Budapest, Hungary

Wed. June 28^th, Budapest, Hungary and on away home

         We were up early at 5 A.M. and had breakfast in the main dining room. Then, we readied for our tour of Budapest, scheduled for 9:15 A.M. The Tir had motored here over night and berthed in the early morning hours. We first had to distribute a few extra gratuities to the cabin maid, our friendly waiter and our much admired Tour Director, Gabriella. This estimable woman, a Hungarian by birth, is fluent in several languages. She now resides in Tenerife, in the Azores. She had led us skillfully through Europe, arranging and overcoming the many logistical mountains in scheduling of tour buses, museum tickets, and the various requirements of 180 passengers. She and Viking had handled the whole ”ship transfer” effortlessly. In addition, Gabriella gave a presentation every night, of coming attractions, accompanied and observed many of the tours for quality and served as an all-purpose den mother for all of the ship’s passengers. We tried, in the trip survey, to bring the attention of her Viking employers, to the abilities of this multi-talented and capable woman. 

      Hungarians claim ancestry from wild Siberian tribes, who has swept westward, during the early middle ages. The had settled upon the bucolic shores of the Danube. I am pretty adept at languages, but Hungarian is a poser. It sounds like the strangled and harsh emittances that movie producer Gene Rodenberry had ascribed to Klingons, in the old Star Trek T.V. series. The printed version of the language also looks a bit “Klingonish.” That might sound a tad unkind of me, but I could not for all of the world imagine trying to tackle this linguistic monster. The various foreign embassies allot a few years of language training, to any diplomats that they post here. We also learned that “water polo” is the national sport of Hungary. I will watch for their teams in the next Summer Olympics.

      The city of Budapest is split by the wide Danube river. Three newer bridges here connect the two halves of the City. Retreating Nazi’s, in W.W.II, had demolished all three of the City’s bridges. The eastern half of the City, Pest, is flat and even. It holds most of the city’s administrative offices, its retail sector and tourist hotels. Across the Danube, the Buda side is rural, suburban and the residence of most of the cities more prosperous citizens. It holds a unique “Capitol Complex,” sitting high atop a promontory along the river. We would visit it shortly.

       Hungary was a new experience for us. It is a country that had been ruled by Communists, since the second world war, and only recently established as a functioning democracy. Its economy is in the tank. Residual vices from the totalitarian days still crippled her development. One of the guides was scathing in his review of the government’s rather questionable way of doing things. A certain boyhood friend of the premier reputedly got many of the municipal construction contracts. Quoting a staggering and ruinous annual inflation rate of 24%, living here is difficult.The native currency, the Florint, had taken a beating. It now requires 371 Florints to equal the purchasing power of a single Euro. It reminded us of Italy, some years back, when you were staggered by the 100,000 Lire cost of something, until you found out that  the large sounding amount meant only $60 U.S. The man, who spoke perfect colloquial English, was encouraging all of his children to emigrate to America,  or one of the developed Western Nations, for better employment opportunities.

        The bus tour drifted along the main boulevards of Pest. Tourists and students seemed to be in abundant supply. We drove by and admired  the modern construction of the new Art Gallery, in Hero Square. It  is impressive. The “Statue of Liberty,” standing high on a hillside on the Pest side, also caught our attention. It is a memorial, built by the Russians, to commemorate Soviet soldiers, lost here during the WW II battle with the Nazi’s. A large Ferris wheel here serves as a prominent attraction for tourists. Zsa Zsa Gabor and the inventor of the Rubik’s cube had been prominent citizens of Budapest. The composer, Franz Liszt, had also called the city home. The ubiquitous St. Stephen had  been crowned here in 1,000 A.D. at the Coronation Church. He must have been someone of great import, to witness all of the churches named in his honor across this section of Europe.

     One of the more interesting anecdotes the guide relayed to us had concerned the Royal Crown of Hungary. During WW II, Hungarians had handed it over to advancing American forces, to keep it from the “forever possessing” hands of the Soviets. It had remained in American custody during all the ensuing years of communist rule. A visiting American Legislator, in 1970 and on his honeymoon with first wife, had become aware of the dilemma. When Jimmy, Carter was elected in 1976, the young legislator importuned President Carter to “hand the crown back to the Hungarians.” His efforts were successful.  In a state department ceremony in 1978, Jimmy Carter did in fact return the Golden Hungarian Crown to its proper owners. The Young legislator’s name was Joseph R. Biden of Delaware. He is remembered fondly today by all Hungarian patriots.

     We then crossed the handsome green bridge across the Danube. We ascended some steep hills to what is identified as the “Castle Complex.” It is a collection of newer buildings and tourist facilitators that surround  the 800 year old St. Mathias Church. The bus dropped us off below the complex. A kidney tax facility collected the one euro tolls from our aging cargo. Then, we walked up the hill to the Old Church. Inside, we enjoyed the massive scale of the ancient house of worship, with all of the gilded statues and religious icons.  (AFC) As an interesting aside, Sulieman the Magnificent, an ancient Arabic warrior, had once occupied Budapest and turned the St. Mathias facility into a Mosque, for the remainder of their stay. Next to the church, sits a massive new construction project, still under wraps. It is the new Hungarian Finance office of the Central Government, apparently built by the Premiers old childhood pal.:)

   Outside of the church, there is a grand square called the “Fisherman’s Bastion.” Why, I do not know.” A grand two-story and stone, viewing platform looks out over the wide panorama of the Danube and the river valley that surround Budapest. The top level requires an entrance fee. But, the bottom level has several roomy arches where you can look out and enjoy the same vista. We did for a time, as did everyone else. We had another Kodak moment, while we captured ourselves in pictures there. 

     It was a very hot afternoon. We sought shelter in a Starbuck’s there and enjoyed some very good cappuccinos. The tab was 3,700 Florints or about ten euros. Others got relief from a small ice cream stand. The afternoon was passing and the bus was waiting. We hustled down an avenue that the guide told us was a short trek back to the bus. We should have known better. The well treed street, coursed along the top of the bank, above the river.  It did indeed lead us back to the bus, but we had to hustle. Dawdlers would be left behind.

      Back aboard the Tir, we had lunch with the Broyles and Pinazza’s, talking about what we had seen and heard. The Broyles were headed out this afternoon to see an exhibition of Hungarian Horsemen. God Bless them for their stamina. We managed a quiet nap and then began packing our clothes for the ride home on the morrow.

    Dinner at 7 P.M. found us all together again. We were quieter this evening, after last night’s revelry. It was also Renzo’s “39^th” birthday. A cake and decorations, accompanied by a lusty happy birthday chorus from the wait staff, came with our meal. We toasted our now old friend  and wished that he and his wife Carla, have many more years of health and happiness. We were reflective on the many things that we had seen and done these last few weeks. We were also appreciative of the wonderful bonhomie, developed from our “Fellowship of the Road.” These estimable friends would remain long in our hearts and minds. Not wishing to repeat the follies of last evening, we repaired to our cabin after dinner and finished packing. It had been an interesting and enjoyable trip, but we were ready to “go home.”

Thursday, June 29, 2023- Budapest,  Hungary

     We were up early at 5 A.M. We had an early breakfast at 6:15 and then finished our packing. We put our bags out in the hall, after 8 A.M as instructed. Crewmen ferried them to the bus, on the river banks above us. We assembled on the bus at 8:15 A.M. As per usual, one knuckle head was late, claiming he hadn’t heard any announcement. It was a 40 minute ride to the Budapest Airport, where we were dropped off at the Air France area. The Airports and airlines were in melt down status right now. Many cancellations, delays and other pita’s ( pain in der butt) are common. It is a big holiday weekend in the states. The terminals were full of people from many nations, all whom must live in our version of Elksnout, Deer Tick and Bumblesnort. Try reading the Klingon announcements, written in Hungarian,  on the walls. Sheesh. Luckily, we found an Air France counter and stood in line for 45 minutes, until employees arrived. We checked our bags in and went through customs again. The flight, from Budapest to Paris, was uneventful. We got a little nervous however, when we saw the stewardess using duct tape to seal the exit door.

         Charles De Gaulle Air Port is an enormous facility and is under construction in all of its sections.  We had a good impression of it, until Air France cancelled our flight to New York late Thursday. Mary dealt with the presiding rascals, with her usual patience and aplomb. I would have throttled the clerks and ended up sleeping there on the marble floor. The airline actually paid for a room, at a nearby airport hotel, the Golden Lily. They also threw in dinner and breakfast. In that we were dead tired, it worked out well enough. We hailed a cab for the short ride over. Dinner was a very pleasant seafood buffet. We were able to buy a tooth brush and paste at the hotel desk. We then slept like old logs in a swamp.

Early Friday morning, after breakfast, we were ferried back to CDG. Due to construction, the van dropped us off about seven leagues from our terminal. A forced march, amidst throngs of Bumble-snorters, finally got us to the correct terminal. Along the way,  we had to tackle every official, who was slow enough for us to catch, with an “ou e le porte ?” The security lines everywhere were both lengthy and a pain in le derriere. Some of the French civil servants moved slower than an old friend reaching not fast for his wallet when the check comes for dinner.

          Finally, we boarded an Air France plane for JFK in New York. The now much-valued clerks had actually secured for us a “Business Class” cubicle. Bless their mothers for giving them birth. Champagne, a good Bordeaux and decent food all day across the Atlantic, worked its magic. Three movies later, we touched down at JFK.  It also is under a huge reconstruction. We walked much and found a shuttle to the correct terminal, after again asking many times “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot ?”

           The rascals, now elevated in our esteemed opinion, to treasured clerical staff,  had placed us on the wait list for an early flight to Buffalo. It was chock full to the rafters. We missed standby inclusion by two seats. (Who the heck is going to Buffalo with such urgency?) That made for another four-hour flight delay and some aimless walking and loitering. We watched the hectic throngs run hither and yon. Finally, at 10 P.M, we off lifted  from JFK, bound for the “Big B.” Surprise again, we were in Business class. We had two large seats, this time in row number two. I was actually beginning to think well of airline people. A double potion of a magic elixir, from Mr. John Dewars, set me in the right frame of mind. We arrived in Buffalo, without incident, before midnight. Wonder of wonders, our luggage had made the circuitous journey and arrived before us. These airline people usually  did try their best to accommodate passengers. Wearily, we summoned up “der Taxi” and after a brief ride to our nearby abode, we stumbled into the castle,  turned out the lights and were welcomed into the arms of Morpheus. It had been an epic journey, peopled with fine friends and companions that we had met along the way. We were glad that we had this way come, but were even more pleased to “be home.”

                                         -30-

                                 (2,196 words)

                               Joseph Xavier Martin