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 

Awara (wanderer) in Turkey

I stood there wondering what it was that this lady was trying to say. She was waving the leaf in front my eyes, talking to me in rapid Turkish, sometimes pausing and then spacing out her words in a failed effort to make me understand. She once touched her head scarf, and then the leaf again before shooting off in Turkish. Finally she walked up to the tree, extended her hands, and carefully plucked two fruits. She offered me one, and when I hesitated, put it carefully into her mouth, chewing it slowly, before offering me again. Now this gesture, I understood. 

I put the tiny fruit into my mouth, and as I bit into it, the sweetest of juices oozed out and filling my mouth. My face must have registered a look of pleasure, for she quickly moved to pluck me another. And then another. I soon joined in. She showed me how to pick the ripest fruit; the idea was to look for those ones which looked like they’d bust open if left any longer. These ones were also whiter than the others, almost translucent. Wordlessly, we plucked more fruits, ate them one after the other, smiled gleefully at each other like children until the bus honked at a distance, and it was time for me to leave. I thanked her in English, and on an impulse hugged her. I was in Turkey on an assignment, and this was my second hug in one day. 

The carvings on one of the four gateways

After landing in Istanbul, my job had taken me to Sivas, a region in central Turkey. From Sivas city I had further travelled to a small eastern Anatolian mountain town of Divriği. The bus journey took close to three hours, and we drove through winding roads cut along a curving river, with mountains that changed from lush green to pale brown. Sitting where I was in the bus, it looked like the river was following me, and not the other way around. Or maybe the setting had woken up the inner romantic. Divrigi’s hidden tourist attraction is the Great Mosque and Hospital complex. Even though it is a UNESCO protected heritage site, it does not figure in most people’s Turkey travel map, because though well connected, it is a long drive to this place and there aren't many other places along the way that you can stop and visit.  The travel video here at 19:00 mins. 

When the road curved for one last time, before coming to a stop, at the foot of a hill, I caught my first glimpse of this mud brown monument. The Great Mosque and Hospital of Divrigi is a longish and magnificent structure, and was built in the beginning of the 11^th Century by the then ruler, Emir Ahmet Shah. The mosque and its adjoining hospital, was once the principal building of his empire. A closer look revealed the many wonders of this building. It has four glorious entrances and each gateway has elaborate and exclusive stone carvings, all made from a single block of stone. I remember thinking that it could be poetry written in stone, so many hundred years ago. The hospital apparently specialised in the treatment of the mentally ill. They had small canals all around the insides of the building and in the silence of the inner complex, the tickling of water through those channels must have reverberated - ancient form of therapy using the sounds of flowing water. It had also functioned as a medrese or a school for religious and primary education.

The seat of the Imam, the carpets, the chandeliers and your truly inside the mosque

The adjacent mosque was carpeted in red and blue, and for travellers on a budget who will only look at Turkish carpets from a distance and from across store windows, the first touch of that soft woollen fabric against bare feet, will remain as the most memorable experience. The insides of the mosque were bare but for this carpet, a few chandeliers and a mimbar - the seat of the Imam. If the carvings on the doorway had astounded me, the tall teak wood mimbar with its intricate designs fascinated me. Respectfully, I ran my hands over it. Mixed emotions – It could be here that the history of a secular and profound religion was shaped. I sat there for a while, taking in the silence and the deep sense of the past. When I stepped out much later, I met the lady who gave me my first hug. 

The friendliest souls ever

She was sitting at the foot of the mountain, with her daughter, watching two young boys at play. When I walked out, our eyes met and she smiled. I smiled back. She spoke to me in Turkish, and I indicated apologetically that I did not understand. She decided to continue the conversation anyway. She pointed to my ring indicating if I was married, and I nodded my yes. She wanted to know if I had come with my husband. I shook my head again. No, I was alone. If she thought it was inappropriate, her face did not show it. I surprised myself when I reached for my purse to show her my wedding photograph. They ‘ohh’ed and ‘aah’ed at the wedding picture, and I felt happy that we had shared a private moment. They pointed to a small house across the street, indicating that it was theirs, and asked me to come in for Çay (Turkish tea). I was taken aback. Yes, we had spoken, and I had shown them my wedding picture, but I was still a stranger – one who did not speak their language! Of course, the boys understood a little English, and would translate certain words to their grandmother. Even then, I wasn’t sure if there was enough time, so I refused. We continued this non-verbal communication until it was time for me to leave, and then she hugged me saying, ‘Allah korusun’ or God Bless and I hugged her back. 

They taught me to pick the ripest - my first taste of mulberry.

yes i'd love another glass of tea

A short walking distance from the Great mosque is a well preserved Divrigi home built in the traditional manner using wood. Outside this house were two big trees, laden with tiny white fruits. Young children from the neighbouring houses along with their purdah clad mothers had come to harvest them and though the fruits looked vaguely familiar, I was positive that I hadn’t seen them before. Later, when I boarded my bus, leaf and fruit in hand; my fellow Turkish travellers explained that it was the white Mulberry. So I’m guessing, by toughing her scarf, she was trying to tell me about the silkworms. 

During my travels through interior Turkey I felt welcome at every street corner. Random people will stop for a chat with you – sometimes in whatever broken English they can manage, at other times using hand gestures. It always begins with a simple question, ‘Where from?’ To which I soon learnt to reply, ‘Hindi-sthan’, the Turkish name for India. They would smile in recognition and one bold guy broke into a song, ‘awara hoon…’ from the Raj Kapoor’s 1951 classic movie ‘Awara’. Others asked more questions, invited me home; treated me to many cups of Turkish tea. Hospitality comes easily to them, and their culture, like ours, believes in the ‘Atithi devo bhava’ concept, though I am sure they have something appropriate in Turkish for that. 

Turkish dishes and their Malabari counterparts

A walk through Grand Bazaar in Sultanhmet and the Egyptian Spice Bazaar near Bosphorus reiterated these connections. Turks fancy the yellow metal, and the many gold shops that lined the market, reminded me of Kerala’s city specific gold markets. As I bit into a pista filled Turkish Delight, I remembered its country cousin, the Kozhikodan Halwa. The Turkish Pilav and the Indian pulao share the same parent. Their one bite wonder, midye dolma or mussels stuffed with rice, was just another version of the Malabari kadukka nirachathu.

Even though I have travelled alone before, never have I felt comfortable enough to share personal details with strangers. Never have I seen similarities that stretched beyond borders and dated back centuries. And never again will I be able to sing that song without fondly remembering Turkey. 

“āwārāhoon, yā gardish mein hoon, āsmān ka tārā hoon”


PS: On the last day of the Sivas conference I was given a chance to speak about my experience in Turkey. This is a video recording of the same.