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May 16, 2005
Saturday in Budapest
I had a good night sleep at the house we stayed at in Gyorkorny; it was pleasantly cool at night, and I slept soundly knowing that Mátyás was being kept company by the many pictures of pirate-garbed Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp covering the walls of his room. We had a breakfast of scrambled eggs, fresh bread and strong coffee. Mátyás and Eva chatted with the owners of the house and their daughter, who was also named Eva.
The three of us hit the road at 8:30. I was feeling much better than the day before, but just in case, Eva was kind enough to offer me the front seat. Since the drive went without incident, it must have been good preventative medicine. We drove north through the pretty Hungarian countryside, past hedgerows blooming with lilacs, and blossoming yellow fields of canola -- Mátyás said that vegetable oil is a big business here. Just after 10am, I started to recognize the surroundings, particularly the huge Ikea near the highway. We were back in Budaors, which meant we'd be back in Budapest in a matter of minutes. Indeed, by 10:30am, I was at my new hotel, the Charles Hotel, in the southern section of Buda, about a five minute drive southwest of Castle Hill.
While Mátyás had plans for the day, Eva offered to join me for an outing in Budapest. We agreed to meet at noon, which would give each of us a little free time first. I caught up on email and blogging, plus a quick shower, then met Eva at the appointed time. She suggested be begin the day by visiting Castle Hill, followed by City Park. By then, it would be early evening, and we could go to the opera if we were interested. Eva said she called the opera and there were plenty of tickets available for that night's performance of Leos Janacek's Jenufa. I was familiar with Janacek (some of pieces shared a CD of Bela Bartok's Miraculous Mandarin, which I had uploaded to my iPod prior to the trip). I didn't know this particular opera, but it still sounded like a fun way to wrap up the evening.
Eva drove us a little way up the western slope of Castle Hill. A veritable acropolis on the left bank of the Danube, it wasn't possible for the car to go all the way to the top. So we parked on a shady residential street then hiked up a steep row of stone steps, through the western stone ramparts. Within a few minutes, we reached the top of the hill. Considering the area was a UNESCO World Heritage Site, I was surprised that the area was still residential. But as we walked a couple of blocks east, we soon reached Szentharomsag Ter, perhaps the most touristed spot in Budapest. This triangular square marked the virtual epicenter of Castle Hill. Ahead and to the left soared the spectacular Mátyás Church, a gothic cathedral with a colorful tiled roof. Straight ahead, I spotted the gleaming white turrets of Fisherman's Bastion, which sports one of the best views of Pest. And not far to the right, beyond the hordes of tour groups, I could just make out the Habsburg royal palace.
I was stunned by the number of tourists. There were thousands of them, just as many as you'd see in St. Mark's Square in Venice. And this wasn't even the summer tourist season yet. It was a bit of a turn-off, but the sites themselves were stunning.
There was a long line to get inside the church, we decided to walk over to the bastion. The whitewashed overlook, with its upside-down ice cream cone-like turrets, look like they should date from medieval times, but they were actually built at the turn of the 20th century as part of Hungary's 1000-year celebration of the founding of the country. (At times I got a little confused when Eva would say, "This was built for the millennium celebration," because I first assumed she meant 2000 rather than the late 1890s.) The bastion was incredibly crowded, but we did find one opening in which we could squeeze ourselves. Indeed, the view was spectacular: from high above Buda, you could gaze down at the Danube and the many historic monuments of Pest, in particular the stunning parliament building. The building look like the US capital if it had been built in a soaring gothic cathedral. You could also see many of the city's bridges, including the famous Szechenyi (SHEH-tsen-ye) Chain Bridge. All the bridges had been blown up by the Germans when they were retreating from the Russians, and it took decades to restore them all to their former glory.
Leaving the Fisherman's Bastion, we walked north a couple of blocks until we reached the Budapest Hilton. Ordinarily I wouldn't mention a Hilton hotel in my journal - not that I have anything against Hiltons - they're just not very noteworthy. But this Hilton was quite extraordinary as it was build around the ruins of a 14th century gothic church. In the back you could see the remnants of its outer nave wall jutting over a hundred feet into the air. The windows of the hotel reflected the remains brilliantly.
Backtracking past the bastion and Mátyás Church, we walked south along Uri Utca towards the palace. We were followed by a group of at least 100 German high school students, whose tour guide directed them along by blowing a whistle every 10 seconds. I wanted to turn around and slug the guy, but instead we just walked a little faster so we wouldn't go deaf from his noisemaking. We past a concert hall with a plaque marking the date of a concert performed by Beethoven in 1800; beyond that, a mansion now used as the presidential palace.
We then reached St George's Square, the entry point to the royal palace. In front of us you could see the palace itself, now home to the national art gallery and two other museums. There was a giant gate to the right, through which you'd have to descend the so-called Habsburg Steps to reach the plaza in front of the palace. Walking to the steps, our view was dominated by an extraordinary statue of a black raven holding a sword -- the symbol of the Hungarian king Mátyás Corvinus.
We descended the steps and walked through the plaza; I felt a spray of water on my face from the giant fountain in the center of the plaza. Eva and I continued through a series of arches into another plaza, where there was a remarkable fountain depicting a hunting scene featuring King Mátyás with a dead stag, his knights and hunting dogs. From there, we walked through the Budapest History Museum to enter the old fortifications on the southern end of the hill. From there we had a fine view of Gellert Hill to the south, with a statue marking the spot where St. Gellert was thrown off a cliff by pagan Hungarians resistant to Christianity. Compared to the chaos of the Fisherman's Bastion, the fort was a peaceful place. There were no more than five or 10 other people wandering around, so the only sounds you could hear were song birds singing in the trees.
Once we were done exploring the fort, we walked north along the western edge of Castle Hill, which afforded us a beautiful view of the Buda Hills. There were numerous Hungarian families strolling around, but otherwise it was very peaceful. Eva pointed to the direction of my hotel, which was obscured by one of the hills to the southwest.
By now it was approaching 2pm, so we decided to look for some lunch. First we continued walking north through the central part of the hill, towards Vienna Gate and the Hungarian National Archives, which had a tiled roof similar to that of Mátyás Church. Most of the buildings here were marked with historical plaques, generally marking events that occurred in the 18th and 19th centuries. They were painted various shades of orange, yellow, and blue, many of them sporting decorative facades or bas-reliefs. We also passed the ruins of a church that had been destroyed during WWII; all that was left of the building was its tower and the arch of the front door, with nothing left in between.
Soon we settled in at a restaurant with an outdoor patio. We took the last available table, next to a Swedish family who let their children run around like little demons, much to the frustration of patrons and staff alike. I ordered a plate of chicken paprikas, and at Eva's suggestion, a bowl of "wine cream" soup. I hadn't heard of wine cream before, so I didn't know what to expect. The waiter then brought me a large bowl of a chilled cream soup flavored with a shocking amount of sweet Tokaj wine. Eva told me the soup is often served at Passover, but she's also seen it as a hot soup for Christmas. Even though the soup was chilled, the Tokaj left me with a warm feeling as I moved to the paprikas. The quarter chicken was drenched in a paprika sauce on top of a small pile of egg noodle dumplings, with some sour cream on the side.
After lunch, Eva suggested we visit the wine tasting house, just a few doors away from Mátyás Church. Part wine bar, part museum, the tasting house let you sample several dozen wines from all over Hungary. Since Eva was driving, she didn't plan to taste, but suggested that I would enjoy it. I bought an entry ticket for about $17; we then went down into the cellar for a viticultural adventure.
The cellar was divided into nooks, each representing a different wine-producing region. Generally the tour was laid out so you would sample wines from drier and lighter to sweeter and heavier, but there were some notable exceptions. I had several good cabernets, as well as local varieties called Kekfranko (Blue Franc) and Kekoporto (Blue Oporto). I wasn't as keen on the wines; many of them were too dry for me. But I really enjoyed the Tokaj wines, which have a sweet, raisiny character. Some of them were actually too sweet for me; I liked tasting them but couldn't imagine having more than a few sips. But I did find one that was lightly sweet; I bought two half-liter bottles for about $11 each.
After the wine tasting, we returned to Eva's car to move to the Pest side of the city. We drove across the chain bridge -- as beautiful and as dramatic as crossing the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan -- then meandered through Pest's side streets until getting near the Opera House. We found a place to park and went into the Opera House. Tickets were still available for tonight, and the box seats on the second balcony were just around $25. I'd never been in a box seat before so it sounded like a fun way to enjoy a night at the opera.
Our tickets firmly planted in my shirt pocked, we walked a couple of blocks and found an outdoor café, where we enjoyed a couple of coffees and an afternoon dessert. Eva had a poppy seed cake while I had a type of sponge cake with a chocolate and sour cherry sauce. We were so full afterwards we both agreed we probably wouldn't require dinner tonight.
Back in the car, we drove down the boulevard to Heroes Square, the entry way into City Park. It turned out there was a foot race that day, so the area around the square was closed of to auto traffic, making parking trickier than usual. We circled the neighborhood three times until we found a space not too far from the square.
We then walked into the square. Two colonnades arced to the left and to the right, in the shape of a semicircle; along them stood larger-than-life statues of Hungarian kings and war heroes. At the center of the square stood a massive marble fountain and a tomb dedicated to all the Hungarians who have died in wartime. Flanking the left and right of the square were two neo-classical museums. Their steps were crowded with people enjoying the sun and warm temperatures. Eva said the square was built for the Millennium; again, it took me a minute to realized she meant the Hungarian national millennium at the end of the 19th century.
We entered the park and strolled around a lake and skating rink towards the spectacular Vajdahunyad Castle. A 19th-century replica of a Transylvanian castle of the same name, the castle was also built for the millennium celebration. It had a massive gate and soaring towers; I almost felt like Dracula himself would be there to greet us.
Eva and I crossed through the gate and into the castle's courtyard. It was connected to a medieval church and a neo-baroque palace, all of which are now museums. In the center of the courtyard sat a haunting statue of a cloaked figure with a pen in his hand; the word Anonymous was written on the statue's base.
"All of these buildings are replicas of famous Hungarian buildings that are now outside of Hungary, in territories lost after the first world war," Eva explained.
"What about the statue?" I asked.
"It is a statue of Hungary's first true historian," she said. "For centuries we did not know who he was, but in the last one or two decades they have been able to piece together who he was by examining historical records."
"It must be very difficult to conduct Hungarian history research," I replied. "You would have to search the archives of Austria, Turkey, Serbia, Romania -- and know lots of languages."
"Yes," Eva said. "It is not easy because of our history."
We strolled through the park, beyond the castle, towards Szechenyi Baths, one of the most famous spas in Budapest. Soon we reached a giant, yellow building, a magnificent 19th century structure that looked like it should be royal palace.
"This is the baths," Eva said.
"That's it?" I replied. "I would have guessed it was a former parliament building before guessing it was a bath house."
We walked around to the side of the building and found the entrance. In the ticket office, you could peer through a window and see the baths. It was a sprawling facility, bright and fancifully decorated, with hundreds and hundreds of bathers. The closest pool featured a row of chess tables in the water; each table was manned by a pair of gentleman in their bathing suits, focusing intensely on their game while by-standers tried offering them advice.
Leaving the baths, we followed the edge of the park, past the national zoo. Eventually we found ourselves back at Heroes Square, which was occupied mostly by skate rats jumping the marble with their skateboards. A small group of kids were gleefully climbing the fountain in the middle.
Back at the car, we drove back towards the opera house, parked, and found a café to kill some time before going to the opera. Eva had a milk shake while I had rose-hip tea to sooth my throat -- I was losing my voice from all the talking I'd done during the week. We then went to the opera house. Its interior was spectacular, just what you'd want to see in an Central European opera, with neoclassical paintings on the ceiling, a giant chandelier and gilded box seats. We had a view from our box, and since we were the only occupants, we were able to spread out and get comfortable.
The opera, Jenufa, was very disturbing. While I enjoyed the music, the story was the strangest I'd seen in an opera. Basically, a woman named Jenufa is being fought over by two men, one of whom has gotten her pregnant. One conspires to send the other into the army, with mixed success. The other then declares he would only marry a pretty girl, so the first man slashes Jenufa's face. In act two, she's living with her evil mother-in-law and her baby. Neither man will married her - one because she is now damaged goods, the other because she has a baby. The mother decides to murder the baby by drowning it so Jenufa will have a chance to marry; she tells everyone the baby died and was buried.
By act three, Jenufa is about to marry the man who slashed her. There's an elaborate party and wedding ceremony, with large blocks of ice brought from the river to cool the wedding party's drinks. When the last block of ice is hauled ashore, they find the dead baby inside. The mother-in-law is arrested, the man refuses to marry Jenufa, and she's left a pariah in her village, all alone.
"I liked the music, but I understand why Jenufa isn't one of the classics," I told Eva as she drove me back to the hotel.
Posted by acarvin at May 16, 2005 6:36 AM
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