Budapest
September 11, 2010
We attended an opera in Budapest this evening--the extra silly Barber of Seville--and it was a brain shocker to be there after spending much of the afternoon in the Holocaust Museum near a temple where the remnants of Budapest’s once thriving Jewish population congregate. I thought about how many of those accomplished, educated and successful citizens, fully integrated into Hungarian society in the early 20th century, must have attended operas in this gorgeous, opulent, gold leaf encrusted building, enjoying interesting lives in a cosmopolitan city. And I kept seeing in mind’s eye film footage someone had taken, now displayed over and over at the museum, of thousands of the city’s Jews walking toward the train station and their transportation to Auschwitz, dressed so nicely--the women in stockings, good shoes, dresses, and coats, the men in overcoats and hats, all with their hands slightly raised at their sides, a star of David sewn to their lapels. The state had managed to protect them until a big political change in late 1944. Suddenly they were doomed, and just as suddenly, annihilated.
Hungary’s history is complicated and convoluted, and I have only slightly more grasp of it all than I did before, but being in a place does help one to focus a bit. Another museum that puts some things in perspective is the oddly popular House of Terror. On the loveliest Boulevard in Budapest, Andrassy Utca #60 was the headquarters of various police state organizations: first the Arrow Cross from the Hungarian Nazi period during the late part of WW II, and later the headquarters of the Soviet/Hungarian police who terrorized the country for years, imprisoning and killing anyone considered an enemy of the communist party and its aims. It’s good that so many people go to this museum. Many of the deaths were caused by Hungarian spies, turning in their fellow citizens for “suspicious” behavior, and we all need to be reminded about how these things happen and how terrible they are. The current Hungarians in power are very clear about how glad they are to be rid of the Soviet domination, and what a terrible time it was for Hungary. It’s only been since 1991 that they have been free. The city is springing back to life, and they have made great strides in restoring old buildings and sprucing up the city.
One wonderful surviving institution is the city central market, which was just a few blocks from our apartment. Since we had a kitchen, we could actually purchase things from the produce vendors, or the strudel makers, or the cheese stalls--just enough for a meal or two of the freshest, most lovely food--all very reasonable, especially compared to Switzerland and Denmark. I bought a beautiful head of broccoli, for example, for 25 cents. And Geo thought the $4 Hungarian wine was not bad at all. We might have stayed longer, but we only had the apartment for six nights, and we were sick of cold, damp and rainy weather. We booked a flight to Turkey.
We had mostly rainy weather, so museums were a refuge. We liked very much the Ethnographic Museum in yet another grand 18th century building where Hungary’s rural history is presented in rich detail. There are reconstructed house interiors, clothing, farm implements, household tools, photos, and lots of English text to help us out. We both suppose we have ancestors centuries ago among the hard working surfs of this area, so it is interesting to think about what their lives were like. In spite of really primitive living, with lots of mud and grime to contend with, they managed to dress ceremonially in the most colorful and exquisitely wrought clothing. The museum has done a great job in presenting this aspect of the country’s past.
Because of the weather we missed out on Danube cruising and outdoor bathing in thermal pools, nor did we make “Memento Park” where a collection of imposing communist era statuary has been dumped and which has become a big draw. We did get proficient at riding the underground, and were amazed at the speed of the escalators. The first time you hop on you think “Whoa, this is fast!” and then you worry about getting off without stumbling or having someone crash into you. They must move at two or three times the speed of “normal” ones.
The city is easy to get around in, with the metro and many buses and trolleys, and they run until late at night. It’s lovely in the evening when the bridges and major buildings are lit, and you can walk along the Danube and take it all in. It’s a sidewalk café town, and when the weather is good, tables are full.
One disconcerting thing is the amount of graffiti. It is actually bad in much of Europe--freight cars in Denmark, concrete walls even in Switzerland. But in Budapest even lovely historic buildings do not escape the spray can. We saw someone using a power abrasive brush on the windows of a stately bank in an effort to remove the stuff. Geo noticed that the windows on the trolleys and the metro were scarred with scratched graffiti--a new low. I’m reading Paul Theroux’s terrific book Ghost Train to the Eastern Star, and he traveled a night train to Budapest as we did. He remarked about the graffiti in Budapest as an outpouring of a long-oppressed people not able to express their protests for years, but it seems more complicated and more widespread in Europe for that to be the explanation. Seems to me it’s one of those issues that comes back to respect. The taggers are just plain disrespectful, and ought to know better, and behave better. It’s a modern day plague.
We were stymied by the weather in our photographic efforts. It would have been nice to show the opera, the dear trolleys that run by the river, the pedestrian streets lined with shops and cafes. Instead we have interiors of churches--which are gaudy in the extreme. The contrast with the austere Swiss and German churches we saw was so interesting, and reflective of cultural differences. Exteriors also can be colorful and fancy. The bright tile roof on the St. Matthias Church in Buda, is an example, and a technological museum that is bizarre in its design--both are pictured.
We’re now almost two weeks in Turkey, with wonderful summer weather. We’ll be posting.
September 11, 2010
We attended an opera in Budapest this evening--the extra silly Barber of Seville--and it was a brain shocker to be there after spending much of the afternoon in the Holocaust Museum near a temple where the remnants of Budapest’s once thriving Jewish population congregate. I thought about how many of those accomplished, educated and successful citizens, fully integrated into Hungarian society in the early 20th century, must have attended operas in this gorgeous, opulent, gold leaf encrusted building, enjoying interesting lives in a cosmopolitan city. And I kept seeing in mind’s eye film footage someone had taken, now displayed over and over at the museum, of thousands of the city’s Jews walking toward the train station and their transportation to Auschwitz, dressed so nicely--the women in stockings, good shoes, dresses, and coats, the men in overcoats and hats, all with their hands slightly raised at their sides, a star of David sewn to their lapels. The state had managed to protect them until a big political change in late 1944. Suddenly they were doomed, and just as suddenly, annihilated.
Hungary’s history is complicated and convoluted, and I have only slightly more grasp of it all than I did before, but being in a place does help one to focus a bit. Another museum that puts some things in perspective is the oddly popular House of Terror. On the loveliest Boulevard in Budapest, Andrassy Utca #60 was the headquarters of various police state organizations: first the Arrow Cross from the Hungarian Nazi period during the late part of WW II, and later the headquarters of the Soviet/Hungarian police who terrorized the country for years, imprisoning and killing anyone considered an enemy of the communist party and its aims. It’s good that so many people go to this museum. Many of the deaths were caused by Hungarian spies, turning in their fellow citizens for “suspicious” behavior, and we all need to be reminded about how these things happen and how terrible they are. The current Hungarians in power are very clear about how glad they are to be rid of the Soviet domination, and what a terrible time it was for Hungary. It’s only been since 1991 that they have been free. The city is springing back to life, and they have made great strides in restoring old buildings and sprucing up the city.
One wonderful surviving institution is the city central market, which was just a few blocks from our apartment. Since we had a kitchen, we could actually purchase things from the produce vendors, or the strudel makers, or the cheese stalls--just enough for a meal or two of the freshest, most lovely food--all very reasonable, especially compared to Switzerland and Denmark. I bought a beautiful head of broccoli, for example, for 25 cents. And Geo thought the $4 Hungarian wine was not bad at all. We might have stayed longer, but we only had the apartment for six nights, and we were sick of cold, damp and rainy weather. We booked a flight to Turkey.
We had mostly rainy weather, so museums were a refuge. We liked very much the Ethnographic Museum in yet another grand 18th century building where Hungary’s rural history is presented in rich detail. There are reconstructed house interiors, clothing, farm implements, household tools, photos, and lots of English text to help us out. We both suppose we have ancestors centuries ago among the hard working surfs of this area, so it is interesting to think about what their lives were like. In spite of really primitive living, with lots of mud and grime to contend with, they managed to dress ceremonially in the most colorful and exquisitely wrought clothing. The museum has done a great job in presenting this aspect of the country’s past.
Because of the weather we missed out on Danube cruising and outdoor bathing in thermal pools, nor did we make “Memento Park” where a collection of imposing communist era statuary has been dumped and which has become a big draw. We did get proficient at riding the underground, and were amazed at the speed of the escalators. The first time you hop on you think “Whoa, this is fast!” and then you worry about getting off without stumbling or having someone crash into you. They must move at two or three times the speed of “normal” ones.
The city is easy to get around in, with the metro and many buses and trolleys, and they run until late at night. It’s lovely in the evening when the bridges and major buildings are lit, and you can walk along the Danube and take it all in. It’s a sidewalk café town, and when the weather is good, tables are full.
One disconcerting thing is the amount of graffiti. It is actually bad in much of Europe--freight cars in Denmark, concrete walls even in Switzerland. But in Budapest even lovely historic buildings do not escape the spray can. We saw someone using a power abrasive brush on the windows of a stately bank in an effort to remove the stuff. Geo noticed that the windows on the trolleys and the metro were scarred with scratched graffiti--a new low. I’m reading Paul Theroux’s terrific book Ghost Train to the Eastern Star, and he traveled a night train to Budapest as we did. He remarked about the graffiti in Budapest as an outpouring of a long-oppressed people not able to express their protests for years, but it seems more complicated and more widespread in Europe for that to be the explanation. Seems to me it’s one of those issues that comes back to respect. The taggers are just plain disrespectful, and ought to know better, and behave better. It’s a modern day plague.
We were stymied by the weather in our photographic efforts. It would have been nice to show the opera, the dear trolleys that run by the river, the pedestrian streets lined with shops and cafes. Instead we have interiors of churches--which are gaudy in the extreme. The contrast with the austere Swiss and German churches we saw was so interesting, and reflective of cultural differences. Exteriors also can be colorful and fancy. The bright tile roof on the St. Matthias Church in Buda, is an example, and a technological museum that is bizarre in its design--both are pictured.
We’re now almost two weeks in Turkey, with wonderful summer weather. We’ll be posting.
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