July, 2012: Pest, Budapest, Hungary

When Cluj played Man United in the Uefa Champions League, the full-name of the team, CFR Cluj, reminded me of the train that took me from Vienna to Budapest. Since the team were attached to the Romania's state rail company, the CFR stands for Căile Ferate Române. The team were nicknamed CFR-iştii, The Railwaymen. I think this is the only football team with a steam engine on their badge.







CFR Cluj actually started out as a team in Hungary, because back then Cluj was still part of the Austro-Hungarian empire. When Transylvania was reintegrated into Romania after World War I, Cluj and the football team went with the region to Romania. I think these days, some Hungarians still see Transylvania as a region they lost. Back in Buda, a small kiosk was selling traditional Transylvania "funnel-cakes".

Crossing the Chain Bridge, we left behind the castle and palace. Over at this side of the Danube is Pest.

From weheartit.com

 Here we find shopping and restaurant streets.
 
 












I guess it is appropriate that the Hard Rock Cafe is found here in Pest instad of Buda. The HRC sales guy told me I was lucky: "everyone is asking about the teddy bears, this batch just came in 2 days ago."

Not far from the HRC, the Cafe de Paris were crowded, probably with customers gathering for the Euro2012 finals between Spain and Italy. Out on the street, there were young men going around in groups, with the Spanish flags draped across their shoulders. I didn't see anyone with the Italy flag, though.

The main Church is on this side of the river.

There were many small town squares where people gathered for a Sunday afternoon out.

Here in Pest, even the statues looked more relaxed and whimsical.
 

 
On one of the building was a statue of a train conductor holding on to a steam locomotive engine like a baby.

Where there is water, the public is using it to get reprive from the scorching summer heat. Here, everyone dip their feet in for a foot spa. At another fountain, I was ask to help a old granny scoop up a bottleful of water. What she is going to do with it, I was not sure. I hope she wasn't going to drink it, since, further down the street, a bottled water company was giving out bags of water for free.

A street closed to pedestrian was having a fashion week, the stalls selling clothes, craft, food and a band was singing live on a little stage.

On another square, stalls selling dinner and beer lined the perimeter of the small patch of grass. The crowd on the grass were waiting for the soccer finals to start. Hungary wasn't in the tournament this year, but a few decades ago, before most of the spectators here was born, the Hungarian national team went unbeaten for 3 whole years in the 1950s.

Behind the giant screen, I could see another stone monument with the Soviet red star on it. The place was condorned off with railings.
 
I thought this was to stop the crowd from spilling into the perimeter grass patch of the monument. But as I walk away towards the parliament building, I think there might be another reason.

 
No far from the Soviet star, was a statue of Ronald Reagan: "19911-2004, A country boy against the evil empire."
 
I guess there was no love lost between Hungary and the Soviet Union when it broke up. And the Hungarians thank Reagan for that, Although in my opinion, there should be a statue of Gorbachov next to it. The railing around the soviet monument was, I guessed, to keep away the vandals.

Down by the Parliament Building, there was a statue with the name Joesef Attila. If he is a Hungarian, that would make him a Attila the Hun.
 


It's time to make the way back from the Parliament building back to the East station, on the subway.

So far, Budapest looks nothing like Moscow. But once I made my way down the subway station, it does remind one of the Moscow station: the elevator went deep deep deep under ground.

Elsewhere in western europe, they don't go so deep, but curiously they name their stations with Russian station names: Stalingrad in Paris, Moscova in Milan.

Hungary is the only place on this trip where the Euro is not a valid currency. That were still some notes left from the trip, so I decide to keep them. In case, they join the eurozone and phase out the Hungarian currency. As for the coins, I kept some and spend the rest on a ice-cream at the MacDonald's.

I couldn't stay for the final match as I got a night train out of Hungary.








Since I was heading to Munich, this train could well be called the Occident Express, instead of the Orient Express.

Back before the Berlin wall came down, east germans was crossing to the other side of the iron curtain through Hungary. Here, the iron curtain was decidely more flimsy than the wall. Once they made it through the chicken-wire fences, they could make it to Austria and further to west Germany, sometimes on train.

There are no sign of the H for Huangary in any of the wordings and logos on a Hungarian railway trains. I guess it's because the Hungarian called their country Magyarorszag in their own languages. The Huns were the earliest tribe that rode in from the east, the Magyars were another tribe that rode in thereafter.

Compare to the almost-empty train to Hungary, this train was crowded. We start the trip with 1 fat American, 1 fat German lady and 1 fat Hungarian salaryman working on his presentation on the laptop. By the time we pick up more along the way, the train was full.

Arriving in Munich early the next morning, I want to check out who won. The bookshops and kiosks weren't open for the day yet. Outside the station, I found out what I need to know: Spain 4: Italy 0.

There is a Taiwanese bubble tea shop in the Munich station. In the afternoon, it does roaring good business. But that's in May and June, before Der Spiegel reported about suspected toxin in the tea.

I had lost count of the number of times Angela Merkel made an appearance on the local newspapers from Paris to Greece to Budapest. More time than not, she was portraited in a harsh light, like a witch coming from the north to cause misery.
 
Here in Munich, in her homeland at last, she looked sad on the frontpage.