Journeyman: Adventures in Budapest

The study of history from the perspective of an American Southern boy included textbooks and lectures full of the highs and lows of the Roman, British, and Spanish empires, the glories of ancient Egypt, the American Revolution, and the American Civil War, with a sprinkling of the major world wars. The Pilgrims got a lot of love as well, and I remember a story about Columbus sailing for Japan, landing in the Bahamas, and calling the people he met there Indians...or something like that. I’m sure there were more elements involved in my history studies through my formative years, but those components were the ones that held my wavering attention. Other than the events surrounding World War II, I don’t recall the history of eastern Europe receiving much lecture time or textbook pages, and it’s unfortunate because the tale of this region, especially Hungary, is intricate and rich and overshadowed by the big boys of the world narrative.

Until we reached the Czech Republic, Deena and I had been confident leading the children in their history studies, and even though we had to review on occasion, discussing world events at the locations in which they occurred has been inspiring and fun. In eastern Europe, we’ve had to learn along with them, and while awareness of historical context surrounding these countries is helpful, it’s taken various forms of research to get a feel for the complete chronicle. Yesterday we chose the Hungarian National Museum as our research tool to help us get a better understanding of Hungary and the capital city of Budapest.

The museum was located a few blocks away from our apartment; so we had a short walk in the crisp air to reach the building that looked like a miniature version of the British Museum. We paid our nominal fee, checked our coats, and began our self-guided tour at 4:00. Maybe due to the off-season and the chilly temperatures, we had the place to ourselves as we spent two hours working our way through three-thousand years of Hungarian history, amazed by the items in the collection and their thorough description. As it pertains to civilizations, Deena and I always talk with the children about the importance of time and how it affects quality of life. When a civilization has the benefit of decades and centuries under strong leadership mostly free from war and disease, craftsmanship and wealth flourish along with innovation that produces longer life spans and stability for the population. Such is the case with the region of Hungary, and we saw many examples of fine craftsmanship in bronze, copper, and gold as well as innovation in weaponry and farming techniques.

Each hall of the museum covered a five-hundred-year period that was easy to understand and enhanced by the well-curated exhibits. We saw how the influence of the Romans and major nomadic tribes resulted in organization of a monarchy that lasted for centuries until the Habsburg dynasty decentralized most of eastern Europe until the beginning of World War I. From that point, Hungary found itself on the wrong side of two major wars, eventually landing under communist rule until the collapse of the Eastern Bloc near the end of the twentieth century. It was a lot to take in, but we had a good understanding of Hungarian history by the end of our visit. Some of my favorite exhibits were the intricately engraved 10th century swords, the creepy collection of communist propaganda, and some of the finest inlaid woodworking I’ve ever seen. I didn’t pay for a photography pass, but I was compelled to take one illegal picture of an exquisite 3D inlay on a 16th-century choir stall.

Sifting through centuries of history is hungry work, and we timed our museum visit to conclude at suppertime so we could at last sample some traditional Hungarian dishes. Our host, Laszlo, had given us a tip about a side street near the museum that was home to many good restaurants frequented by locals, and we soon found ourselves seated at a checkered-cloth-covered table at the Raday Street Bistro ready to order. We enjoyed a leisurely meal that included a pancake stuffed with minced pork and spices covered in a rich brown gravy, beef simmered in red wine and served with noodles, and paprika-roasted chicken and dumplings. The food was intensely flavorful and filling, and the ladies that served us were genuinely pleased that we enjoyed our meal so much. As we discovered in the Hungarian National Museum, thousands of years bring about many changes, but the simple pleasure of enjoying good food with loved ones stays the same.

While I’m on the subject of food, I need to share one of our major home-cooking failures. After enjoying delicious Hungarian dishes I described from the previous evening, we decided to make a big spaghetti dinner complete with meatballs and crusty bread fresh from the Aldi in-house bakery. The pasta was on the stove boiling steadily, and steam began to rise from the pot containing the sauce and semi-thawed meatballs also purchased from Aldi. After an initial stir, I employed the cook’s privilege and gave the meatballs a little taste—I sensed immediately that something was horribly wrong, and Deena confirmed my suspicion with a taste of her own. As the meatballs continued to cook, we dug the package out of the trash and after some harried Google translating, we discovered that we had some giant “liver dumplings” warming up in the pot and were only minutes away from serving this abomination to our children.

OK, I’m not a picky eater, and I’m thankful for the food that is on my plate at every meal. I don’t need to be thankful for liver because it’s never on my plate for good reason—it’s not fit for human consumption. I wish I could go back in time and have a look at the guy who first took a bite of liver and proclaimed, “Hey y’all, that’s purty good!” I know, back in the day our vaunted ancestors had to use every part of the animal for survival and to perpetuate glorious tales of thriftiness long, long ago. There were uses for the tail, tongue, and eyelashes of every animal and they even came with their own lard for easy cooking. Why is liver still available for purchase? Cow, goose, chicken liver—it doesn’t matter. The pioneer days are long gone, and there are 7-Eleven stores on every corner selling microwave burritos for a very reasonable price. There is no need to eat liver anymore, and people that proclaim they enjoy it are fulfilling a propensity for showing off. I could continue with raw oysters, snails, and steak tartare, but I’ll rein it in for now.

Deena held the trash bag for me as I scooped the liver dumplings from the pot trying to salvage some of the sauce, which had also been scorched while we were doing our linguistic research. We ladled the sauce over the steaming noodles hopeful that our salvage efforts were fruitful, but it was not to be. The liver flavor and flecks of scorched tomatoes had permeated the sauce thoroughly, and while we valiantly made an attempt to consume our dinner, Joseph finally laid down his fork and proclaimed, “That’s just not good at all.” We all heartily agreed, gave up, and had crusty bread and butter for supper. It’s been almost two days, and I’m still shuddering from the liver-flavored memory and the guilt of careless parenting that led to my childrens’ exposure to this culinary nightmare—we’ll work through it.

After the liver debacle, Deena and I decided some more left-wing socialism was in order; so the next day we booked a communism walking tour for late afternoon to continue our study of Hungarian history. Peter was our guide, a nice young Budapest native with pure Hungarian ancestry. He confessed that his birth in 1985 resulted in growing up with no memory of the communist regime, but his grandparents and parents educated him well with their experiences, and our group was the beneficiary of his rich, intense narrative. Peter told us about the events in 1944 that led to Nazi occupation of Hungary and eventual liberation by the Red Army, which led to Soviet control of the country and a communist government after the war. As we walked, he showed us examples of ugly blocky cold-war architecture tucked in with baroque-style buildings that survived intense Allied bombing. We learned how Soviet-style communism never really fit with Hungary, and at the end of the 1980’s even though a free market had emerged, the country had a surplus of unskilled workers and insurmountable debt. Along with the rest of the Eastern Bloc, the communist government of Hungary fell, and a national crisis of economic depression ensued until a democratic government could be established. Peter said that the Hungarian economy, helped by tourist dollars, is strong now, but the effects of communism still linger even though the statues have long been removed.

In October of 1956, the citizens of Budapest began an uprising that spread into a nationwide revolution against the Peoples Republic of Hungary. Peter told us about young men running around with machine guns and molotov cocktails destroying tanks and killing officials. He pointed out a large government building with a limestone facade that was covered with hundreds of patched bullet holes. Peter said that as he grew up, he remembered that almost every large building had bullet holes, and they were patched once Hungary became open to western visitors. The Soviets crushed the rebellion in 1956 and installed a government that was even more restrictive with secret police keeping tabs on every citizen. The next thirty years were dark for Hungarian citizens as they were subject to intense state control and constant propaganda. We wrapped up our tour on the banks of the Danube at the Hungarian Parliament Building, which was a fitting end after Peter’s tales of repression and fear.

Parliament Building

Next day, we kept the communist train rollin’ with a visit to Memento Park, an organized dumping ground for huge Soviet-funded statues originally placed to stir up state pride. The statues fell along with communism in 1990, and they now seem comical placed together on the outskirts of Budapest, their indoctrinating overtones still evident and strangely compelling. I tried to imagine what it must have been like living under a hated regime being fed ridiculous propaganda glorifying the state, and with no point of reference, it’s impossible for me to fathom. Here we go with a lot of pics, enjoy: