As we mentioned before, we had intended to take one of those deluxe river cruise ships as our transportation for the next leg of our trip from Budapest to Bucharest. But it was cancelled when low water levels in the Danube exposed numerous explosives-laden Nazi ships that they scuttled in the river to block the advancing Red Army.
Then Carolyn quickly found an interesting back-country route to Bucharest with Intrepid Travel, and we booked it. We had never taken an organized tour before, other than a few local day tours, and we had no idea what to expect. It was an appealing idea that did not involve a large group traveling on a large bus and only staying at 5-star hotels. The description sounded like the kind of funky thing we might have cobbled together ourselves, with the added flavor of various local homestay lodgings in out-of-the-way places.
But would we be stuck with a bunch of weird and complaining people that we didn’t even like? We took the chance that it would work out, and we signed on. And we were very pleasantly surprised, as it was better than we imagined. We had joined a flexible group of interesting, curious, and seasoned travelers somewhat like ourselves. Plus, we had a very knowledgable and well educated Bulgarian guide named Sando who shared his deep understanding of Eastern European history. There were three Kiwis, a couple of Aussies, one Yank, two sorta-Mexicans (us) and a Brit lady, actually from Wales, who amazed us with incomprehensibly long Welsh words and sayings. So the whole thing began with all the makings of a fine group of story-spinners not unlike that motley group of pilgrims in The Canterbury Tales. Plus a Bulgarian tossed into the stew for flavor.
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After a quick meet-up with Sando and our merry crew members we get a good night’s rest at the centrally-located City Hotel Budapest (our fourth hotel in BP!). It’s a comfortable and stylish 3-star place with a good bed, and in the morning a good Euro-style breakfast. Red is the trademark color of the hotel chain, and the staff all wear bright red suspenders and tennies.
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We were ready for our first tour day—a good long walk through Budapest to numerous sites we hadn’t had the time for yet. It’s a big and complex city. But Sando had gotten his Master’s Degree in cultural anthropology at the well-regarded Central European University before they relocated to Vienna, and he knew the many alleys and back streets we had somehow missed. And he knew the complicated history of invasions and re-invasions over the millennia that have gotten us to the current exotic stew we call Europe. As he related the vast European story, I recalled that Ruskin once said in relation to America that “a melting pot is naught but a tasteless stew.” That’s not a problem in Europe.
We make our way past several imposing statues to the impressive Parliament building, which stands along the banks of the Danube and is a highly visible landmark from the Buda heights just across the river. There’s even a statue to commemorate the Soviet Army for freeing Hungary from the Nazis, although it looks more like Hercules, I guess, strangling the Lernaean Hydra—his second task of the twelve he was assigned. I’m not sure where ‘cleaning the Augean Stables’ might fit into the whole Euro-narrative, but there must be a way…
Among our stops is a sobering display of photos and old luggage placed near the Antifascist Monument as a remembrance of the many Jews who were transported from here by the Nazis and their allies. It’s heartbreaking to see their pictures, their bright hopeful faces from family gatherings, the young children with dreams of the future, who were forced into cattle cars to be murdered somewhere in a distant land. Among the pictures is one of Raoul Wallenberg, the Swedish diplomat who risked his life, along with Carl Lutz, Giorgio Perlasca, Tibor Baranski and others, to save thousands of Jews from the Auschwitz trains. The Jewish tradition, we’re told several times during our visit, is to place rocks and pebbles at memorials to symbolize their origins as desert-dwelling peoples where flowers were a rarity.
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At lunchtime Sando whisks us off to the Karavan, a crowded and funky-cool food court off a back alley. The Lady’s Room door is artfully decorated with a stone-encrusted mermaid and it’s hard to miss.
Carolyn grabs a place to sit, and I join a line for a heaping chicken ‘Budapest lângos’ to share. It’s a sort of fry-bread bun (comfort food for New Mexico folks!) that’s loaded with goodies. And it was more than enough for the two of us!
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In the afternoon a visit to the city’s magnificent Great Synagogue on quiet Dohány Street gives us much more to contemplate.
The Holocaust Tree of Life Memorial (by Imre Varga, 1991) is a metallic ‘weeping willow’ in the courtyard, with the names of thousands of Nazi victims etched onto the leaves. (NB: In Hungarian custom, the last name is listed first.)
Other markers inform us that Theodore Herzl, the founder of modern political Zionism who advocated for a Jewish state in Palestine, was born here in Budapest, and the small square (‘tér’ in Hungarian) that fronts the Synagogue is named for him.
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After such a deep and intense tour of the city, it’s time to return to the hotel and reflect on our personal good fortune. And then to contemplate a glass of rich Hungarian red over a delicious dinner at a very good nearby bistro named Sophie.
We follow dinner with a nighttime walk, then pause at the alluring windows of a high-end design shop. In a whimsical moment we consider how we’d furnish an imaginary apartment in central Budapest. There’s something about a warm summer night, and the wine, that brings forth such thoughts.
And then it’s onward to the city’s nearby and beautifully lit Opera house, followed by a peek at the eye-catching art in the Freyler Gallery. Yes, most of those pieces would go nicely in our imaginary Budapest apartment.
And finally we’re treated to the sight of a late Sunday night crew of burly guys delivering a grand piano to the Opera Zongoraterem (Piano Room), whose showroom is replete with Steinways and the like. It’s hard to top that kind of entertainment as a way to end the night!
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Eger
In the morning, we roll our bags to a nearby bus stop (no fancy coaches on an Intrepid Tour!) and make our way to the grand old Keleti train station. We’re off to Eger next, to northern Hungary and one of the country’s best-known wine districts.
We pass modest homes and villages and an occasional repurposed old railroad car. Miles of fertile croplands pass outside our window, a scene that looks like the richest farmland in the central states of the US.
Much of the crop has been harvested as fall approaches and some of the land has already been plowed and planted with a ‘green manure’ crop, such as clover or other legumes that can loosen the soil and add nitrogen for a good crop next year. The farmers may have modern equipment these days, but it’s the same land that their ancestors planted centuries ago and that they’ve fought for against numerous invaders in the past, stretching back to distant antiquity and the more recent Migration Period that followed the collapse of the Roman Empire. Such an abundance of crops makes it hard to imagine that world hunger can even exist, although we realize the farmers just across the adjacent Ukrainian border are enduring Russian atrocities while we’re traveling so closely nearby.
Eger is a charming small town (pop. apx 50,000) of winding narrow cobblestone lanes that probably haven’t changed much in the past few centuries. Except for the Beatles Museum, which none of us had an interest in visiting. The old minaret—with a cross on top!—is just outside the front door of our hotel, and the castle walls are visible from the window of our modest room.
The day is still young when we arrive, and there’s plenty of fine wandering to do as Sando fills us in on the long and conflicted history and numerous invasions of northern Hungary, and the need to build such fortifications as the one just up the hill from us. We make our way through the winding alleys to a fine eatery serving traditional fare in a stone courtyard.
Then it’s time to follow the alleys leading upward to the castle for a fine view over the city, with dramatic clouds building in the distance. The construction of the castle itself was ‘inspired’ by the 13th century invasion of the Mongols, who inspired numerous other such works throughout Eastern Europe. And in 1552, local hero István Dobó defended Eger here with a force of only 2,100 against an Ottoman army of 80,000.
On our way back from the castle we’re reminded that this is wine country and there are numerous purveyors of the region’s finest products—if we only had a way to carry a case or two for the next couple of months while traveling by trains and buses through the Balkans.
After a needed nap, it’s time for a good dinner and a trip to the famous Valley of Beautiful Women where we’ll be plied with some of the best local wines.
The regularly-scheduled city bus fails to appear, so Sando commandeers an open sided jitney that jostles its way to the Valley without any of us falling out onto the road. And there we meet a handsome young man from the winery who manages quite well to keep the attention of the ladies in our group as he explains the finer points of winemaking, including the region’s famous rich red Bull’s Blood.
I haven’t managed the time to translate the framed extensive commentary and map that was hanging on the cellar wall, but it seems to discuss Hungary’s greedy neighboring countries who are constantly trying to rip away various regions that are clearly Hungarian. That’s my take, anyway.
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Debrečen
We start the morning with a good breakfast and time to check our email, then we’re off to Debrečen in a nice chartered Mercedes van, with our very own, and multilingual, Bulgarian in the front passenger seat to discuss things with the driver.
As we cross the fertile Great Plain of Hungary on our way to the Romanian border, we pass, of course, even more sunflowers awaiting the harvest. It’s now the last day of August and the golden leaves on some of the trees tell us that fall is not far away.
Along the way we cross the upper end of Lake Tisza, the largest artificial lake in the country. It’s a shallow lake with an average depth of only 1.3m (4’3”) that was constructed as a flood control project but has since been colonized by nature into a diverse ecology that’s now a national park and UNESCO site. It’s also a popular recreation site and tourist destination, and the town of Tiszafüred (füred = spa) is a popular attraction.
The section of the lake that we pass seems to be a rice farming area, and Hungarian scientists are working to find a strain that will do well in Central Europe. But according to Statista, all of the top 10 producers are in the warmer parts of Asia, with India and China in first and second place. And together they produce as much as the other eight top producers combined. So it’s probably hard to compete on the international mark, and maybe the apparent rice crop is left in the paddies as a food source to support the local ecology, and the recreational fishing industry.
On our way we pass a Lada dealer, named for the Slavic goddess of beauty, love, and marriage. I recall seeing a Lada Sputnik in St Petersburg back in the 1980s and I wasn’t aware the brand was still being sold. It would have been fun to stop and check out the latest Lada Niva models, as “the longest production run off-road light vehicle still manufactured in its original form” (according to Wikipedia) since it was initiated in 1971 by Premier Alexei Kosygin to provide a suitable car for rural villagers and farmers in the Soviet Union. And maybe they have a Taiga or Cossack model in stock.
Debrecen will be only a stopover on our war to the nearby Romanian border, so we clamber out of the van to see as much as we can of this wealthy bastion of Protestantism on the Great Plain.
On the main plaza we’re greeted by the gorgeous classical facade of the Grand Hotel Aranybika, and a playful Gaudi-esque fountain that spews streams of bubbly foamy water into the air. And just beyond the fountain’s central eagle sculpture looms the famous Great Church, the largest Protestant church in Hungary.
This is the second-largest city in Hungary, and it has been dubbed the ’Calvinist Rome’ since shortly after Martin Luther nailed his Ninety-five Theses to the church door in Wittenberg back in 1517. The Lutherans adopted a ‘high church’ approach to religion that included a reasonable amount of decoration in their churches, although somewhat less than the Catholics. But the more austere beliefs of Calvinism seem to have influenced the interior design of the Great Church, which was built in 1822 and seats 3,000 people.
There’s time to wander for a bit before we board the van again. Ample time to encounter a whimsical statue by a lamppost and a pretty umbrella-shaded side street where Carolyn finds an outdoors store. She’s looking for a hefty carabiner to attach her jacket to her side pack, but they don’t have that sort of gear. And soon it’s back to the van for the next leg of our Intrepid trip, to the border and the villages of Northern Romania.
Join us there in our next post! — PRW