Obviously there has been an issue with people on the Budapest Metro moving around large numbers of unwrapped saplings.  It’s good that they’re finally doing something about this problem! 

 

Two questions spring to mind.  Where is Maryanne and why is Uncle Fester giving my good wife the thumbs up?

As my friend Remington would say….

‘Farley, life can be weird like that sometimes.’

  

  Ten years ago our family had our first trip to Europe. We tried to do too much on too little money.  By the time we arrived in Budapest the cash had almost run out, Nat was sick and Mitch had become a teenager almost overnight.  He had left a trail of belongings throughout Europe – cameras, clothing, other odds and ends. We loved the trip, but not Budapest.

This time it is so different. Linda enjoyed her conference and I enjoyed wandering with Maryanne. We have loved Budapest.

(My gait goes: walk – stroll – trudge – hobble – cramps – stop)

We have changed, but so has Budapest. Hungary had a tough transition from communism to capitalism. The political corruption had the opportunity to morph into free trade corruption. Some of the more elderly locals still long nostalgically for the certainties of socialism – full under-employment, free health care, cheap shitty crap from Russia aplenty. There was less crime and the place was dour but more innocent- none of the Brit Boys Brothel Tours, stag parties or hens’ parties that have become a feature of Budapest today.

Hungary now, Budapest in particular, is a lot more optimistic and a lot more forward looking. The Germans have invested a great deal of money, Budapest has had several coats of paint and the place is full of energy.  The young people are staying, or even coming back. There is less reliance on tourism as the main earner of foreign currency. The driver who took us round today came back from Germany five years ago and will now be here to stay.

There are still some huge challenges. Linda spoke with teachers and social workers who work in the Eighth District and our driver took us there today. This is where most of the Roma live.  Taxis won’t go in there at night, ambulances take a police escort. The human devastation caused by drug addiction and alcoholism was on the streets to be seen at 9am this morning. Other parts of the same district are better – more multiculturalism with a large population of Turks and Chinese expats – but still the feeling af a ghetto 2km from the wealthy city centre.  (Mind you, Redfern and Belview Hill are almost neighbours, or Wine Drive and Wirra Wirra Street)

We have more exploring to do. A restraurant meal at Bock Bistro a couple of nights ago would rate in our top two or three best meals ever. We have another restaurant meal tonight. We are going for a dip in one of Budapest’s thermal baths, having some conference attendees from the Shetland Islands over for dinner, and catching a train to a small town outside the city – all in the next two days.

More Walk – stroll – trudge – hobble – cramps – stop.  But I wouldn’t swap it for quids.

F C-S

   
                        

 I have noticed the particularly striking nature of many of the Magyar women, though not all. 

As  dear Mother would say, 

“Farley, it appears she may have let herself go.”

  

  

  

 

 

Today has been our first full day in Budapest and Linda’s first day at her conference. It has wonderful to see this city again as my initial impressions ten years ago were soiled by an awful apartment, foul weather, holiday fatigue and a rapidly diminishing bank balance. This time – none of the above. It is a beautiful city to stroll around.
Whilst Linda was conferencing, Maryanne and I walked from the Buda side back to our HUGE apartment. The city was built on a grand scale and most of the significant buildings were constructed during the height of Austro-Hungarian dominance in this region. The parliament building on the banks of the Danube looks out over one particularly poignant monument – sculptures of shoes. In 1943 as the Nazis were retreating their allies in Hungary (The Arrow Cross Movement) took it upon themselves to rid the city of the last of the Jews and Roma. All remaining Jews and Gypsies were marched to bridges or to this embankment on the edge of the river, forced to remove their shoes, then shot. Their shoes had value – their lives had none.    
More wandering, more photographs and a leisurely lunch in the afternoon. The food is generally cheap and of a high standard. I have eaten slow-cooked beef cheeks before and without exception they have been tender. Today’s beef cheeks were very tough indeed. I wondered perhaps if that particular animal had spent an inordinate amount of time drinking through straws or whistling? This would certainly explain the well toned cheek muscles (obviously waltzes and Hungarian folk tunes would be the cow’s music of choice – though Catrina’s people would be better able to answer this. I’m not some Hungarian whistling cow expert.)  
Home was a stroll up Andrassy utc. one of the more famous European boulevards. It was built with the intention of providing a suitable avenue for victorious Hungarian armies to parade. Sadly for the Hungarians this has never happened. Since about 1800 Hungary has managed to lose every single campaign in which they have participated. Every nation in the vicinity has beaten Hungary – some more than once. In fact if you wanted to practice winning a battle you would start with Hungary. The invasion of Serbia to start WW1 – disaster, wars against the Romanians – disasters, along side the Germans in WW2 – disaster, taking on the Russians again in 1956 – disaster. I’m sure they had wonderful uniforms and some fine marching music – even a marching herd of whistling cows perhaps, but none of it helped. Sometimes you should just admit that you are Hungary the Defatigable, chew on some tough beef cheeks, then go home. Parades are stupid anyway.

F C-S

  
    

We have left the Land of the Turk.  Our last morning was typical.  Walking along a local street we were called over to join a group of men and share their food.  The previous morning, despite the lack of a common spoken language, there were laughs together in the bakery where we had breakfast each morning. They were celebrating the failure of Erdogen’s party to win a majority in the elections and were willing to share the moment with strangers

The generosity and hospitality of the people we have met has been an outstanding feature of both of our visits to this country.  And it extends beyond tourists.  Turkey, although not hugely wealthy, currently cares for one and a half million refugees. ( Pakistan – 2.5 million, Iran 1.5 million, even tiny Jordan 1 million)  At least Australia does its bit.  We paid good money for those four people to be shipped to Cambodia, PLUS we help New Guinea and Nauru look after our assylum seekers.  Gotta be proud of that!

Aussie Aussie Aussie!

PS

A challenge to our kinder – see if you can find the photo of a man wearing my new sun-safe hat. A clue – it’s not pic one – they are Syrian refugees. 

  

  

  

  

  

  

        

  

  

 

 

   

  

  

  

  

   
      

in a rather sad day for Lady C-S and myself (How can Her Majesty’s birthday honours have come out without a gong for either of us?) I decided to look to the Turks for examples of resilience. It was all around us in the way they approach workplace health and safety!

 

The smoking you know about – it toughens their lungs

   

The footpaths teach how to roll with the fall

   They always attempt to conceal the drop into the pit

 Then make sure there is broken glass and cat urine at the bottom to teach self-administered first aid and recovery from infection

 The workers never put up signs when working on the street – this improves the reflexes of the both the drivers and the workers
 

  A pair of Adidas runners provide full ear and eye protection when using jackhammers

 Buses should always go through the middle of pedestrian squares if it is faster than using the outer road. The driver of the blue bus is a soft wimp.
 The head of a sheep is perfectly edible so long as it still has some teeth
 

  One way signs are bullshit. One way spikes are far more effective
 Finally, by leaving a range of side arms unattended on a counter top (the owner was outside having a smoke) you can teach people to both steal and shoot.

  

The Dervish are a sect of Islam – off-shoots of the Sunnis, that have been tolerated in Turkey but often suppressed elsewhere.They are the ‘Poor Friars’ of Islam – they take a vow of poverty and service to the community (Their saying is ‘Water inside the boat will sink it – the water outside will keep it afloat’.  A bit like the Reinharts or Sepp Blatter with their attitudes to wealth.)

Outsiders like us are allowed to watch a ceremony and all the money raised goes to local charities. At least that makes me feel better about swapping my traveller’s hat to that of a tourist for the afternoon

Children, Your Dear Father was so overcome by the passion, that for a brief moment I was worried I might DANCE….

   
  

            

Turkey and tobacco seem made for each other.  The drink of choice is tea, drinking tea is always accompanied by smoking. Talking and smoking go well together, standing outside your shop and smoking are made for each other. It’s OK to smoke whilst sitting or standing, particularly  whilst preparing the take-away food in your stall. Of course nothing fills the spaces of your quiet contemplative moments like good, strong Turkish tobacco.

There are health warnings on the packets, however even for someone trained in the languages by Rosewood’s teachers they are hard to translate:

‘Don’t criticise Erdogen whilst smoking, 

Don’t eat pork and smoke, 

Don’t drink alcohol and smoke, 

Don’t drive around Syria whilst smoking, 

It’s OK to smoke sitting or standing’ 

(This of course is a rough translation only)