amazing!
Hungary, and more particularly, Budapest, is the land of my
forefathers. They were modern Orthodox Jews who went to Pittsburgh in the 1890’s.
My grandmother repudiated her Judaism when her synagogue refused her entrance
for the High Holy Days during the 1930s and couldn’t afford the ticket fees. My
mother always said that there was a status hierarchy within the European Jewish
community, with Hungarian Jews (and then German) at the top, of course; Polish
Jews were peasants. After my grandmother repudiated her Judaism she became a
communist and sold copies of The Daily Worker in front of steel mills. I cannot
escape my family history, and recently I have had to confront the reality that
in many ways I am my father’s son, too.
That was in another era, and the world, for better or
worse, has changed. But I feel no sense of exuberance or any sense of “return” as
I walk the streets and hills of Budapest. I feel nothing . I do not believe in
the American notion of “roots”, nor do I believe in hyphenated Canadians. Families
and history move on.
At that moment, Budapest is just another large city. And
the weather in Budapest that day is as hot (34C) as the chili-paprika that it
is famous for.
Budapest is really two cities: Buda and Pest. Buda is the
hilly, political, rich section of town on one side of the river, whereas Pest
is flat, newer, and middle class section of town on he other side. We go to the castle at the top
of the hill overlooking the Danube. And
where the three rivers meet there was even a flash of blue. Looking down, Buda
is on the left and Pest is on the right. It is truly a magnificent sight. I
take it in; it is a feast for the eyes, rich and lazy.
It is stinking, viciously hot. Like NYC in the summer. As
we walk across the Bastion for another overview of the city we are baked and
make our way towards a self –service restaurant. We collapse in the AC. As we
walk back I duck into a tourist store and buy three canisters of paprika and
resolve to learn something about Hungarian cooking and try some recipes.
After lunch I go off on my own since Eleanor is literally
sick and tired. I go to a memorial on the Danube River about 10 minutes from
our docked ship. It is the Shoes Memorial. It is where the Arrow Cross militia,
native Hungarian Nazis who the Germans, ironically, didn’t trust like, killed
off their political opponents – Jews, trade unionists and communists. This bank
along the Danube became the killing grounds for opponents of all ages and
creeds. The victims were forced to undress and were shot and then thrown into
the Danube; it is said that the blue Danube turned red. Today the victims’
shoes are bronzed as a memorial; the shoes are placed on top of a 20 foot
concrete retaining wall. There men and
women’s shoes; and, pathetically, the small shoes of young children. Truly a sobering and unique memorial.
Historically, Hungary’s economy was at best backward and
distorted. It was governed by an ossified landed nobility and had virtually no
middle class. Interestingly, Jews were granted full civil rights and civil
liberties by Queen Maria Theresa in 1774, before the French revolution, and a
Toleration Act was passed in 1780. Generally, Jews were well integrated into
Hungarian society. Until 1949 half of the population lived in the rural
countryside, literally without electricity or schools. It was a one city
country – Budapest.
Today Hungary, notwithstanding its membership in the EU
after the fall of the wall, is extremely right wing, autocratic, and xenophobic;
it is attempting to pursue a policy of economic autarchy. There have been a
number of high publicity trials related to the murder of Romas (Gypsies). The
native Arrow Cross movement is again on the march. The transition to a
so-called “market economy” is creating new stress points and social fissures.
The market economy is not paying dividends.
Afterwards, I decide to walk about 20-30 mins in the heat
and go to the celebrated and trendy Cafe Gerbauld (1853), where the beautiful
people now gather. This was an exercise in social stratification. The people-watching
was good. I had a $5 coffee with whipped cream but gagged on a piece of strudel
that would have cost $13. There were a few locals and some tourists, and a fair
number of Germans. What intrigued me was
the number of well- dressed young women in their mid-late 20s with seemingly
expensive wardrobes and hairdos and a definite sense of confidence and entitlement.
Sociologically, were they the daughters of the new economic elite, daughters of
former party officials, or working girls? My educated guess was that they were
well heeled frauleins on vacation,slumming it with the Slavic peasants.
We are beginning to feel “toured out”, as well as
“castled” and “churched out”. Poor us. Off to Prague, and our return to Vienna.
Ho, hum, another city….Sitting in a café watching the world go by is our idea
of a vacation. Ho, hum…
SHE SAYS:
I see that my improving health hasn’t improved someone’s
mood an awful lot, has it? Or maybe he’s
thinking back to the mood of that day, which really is mostly a fog for
me. After Bratislava, Budapest was a
breath of fresh air: blazing hot, humid fresh air, maybe, but still…
We reached port at 10:30 at night. We’d been told that sailing down the river
towards the city was the most spectacular way to be introduced to Budapest, so
most of us trooped up onto the upper deck to see the view. The entire city was lit up, highlighting the
mountainous Buda on one side and the flatter Pest on the other, with the
Parliament buildings, major cathedrals and monuments all outlined in lights. We
all snapped away with our cameras at first, then finally realized that there
was no way the photos from all but the best cameras would ever do the sight
justice, so we put the cameras away and just enjoyed the view. Truly spectacular!
The following morning, I felt worse than ever despite the
antibiotics. For the first time in my
life, literally, I had no appetite, and two days later, it still isn’t
great. Don’t tell HIM, but I consider
this a huge plus, to tell you the truth.
Maybe it’ll help balance the 2 weeks of fabulous cruise food. Stop frowning. Yes, I’m eating yogurt, fruit, and the few
vegetables that don’t make me feel as if I’m grazing. And protein, too, although
at the moment, the thought of beef or pork is repulsive. (Stop smiling,Mike. I’ll get over it. A life of beans and tofu just isn’t in my
future.) And a bite or two of all these
fabulous desserts is enough; I leave the rest, along with the whipped cream
mountains, for Dr. D.
I managed the air conditioned bus tour of the city, but
found a shady spot to sit for most of the walking part, appreciated the café
stop for a cold lemonade at the end, and headed for bed as soon as we made it
back to the boat, falling asleep to dire warnings of the doctor I’d be forced
to see in Prague. Not surprisingly, I
guess, I had a terrible dream about a Czech-speaking surgeon who couldn’t
understand what I was saying and was preparing to operate to remove…what? A
cough gland? I don’t know, since I don’t
speak an awful lot of Czech, but somehow I knew that his hospital didn’t
believe in anaesthetic. Luckily, my
coughing woke me up before the surgery began.
As much as I hated to, I even skipped the last dinner and
a chance for a final farewell to the great group of people we’d enjoyed eating
dinner with since the beginning of the tour.
I’ll do it by email when I get home, or maybe I’ve already done it by
writing this. You guys were great!
Next morning as soon as I opened my eyes (and coughed for
a while) I realized that Dr. D’s amazing pills were working. I don’t claim a miraculous instant cure, but
the fog was definitely lifting enough for me to block out more doctor threats,
finish packing, eat a small breakfast, and settle in for our 7 (!) hour bus
transfer to Prague. The 22 others who
were going on to Prague were the ones who complained that the large
toilet-equipped luxury coach we’d been promised had somehow morphed into an
older, more cramped bus without even a chamber pot. This was the first time on the entire trip
that we were disappointed (see how polite I am?) in Viking? We’ll be registering our displeasure when we
get home. I, for one, was ordered by 3
doctors (2 medical and Dr. D) and one nurse to drink plenty of fluids. Why would I knowingly do something like that
when the next toilet is 2 hours away? The
tour rep promised regular “comfort” stops, and the others grumbled along with
the good doctor while I settled in for a lovely day of sleeping and coughing
out of the sun in air conditioned semi-comfort.
The journey
continues….
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