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December 20, 2000
Last time I was telling you about the experiences my friend Tina and I had in Budapest, and
I promised to tell you about our Great Escape. To recap, we'd decided to head back to the hostel after the spa
we were enjoying closed at 5 pm. Earlier, we'd purchased a packet of 10 tickets for the weekend, had taken a bus
over to the baths and now opted to jump on the metro for the return trip. Take note that when you step on to a
bus in Budapest you immediately stamp your ticket, but when riding the metro you must stamp your ticket before
boarding. And where and how you stamp it may be less than obvious.
After stepping onto the train we looked for where to stamp our tickets but couldn't find it and off the train went.
As we neared the next station, where we were planning to get off and find where to stamp our ticket, a woman with
a uniform approached us to check us and as the door opened she stepped out with us.
Rather than helping us, which is what we expected, she informed us in halting English that we were being fined
for not having a stamped ticket and would have to immediately fork over the money to her. We, of course, proceeded
to politely explain our situation, careful to point out that we had obviously not intended on stealing a ride,
but were merely unaware of the idiosyncrasies of Budapest's public transport system and were at a disadvantage
due to language differences. We were sure she would understand. After all, it was all a very logical explanation,
right? Well maybe so, but she had no interest in either logic or fairness and all she kept repeating was, "This
is a Hungarian company and they say that you must pay!" Over and over...like a robot...a really nasty robot!
As we took turns reasoning (or trying to) and then pleading with her I recalled hearing that in Eastern Europe
the metro cops are often total scam artists. They may very well pocket the fine, or they may actually be complete
imposters. And as true with most visitors, you're at a distinct disadvantage, especially if the city police get
involved since they almost never speak English and may be just as corrupt as these characters. I recalled hearing
about a bad experience that one of my mate's girlfriends had had upon arriving in back in Krakow...somewhat similar
situation.
Honestly. if we'd been caught trying to beat the system we would have shut and paid up, but we felt justified in
pleading our case. But, after about 15 to 20 minutes it became apparent to me that there were only two options.
One was to pay. While chatting I'd been doing some surveillance: the layout of the station, the proximity of the
stairs, and also the short legs and ample width of Metro Nazi's fat ass.
I bolted for the stairs yelling out to Tina, "Come on, let's get out of here!" (I had also been reflecting
on what Tina's attitude might be about soon becoming a partner in crime.) By the time I hit the top of the stairs
and street level she was flying by me yelling and pointing, "This way!"
Down the street we flew. Just before we reached the nearest corner, I glanced over my shoulder to see if fat ass
was in pursuit. No sign of her. But, nonetheless, we kept up the pace, zigging and zagging, until we found ourselves
on a dark, deserted side street. We then slowed to a walk. At this point Tina realized that her knit hat that
she'd picked up while traveling in Peru might look just a tiny bit out of place here and would be the first thing
we would be identified by. So she grabbed it off her head and stuffed it in her pocket. "Can't be too careful",
she smiled. We were convinced that at this point all the available authorities, up to and including Interpol,
had been notified of our heinous crime and would be on the lookout for us.
In order to avoid the massive dragnet that was surely being orchestrated, we carefully tiptoed into intersections
like we were Bonnie and Clyde or something, watching for patrol cars, probably looking about as suspicious as two
people could possibly look! As we approached one corner, two policeman immediately appeared, as if out of nowhere
as they say. One of them stared directly at me. "Oh, shit!" I thought as we nonchalantly veered across
the street and kept strolling along. No one followed us. After several blocks we decided to venture back to the
main street where we melted into a large crowd and then quickly ducked into an Indian restaurant and soon toasted
The Great Escape.
After dinner, we visited the New York Cafe and Restaurant on Erzsebet St. It was recommended by our waiter as
a place to relax and have coffee and dessert and we soon found out why. Built in 1894, it's been a prime hangout
for intelligentsia and artists. Apparently the guest list is a who's who of European writers, journalists, painters,
actors, musicians and royalty. Naturally we fit right in. As we settled into our chairs, we looked upwards at
the ceiling. The architecture was breathtaking. Was that gold on the ceiling? We ordered our coffee drinks,
ate a bar of gourmet chocolate I'd stashed away for an occasion such as this, and reflected on the magic of Budapest.
Since we also wanted to see what it was like outside of Budapest (it's pitch dark coming and going via the train),
the next day we went by HEV train to Szentendre, a small town 20 km north on an arm of the Danube. A young Hungarian
woman who was currently living and working in Germany had told us about it on the eastbound train. Settled in
the 17th century by Serbian merchants fleeing the Turks, painters and sculptors created an artist's colony there
and galleries abound along the winding, cobblestone streets. It clearly has a Balkan flavor, especially the Orthodox
churches. It's a different perspective of Hungary - one equally fascinating and enchanting.
While there we had to eat again. Following our ears, we sauntered into the Korona, a place that looks like someone's
living room, where violins and other instruments (some of which I didn't recognize) created the perfect background
for another delicious meal. For me, it was time to sample the quintessential Hungarian dish: goulash, a thick stew
cooked with onions, potatoes, and beef, and flavored with paprika, the national spice that's present on every dinner
table.
Hungary is a relatively poor country, and like Poland, has some work to do as it continues to redefine itself as
a contemporary, non-communist European community - one that hopes for inclusion into the European Union within
three to four years. Talking to Hungarians, it's apparent that being part of the "free market" has helped
some of its population, but hurt many others. No longer are day care, education and health care guaranteed. And
although many new opportunities have presented themselves in the last decade, the gap between the haves and have-nots
has widened, and the quality of life for many has actually diminished. Walking through the city, as exquisite
as it is, one can often see the need for a "facelift". The buildings, statues and parks could use some
tidying up here and there and the dark stains of air pollution are evident on many buildings. The infrastructure
is lagging behind Western Europe. This may affect the quality of life there and it certainly does not escape your
observation. But, in my opinion, it does little, if nothing, to diminish the charm and allure of Budapest. Go
there and enjoy!
Some Web sites with more information about Budapest:
http://www.budapest.hu/ --In English and Hungarian
http://www.bbj.hu/ --The Budapest Business Journal
http://www.budapestweek.hu/ --What's happening in Budapest; entertainment
and news
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Peace... and szia!
