View of Pest from Buda
On the banks
of the Danube River, you will find one of the largest cities in the European
Union, consisting of Buda and Óbuda on the west side of the river and Pest
(pronounced pesht) on the east side.
These two cities were united in 1873, and we have known them ever since
as Budapest. Originally a Celtic
settlement, the Hungarians moved here in the 9th century, but the Mongols
pillaged the place in 1241. For a while
it was ruled by the Ottomans, but it later became the second capital of the
Austro-Hungarian Empire. They held a
couple of revolutions here, in 1848 and 1956, and of course made the mistake of
siding with Germany and Italy in World War II.
About 450,000 of their Jewish countyrmen were sent to Auschwitz and
other labor camps within a period of 8 weeks just before the war ended and exterminated.
The Danube from the chain bridge
All that is
now a distant memory for most, and today Budapest is one of the world’s most
beautiful cities. It hasn’t been
renovated as thoroughly as Prague, but there are still plenty of beautiful and
historic buildings. This morning we
strolled by some of them on the way to Castle Hill. While we were strolling, a male member was
sidetracked by this huge display of ice cream flavors, and before you knew it
he was lovingly engaged with a scoop of rice pudding and raspberry.
Chain Bridge
A couple of
my companions had talked me into the 20-mile walk over to Castle Hill, shaming
me with what they claimed at least barrel of ice cream had done to the waist
line. They claimed it was only a mile or
two, neglecting to mention that we would skip the funicular ride to the top and
walk up the 20,000 feet or so to the top of the hill. We crossed the famous Chain Bridge to get
there, pausing briefly to catch our breath,
and had some friendly
conversation about the desirability of taking the funicular instead of climbing
the mountain. Anyway, when we finally
reached the top, panting and drenched with perspiration—two of the group seemed
unfazed by it all—we joined the other three friends, and your writer was
assigned the job of procuring tickets for entry to the Church of Matthias.
Funicular we should have taken
There were
two ticket lines for the church, and I chose the shortest one, behind half a
dozen or so others. There was a great
deal of animated conversation between the person in the front of the line, and
apparently a great deal of confusion generated thereby. A sign to the left of the window, in
Hungarian, listed the prices. There were
six rows and three columns, so there were 18 possibilities for tickets, depending
on your age, marital status, size of group, race, national origin, sexual
preference, and political leaning. It
was impossible to tell which category we fell into, and the clerk seemed to be
arguing with the person at the window about what price she should be
paying. It was not difficult to tell
that the clerk was fairly new at this, and there was a sign partly in English
apologizing for the fact that the computers were down and it was a cash only
day.
Matthias Church
After 10
minutes or so, the ladies apparently settled on a price, and the next person
stepped up. This person did not speak
any language that any other person within earshot understood, so there were
many minutes of hand and arm signals—some of them gestures, you might say—before
he was able to move away with tickets.
This left four people in line in front of me, and Tricia finally came
over to say the group was getting a table in a nearby restaurant, and would I
please hurry up and get the tickets and come join them.
Roof tiles on the church
The next
person in line had a significant hearing impairment, and must have thought the
clerk had the same problem, as he was soon yelling at the top of his voice, and
the clerk was shouting back through the window to the best of her ability. This shouting contest went on for several
minutes, and after what seemed forever, they finally settled up, and the line
moved forward by one. Around 30 minutes
had passed at this point, and there were three people ahead of me.
The next person seemed to have a pleasant but lengthy conversation with the ticket agent, until the girl pulled out a credit
card and tried to pay for her ticket.
She apparently could not read the sign in four languages saying cash
only, and could not understand the Hungarian clerk, so a sort of argument
ensued while my watch clicked off the minutes.
Finally, someone in the line made her understand she had to pay in cash,
so she began rummaging through her pocketbook.
This seemed to take forever, and she finally put all her Hungarians
forints through the window. But it was not
enough. She was 500 forints short. Now, at an exchange rate of 232 to U.S.
dollar, we are only talking about two bucks or so. She starts looking all around as if to expect
to see 500 forints on the ground or falling from the sky, until some guy behind
her says “look, I’ll buy your #*!@* ticket for you,” and shoves a 500-forint
note through the window. Finally she is able to move away with ticket in hand.
We won’t bore
you with the details of the next 15 minutes in line, but it took me
approximately 45 seconds to buy our six tickets and hurry on over to the
restaurant, where the rest of the group had finished lunch and were ready to
move on into the church.
Inside the church
The organ from below
$20 million was all it took to restore the church, with its huge stained glass windows and
east-meets west interior, combining several architectural styles. Parts of the church—named because King
Matthias married here in 1474—date back 500 years. But much of the church was built in the 19th
century. That does not make it any less
impressive, and we spent quite a bit of time here, admiring the paintings by
Roman artists and climbing the stairs on the side to view the details of the
interior more closely.
Royal Palace from a distance
With one of the royal guards
We passed by the Royal Palace, destroyed and rebuilt six or seven times over the last seven centuries, which now contains the national library, two museums, and untold numbers of monuments and statues. We thought some of the most colorful statues were outside, until we realized they were ceremonial guards. One of us tried his best to make one of the guards smile, but his antics only served to irritate and frighten the rest of our group.
Solo concerto for the birthday girl
In the evening we celebrated Tricia's __ birthday one day early, because we have an early flight out in two days if the Air France pilots strike comes to an end earlier than scheduled. the restaurant featured a string band of gypsies, one of whom took a liking to Tricia and gave here a violin solo in celebration of this most momentous occasion. She didn't look a day over 40--don't you agree?
Charlie & Tricia
©2014
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