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Copyright © 1998 by Manfred P.. All rights reserved.

Sep 7 - 15, 1985 (Written on Dec 11, 1998)

First Time Behind the Iron Curtain

City of Buda, City of Pest

by

Manfred P.

Keywords: Hungary, Budapest, tourist, travel trip report, travel log, travelogue.

The iron curtain runs along the eastern border of Austria. This is 1985. Austria’s neighbors to the north, east and southeast are communist countries. A decade later in the 90ies this is a completely different story, but back in 1985 the culture changed at the heavily guarded border.

Based on history Austria and Hungary have a lot in common. The two countries share their histories; they are like sisters. The German language is still used by the older generation of Hungarians. Due to these ties, supported by the need for foreign currency, it is a straightforward task for an Austrian to get a visa.

I hitch a ride to Vienna in a 7-series BMW with a couple from Munich. There I spend the night at my brother’s. The next day the train brings me from Vienna to Budapest. Buda is the city to the west of the river Danube, Pest the district east of the river. Together they form Budapest, the 2 million inhabitant strong capital. First I walk to the state-run tourist agency that is responsible for finding lodging for visa-carriers. They assign a family-home to me. It is like a Bed-and-Breakfast, you stay with a private family; but the family has to be registered with the government and the government collects the money. This way the locals are kept from earning foreign currency and the government has better control over the tourists.

Given the exchange rate, everything is cheap, sometimes close to dirt-cheap. Even as a student I can afford the occasional cab ride and can eat at the nicest restaurants. Manpower is cheap. In one of the upscale restaurants each table had its personal waiter. In other words, I had a waiter just dedicated to me. This guy stood next to the table with a little bit of distance and watched my every move. It was rather annoying being watched continuously. On the other hand, the service was prompt. After desert, upon request, the waiter brought me a little pack of 6 cigarettes, with a choice of various foreign brands. I finished the delicious lunch with a digestive cigarette. Those were the days when I smoked on special occasions.

I toured the various museums but can’t remember too much about them, except that several had massive politically motivated statues in front of them. The Egyptian exhibit at the Szepmuveszeti Muzeum was special though. The sarcophagi and burial chamber decorations fascinated me. So much that I bought a poster of an Egyptian piece of art representing a skinny cat. She is made of black stone with yellow, golden eyes. She is beautiful and the poster still decorates one of the walls at the home of my Dad. "Szepmuveszeti." Isn’t the Hungarian language easy? I ignored the fact that there are accents and dots on top of some vowels.

Everything American is by definition good and popular. In the subway kids were break dancing. To US music they were spinning on the concrete floor. The movies played original Hollywood movies with Hungarian subtitles. When I watched Indiana Jones escape death several times, marble columns surrounded me and a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. It was a real classic theater building with pomp and style. The other movie I watched was Flashdance.

Other forms of entertainment included the "Revue Fantastique" at the Maxim. The audience pretended to be sophisticated and the tiny tables and chairs surrounded the stage like in an amphitheater. Onstage, a long line of topless woman danced to various light and sound effects. It is debatable if it was "fantastique".

At nighttime I randomly sampled various hangouts ranging from upscale and touristy to rough, vulgar and loud. The cocktail bars in the Hilton and the Hyatt represented one end of the spectrum. I positioned myself at the end of the bar and slowly sipped on my Hennessy cognac while carefully studying the audience. Some of the woman followed the oldest profession. They took the money under the table as not to scandalize the payer. On my way out I chatted with a bellboy. He told me a little bit about what is going on in the hotel behind the scenes. None of that stuff was surprising after what I had seen in the bar. What did surprise me was that the room rate started at $100, which I thought was excessive given the exchange rate. My state- managed bread-and-breakfast was $4. When it came to money I was a bit naive, inexperienced, those day.

At the other end of the spectrum was a bar with only locals where everyone was just drinking vodka and other strong liquor. A few of the guest were already drunk and there was a lot of tension in the air. A bar brawl and fist-fight was about to erupt. The eruption was put on hold when cops showed up. The bar audience let them know that they are not welcome. The police started to check the IDs of the night owls. They checked my passport and then told me that I have to leave. I preferred to stay to see how the night evolves in this local bar, but the cops made it clear that leaving is not an option but an order. I will never know if the brawl fully erupted or not and what happened to the people.

Hungary had at that time a lower standard of living. They sold milk in plastic bags in the supermarket. I had never seen this before. Regular thin plastic bags that could rip at any moments notice. The spilled milk on the supermarket floor indicated that exactly that happened from time to time. The destroyed nature is the second observation related to the lower living standard. Not so noticeable in the city, but the forests are suffering and the air pollution is bad. The cars and buses here just puff out black unfiltered smoke.

Wherever I go I love to taste the pastries. They had loads of them here. I think on some occasions pastries is all I had for breakfast. Besides the food and constant eating the bath houses were the highlight of Budapest. Highlights in every sense. The buildings were fascinating. Often old and of an imposing architecture. Sometimes they looked like churches or mosques from the outside. The inside of one of them was dark and mystic. Steam was everywhere hazing the view. In the center was a circular pool and in each corner was a quarter-circular pool offering four different temperatures. The ceiling was formed by a dome that had only a few very small glass elements. The glass allowed just a small number of light beams in. These sun rays caught themselves in the steam giving the dark bath a spectacular flair. By far this was the best Turkish bath experience I ever had. Forget the steam baths in Sweden, the Jacuzzis in California, this is so mystic that it puts you into a different state of mind. The surrounding and the lighting relaxes your mind, the spa water your body.

There are 123 thermal springs in Budapest they say. The hottest springs are 170 degrees F (70 C) and the various springs contain everything from salt, radioactivity, magnesium, sulfates and radium. Among the most famous baths are the Széchenyi (one of the most popular ones), Király Fürdö (King’s Bath, a Turkish bath dating back to 1566), Rácz (supposedly the bath of the kings Sigismund and Matthew), Lukács (Luke’s Bath, sulfurous water), Császár (Emperor’s Bath, dates back to the Turks), and Platinus (outdoor bath for 20,000 people with a wave pool). I sampled a few indoor and outdoor pools but none was so fascinating as the dark, old, mystic, dome-covered Turkish steam bath.

One day I have to come back solely for this special bath. Then, most likely, I will recognize that memories are sometimes better than reality.

    

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