Budapest, Part 4: Miscellanea

Some leftover thoughts on Budapest:

One of my favorite fixtures of Europe are the unique architectural oddities that each city or region has. While cellars are numerous in other cities, Budapest has a special claim. They are bars and tea houses and restaurants. There was a very traditional, yet utterly un-kitsch Hungarian cellar restaurant we went to one of the last nights I was in town. I was able to try a lot of specialties in restaurant form. I had venison stew with potatoes and a tomato salad. Then I ordered dessert, crepes Gundel, which was a wonderful flambed crepe filled with walnuts, raisins, and chocolate floating in a walnut (?) liquor (that the waiter lit on fire with quite ceremony).

The Hungarians believe in dessert. Not only did I have the excellent crepes Gundel, but I also sampled various pastry at several Viennese coffee houses (one was in a cellar!) and various poppy seed creations. While I was not very fond of generic Hungarian cooking, at least they do enough correctly - wine, dessert, and tea. They're already outdoing the British by at least one.

As for museums, I wandered in several history museums, all of which have such vaguely similar names. However, the National Museum was my favorite, documenting the history of the cities of Buda and Pest, starting with neolithic carvings and ending in the modern era at the fall of the communist regime. Not only did they have historical items of interest, but they incorporated clothing, furniture and standard objects in their displays. Unfortunately only half of the signs were in English and my general lack of Hungarian history left me curious and dissatisfied. The Historical Museum was very similar in themes, but with less objects and more English signs with repetitive and useless knowledge. They did have a portion of the old palace that it is housed in open and I was able to wander in the cellar, built sometime in the 1500s, I believe. Not only was it deliciously cool and crisp inside, I felt I had discovered some hidden passage in the tradition of Indiana Jones. With the lack of tourists, besides two older British women wandering away, for a moment it was as if I had my own castle.

I did not have time to go to any art museums unfortunately. I tried to go into the National Art Gallery, but I walked in through an unlocked side door. There was a sign outside saying it was the National Art Gallery, but as soon as I entered some woman came up to me and started to say something to me in Hungarian. I said in extremely broken Hungarian, something along the lines of : "I No Speak Hungary." She then asked if spoke either German or English and then explained that I had to go through the main entrance. After escorting me over to the pain entrance, I was too confused (and tired of museums) to bother figuring out the proper way to get in. I wasn't particularly interested in any more medieval carvings, which is the brief glimpse of what I saw when coming in through the side door.

I did go to the Terror Haza, or Terror House, which was once the headquarters for the Hungarian Arrow Cross Party, the Hungarian Nazis, and then the later communist terror organizations, the AVO and the AVH. As it was a museum of "terror", they tried to document the crimes of both organizations against the people of Hungary. After reading the guidebooks, I was not sure I wanted to go as they described it as a shocking exhibit of past crimes against humanity. But I felt I should go, if for no other reason to see the building. I did take an upper division history class on the history of the Soviet Union at Berkeley after all.

The museum itself was one of the most beautifully curated museums I've ever seen. It is visually stunning, in its subtly vibrant colors that all seem to accentuate each other. The displays were simple, but aesthetically pleasing, and the orientation was easy to follow. I think what I enjoyed best was seeing the various memorabilia and objects from the communist era. The stairwell of communist art was incredible - the busts of Lenin and Stalin and others moving spirally upwards.

What struck me as strange though was the fact that the museum was not that shocking, at least in the terms the guidebooks used. Perhaps it was because I knew a lot more about the specific "terrors" of communist regimes in Europe. Compared to visiting the Nazi work camp Dachau, it was not even as close to being as horrific. The other thought I had while walking through the museum was the extreme bias. I understood and in many ways agree that the museum was an attempt to create a remembrance for all those who were persecuted then. But the general sentiment was that everything the communists did was evil (they did not focus much on the Nazis, besides including some uniforms and relating how many Nazi Arrow Cross members became part of the communist secret police). One of the things I realized while taking the history of the Soviet Union class was that although there were many things done as a means to solidify communism that were horrendous (ie. Stalinist purges), we have a hard time differentiating the propaganda we were fed against communism. The Soviet Union was one of the most progressive places for feminism and literacy, two things a lot of people don't realize. I am not trying to suggest communism is the means for a successful government, far from it actually, but I think as an American I long thought of that "great Communist evil" which I am now unsure exists or ever did. Rather, it was a much more complicated process, one in which communism folded in on itself.

One aspect of communal living I did enjoy while in Budapest was the Roman baths. At first I was a little nervous about parading around in early April in a bathing suit. But the baths are extremely user friendly - old men were playing chess in the outdoor bath while drinking beer, Italian tourists running around in droves, the one little boy kept narrowly missing other bathers when jumping into the pool, and of course there were the euro trash couples making out in broad view. But this just made it more comfortable to be there. I also learned how to properly enjoy a sauna, moving from it to a cold pool and then back again. It was extremely refreshing, unlike the claustrophobic experiences I had as a child in random hotel saunas.


I'm sure there are a million other things I am forgetting about my trip to Budapest. But at this point, with another trip, looming on the horizon, I feel like I've covered enough of it. Lena will have to remind me if I forgot anything.

Adventure in Budapest, Part 2

I was going to continue documenting the rest of my Budapest trip in a more timely fashion, but somehow time swept away as usual. Better late than never.

The second day of my trip in Budapest, I awoke to the pleasant sounds of a city neighborhood. People laughing, cars moving, and the faint drill of construction in the distance. How nice to be back in the urban jungle, I thought! And I meant it - never again will I question my need for the city after living in a village for a year. Lena and I awoke fairly early and ate the standard Northern European breakfast - bread, meat, cheese, yogurt, and tea. She thought it would be the perfect day to visit the traditional Hungarian town of Szentendre. And in fact, it was. It was a beautiful April day - the sun shining just enough to make the temperature pleasant, but not overbearing.

We boarded a bus - overall the public transporation system in Budapest is quite user friendly, even to those who have never seen a word of Hungarian in their lives, like me - which was a much better experience than the night bus the night before. We arrived in the village, which reminded me of a combination of the villages I'd seen in Bavaria and Poland. Szentendre is known as an artists colony and is quite touristy. The flocks of Italian tourists was quite astonishing in my opinion, but we left them alone.

We wandered around the village, looking at the old churches and the terraced houses, built in a Hungarian-Serbian style. We tried a traditional Hungarian street food - langosh - which is a piece of deep-fried bread with various toppings like cheese and meet. Some British woman came up to us and asked if it was a pizza and then if it was fatty. 'Well, it is deep-fried', replied Lena. 'Then it's not a pizza?' the woman asked. However fatty it actually was, it was delicious with the garlic paste on the side of the counter, replacing the standard condiments of pepper, brown sauce, or ketchup. We wandered over to a point next to the Danube and ate our lunch. Afterwards, Lena and I decided to go back into the city.

That afternoon it became overcast, but the city of Budapest was only more resplendant in its decaying beauty with a layer of clouds overshadowing it. We wandered around the main streets, looking at St. Stephen's Basilica, the Grand Market, the main shopping district, and the Pest side of the Danube. What I did not know when I first arrived in Budapest was that it was once two cities - Buda and Pest - and they were united in the mid-1800s. There is also a section which was a separate area, the island of St. Margaret, which before the Turkish invasion was a convent. The majority of Pest was built after 1800, during the glories of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire and are all magnificent in the tiniest architectural details. In 1896, in celebration of their 1000 year anniversary, the city redesigned major areas to resemble Paris and put in the first metro in continental Europe. Most of these places are still in use, although many still neglected from the years of war and communist regime.

After wandering around for awhile, Lena and I stopped at the Grand Market, also built in 1896, in order to buy dinner. It is an indoor market, with stall upon stall of almost everything imaginable. And my god the paprika sausages! I do not recommend them in general as the are in the best circumstances as good as a very poorly made salami. However, the pickled bell peppers were excellent and the amount of produce surprised me. I had rather thought it would be like Poland, which had very few fresh vegetables. Then again, I was there in November and this was now April.

Eventually Lena and I wandered back to her apartment with our bounty and made dinner, complete with the very drinkable 60 cent wine. However, an interesting night was to follow.

Peas, Cream Cheese, Marmalade - Or the Contents of My Fridge

There is a serious lack of food in the fridge. Or in the cupboard, for that matter. This has led to some interesting combinations of what is left: avocado and pasta, creamcheese and marmalade sandwiches, green onions and yogurt. Well, those are the hypothetical combinations. I've been lucky enough to salvage very edible meals - although today I think I ate way too much yogurt for my own good.

It is a twofold problem. One is I can't be bothered to walk the mile into town and carry groceries another mile back. Especially if I was not going to town in the first place. (Someone commented the other day on how 'British' I sound when I say, 'I had to go into town today' - personally I think it sounds more 1800s living on the homestead, too bad I don't have a trusty stead here). Secondly, I am facing the major problem of any other college student: second semester brings about a more restricted budget.

All in all I've been able to survive and eat well. I also have become much more creative about leftovers, turning them into soups (lamb, parsnip and barley) or adding them couscous (I got the idea from my Italian roommate last year) or salads (I made coleslaw for the first time in my life with some cabbage I ended up with). Then of course, there is always the hunt for the free meal which I've had some success with. I learned this lesson early on in Berkeley and any event that had free food warranted an appearance. Although, I was never desperate enough to want to go to the Asian Baptist barbeques. The best dinner by far was when my friend Teresa convinced me to go to a dinner of the Women Postgraduates Association, catered by a local Mexican Restaurant. Neither of us were postgrads, but no one seemed to care.

The British Higher Education system does not seem to believe in giving away things for free, or at least they don't in St. Andrews. Perhaps it is because all Scottish students do not have to pay tuition (same goes for English students at English universities). Or perhaps it is because it is a university full of wealthy Brits and even wealthier Americans (that is another tirade I will save for another time). None of the activities and events put on by the student union at the beginning of the year were free. Very few societies offered free events either. In comparison, most of the events at Berkeley are free. Maybe it is made up with my high fees and tuition, but somehow for a University System notorious for its budget cuts I doubt that is the case.

However, I think I would attend more university sponsored events if I didn't have to pay 5 pounds and upwards for every function. One of the reasons anyone at Berkeley turns up to school sponsored events is the offhand change that it will be an incredible bargain. And when it comes to free beer and tacos, it's a hard offer to turn down. My dad made some comment before I arrived here that because of the rough post-war economy in Britain, luxuries were not as readily available and people tended to be more cautious with their money. The economy has obviously recovered and more so, but I often wonder if that explains the relative conservatism among Brits when it comes to money. Americans have had a tradition of wealth and expendable wealth for much longer and one of the things they warned us about before we left was that British students often are shocked by the amount of things their American peers have. In St. Andrews this is not really a problem as compared to some of the universities that have a wider spectrum of students. St. Andrews is one of the most expensive towns in the UK and it has a reputation for educating elite members of society, like Prince William.

If students do not have to worry about money, maybe that is why no one has ever thought of 'free events'. I have seen some of the guys next door make absurd comments about how their flatmates would prefer to buy generic brands from the supermarket and how they actually would drink cheap wine! This is coming from a guy who insists on using the proper type of wine glass for each type of wine. His father brought them up on one of his past visits. Then there was the shipment of wine from an elite French vineyard for a birthday. I definitely like nice things, but then again as a student, I know there were probably be a time when I can enjoy having a collection of proper wine glasses and a full bar.

This now leads me to a horrible confession - the few sponsored events I have attended ranged from the bizarre to the horrendous - and I only went for the relatively free food.

1. Anthropology Society's Orientation Week Welcome, Free: We walked into the meeting to find the usual assortment from any university's anthro department - mainly dominated by what one of my friends called people who were 'crunchy - you know like granola'. However everyone was extremely friendly. There was a theme, Hangover Cures from Around the World (I had no idea kim chee was a hangover cure), and when I went to get something to drink, the guy told me they were out of punch, but he could make me a cocktail. It was 1pm on a Wednesday. We got cornered by some characters, including one guy who refused to answer where he was from and then quickly said something about London. Overall grade: C+, Food: C-

2. 1 Pound Thursday Lunch Brought to You By the Campus Christian Group: My friend convinced me to go with her - it was only a pound and as much as you could eat and she was pretty sure they would not try to convert me. The food was not bad as it was as much as you could eat DIY sandwiches. We sat down and there were the usual Christians milling around introducing themselves, but they did not asked me if I was saved or anything else. I was genuinely impressed with their lack of proselytizing. Until they announced their special guest, a travelling minister who sailed around Britain on his yacht trying to spread the goodnews. He was also dressed in a 19th century vicar's outfit. Spent half an hour talking. I noticed the local high school students who had come in for lunch had the better sense to take their lunch to go. Overall grade: D+, Food: B

3. Arabic Society Dinner, 3 pounds entry: An actual dinner with actual food! If I convert the cost, it makes me feel a little less victorious, but overall it was worth it. They even tried to create the atmosphere of an Arabic room, with carpets and cushions. The people were genuinely nice, did not try to convert me to Islam, and the food was great. Too bad it wasn't free. Overall grade: B+, Food: A

Unfortunately, I have become more of a hermit now, at least in attempting to find events with food. I missed the town fair where local vendors promoted their foods and gave away samples. Apparently there is a farmers' market on Saturdays but I have yet to attend it. I might actually have to try to understand Scottish, unlike half the time when I just smile and nod. The only time I could not truly understand a word someone said was when I went to the local butcher and after buying some pork chops, he said something, smiled and laughed. I laughed too, despite having no idea what he said. Although he was missing his front teeth and had a local accent. Or at least I assume so.

Culinary Concoctions of Cairo

As a foodie who likes to proudly boast of my latest culinary concoction - earlier this week it was baked trout in a bed of potatoes and chorizo with a marinade of lime juice, garlic and green onions and a salad of arugula, blood oranges and camembert - I found the food in Cairo to be just as much of an adventure as the city.

Initially, I had thought that Egyptian food would lie somewhere between Lebanese and Persian. Wrong, wrong, wrong. As my half-Jordanian flatmate later said, 'Egypt is like the Wales of the Middle East'. The food was not exactly bad, but it was far from the land of pita and hummus. It was not the worst regional cuisine I've had yet - England still wins that one, with Poland being a close second. I will make a distinction between English and Scottish food, one in which I will proudly admit that I adore haggis. That's already on the list of things I will miss.

Back to Egyptian food. The majority of the food I tried was street food. None of it was necessarily bad, as it was all edible and initially I enjoyed it a lot. It's just very boring. For breakfast, Duso and I would normally go to the little sandwich-esque shop and buy a pita-like sandwich that had falafel (or the Egyptian equivalent) and hard-boiled egg. Then for lunch it would be shwarma (or doner, in Turkish, or gyros, in Greek), the roasted meat on a spit in a sandwich. Traditionally, koushari is eaten for lunch. Duso called it the 'poor man's food' and for about $0.20, you get a giant tub of pasta mixed with chickpeas, tomato paste, and spicy sauces.

My personal favorite of all the Eygptian dishes was ful mudammas (pronounced fool), which is traditionally ate at breakfast, although we had it for dinner. Made from broad beans, it was most akin to a bean stew. We asked for spicy, although in Egypt and what seems like most European countries, they have no true notion of the word 'spicy'. The restaurant we went to for the ful was one of the most picturesque places I ate at. Duso's friend, Morgan took us down the strange maze of streets that make of the Garden District where she lives. It is also one of the most colonial areas of the city housing the British and American embassies. When we got to the restaurant, it was little more than a built up stove, several shelves, and a wealth of plastic patio furniture. Lights were strung from every which way and among the variety of plants, it felt like our own personal oasis.

Setting aside, the ful was very good, worth eating again. They served the ful with tomatoes and onions and brought an omelette and bread to eat with it. The other notable items I found were the pastries, although not quite as good as the ones from the Armenian bakeries in Pasadena, and the Turkish coffee. But coffee deserves it's own post.