| New Kids On The Bloc |
Throughout this trip, I must admit that I've been a little disappointed by the lack of cultural elements that seem totally unfamiliar and out there to me. I came all the way to Europe because I wanted to be surprised and maybe even shocked, and sometimes I feel a bit let down by the relative familiarity I feel with a lot of the places we've been. Budapest, however, was one of those obscure spots that I really held out hope for, expecting to be more or less wowed. Thankfully, I can confirm that my expectations were largely met.
We got into town on a sunny Monday afternoon and found ourselves in the crowded and rather disorganized Keleti train station. Our first order of business was to obtain some local currency, which in Hungary is the Forint. We each ended up taking out about 35,000 Forints, which sounds like quite a lot of money. The funny thing about the Forint is that one is only worth about half a penny, so while a 250 Forint Coke might seem outrageous, it's actually only really setting you back a buck and a quarter - not a bad deal compared to the rest of Europe.
The language of Magyar, spoken by Hungarian people, is definitely a strange one. It uses no unfamiliar characters, but it does feature an endless array of dots, dashes, and accents which completely alter the pronunciation of words. Cognates with English are few and far between, and we basically began to get used to having not the slightest clue what any signs said, anywhere. Finally I was starting to find something cool and unfamiliar!
We headed down into the subway to begin our trip towards the hostel. We had to buy tickets first, which we found being sold near the station. There was a chair placed somewhat in front of the board which listed the prices, so I moved it a out of the way a few inches so that we could see how much we needed to pay. Out of nowhere, a short old lady walked up and shouted "Hey, hey!" and waved her finger at me as she slid the chair back in place. She gave me the evil eye for a few more seconds and wandered off. "Uhh, sorry?" I muttered. Now this was the kind of wackiness I was looking for.
Down in the matte-blue painted Soviet-era subway cars, the seats still featured flower upholstery on the seats and frosted glass bowl light fixtures. The rough, utilitarian styling really exuded the appearance of a poor communist country valuing function over form in its construction projects. Obviously modern day Hungary is much different than during its Soviet days, but the fact that some things still look the same two decades after the fall of communism struck me as very cool.
We walked back up to street level from the subway to catch a tram to our hostel, which turned out for some reason to not be running that day. We watched some local people figure this out as well, and they all appeared to be heading to a bus stop across the street. We followed, and when we got there, I asked a man waiting in the crowd if the bus would take us to our stop. He turned to me and shrugged his shoulders. In a thick accent, he replied, "Uhh...I don't know. You just have to hope!" I must admit, I liked the sound of that, so we stood there and hoped. When the bus arrived, I had to laugh a little bit. The thing looked as old as the hills - small, hot, and dirty, not to mention unbelievably loud. The amount of blue smoke coming from somewhere underneath was impressive, and the whole thing smelled a little like melting plastic. Delicious.
The three of us were the last to make it on the bus, with me practically landing in the driver's lap and Marc and Alex stuck on the stairs, all of us with our giant backpacks still on. I'm sure it was a hilarious sight. Another soviet-era relic still hanging around in modern day Hungary, the bus rumbled down the street with about as much comfort as Alcatraz. All our hoping did turn out to be useful though, when the bus finally pulled up near our tram stop.
The hostel was in an old apartment building built in a typical European configuration - think tiny elevator, a courtyard adorned with lots of imposing wrought iron bars, and a dark staircase circling up to the floors above. This being Hungary, the building also featured plenty of spartan Soviet flair, including copious amounts of concrete, large quantities of paint peeling off the walls, and more of that persistent melting plastic smell. This definitely seemed out there to me, and I was loving it.
That night, we went out to climb up to the Citadel, one of the highest points in Budapest. Across the Danube from our hostel, we found a network of paths and staircases which led up the hill to where we were going. Budapest must be worried about their city's contributions to light pollution, because most of the 20 minute walk up was in nearly complete darkness, with very few lights along the way. If this were the US, I probably would have found the darkness unnerving enough to turn around and find something else to do, but this was Europe and these days we are more than used to being outside our comfort zone, so we pressed on. I am pleased to announce that we made it to the top without being robbed, mugged, jumped, or otherwise accosted by any hobos or creatures lurking in the night, and we were rewarded for our bravery with some magnificent panoramic views of the whole region, which looked gorgeous in it's nighttime state. We could see the castles to the North, the Danube and its many bridges to the east, and the many neighborhoods of Pest off in the distance.
The next day we took a tour of the largest Synagogue in Europe, which I found very interesting. For only 1,450 Forints, we were able to tour the grounds with a guide who explained a great deal about the building's history, as well as the significance of some of the monuments in the garden.
The main sanctuary is like nothing I've seen in America. It reminded me quite a bit of the big European Basilicas, with its pews, stained glass, and extremely ornate interior. While not bombed during World War II, most of the windows were broken due to the bombing of adjacent neighborhoods. In addition, most of the seating was removed to make room for the housing of refugees. The 27 Torahs housed in the Synagogue - many of which were produced by Hungarian Torah writers, of which there are none left - were evacuated and hidden in Christian cemeteries around Hungary to avoid their desecration. Following the war, the Torahs were returned and the building was slowly restored to it's previous state. Today, the Synagogue is still used and has a capacity of 6,000. It features two organs, evidence of its less conservative beginnings, which is in contrast to the separate levels of seating for men and women.
If not for the garden's many monuments and memorials, one would not realize that it actually serves as a mass grave for over 4,000 people who died during the very cold winter of 1944 in the Jewish ghetto of Budapest, just months before the Soviet liberation from the Nazis. A memorial in the courtyard behind the synagogue honors the hundreds of thousands of Hungarian Jews killed in the Holocaust. The memorial, a weeping willow constructed entirely of metal, includes the names of many who died inscribed on its thousands of leaves. Another memorial honors those who were killed for their participation in producing false passports from other countries for use by the Jews to flee the country to safety.
After touring the Synagogue, we visited a market hall near the river to sample some traditional Hungarian food. I was starving and, as many of you may know, I am passionate about eating. Feeling a bit like Anthony Bourdain, I had absolutely no reservations about ordering up a huge plate of food I could not identify and proceeding to devour it all immediately. It ended up being some chicken in a fantastic tomato sauce, a pepper stuffed with some seasoned meat, and a pineappley sort of creamy noodle stuff that was really delicious. Writing this now, I'm wishing I had another plate of it all!
That afternoon, Marc and I decided to engage in a little bit of self indulgence and get Thai aromatherapy massages at a place we had read about online. I've never had a professional massage before, but let me just say this one will not be my last. I thankfully don't suffer from back pain or any sort of chronic muscle soreness, but it was still extremely relaxing. For an hour and a half, a nice Thai lady rubbed scented massage oil into nearly ever single muscle on my body, which left me feeling relaxed and gelatinous and wanting for more.
On Wednesday, Alex headed south of the city to see a park full of old communist monuments, many of which were relocated there rather than destroyed after the fall of the Soviet Union. Marc and I elected to visit Budapest's old Castle District and wander through a really cool underground labyrinth found there.
The three of us met up in the afternoon at the Szechenyi Baths, one of the famous bath houses of Budapest. We paid our 3,000 Forints and were given cards for entry and for use in the lockers in the changing rooms downstairs. We changed into bathing suits and proceeded upstairs to the pools outside. The whole place is apparently fed by thermal springs, which not only release mineral-rich water, but heat it to a very comfortable temperature too. About an equal distribution of tourists and locals, the pools were filled with people standing around. There was also a lap pool and an area with huge jets coming out of the floor. One could stand or sit over them and receive a sort of bubble massage depending on their position. I decided to call my favorite position the sumo wrestler - I'm sure you get the picture.
Inside the beautiful buildings, there were more baths, each marked by their temperature. Most were 34-38°C, or around 95°F, but one was a very eye opening 18°C, or about 65°F. In addition to the baths were a plethora of saunas and steam rooms, also marked by temperature from 40°C to 100°C. I suppose there is some recommended sequence of shower, sauna, and bath, but we mostly just spent a few minutes in everything that wasn't too scalding or freezing for us to handle. At one point, we were downstairs trying to figure out what someone might use a whole fountain filled with chunks of ice for, when an old man walked over and informed us that this was the area for real men only - a trip to the blazing hot sauna until sweat drips from every pore, followed by a dunk in the ice cold pool nearby. On that bombshell, we decided that we were indeed not man enough and went to go get dressed and head for our sleeper train to Poland. Budapest was exactly the kind of strange, unique place we were looking for. I can't wait to come back and explore more of Eastern Europe and other regions behind the Iron Curtain before they become modernized and start to look just like everywhere else! |
|
|
|
|
|
Post a Comment