Andy Carvin's Waste of Bandwidth

« Introduction to Budapest | Main | Telecottage Tour, Day Two »

May 14, 2005

Telecottage Tour, Day One

A retiree checks email at the Budaörs telecottage

After a quick breakfast of toast, smoked cheese and hard boiled eggs, I checked out of the hotel and walked several blocks west to an intersection where I was going to meet Mátyás and his colleague, Bernát Evá from the European Union of Telecottage Associations. The three of us would spend the next two days visiting nine Hungarian telecottages -- community centers that offered free or low-cost Internet access. Our first stop would be in Budaörs, a suburb just to the west of Budapest. From there, we would drive southwest to the village of Zámoly, where a community activist ran a telecentre and community radio station in his house. After that, we would visit Csákberény, home to an 11-year-old telecottage -- Hungary's oldest -- founded by Mátyás. Our final stop would be the hamlet of Alsomócsolád, in the far south of the country. We'd spend the night there before continuing to five other telecottages the following day.

We drove through heavy traffic, crossing the Danube and driving up the hillside, with a marvelous view of the palace to the right. Eventually, the traffic thinned out; we passed numerous car dealerships and signs for an Ikea, several kilometers ahead. Arriving in Budaörs (BOO-dah-ersh), we parked in the center of town, not far from its central church. The telecottage was located in an office complex; inside, the receptionist invited us to look around, have some coffee and wait for patrons to arrive.

Senior citizens take advantage of the Budaörs telecottage

Mátyás then introduced me to a series of people. First, we met a local woman who was disabled in an accident; as she slowly recovered through many surgeries, she became a disability rights advocate. She told me about a variety of training programs they offered to the local disabled community. Then, a group of senior citizens joined us. They had first come to the telecottage to take an introductory Internet course; they became so enthusiastic that they are now regulars at the facility. One of them, an 84-year-old man, described how he enjoyed using computers to read his grandchildren's blogs. We then visited with the mother of the disability activist. A psychiatrist, she talked about how the telecottage has offered training to residents suffering from chronic depression.

Leaving the telecottage, we crossed town to meet with the mayor and one of his advisors. The mayor was very enthusiastic about the initiative. The city is planning to open a new town hall that will feature free municipal wi-fi, which they recently started offering at the telecottage. They also plan to roll-out half a dozen other telecottages so that every resident would be within a 15-minute walk to a local access point. The mayor then gave me a gift bag full of souvenirs from Budaörs, including a CD of the local orchestra, a t-shirt, and a small bottle of sweet Tokaj wine. From there, we went to a local restaurant for lunch with the city manager; it was a cozy place with delicious asparagus soup and a paprika turkey breast accompanied by roasted fruit.

After lunch, we left the suburbs and went further afield, to the village of Zámoly (ZAH-moy). Known for its wine and a famous WWII tank battle, Zámoly is also home to Istvan, an extraordinary community activist. In his sprawling home, Istvan runs a telecentre and community radio station that provides six hours of programming a day. The telecentre was quiet today, but the radio station was in the middle of a folk music broadcast. In a back room, he runs a one-watt transmitter suitable for low-power FM broadcasting to the surrounding community. Istvan and a team of volunteers also provide public affairs programming to the village. To bring additional financial support to their efforts, he's now planning to open a small hostel upstairs and host cultural heritage tours for Hungarian Americans and others around the world.

Csákberény telecottage, Hungary's first telecentre

Next, we traveled to Csákberény (CHAK-ber-ay-nye), Mátyás' former home. His old telecottage is now run by a pair of brothers in town. The telecottage was absolutely charming -- an old house that had been meticulously restored. The brothers also ran a PC repair shop and a community wireless service. Over 40 households were now subscribing to a wireless local area network that could provide at-home broadband access. We also got to meet the mayor, who happened to be passing by and stopped to chat for a while. After the telecottage, we were invited to visit two households receiving wireless services. Down the road, we met a local carpenter and his loving pet rottweiler, who followed me around faithfully to donate some drool stains on my new black jeans. The other household was home to a college student who relied on the wireless access to do his classwork. Across the street, two enormous trees stood in front of a pair of houses, ribbons streaming from their tops and looking oddly out of place.

"Do you know what those are?" Mátyás asked.

"No, I don't," I replied.

"Every May 1, young men secretly go to the local forest and dig up a tree to plant in the yard of their sweetheart. The girl then wakes up the next morning and is surprised to see the tree. It stays there for the whole month."

Back in the car, we drove two hours south through rolling hill country towards the small village of Alsomócsolád (ALL-soh-moh-cho-lad), population 300. Unfortunately, I hadn't spent much time in the back seat of a car careening down country roads at 120 kilometers an hour, so I began to feel rather car sick. I managed not to cause an international incident, though.

Alsomócsolád's telecottage

Just before sunset we arrived in Alsomócsolád, a charming hamlet with a lakeside view from atop a hillside. The telecottage, which also serves as town hall, post office and community center, was stunningly gorgeous, built of natural wood that shined like gold as the sun went down. There, we met the center manager, staff, a student user of the facility and the mayor. They gave us a tour of its many services, from hosting cultural events to offering office space for local civic organizations.

After the tour, the mayor invited us in his office for a drink. He brought out a bottle of palinka (PAH-leen-kah), the local apricot brandy. The bottle was unlabeled.

"Is this home-made?"

"Yes, of course," the mayor said.

"In the US we'd call this moonshine. It's not exactly legal for private citizens to make liquor."

"Here it's not legal either," Mátyás said. "But a mayor can grant distilling licenses so it's okay for him."

I sipped at the palinka; not the smoothest drink I've ever had but certainly far from rot-gut.

Alsomócsolád's telecottage manager hangs out with a student from the village

Leaving the telecottage, we went downhill to a dining hall, where we joined another group of telecottage users for dinner. The mayor, I noticed, lugged the bottle of palinka under his arm, and immediately passed out shots to everyone. At first I planned to say no, but then I realized that even the elderly women in the room were downing it, I gave it another go.

After dinner, the mayor invited us across the street to the local pub. From there, the rest of the evening is rather hazy. According to the pictures I took, we sat around a table eating copious amounts of popcorn, drinking glasses of a dark liqueur that I recall commenting to Mátyás, "It tastes like Jagermeister but not as strong." I should have taken this as a warning sign but the mayor was persuasive, and I did not want to disrespect local officials.

At some point before we finally retired to a local hostel, I remember the mayor asking us if we would like to get up early tomorrow morning to climb the local church tower. It sounded like a fine way to start the day. Or, at least that's what I thought at the time. -andy

Posted by acarvin at May 14, 2005 4:42 AM

Listen to a computer-generated podcast of this article