Hungary - An eclectic mix of realities

I have been on Couchsurfing since 2008, but my first CS experience was in July 2012, a little before my Europe trip. The reason for this newfound interest was pretty straightforward - I wanted to meet travellers who either belonged to or had been to these places. 

Paharganj - A backpacker's haven

At Paharganj, Delhi’s backpacker’s paradise, I met a Couchsurfing Hungarian couple - Juhász Németh and Tímea Farkas. They were dressed in comfortable harams and loose tops, and they fit perfectly into the Pahargunj scene. Juhász had long dreadlocks and a beard and Timea wore her hair short, preferred beads and had on earrings made using dyed pigeon feathers. They had journeyed from Budapest to Istanbul via road, and from there had flown to Delhi, and had plans of backpacking around India, till their visa expired. They were on a very tight budget and shared an Aloo Paratha which cost just Rs 25 (36 cents) at Khosla Cafe. Timea had heard about Bollywood’s fixation with blondes and wanted to know if I had any connections with the film industry and if I could get her a role as an extra, in one of the song sequences. A few days shoot could fund their travels, she said. That was my first meeting with travellers looking at working their way around India. I was under the impression that Europeans found India cheap, because of their stronger currency. 

But, this couple was from Hungary, and according to them, the present economic situation in their country had left many jobless and sometimes homeless. Juhász and Tímea, both artists, could not afford to keep a home in Budapest anymore. So they had decided to leave behind everything they owned, and travel until things changed for the better in their country. I found it had to believe, and even Google’s inputs did not match up to the gravity of the situation they painted. 

I was soon to discover the truth in their statement. Our bus from Vienna to Budapest stopped at Népliget Bus station. Compared to Vienna, Népliget looked neglected, the man at the info desk refused to smile, his behaviour bordered near rude, and he suggested we take a cab - all things wikitravel had warned us would happen in Hungary. 

Zeros have no particular value 

Though part of the Eurozone, Hungary uses its own currency, and the exchange rate is 282 Hungarian Forints for one Euro. To purchase our subway ticket we had to first convert money, and the exchange office at the bus station gave us only 230 HUF for a euro. Later, we did see places that advertised 256, 262 and 273 HUFs per euro, but no one gave the exact exchange rate. 

Lily Furedi's 1934 art piece depicts the then fashionable Hungarian subway

The subway station was dimly lit, with graffiti on the wall and people sleeping in and lurking around dark corners. I was starting to feel scared. I had seen this sort of a setting in movies, and none of them had a happy ending. I held on to my bags, and tried to stand where the lights were the brightest. We then heard a rumbling noise, like the creaking ghost of an old soviet tank, and slowly the train rolled in. It was a lot like the tram in Kolkata, but with air conditioning.

Shoes for a bargain

When we surfaced, the scene around us had changed drastically, for we were now in the touristy part of Pest, with buildings and street signs and branded shops, but almost all of them were on sale. Shoes which were originally priced at 17,900 HUF was now available for 7,900 HUF. Lemonade was priced at 640 HUF. When inflation stares you in the face, zeros have no particular value. 

To explore the city, we took a walking tour that worked for tips. After the expedition, you can pay the guide what you can afford to spare, but the silent rule is always 10 euros, in this case something around 2,800 HUF. In Hungary bank notes come in the 1,000 HUF denominations and a girl in my group handed out a 20,000 HUF bank note in the place of 2,000! Thankfully, our guide was a decent chap, and he handed it back to her with a fair warning. 

‘Goulash communism’ and other histories

Religious freedom - a cherished right

The Soviets ruled Hungary for a long time, and after the Stalin era, the country developed its own kind of Communism. ‘Goulashcommunism’ mixed ideologies like Hungary’s popular culinary dish ‘Goulash’ mixes ingredients. Under the communists, every individual had a part to play in the running of the State. They were all required to hold jobs, and those out of work, were locked up. A family was guaranteed a steady flow of income, though minimal. Schools, health care and travel were subsidised. Practise of religion in public was banned and children were not allowed to be baptised. 

With the fall of communism in 1989, things changed. Education came at a price. Travel involved tickets – but even today you will find ticketless travellers on trams and buses, a habit they refuse to give up. The ‘compulsory work’ rule was removed, and the State took responsibility of providing for those out of work, but with families. And that’s how a section of society decided to get married and reproduce and forget about earning an honest day’s living – the gypsy population was never higher. 

What's visible of the silent rebellion

But Fodor, our guide, gave us both sides of the story. Most of his countrymen were thankful for the freedom that they had, after all, a man could become a millionaire or an achiever if he had the will and the talent. Even then, they were also worried about what the future holds, especially when the per person average income in the country was at 1,57,000 HUF and a rented house came for 70,000 HUF. Inflation has made life miserable, and though the rebellion is silent, it manifests itself in unexpected ways – like the unhappy info desk personal, a man peeing on the streets in broad day light and vandalism at some of the most iconic buildings. 

Beef goulash, with pink soup in the cup

For the eclectic traveller

If you are willing to ignore these, Budapest has much to offer an eclectic traveller. When I am away from home I look forward to eating in restaurants or cafes where the locals frequent, for a taste of what is authentic. I definitely wanted to give the Goulash a try. Yes, the same dish which gave their politics its name. Our walking tour came to an end at the Buda side and after our goodbyes; Fodor informed us that he was going for lunch before his next tour. So we joined him at a small workers mess, in the upper story of a building. There were no name boards announcing its existence, and it was a no-frills-attached eating place where local shop keepers and vendors sat around for a quick, silent meal. The menu was in Hungarian, and no one in the restaurant spoke English. If it wasn’t for Fodor, I doubt we’d have known what to order. 

The beef goulash was served with dumplings and this I had with some fruit and vegetable soup. The broth was pink in colour, light, mildly spiced and orangey. The steamed dumplings were bland, but the goulash, to borrow popular lingua, was sharp! The meat was tender, the dish not as spicy as it looked (at least for an Indian used to Mughali food) and it was comfort food at its best, for very less! 

Kürtőskalács - Transylvanian Chimney cake

After a full meal when we walked back to the Pest side, we heard street musicians singing church music – a post-soviet era right. Gypsies on the other hand played their kind of music, while couples and children danced the evening away. At a small stall in the open market, I tried the Kürtőskalács, also known as Chimney cake, another one of Hungary’s iconic delicacies. It’s from the Transylvania region (the Dracula state) and it tastes like smoked, soft bread dipped in caramelised sugar and flavoured with vanilla, chocolate or coconut. 

The weeping willow

A man with many secrets

Budapest is like a man with many secrets and only a skilled lover can get him to reveal those that he beholds. Our Jewish walk, helped us peel back some of these layers. Analee, our guide was a pagan – Christian (non-baptised because the Soviet government did not allow it) and she had a Jewish grandmother who was a holocaust survivor. Before the communists, the Nazis were in Hungary for a few months, and the death toll of Jews in that period ran into 4,00,000. In what was once the Jew part of town, they now have a memorial for Hungarian Jewish Martyrs this is shaped like a weeping willow, and the leaves have the names of victims embedded on them along with some inscriptions. 

One of the many rundown buildings

We walked further in, leaving behind the Jewish district, and in this part of Pest, time stood still. The city was attacked during WW-II, and even today buildings here look like they took a shelling last evening. Communist who ruled after WW-II took little interest in reconstruction or conservation. And now with Buda and Pest included in the UNESCO World Heritage list, these shell hit buildings cannot be torn down and rebuilt, unless it is in accordance with the construction guidelines laid out by UNESCO. This is of course an investment oriented initiative, and the Government or the families living in these buildings have no money to spare. 

But that hasn’t stopped many enterprising Hungarians from making the most of it. These abandoned, run down and shelled buildings, today house creators of alternative fashion, art, animation, film and music. Like a phoenix, from these ruins have emerged a new identity and culture, and today, it is the hidden soul of urban Budapest. Most travellers, bored of the European neo-classical churches and buildings, are drawn to this part of town, like moth to fire.  

Discarded but artistic - Szimpla Kert

Party animals and those looking for an early morning cuppa to treat their hangover, can find their poison or cure, in one of the many watering holes and cafes in this region. One such living WW II relic is the Szimpla Kert (Simple Garden), the first ruinpub in Budapest, voted as the 3rd best bar in the world by Lonely Planet. Discarded things added to the décor here, ups the distressed look. 

I was there, and I loved the vibes, but beyond that, pardon me sir, I have no recollection.  

Now in case you are interested, I do have interesting photographs of Budapest, before I got to Szimpla Kert.  

 

An open air evening market in Pest

Nightlight at the modern bridge near Margit Island

Cast iron bars hold this 1849 Chain Bridge in its place 

Before and After… Europe!

Without coming across as obnoxious, I must confess that I divide the life of an upper middle class Indian, (someone who prides himself/herself as a politically aware, socially polite and morally correct citizen), into two - Before Europe (BE) and After Europe (AE).  I can see a few eyes roll, and I can almost hear some of you go, “Oh come on now... Please!” But do hear me out. And maybe towards the end, even when you don’t completely agree with what I say, you might be able to see where it comes from.

First, the background. My husband and I have always wanted to visit Europe, and I admit that we considered a Euro-trip as our official entry into the travel scene. Traveling to Thailand or Malaysia from India, does not really amount to going anywhere at all. In fact a ticket to Bangkok is a lot cheaper than a ticket to Calicut, my home town. After our initial years of travelling around the said places, we felt that the time had come to cross the Arabian sea. We had heated arguments over where to go and what to do. We changed dates, budgets and locations so many times; that this friend I was to meet in Berlin, decided it was best to make her own plans and not wait for me. So when we finally got there, we had the key to her room, a warm bed and a well-stocked pantry – minus her.

It doesn’t cost much to save 

Backpack of memories

Ours was a backpacking trip. We travelled on foot, by trains, in buses and boats and all through our journey came in contact with travellers and locals, with whom we enjoyed long conversations. 

Wind turbines a common sight

Most often, after the initial exchange of pleasantries, they’d ask us if we were in Delhi during the three day black out. This lone incident had catapulted Delhi into the front page of newspapers in countries as far away as Germany and as small as Slovakia. How the Capital of one of the world’s fastest growing economy together with cities around it, could have a blackout was beyond them. It so happened, that one such person worked in the field of renewable energy. According to him 25% of energy used in Germany comes from renewable sources of which 16% comes from wind power. 

A single wind turbine can light up as many as 2,000 homes, he said. And even though it is high on investment, the returns are quick and sustainable. In India, solar and wave energy can be used to power cities and if every consumer is cautious about their electricity usage, shameful blackouts like this can be avoided. His words, not mine. What he told me were all lessons I had learnt in school and practised at home for a while at the insistence of the missionary nuns. But like most us, these lessons were soon forgotten and light and TV switches left on, until I found time to reach over and switch them off. When he put it in perspective with the Delhi episode and in the context of many wind turbines I had seen all across Germany, I wondered why I had stopped doing my bit. And why we left things half done, like the Vizhinjam wave plant project.

The level of awareness of a European citizen extends beyond engineering. For instance, they have organised car share agencies for travellers. www.mitfahrgelegenheit.de is one such website, where registered and verified users update their travel plans with maps, and in case you are looking to traveling in the same direction, you can connect with them and share a ride, for a nominal fee. People who have used these services have told me that it is perfectly safe, but not the best means of travel in case you have a flight to catch. The point I am trying to make is that, apart from saving money, most Europeans are also worried about leaving carbon footprints, and so intense is this fear of damaging the eco-system, that almost all of them use the public transport (reliable and frequent) or car shares while going on vacation or even while going to work.  

Another growing trend in these cities is the use of bicycles. Every road, in every city has designated cycle paths, and traffic lights are applicable to cyclists. Trains and trams have special sections reserved for people traveling with their cycles. Helmet wearing is more a habit than a rule, and it is a beautiful sight to see families riding together one behind the other, the youngest trailing far behind on their smaller bikes. 

Cycle your way to good health

Recycle, Reuse

It is common knowledge that tap water in Europe is drinkable, but we did not want to take any chances, so we bought one, every couple of hours. A 250ml bottle of water cost us between 2 euros to 2.75 euros, and this went on, until a fellow traveller, suggested we buy at supermarkets and not from small stores. In the super market, we were again faced with a problem. Most of them stock three kinds of water - sparkling, mildly sparking and still, and they are colour coded for better understanding. In Germany the pink one is sparkling and the blue, still. In Hungary, it’s vice versa. We were now able to buy a litre of water for 50 or 70 cents, and if we returned these recyclable bottles we were paid back 25 cents!  If I am repaid half the price of a water bottle, (Rs 7 in an Indian scenario) why would I ever dump one on the streets? 

The Politics of Public Behaviour

Did I mention that our entry point was Munich, Germany? As we walked around the airport we wondered why an international terminal was this tiny. It was only towards the end of our journey, when we met up with a common friend, that we found the answer. While political parties and airlines had campaigned for a third runway and a larger terminal for this Bavarian capital, the residents had voted against it, citing ecological reasons. When we were walking in Munich’s Englischer garten, volunteers were gathering votes, this time on the issue of garten expansion. 

In Munich and later in Berlin, we noticed that the trains, buses and people were all part of a well- timed and oiled machinery, which worked without screeches and halts. If the time printed on the timetable read 11.10 am, it meant that the train leaves at the said time, not arrives like it is supposed to in India. On trains, people sit respectably apart. The 'packed-like sardines' concept is alien here. Of course you might bring up the population count argument, but wonder who is to blame for that? Would you rather have a Hitler or the Soviets go on a killing spree or will it be easier on you if you followed the single child or no child concept that is now gaining prominence in inflation struck Hungary? 

Canine friends

No one, absolutely no one, talks on the cellular phone while traveling. So you can forget about eavesdropping into never ending mother-in-law battle stories or the giggles and cooings’ of new found love. Families talk amongst themselves quietly, single travellers either take in the sights outside or read, some listen to music – their headphones firmly plugged in, puppies sleep peacefully in the baskets kept on the owners lap, bigger dogs sit obediently at the heel - barking is unheard of. After we had had an overdose of irritatingly well-mannered dogs, my husband joked that the dogs here were better behaved and smarter than most kids back home. 

Now this reminds me of another incident. My husband and I were sitting near the entrance of a subway, drinking in the European sights. A young boy of about nine walked out, sipping from a juice take -away glass. When he finished it, he dropped his school bag, and stuffed the used glass into its right side pocket. He mounted the bag again, and continued his walk. This action had caught my attention; my eyes followed him as he continued his walk. A few meters ahead, when he came across a dustbin, his right hand reached for the glass, dumped it into the bin and continued walking. A long forgotten nursery rhyme played in the back of my mind. “Bits of paper, lying on the floor, make the place untidy, pick them up!”

Look who is eating

Another time in a park, a woman sat reading a book while her 1 ½ year old toddler played at her side. After a while, the little one walked up to mom and said something that I did not catch. Mommy took out a coloured tiffin box from her bag, opened it and wordlessly handed it over to the boy. He sat there on the grass, box in hand, and with tiny plastic forks, ate his fill before handing it back to her. I was in shock. Image of desi-mothers running after their children with steel plates filled with their favourite dishes and that of grandmothers sitting them down and telling them wondrous stories just to get them to open their mouths, flashed in my memory like a film in fast motion, complete with intercuts and expressions and background scores and noise. 

A whole new world out there 

In Central Europe, beer is a social drink, much like wine is in Italy. It was first brewed by religious monks and it is part of their culture. Canned beer is also cheaper than water. So they drink beer during lunch, after dinner, when you feel like it, as they walk past by or when they want to have long conversations. I am used to looking at beer as this alcoholic drink, to be consumed in dimly lit pubs or bars, with loud music that will drown the sound of my drinking or in moving cars with tinted glass windows, which is sometimes referred as ‘karobar’, and almost always without adult supervision. Here, children as young as 12 and 13, drink beer with their parents. The quantity of their intake is of course monitored, but it goes without saying that all of them can hold their drink, so no drunken slurring’s and lewd comments from anyone here. 

Biergarten (beer garden) in Munich, where families get together

I did meet a drunkard though. We were on an overnight train from Budapest to Munich; in the compartment with us was David, a model turned fashion co-ordinator and another chap with a never ending supply of canned beer. While the former engaged us in conversation about the world of fashion and styling, the latter just kept chugging beer. When, after a while, he decided that he had had enough, he switched on his phone and played some music - minus the headphones. Though I am used such anti-social behaviour in the DTC buses here in India, I found this man’s behaviour offensive. And I guess so did David. He fished into his bag, brought out a headphone, and smilingly handed it over to the man, who quickly realised his mistake and switched off the music. Without exchanging a foul word, David had shamed him into obedience. Something definitely unheard of, where I come from, though Mahatma Gandhi had tried this trick before - but then again, he was dealing with the Brits. 

Mahatma Gandhi with the Brits

So the point I am trying to make here is just this. We, according to many of us, are a country of Gandhi’s, Vivekanandas’ and other philosophers. We, discovered the ‘zero’ and we export our ‘brains’ into Europe and America, thereby playing a key role in the development of these countries. But honestly, who are we trying to fool? Most of these countries have suffered greatly; their past is dotted with genocides, manslaughters, inflation, mind games and what not. And even then, these countries and their middle class have emerged as individuals who respect each other and the eco system that they live in.

Do you now agree that the joke might be on us?