Climbs and Climes

A bounty of exploration is available to a patron of Budapest, but as per the title of this here blog, my chronicle would not be complete without description of life beyond the city limits.  The River Duna snakes away to the north and south, a serpentine latitudinous divider of destiny.  Along this wet, wet, watery road we departed; the program rented out a small private bus to courier us along on our first organized excursion.  I was admittedly tired after the Hungarian Language crash course the day before, but I tried my best to remain awake and watch the real life moving picture out my window.  The Hungarian countryside is not unlike the Midwest, with textured cornfields and desiduous greenery.  Our first destination was Skanzen, an open-air museum that has collected and reconstructed villages as they would have appeared 500 years ago.  In the style of Ms Frizzle, our little bus served as a time machine.  We walked among relics: straw homes, barns, a mill, a farm, and churches half a millennia old, all in working order.  After we perused artisanal products for sale from the canadle maker, blacksmith and carpenter (actually, some really exquisite stuff) we continued on to our next stop, a riverside town called Szentendre.  This settlement also has the appearance of several centuries yore, but not for the sake of historical preservation.  While quaint, the town has been discovered by tourists and the local merchants have responded in kind; the streets are lined with stalls vending wares from Rubik’s Cubes to paprika, authentic clothing to laser inscribed glass paperweights.  There were some pretty nifty looking chess sets and hand carved boxes with secret compartments.  In the spirit of authenticity, about ½ a dozen cognitive scientists went in pursuit of the most Hungarian restaurant we could find for the midday meal.  In the town square, just across from a medieval statue, we encountered a little outdoor café that seemed just old-world enough to fit the bill.  We were not let down! The goulash was served in a pot and the chicken paprika was richer than rich.  Nothing was terribly expensive, yet everyone was quite satisfied.  From our position on the square, we spied on the other tourists, trying to guess the countries of origin. 

View from the top of the basillica

As comfortable as it was to lounge about on the cobbled streets, the time to voyage on soon arrived and we returned to our cheery little tour bus.  The tertiary stop for the day was another tiny little town known as Esztergom further upriver.  While insubstantial in some proportions, this location hosts the largest Catholic Church in Hungary.  Making the most of the behemoth place of worship, we climbed several thousand steps, winding up turrets and crossing belfries, to the very top of the dome.  (Dear Mom, stop reading briefly) A thin wooden ledge on the outer part of the pinnacle overlooks everything; we could see all the surrounding towns and all the way to the Slovakia border.  The countryside and river terrain looked surreal, an artform or model on which you could race matchbox cars and toy sailboats.  Despite the devastating heights, everyone safely returned to the ground.  There were plenty of other secrets to unfold in the style of The Da Vinci Code (or National Treasure?).  We descended into the crypts and walked among the tombs and then we made our way to the treasury to admire the garments of popes past among relics of gold and God.  The building was bursting with history, but I think our group was nearing our capacity for knowledge of the past.  We adjourned to the main sanctuary and discovered a wedding in progress.  We gleefully joined the congregation and bade the happy couple our congratulations.  Everyone loves a good wedding and this one appeared not to spare any expense.  Not only was the ceremony held in this elegant location, but also we witnessed organ fanfare, the release of 10 doves, and an old-fashioned limousine (with driver to match).  I wonder if they do Bar Mitzvahs? 

 

As the sun began to go home for supper, we retreated to our bus one last time and travelled into the woods to the campsite where we would be spending the night.  The group had two lovely two-story bungalows reserved for our use.  Akin to Goldilocks, we found that the places were quite furnished and neither too big nor too small.  The best part of the evening, though, came later when we gathered around a bonfire (Headmaster Gabor is quite a woodsman) and relaxed together.  Call us cliché, but we told stories and sang songs, and took the opportunity to become truly acquainted.  As the embers glowed a toothy grin, we jokingly asked our leader Luca to pass the marshmallows.  Completely straight-faced, she reached into her bag and pulled out a package.  Not marshmallows, she said, but the Hungarian equivalent.  What could this be, you may wonder.  Slabs of bacon fat, of course.  It is traditional to roast thick slices of fat over the fire when in the hungarian wild, and this is exactly what she proposed we do.  This was as unappetizing as it sounds, but it proved a truly culturally enlightening experience.  

The following morning, we hiked up to a nearby castle.  The hike itself was rugged, and we climbed a significant height for the second time in two days.  Though in ruins, the fortress is majestic and rife with history.  At one time, this was the seat of Hungary, with a brilliant view to boot.  Béla IV built the citadel in the 13^th century to keep out the Mongols.  The curators had installed an exhibit to portray the history, which consisted of hauntingly realistic wax sculptures of past sovereigns.  Slightly firghtened and saturated with views from on high, we began the trek down.  Both precarious and scenic, I was torn between admiration and fear.  The mountain pass lets out in the town of Viségrad, also situated along the river.  There we lounged at a lower altitude, enjoying refreshment and cool breezes on the shoreline.  Lacking our cute little bus to transport us back to the city, we boarded a river ferry and slowly sailed homeward.  The ferry was slow paced, allowing us to take in all the sights and sounds.  The currents whispered sweet innuendo beneath the guise of timelessness.  When we returned to the fine city of Palaces and Pálinkas, night had arrived, and all the buildings along the riverfront were lit up. We crossed under the first bridge and found ourselves surrounded by elegant postcard vistas.  As we parked in the glowing shadow of a gilded constellation, we agreed it had been another successful adventure.



The Parliament dressed up for the night