TI"IE INFLIGHT MAGATINE OF ALL NIPPON AINWAYS

WITH VIENNA AS TFM, GATE\AAY

this month's feature by Peter Crosby

takes us up the Danube to Budapest and the

charming old towns of the "Danube Bend" o{*

for a look into Hungary's past, present

and just a hint of its

promising future. t

Vienna to Budapest

DESTINATION HUNGARYSocialChange in Kyushu

JAPAN'S'SILICON ISLAND'The Occasional Tourist

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l\ 7f aybe it was the years ofpropaganda about life behindIVI. the "lron Curtain." Or it was knowing that thousandsof East-bloc emigrants fled through Hungary less than a

year ago on their way to the West. Maybe it was just thefabulous visa, an oversized stamp that looks more like a

fancy invitation, that graced - there is no other word forit - my passport.

Whatever the reason, as I cross the rocking gangwayonto our Hungarian hydrofoil, I feel headed back intohistory Europe's past. But I feel I'm going to get a glimpse ofthe future, too. Sort of H.G. Wells-ish, out for a trial spinin a time machine. But as our sleek ship shudders withthe roar of birthing engines, I don't know if I'm travelingto the past or the future.

This will be an adventure to remember: aftertastes ofHungary's baroque past, evidence of the greyness behindthe Socialist shroud, and hopefully, some sprouting of thesocial and economic "renaissance" we've all heard about.As we surge away from the Vienna docks, I hold on tight.Our craft's sleek bow carves our course into the mainchannel of the Danube. I still don't know the destinationyear, but I do know we're going to Budapest.

he fabled Danube, or the "Dan-ow" as the Austrianscall it, is the second longest river in Europe. (The

longest is the Volga, and neither ofthem is blue.) The cruisefrom Vienna to Budapest is 282 kilometers, and whenzlpping along on hydrofoil blades at 60km per hour, it takesless than five hours, nonstop.

The boat's interior resembles an aircraft's, with drinks,food and even duty-free shopping. But aft ofthe cabin there'sa hatch open to a weather deck It's ideal for photography,sunning or letting the Continental wind just whip throughyour hair. My voyage is spent here.

Downstream, we weave past convoys of low-slung bargesbearing brown coal, aluminum scraps and heaps of mysterymuck Some have work clothes hanging out to dry and oftenthere are sturdy bicycles with baskets strapped to the decks.A piercing WAaanNK!from our airhorn screams our speedyheadway and sends our landlubbers below. Mini-houseboats bobbing on oil drums dot the riverside till we're welleast ofVienna.

Soon we approach a castle; plain brown, cubed and big. Itlooks as if it's made of sand and squats on a ridge aboveBratislava. The city has been a part of Czechoslovakiasince 1919, but the fortress is distinctly Hungarian in style.

Right in front ofit, jutting out ofthe murky river, is a silverspike of a suspension bridge. Its single-tower profile lookslike a metal sculpture one might entitle "Hang Nail andRuler." Its bright ribbon of road sticks out from under the

Story & Photographs by Peter Crosby

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sand castle and darts through Bratislava, the first (and last)city of any size we'Il see. As it turns out, there's only onemore bridge between here and Budapest. So, about every 40kilometers or so, we see local car ferries, clunky and square,chugging across the stream.

In Hungary the river's name has yet another pronuncia-tion: "Doo-na." It spreads out downstream into marshyforest islands, "full ofwild boars and reptiles," the stewardessguesses. I bet the boys polling those flat, puntJike boats alongthe banks know better.

Q torybook towns, painted rose, canary and bright blueLJ nestle amongst the peach, apple and pear orchardsalong the banks. Each has at least one church steeple lookingTurkish in design. The ancient Romans, the Turks and theHapsburgs all had their turn dominating this land. Everynow and then, remnants of their ancient castles pop intoview, perched on hilltops.

Then, about 75 kilometers northwest of Budapest, on acliffedge overlooking the water, I'm bowled over by the mas-sive Cathedral at Esztergom. Its gigantic dome, patina greenand somehow looking swollen and bigger than life, is toppedwith a ten-meter golden cross. The forth largest cathedralin the world, they say, and constructed on the ruins of aRoman citadel. When they rebuilt the present structure

In 1822, they reassembled a 1506 chapel using 1600-oddstones inside one corner - it's that enormous.

The town below is Esztergom - not too hard to pro-nounce once you figure out how Hungarians say all thoseconsonants. It's the first of several delightful towns along anabrupt southward turn in the river. A couple of others areVisegr6d and Szentendre, less easily pronounced, butnonetheless charming.

This region is the "Danube Bend," a twist in the wakeof our zippy craft, but worthy of more leisurely exploration.It's possible if one debarks in Budapest and returns,upstream, via bus, train, taxi or one ofthe s/owlocalferries.

I catch the local bus, hopping along the river's bank, backto Esztergom for a closer look at that gigantic cathedral.

y footsteps echo in the rotunda. Its freshly restoredItalian frescoes look almost three-dimensional. All

those saints, that I can never remember anyrvay, seem to bevibrating, almost alive. The golden treasury glimmers withpious art and challises, secular art and carved horns, too. Butthe place is overbearing - perhaps too big. So I head downirito the narrow streets of Esztergom for a look at the townitself

On the way, I encounter a gracefirl man with a walruslikemustache who is cartingfirewood into his 400 year-old house.

16

His name is Kl6m:ln and his eyes light up as he tells me abouthis work as a folk dancer, then go flat again as he admits thathis talents are not much in demand these days.

"But I cannot work in Japan auto factory" he concludes,referring to the Suzuki Motors plant proposed for Esztergom.Stick with folkdancing, I think to myself But I get his point:economic renewal will come to the Danube Bend, but atwhat cost?

Next, I head further south, to tiny Visegr6d, tucked into theburgeoning mountains. In the 14th and 15th centuries, thisquiet village was one of the residences of the Hungariankings and a nexus of European power. Remnants of theornate palace steambath and marble fountains tease myimagination with the opulence ofRenaissance royalty.

Visegrdd is now the center of 35,000-hectare Pilis ForestPark and few inhabitants. It does have hiking trails, horse-back riding stables, an outdoor Olympic-sized pool that over-looks the Danube, and yes, one hotel. The 13th-centurycitadel above the city is bleak, and the surrounding hills offerspots for secluded picnicking with vistas of the entire valleyofDanube Bend. But they all seem empty.

I did try to get into one statuesque yellow mansion nearbyfor a look around, but was told (over the incessant barkingof the also-yellow dog) that this place was for "Party bossesfrom Budapest." Now I know where all the people went.

Tn,IE rmvnl Is EASY when you

board the Danube hydrofoil in Vienna to

arrive, a few hours later, in Budapest. The

Buda Palace (previous pages), The Hungarian

Parliament building, the modern Bratislava

bridge and riverside parks in Szentendre are

sights along the way.

A nly 20 kilometers north of Budapest lies Szentendre.\..,f I finally get the pronunciation right: "Sfnt'-end-ray."

As soon as I see the strands of bicyclers on the specialpath from the capital to the town, wait for traffic to passin front ofthe Dun6-side promenade and browse the myriaddisplays of local arts and crafts, I realbe that few travelersmiss it - especially the Hungarians.

I clop up the twisting, narrow and cobblestone streets.There are no cars in the oldest part of town. I can hear thesnap of the red, white and green flags of the resurrectedMagyar Republic flapping from historic buildings. Baroqueand rococo flourishes poke into the blue, blue sky on theseven - keep in mind this is a miniscule town - sez.ten lSth-century Greek Orthodox, Catholic and Calvinist churches.Szentendre gives the impression that it's a village that hasn'tchanged - much, at least - since the Middle Ages.

This tiny town is confusing though. The names of theconvoluted streets in my guide book are all "Lenin-this" and"People's-that," but on the real, albeit rare, street signs thenames are in Hunga.rian, I think. Now I'm beginning torecognize those consonants and accents. But when I stopsomeone who looks local, they give me yet another name,or maybe two, and grin. Oh well, I like to wander an)'way.

I manage to find the main square, framed with pastel-colored buildings dating from the early 1700s. Bart6kviolin pieces, U.S. country-and-western songs and evenballads on Peruvian wind pipes waft up from musiciansdotting the main plaza. Folk dances, brass ensembles andtraditional Magyar parades are also held here. Galleriesshowing contemporary artists' work are tucked intohallways, porches and dank basements.

GSI'ITI,En TIMEs ARE RETURNINGto Eastern Europe, slowly. A day or twospent in Hungary - perhaps as a side [ipfrom Vienna - can confirm what the headlines

imply: Zither music is heard again, freshvegetables from private gardens are refumingto the markets, and a spirit of freedom is inthe air.

\f,/andering for me means following my nose, perhapsV V because it is substantial. So the sweet aroma ofbaking

with its "you-must-be-hungary" (no pun intended) invitationhanging in the air, sucls me into some strange places. Thebeige-colored cafe spewing the air freshener is called the"Nosztalgia KFtvEh6z," and they serve only cakes - creamcakes - the sign says in English, German, French, Italianand Russian, The polyglot message also says the ownersings arias in the courtyard on Saturday nights.

It's Sunday morning and they aren't open - yet. But thewindows are filled with cream cake memorabilia - I kid younot - and seriograph pictures of what I guess is the creator.. .

ofcream cakes? Must be where the "Nosztalgia" comes in.Now feeling famished, I notice people stuffing doughy

somethings (covered with white goo) into their mouths.Their trail leads up an alley so thin that I turn sideways topass a loaded patron. Watch out for goo.

Under a blossoming tree, in the still-chilly springtimeshade, is a clump of people waiting for one of thesepizza-sized doughnuts. The server is an arm from a windowin the side of a building. I ask for one of "them." The armleans forward and the attached woman says, "L6ngos." I echoher word, and thanks.

The golden dough is spread with a garlicky oil, drenchedin sour cream and sprinkled with grated cheese and paprika,It's chewy and far too rich for me, but I smack my lips andsmile.

"La-uhn-gos," she says, no doubt correcting my earliermispronunciation. "Goot, ya?" I wonder if she can tell meabout those street signs.

rriving in Budapest, I'll now have to say the city nameproperly or pay for it, so "Buda-pescht" it is. By boat,

the thing that first impresses you - or me, an)'way - is allthe bridges. Then, the blockJong century-old Parliamentbuilding sitting on the waterfront startles you with its100-meter dome and 88 neo-Gothic statues. It sits on themodern "Pest" side of the Dun6. Across the rivel on the"Buda" side, is "Castle Hill," rising 165 meters and majes-tically capped by the Buda Palace and Matthias Church.

The stone and chain suspension bridge that firstbrought Buda and Pest together, 140 years ago, is themost classic bridge on the Dun6. Appropriately, it's thelast one before the hydrofoil docks at Pest.

Faded, carton-shaped taxis rush by, spewing pu{fs ofsmoke. Thxis here are cheap; a dollar or two to go acrossthe entire city -= provided the meter is on. For years, themost available car, for taxis or otherwise, has been thelittle "Lada." It means "box" in Hungariair, and I can seewhy. But even purchasing these required at2-24 month wait.

None of my cabbies speaks any English. I can guess,

however, that the gist of their rumblings is political, as Iam here during the first free Hungarian elections in 43years. There are 29 parties in the race and there arebanners and posters everywhere. One in particularcatches my eye. In it I recognizethe two major figures in thepicture. One is Leonid Brezhneg certainly. The other mustbe ousted Hungarian Communist Party leaderJan6s K6d6r.Below them are the images of a young man and woman.

What stops me in my tracks, however, is that all fourfigures are kissing passionately. Brezhnev and K6d6r arekissing, that is, and so are the man and woman.

I jot down the caption, and a waiter at a sidewalk cafetells me later it reads "Please. select carefully."

lue-tiled roofs, mosaic cupolas and pale-green bronzestatues adorn stone facades throughout Budapest.

You'd never think that 650/o of the city was destroyed byAllied bombing, Nazi pillaging and Soviet capture at theend of WWII.

Many Budapest structures are surrounded by scaffolding,but I suspect this is a hallmark of East-bloc bureaucracymore than one of actual renovation. Crater-sized potholes,bouncing streetcars and abandoned buildings do show theyears of neglect, as does the industrial-gray film that dimsthe facets ofthis Europeanjewel.

But the public markets are brimming with fresh produce.Since the mid-60s, farmers have been able to grow supple-

19

\Or igaag Terrace is a long plaza stretching between twoV modern hotels overlooking the river. The place projectsa movie clip of cosmopoliran Budapest today. yellowstreetcars come and go while young lovers kiss. Heavywomen in red and black Slovakian dresses sell theirhandmade pottery and roughly woven scarves. A jugglerenthralls a pig-tailed girl while mom tries on a Russianfur hat. German businessmen laugh it up and gulp theirgoulash and beer. The amber sun sets tenina the palacedome to the distant pluck of a zither.

^ The_history of Budapest is lit up at night like a beacon

from the past. The glow from th; pala;, Cathedral andChain Bridge draw people to the magic bastion on thehill. Food, music and gambling u.. o{IJr"d in everv form.A major Western hotel is built around the ruins of amedieval Dominican monastery and its casino takes only"hard" currencies from the Western tourists. But restaurantsnestled into cave-like corners, the cozy coffee housesand grand old pubs serve every kind of fare. Music fromGypry violins, bagpipes or classical quartets fills the air.

-The Annual Budapest Spring Rstival provides two weeks

ofthe best in European music and art. From Beethoven,s 9thto harpsichord recitals, King Lear to The Nutcracker,puppetry to poetry, films to folk dances, and so on _ allincluded in the more than 200 events across Hungaryduring the 10-day festival. First-rate performers are herefrom all over the world, and

"u.ry p.rfo.-ance I see has

an.encore to appease the rhythmic clapping, stompingaudiences.

mental crops privately. The enterprise.ofthese,,smallholders,,

lt3t ny".r Hungary by far the best lood supply in the EastDroc. I hear that these ,,smallholders',

are some of the"new wealthy" and will make or break the new coalitiongovernment.

This leads me to take a second look at the peoplemilling about rhe edges of the market. Middle_aged womenfrom Romanian tansylvania dressed i, f""g-d-L .kLt,and vests ofler single items of used clothing for sale.Scores ofbright.young women in scarves try to sell daffodilsgrown wild in the countryside. But I,m more aware of theclots. of scruffy children standing about, waiting. Openingthe borders was one thing. pioviding housing for thenewcomers is another.

Some changes don't come easily.

have a

y feet hurt. My legs hurt. My body aches, ancl is tellingme to find one of Budapest,s famous thermal spas. Ichoice - says a guidebook - ofno lewer than 123.

I choose Gell€rt Hill, just south of the Castle Hill anclcrowned with an ancient citadel and - inevitablv _ amonument to the Soviet "rescue,, of Hungary in t94S. Atthe base is the Gell€rt Hotel and Bath, buiit ir, 191g, allRoman columns and mosaics lit by arched ceilings ofetched glass. The humid air envelopls me as I,rn i;j,";tiled changing booth.

Men and women share outdoor and indoor pools, butwe separate for the baths and steamrooms. I test thewaters of one of the baths. It is 40 degrees centigrade,and smelling like eggs in an abandoned refridgerator, Iguess it's sulphuric.

In the steamroom, a pink and sweating man next tome is rubbing and snorting his nose LIke crazy. He passesme a small glass vial and waves me to try it. He is anAustrian by his accent: "Tiy hit... Goot for achting." Andhis eucalyptus oil makes it all the way around the steambath.

Even better for the aching is the massage in the adjoiningroom. One dollar American.

I am laid out on a table covered with a rubber pad by abig, bent-over man with white, pufly hands. Withoutwarning, he tosses a bucket of lukewarm water on mybody and slathers a bar of soap once over me. He thenworks the suds into a lather by rubbing me furiously -the way one washes laundry by hand. Next, he scrubs myflip side with vigor. Then a final bucket ofhot rinse water.

I'm not sure if I am more relaxed or perplexed, but I suredo feel clean.

Q till flushed from the baths, I climb into a cab in frontL-) of the Gell6rt Hotel and offwe go."English?" the cabbie asks."American. But I live inJapan."

"No communismus America.""Little, yes," showing him with my fingers close together."Nein..." he says, hesitating, perhaps trying to switch us

from English to German so he can communicate better."No, Hungary" he says with a grin. "Communismus kaput!"

I want to assure him that what's ahead is better, like I'msome ambassador from the future.

Then I note the taxi meter isn't on.So I'll be paying for the past, too."Relis/t t/te present, anticipate the Jitture and edit t/te

past," i.r za/tat my Grandpa used t0 say. T/te challenge inHungary is rteeping them all straight. From castles to ruin.r,

fmm t/te Cold War to pnTe wars and creame cahes to Big Macs,the times are dey''nttely a cltanging. The Danube nou oifbrsa uittdoz.o into history - a time mac/tine in motion, andstanding shll.

daily, except Wednesdays, through September 21. There'sintermittent and weekend Hovercraft service in October.

Both boats take four to five hours to complete the trip,and leave from Vienna around 8 am, from Budapest atabout 1 pm. Both cost about US$65 each way, which mustbe paid in "hard" currency.

Local ferries depart Budapest for "Danube Bend"towns every day from April 30 till mid-september, andon weekends during the year, depending on the ice, Allschedules are subject to chango.

Vienna-Budapest train service is frequent and expressservice takes less than three hours one way. The Hungarian

wo fast-boat services ply the Danube betweenVienna and Budapest. The Hungarian hydrofoilsmake two round{rips daily through September30. The Austrian Hovercraft makes one round{rip

airline, Malev, has daily flights between Budapest andVienna. Flight time is about an hour.

The nationaltourist cooperative of Hungary is IBUSZ.They have offices in all the major towns for touring, usuallystaffed by someone who speaks at least basic English. lnTo|<yo, the IBUSZ office in Roppongi is very helpful andmultilingual. Their Tokyo phone is (03) 584-7535; fax is(03) 584-3587,

A major event in Hungary next year will be the'l1thannual,Budapest $pring Festival, scheduled from March15th to the 24th. Hotel and ticket reservations should bemade as soon as the sqhedules are available becausemost events do pell out And if you really want to planahead, rymem ber that ihe first Vien na-Budapest World'sFair wilirbe held dur:ing 1995. .