CAFÉ SOCIETY
Vienna may now have the reputation of being a café society, but coffee—or “black soup” as it was once known—first caught on here, introduced by the Turks who occupied Hungary starting in the 1500s. By the 1800s, the liquid fuel was exalted by Hungarians in hundreds of ornate cafés that were the official meeting spots for prestigious societies and weighty intellectuals. Revolutions were plotted and famous magazines born in the cafés, and the heavily wooded hangouts were magnets for writers of all sorts, since scribes were given free paper to capture their caffeine-powered thoughts. An integral part of Hungarian society, the idea breeding grounds were shut down by the Soviets who, for forty years, transformed the lovely establishments into warehouses. Since the 1990s, however, many of the history-steeped cafés have reopened and again serve whipped-cream-slathered coffee in antique china cups with cookies, glossy chocolate, and a glass of water—all on a silver tray.
Budapest’s public transit system is exceptional; one rarely needs to walk more than two blocks to get on it. The escalators to the subway platforms, however, are so incredibly steep that the common reaction is vertigo.
Long kept down by their occupiers, Hungarians, when they ascended, were just as domineering as their former rulers; they forced other ethnic groups in the ceded territories (today’s Slovakia, Romania, Croatia, and Serbia among them) to adopt the Magyar language and embrace Hungarian culture.
At the beginning of the twentieth century Hungary’s future looked sweet, but that was apparently a pálinka-induced fantasy. Pulled into the First World War on the losing side, Hungary was left in a chaotic state in its aftermath. A 1918 revolution overthrew the king and formed a republic, but the country was soon overrun by outside forces. At the war’s end, Czechs, Slovaks, and Romanians invaded and looted Hungarian cities, unleashing the pent-up rage that had built up under decades of heavy-handed Magyar rule. The Romanians were the most vicious: when they left after their 1919 occupation, they loaded up most of the country’s remaining industrial riches—and even absconded with Hungary’s trains.
The Allied victors’ redrawing of post–First World War Europe shaved Hungary, leaving her one-third of her former size, creating a huge diaspora of ethnic Hungarians, and ushering in one of the lowest points of Hungary’s roller-coaster history. Dictators assumed power over the demoralized Hungarian people in the shrunken land. Communist Béla Kun lasted only six months, but the next powermonger, Admiral Miklos Horthy, cracked the whip for twenty-four years. Under Horthy, Hungary became obsessed with the return of the territories. Starting in grade school, children learned about the necessity of stitching the land back together. Posters of the lost lands, shown in black on a map, hung from offices everywhere, with the caption “No, No, Never!”
Lured by the promise of regaining forested and resource-rich Transylvania, Horthy signed Hungary up with the Axis powers in World War II, another painful error. Horthy tried to pull out of the agreement in 1944, and the Nazis invaded; the Horthy regime was shoved out by the Fascist Arrow Cross movement, which deported and killed some 500,000 Jews in the last months of the war. When driven out by the Soviet army in April 1945, the Nazis blew up Budapest’s beloved bridges and castle, leaving the city mostly a pile of boulders and dust.
Saddled with war reparations to Russia, Hungary was forced to turn over industry to the Soviets, and soon the Soviets simply took over, installing hardcore Stalinists in the Hungarian government who were quick to hang those who questioned their clout. Not only did Hungary lose any remaining wealth, the country was subjected to Moscow’s planned economies, including collectivized farms and the accompanying frequent shortages of food. The weight of defeat, coupled with the apparatus of repression, was too much for Hungarians to bear; rebellions broke out, and the Soviets displayed their most ruthless side when Hungary tried to loosen their grip. After the 1956 Revolution, 200,000 Hungarians fled.
János Kádár, foreign minister under ten-day prime minister Imre Nagy during the 1956 Revolution, left the government in disgust after Nagy pulled Hungary out of the Warsaw Pact. Kádár landed in the power seat when the Soviets steamrolled the uprising—and he stayed there until 1988. Kádár initiated his tenure with a show of force, ordering 2,000 Hungarians executed and another 25,000 tossed in jail for their roles in the uprising. However, he soon lightened up. Riddled by guilt over Nagy’s 1958 execution, Kádár went on to lead a relatively liberal Communist government.
Even after the 1956 slaughter, Hungary refused to play by all of Moscow’s rules. Fearing another disaster, Moscow gave Hungary freer rein. The Catholic Church was allowed out of the closet, some political prisoners were released, and Hungary’s government was allowed to pursue market reforms and loosen state control over the economy. By the 1980s, the economy was open to foreign investment, and Hungary launched a stock market as part of her “goulash Socialism” program—moves that made the country the wealthiest and economically healthiest of all the Soviet bloc countries, though, by the end, the economy was propped up by billions of dollars in IMF loans.
Starting in the 1970s, Hungarians could also travel to Western countries.
In the final years of the 1980s, when it was obvious the Soviet Union was sinking, Hungarians were quick to jump ship. By 1988, opposition groups had cobbled together the Hungarian Democratic Forum, which ushered in far-reaching political changes. In 1989, a new constitution was penned, allowing such freedoms as a multiparty system and the rights to demonstrate in protest and form trade unions. Sensing that there was little that exhausted Moscow could do, Hungary’s reform-pushing Communists tore the first big rip in the Iron Curtain in 1989—literally snipping the barbed wire—and instructed border guards to stop enforcing the shoot-to-kill policy against those who fled into Austria. That summer, Hungary was the place for a holiday, as thousands of tourists from East Germany and Romania slipped out. By the end of the year, Hungary, too, had slipped out of the Soviet hold.
RADIO ROMA
Tourists love the festive Roma (gypsies), whose folk music greets them from street corners, but Hungarians haven’t been too fond of them. Sixty percent of Roma are unemployed, and they’re associated with crime, from pickpocketing to break-ins. Not represented in Hungary’s parliament and harder-hit than any other group since the Communist safety net unraveled, at least they have their own radio station—which is funded by the EU. Broadcasting in their language, and playing Roma music, Radio Roma is a hit even with non-Roma; many say it’s the best station in Budapest. (See “Slovak Republic,” page 363.)
Even shaking free of the Soviets wasn’t cause to bring out the plum brandy for long. Hungary was slammed in the early 1990s; the economy stalled, unemployment shot up to 14 percent, prices doubled and quadrupled, one-third of Hungarians sank into poverty, and depression slunk over the country. The fine freedom they had been anticipating for forty-four years seemed far worse than the Soviet days. Relationships suffered and divorce became commonplace; some 56 percent of young married couples split up.16 Rapid cultural change also contributed to the collective malaise. Hungary quickly embraced all things Western, being the first former Soviet bloc country to open up a McDonald’s, which became the most popular in the world. Burger Kings, KFCs, Irish pubs, sports bars, and British department stores popped up everywhere as the country began a fast-track program to reconnect with the West. One of the first Eastern countries to reach out to the European Union for membership, Hungary was also wooed by NATO; along with Poland and the Czech Republic, Hungary officially signed on with the mutually armed protection club in 1999.
Hot Spots
Budapest: The most attacked capital in Europe, and still bearing bullet holes from the 1956 Revolution, regal Budapest (pronounced “Booda-pesht”) is actually a combo of two former cities—old world Buda, with wooded hills and seventeenth-century architecture, and more urban, modern, flatter Pest—which sit on opposite sides of the Danube River. She may rival Vienna again, if the old beauty ever gets that needed face-li
ft and businesses stop ripping off tourists.
The Danube: Forget the idea of it being blue, it’s usually gray around here. Heavily polluted under the Soviet regime, the river that historically made Hungary’s capital an important trade city isn’t as high, since Slovakia dammed it upstream.
Geothermal hot spot Budapest, former belle of Eastern Europe
Buda Castle: The hilltop castle that peered down over the Danube from the thirteenth century was supposed to protect Magyars, but over the years mostly helped out their enemies. Turks moved right in, making it their base during their stay; it took demolishing the castle to pry them out. The Nazis made themselves at home in the rebuilt structure, using it as a fortress and showing their thanks by blowing it up when they left. Rebuilt in the 1950s, the castle complex now houses plenty of stately monuments and assorted museums; a labyrinth winds around under it.
It’s said that Turks buried treasures in the castle labyrinths; during the Second World War, they held a subterranean Nazi town, complete with bomb shelters and hospital.
Pecs: Twenty miles from the field that changed Hungarian history with the Battle of Mohács, Pecs exemplifies Hungary’s layered past in her main square. There one finds statues of Hungarian warriors, slain during the 1526 battle, and in the background a minaret looms, topped with a cross. The best showcase of the Ottoman occupation, and also rich in uranium.
Eger: The lovely Baroque town is known for the red wine called Bull’s Blood, a name given after locals drank copious amounts of it, sloshing it on their shirts, and then beat back the Turks—who attributed their defeat to the alcohol-fueled fighters drinking bull’s blood. The Turks returned a few decades later and took Eger with ease, but the name of the wine sticks. Outside town, in the Valley of the Nice Lady, wine-tasting cellars are built right into hills; the name of the valley comes from the lady who offered more than just Dionysian pleasures in her tasting room.
Refrigerators: In the typical Hungarian fridge, you’ll find plenty of cream (the base for most soups), whipped cream (squirted on everything), and lard (squeezed out from a tube for that ubiquitous onion-garnished treat—lard sandwiches). No wonder at least 19 percent of Hungarians are obese.17
Taxicabs: Slimy unaffiliated cabbies bilk the foreigner, charging $20 or more for a five-minute ride. Alas, these scammers are just one form of Budapest’s con artists, a group that also includes beautiful girls who invite the unsuspecting visitor for a round of drinks that rings up at $600 or more.
Borders: Sharing boundaries with seven countries, Hungary is a major corridor for drug-running, slave-smuggling, trafficking of arms and stolen cars, and any other activity deemed profitable for the Russian mob.
Hotshots
Ferenc Gyurcsany: Prime Minister, 2004–present. Young, rich, and charismatic, Gyurcsany, appointed as a fill-in in 2004, was elected two years later, making him the first Hungarian leader to last two terms. The smooth-talking tycoon urged fellow Socialists to “dare to be left again” and revamp their image from being dinosaurs left over from the Communist days. Purists scoff at his moneyed background and plans to raise taxes; they put quotes around “Socialist” when they use it to describe him.
Laszlo Solyom: President, 2005–present. Lawyer and professor Solyom is best known as head of the Constitution Court, where he helped kill capital punishment.
CULTURAL STANDOUT: BÉLA BARTÓK (1881–1945)
No musician strikes more of a chord with Hungarians than Béla Bartók, whose dramatic works were influenced by folk music. Ghostly pale with dark mystic eyes, Bartók’s passion was ethnomusicology, a field he pioneered. After overhearing a Slovak peasant singing in 1907, he traveled across the countryside, convincing country-dwellers to allow him to record their traditional songs on wax cylinders. Pianist and composer Bartók’s most scandalous composition was the sexually charged ballet Miraculous Mandarin that revolved around crime, prostitution, and murder. Upon its 1926 debut in Budapest, the shocked audience stormed out; future performances were banned. Bartók won favor shortly afterward, however, with two violin sonatas and his famous Dance Suite. Although his career was soaring, he loathed the interwar ship run by dictator Admiral Horthy, and ceased performing during the 1930s. When the Second World War broke out, he moved to New York—and composed for such VIPs as Benny Goodman.
Hungary has a rich history of literature and theater, though many works haven’t been translated. Hungarian novelist and Auschwitz survivor Imre Kertész won the 2002 Nobel Prize in Literature for his works (including Fateless and Kaddish for a Child Not Born), which capture characters lost under dictatorships.
Franz Liszt (1811–1886): The Hungarian went down in history as one of the world’s finest composers for such works as the Hungarian Rhapsodies, but during his life he was Europe’s most gifted and passionate pianist who coaxed an orchestra’s worth of sounds from the ivories. Deeply moved by St. Francis of Assisi, Liszt became a priest at age fifty-five and wrote St. Francis Preaches to the Birds, a piece capturing the twittering of the swallows to whom Francis was said to address his homilies.
Hungarians claim movie producer Sir Alexander Korda (best known for The Third Man) as their own, even though he worked mostly in England, where he was involved in propaganda and a spy network.
Béla Kun: Self-proclaimed leader, 1918. Hothead Communist who grabbed the reins after the First World War, kicked off a 133-day second Bolshevik Revolution, and quickly became hated by everybody for prohibiting alcohol, requiring that children take baths and transforming churches into cinemas.18 During his six-month regime, Kun seized lands from the rich—but forgot to turn them over to the peasants. The madman was the worst person to have heading the government when the mapmakers were redrawing Europe after 1918. His Communist policies won Hungary absolutely no favors with the Red-fearing Allies.
Hungarian Truth and Life Party (MIEP): The good news: they’re not very popular. The bad news: the fact that this openly anti-Semitic, anti-Roma political party exists.
Scary: the rising forces of young skinheads in Hungary. Blood and Honor is one group known to stage demonstrations 400 strong in Heroes Square in Budapest.
DRINKING MATTERS
Apricots turn lethal in Hungarian brandy palinka, but even tougher to swallow is tarlike herbal swill Unicum, once claimed to be a royal favorite—they took it as a compliment when the emperor declared it “unique.” Locals say it tasted even fouler when production was overtaken by Communists.
News you can understand: The Budapest Times gives the news in English: www.budapesttimes.hv
19. BALTIC STATES: ESTONIA, LATVIA, AND LITHUANIA
Humming Along
Overview
Covered in forests, dotted with castles, edged by spectacular coastline, and bursting with new energy, the gorgeous Baltic States—namely Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania—are the most intriguing entries into the European Union. The allure is their mystery: these fetching countries could have fallen out of a distant galaxy, since few (even in Europe) know much about these parts that are thick with legend, knightly history, and virgin landscapes punctuated by windmills and tiny cottages. And most of the world simply ignored their turbulent past.
“If the rest of the world doesn’t know we exist, it’s for a simple reason: we were occupied [countries] forcibly incorporated in the Soviet Union. [The Baltic States were] kept behind the Iron Curtain with an iron fist—and that iron fist included not being allowed to travel and no people from abroad being allowed to land here. Our contact with the world was rudely cut off for half a century.”1—Latvian president Vaira Vike-Freiberga, specifically speaking about Latvia, but spelling out the story of Estonia and Lithuania as well
Say the names Estonia, Latvia, or Lithuania to most Americans and they’ll meet you with a blank stare. Mention the Baltic States and they will probably think you’re talking about the Balkans—the former Yugoslavia. Describe them as “former Soviet republics,” which they were, and their residents have a fit, pointing out that they were
independent countries before Moscow lassoed them into her Communist union. But these three long-forgotten Eastern countries are now rising globally. Low-cost European airlines are swooping into their capitals, connecting these far-yonder lands to Western Europe and bringing them into the tourism loop. Not only did the trio join the European Union in 2004—which is forking over money for agriculture and infrastructure—they also joined NATO, giving the rusty horse new life as it moved on to Russia’s back door. The Baltic States hold key positions and territories in the post–Cold War reshuffle that’s been under way since the Soviet Union fell in 1991, which is one reason Russia is so loathe to fully give them up.
Two leaders of Baltic countries spent many years in North America after escaping their homelands during World War II. Latvian president Vaira Vike-Freiberga used to be a psychology professor in Canada; Lithuanian president Valdus Adamkus worked for the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency.
SOVIET SECRETS
The three eastern countries that hug the steely blue Baltic Sea were Russia’s heavily guarded secret, marking the beginning of a figurative Iron Wall. The most westerly reaches of the Soviet Union for five decades, Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania served as Moscow’s eyes on the world; spying contraptions and military equipment littered their lush forests, and rockets pointed to the West from their shores. Their ice-free ports became Soviet shipping centers and military posts, and barbed wire blighted the stunning coasts of soft sands and bluffs, where nights were lit up by ominous searchlight beams patrolling shores to prevent escape.
What Every American Should Know About Europe Page 39
