Treehugger Dan's

 This evening, I walked across Margit Hid (Margit Bridge), with my buddy Debra, in my black shit-kickers, into Pest, to hang out at Treehugger Dan's Bookstore and Cafe.  Dan's sells used  books printed in English, sells his own brand of fair-trade coffee, and hosts music and art shows at his shops.

   I have been to Dan's tiny store on Csengery Ut and instantly felt at home among the piles and piles of tomes, all reeking of that heady, old book smell.  That scent, mixed with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee spiked with notes of black and herbal tea, is one of my favorites...so comforting, so absolutely right. I recently went there with Debra to check  out a small but impressive showing of colorful photos from the Middle East and came away with three old National Geographics and a new (to me) novel that I will start after I finish my current read.  One always needs a back up.

  I did not know until recently that Dan had another shop on Lazar Ut, this one much bigger, big enough to house a bar and a smallish music venue.

  Debra and I have an earnest desire to find a home, our tribe so to speak. We found it at Treehugger's Lazar location, humbly tucked into the narrow cobblestone street, amongst the expats (British, German, American, Middle Eastern, etc.) and the Hungarians who love them.  
 I had read a tiny bit about the band featured this evening, a group of three incredibly talented young men, wielding nothing but three guitars and a small gift box used for percussion, who call themselves Random Chocolates. God, I love lo-fi creativity. They performed a delightful mixture of  original and cover tunes in an intimate and vibrant setting....acoustic versions of Led Zeppelin, Smashing Pumpkins and their own gorgeous compositions.
  Deb whispered to me, a few minutes into the first set, "I think we've found our home."
  Yes, indeed.

Greatest Hits

Szentendre mannequin: she has nice boobs, but she looks a bit high maintenence

Seriously, folks, I have been writing furiously for the past couple of weeks...it is not, however, evident here on The Duna Din.  I've been polishing up short stories, sketching out new ones, and also composing a blog post for the Din on Hungarian politics...no short order, says I.

  I do not want to neglect the Din, however, so I am going to publish a flurry of photos depicting some of my favorite, most exquisite moments here in Budapest. A visual mixed tape of moments. A veritable puff post.  Enjoy and stay tuned for Hungarian Civics 101! x

  SURREAL SZENTENDRE

Flipping off the tourists

path to parts unknown

Aidan  looking over the church wall down on the streets of Szentendre

Szentendre is a sweet little village north of Óbuda that sits on the Danube Bend.  We recently spent an overcast day wandering around its cobblestone streets, admiring the many clock towers and soaring churches.  What I loved most about Szentendre, home of the marzipan museum, was its subtle surreal quality.  Lots of humor to be found here among the funky little shops and tourists from every corner of the globe.  Enjoy this sampling of pictures from Szentendre.


Among the many roccoco churches in Szentendre, the Serbian Orthodox church is perhaps the most rambling and contempletive. This picture of the graffiti was taken within its walls.  If there were no grafitti, one might not know one was in Hungary!

Grafitti on the church wall

This photo was also taken within the Serbian Orthodox compound.  I'm very drawn to crucifixes however agnostic and unwashed I am!

Our Savior of the Chestnut Tree

The Russian Orthodox Church was a bit smaller but exuded much more solemn gravity...Russian liturgies, engraved upon stone slabs which hang upon every exterior wall of the church, were punctuated by skull and crossbone motifs.  A warning of hell's fire or an acceptance of life's impermanence?

this skull seems to be distracted

Szentendre is indeed quite touristy but it is anything but tacky.  No wax museums, space needles or colored fountains to be found there.  What can be found is a charming collection of shops that offer anything from local ceramic ware to tapestries and clothing embellished with fanciful and painstaking embroidery.  A one such shop, I found a "souvenir" that I could not buy let alone schlepp it home in a shopping bag....it was a timber round floor of unknown age and rustic elegance, polished to a muted gleam.  The photo below will have to serve as my version of this souvenir and I am delighted to share it.

My friend Debra, she of the discerning, artistic eye, accompanied us on our maiden voyage to Szentendre. She came up with the simply brilliant idea of a photo collection made up of the doors of Szentendre.  There are dozens of striking, mysterious entryways in the village.  Who knows what goes on behind these closed doors?  Perhaps scenes of luxurious pomp can be found, or solemn rituals, intense conversations or just garbage, rubble and some small, dead critters.  It matters not....knock, knock, knock.....

Grafitti is ubiquitous in Budapest and the art form has definitely trickled up to sleepy Szentendre.  I'm a huge fan of well done grafitti, find it the great equalizer in the world of public art.  The building in the photo below is a night club, I believe....talk about inexpensive and highly effective branding, no?

 AIDAN


I don't know what I would do without my boy, Aidan.  He is such a swell human being and I admire him in so many ways.  He loves animals just as much as I do and the photos below demonstrate this. The first one was taken at the Budapest Zoo, the second in front of our home, the third just this afternoon after much wrestling with Cosmo, newly enlisted into the Hungarian army.  In all cases, Aidan was completely himself, at ease, and full of love for his furry companion. I wish there were more people in the world like Aidan and I feel so fortunate to have him around.

 LOOKING UP




There is so much architectural beauty in Budapest, I've almost become immune to it.  But not quite.  One could snap photos all day long and come away with dozens of images not found anywhere else. I find joy in the grand as well as the minute... the following photos trickle down from the sublime to the mundane but each possesses its own unique charm.  Each picture makes me happy in very different ways.




The photo below was taken during a service at St. István's Basillica.  Truly magnificent.

 The following photos were taken at the Grand Market in Pest....almost anything, Hungarian and beyond, can be purchased here.  Beware the crowds....

                                                          

This picture was taken the day I walked around the neighboring village, blissed out in Bekasmegyer.....plants in windowsills never fail to warm my heart.

  


  THE AUTUMN OF MY ROMAN RUINS


Aquincum was a sprawling Roman city, the northern outpost of the Empire.  The remains are just a few HEV stops from my house.  The locals do not see what the big deal is....I was thrilled to be standing amongst such antiquity.   The photos below are a few of my favorites shot that crisp, autumn day.


These are the remains of a mother and child, from the Scythian period, buried together in a shallow grave.

This is a little sculpture of a satyr...so impish and cute and in pristine condition

This photo depicts the remains of someone's home.  All that remains is the charming little planter, which still holds a tiny grouping of sedums.

I love this picture...the trees, the ruin....it was a meat market, in the center of a shopping district.

This photo is part of what remains of a Roman public bath....you can see the water stains on the pylons.

    CRAVINGS
   


The food here in Budapest is delightful, to say the least.  I've rhapsodized about the black currant juice....I can't fail to mention the sour cherry juice as well.  Finom, dragam, finom!
   My latest, greatest food hit are the light, lemony (citrom) cookies known as napolyi.  A sweet/tart smear of citrus cream between two thin cookie wafers (think waffle ice cream cone).  Such a swell treat with a spot of tea or coffee....

Below is an array of local delights, accompanied by our little rascal, Conky, of Trailer Park Boy's fame.  Gotta love a 2 liter plastic bottle of incredibly drinkable Merlot, from a respected  wine region and wine-making family, for around 1200 forint (about seven bucks).  A fine potable, accompanied by kifli (crescent rolls), kilbazs (sausage), csipos (spicy pepper), and creamy Trappista cheese.

   


That's all folks...for now. I apologize for the hasty vibe and the sloppy lay out.  Blogger is playing independent font editor, apparently, much to my chagrin.  Please return for future posts....much love. x

              

Familiar Tuesday

Tuesday was a day of familiars...by that I mean animal companions, harbingers of the fuzzy kind.  It began on the 160 bus headed for Krudy Gyula.

  I was staring out the window of the 160, on my way to pick up Aidan from school, longing for my cat in Portland, Steve Zissou.  I miss him so much, sometimes it hurts.  I know he misses me too.  

  On the way home I mentioned my yearning to Aidan, who also misses our big, black feline.  Both of us were starved of cat love.  We love our Cosmo dearly, but the dearth of meows, purrs, friendly rubs on our legs was starting to make us very sad.
  Our animal friends are not mere pets, they are our familiars.
  After Aidan and I left the bus and began the short walk toward our flat, we were shocked and amazed to be greeted by, of all creatures, one of our neighbor's many cats.  We had yet to meet a cat here in Budapest that was not terrified of strange humans.  Even our other neighbor's cat, Bono, is just now starting to accept our presence and has bestowed upon us the privilege of stroking his orange fur for a few seconds.
  This new cat, however, ran up to us as if she had been waiting for us.  She is a small, white cat, still very young, with golden eyes. ...to us, a little angel.  We sat down on the sidewalk and for about a half hour, this little creature took turns snuggling on our laps, enjoying our affection.  It almost brought me to tears.  We named her Attila....I have no idea what her humans call her.
 Later on, Aidan and I went into the blocks to do some shopping.  The blocks always offer, for me, new and wonderful surprises.  A new bakery here, a sweet little fruit shop there.  This time, we happened upon a pet store and we popped in to purchase some new toys for Cosmo.  Upon entering the tiny establishment, already delighted by the sight of poofy guinea pigs and the sound of little birds whistling, we were thrilled to find a very fluffy bunny hopping around loose in the shop.  Be still my heart.
  Familiar Tuesday did take a dark turn.  That evening, Aidan had gone outside and spotted Attila milling around outside the gate.  We simply had to go see her again and we wanted Boone to meet her as well.
  As Attila twirled around our ankles, we noticed a group of neighbors hovering over something.  We soon recognized the form of a dog, panting painfully and drooling, laying on our street .  She had been hit by a car on the main drag, Nád Utca, and the neighbors had carried her lovingly to a safe spot on our road, Ráby Mátyás Utca.  A word about drivers in Budapest.  They suck.  They are rude. They drive much, much too fast. They take ridiculous risks with their own lives and others as well.  And some asshole had smashed into this dog and sped off without stopping.  We all stayed with the dog, taking turns petting her, trying to comfort her with soft words, until her owner could fetch a cart to take her away to a vet.  We covered her in a ratty old sheet to keep her warm.  In the end, it seems her injuries were not life threatening...no internal damage, no compoud fractures, just a busted up leg that will most likely heal in good time.
  Here's to the animals...giving love unconditionally, taking punishment undeservedly.  I love each and every one. x

The Angel Attila

  

külföldi vagyok

i

me, at Kate and Matt's, about to become külföldi

 I am a foreigner.  Of course I am, right?  Expat sounds too glamourous, alien sounds too, well, alien.  An American in Hungary am I; have been for three months now.  It was made all too clear last night  at a party I attended with my friend Debra.
  Deb's boyfriend, Zoli, had a tri-purpose party last night, to celebrate his birthday, his brother, Balazs' birthday, and to bid farewell to a longtime friend, Sára, who is headed to London to seek employment as an au pair. I had been looking forward to this party with equal parts trepidation, curiosity, and genuine excitement.
  I do not yet speak Hungarian.  I'm not a verbal person anyway, not someone who speaks my own language with ease. This is because I am an anti-social introvert, truth be told, but a friendly one nonetheless. Human beings throw my mental equilibrium way the hell off, despite my love for them.
 Although I know a few key phrases in Magyar with which I can utter polite greetings, inquire as to one's well being, or find directions to a bathroom,  even these simple phrases sometimes become tangled in my overly nuanced brain.  What comes out may not be what actually went in.
  So I knew attending this party would be somewhat of a challenge, regardless of how nice, patient, and fluent in English people were. It was a party in Hungary...Hungarian was going to be the language spoken and it was up to me to listen, soak it all in, try to retain some of what I heard.
  Parties the world over, I have learned, tend to generate the same dynamic, same vibes regardless of where you are.  They tend to maintain a high school prom quality, with little cliques that cluster here, couples making out over there, a couple of loners observing and conversing way over there.  Those two loners were Debra and I, despite Deb's relationship with the host.  Zoli, for his part, did an excellent job of playing go-between for us and made me feel very welcome indeed.  This did not prevent me from feeling the usual awkwardness, which was definitely enhanced by one guest in particular and a few cultural differences.
  Balazs has a little girlfriend for whom I felt contempt even before I met her.  She had been described as a small blonde person who asked personal questions in English and then discussed them with her boyfriend in Hungarian.  This woman was, of course, very present at the party, a bit too present, however small she was...a tiny, bitchy dynamo freed from her workspace. The moment she entered the kitchen where we were all sitting, the dynamic changed.  We were no longer free to have pleasant conversation with Sára and her sister ZSófia, both of whom were happy to speak to us in their fairly decent English...how else do you get to know a person from another country without a lingua franca, which in this case, was English?  The blonde entered the room, cooed like an overly precious toddler upon greeting everyone (except Debra and me), and immediately began dominating the scene.  All talk switched to Hungarian, which is fine, I don't expect everyone to fall back on English just for this köföldi női. Besides, I wanted to simply listen for a while, see if I could pick anything up.
  The blonde did not get around to greeting Debra, whom she had met before, until she had finished catching up with the other guests, and when she did acknowledge Deb (and a bit later, me), she did so with a mouth full of onion bread, nose twitching and eyes rolling.  We were afterthoughts to her...if I knew more about psychology, it might be safe to say she felt uncomfortable around us and for that I feel sorry.  But, whatever...I found her mildly amusing, an archtype present throughout the ages.

 After filling up on fists full of pistachios and lemon wafers washed down with a few cups of Törley sparkling wine, we all moved to Zoli's living room where couples immediately paired up, girl upon guy's lap. PDA is omnipresent in Hungary...I'm not a prudish woman, but I tend not to indulge in PDA because it makes me feel like I'm on stage.  This is a major cultural difference and it was a lesson in just how American I really am.  But I'm open minded and I accept it.  I just refuse to join in.
  More cooing could be heard spilling out of the blonde's mouth each time a new guest arrived.  The insincerity began to both amuse and annoy me.
  Debra and I sat back and watched the scene with fascination...these people had known each other for so long, how could we even think to join in with our limited Hungarian and lack of history with them? A few guests did converse with us and I indeed felt welcome...just a little awkward and slightly ashamed that I could not speak more of the language. I was even tempted to bum a cigarette from one of the friendlier guests, just so I would have a small chance to bond with them.  My body warned me that this would not be a good idea by issuing a sickly shudder at the thought of inhaling nicotine, especially at my stage of inebriation, so I gave up the chance to chat one on one with these  particular guests. Curse of the külföldi.
   Deb and I were buzzed enough, thanks to several Törley bellinis, that we had ourselves a good ol' time indeed.   So good that I nearly forgot that the HEV only runs until just before midnight.  One of my new Hungarian aquaintances saved my saucy ass when he kindly pulled up the HEV schedule on the computer and informed me that I had about twenty minutes to get to Timar Utca to catch the train home. I hastily threw on my peacoat and pashmina, bade my hosts a jó estét, and trotted down to Timar Utca just in time to catch the last HEV, packed with other party stragglers, back to Csillaghegy where I would quickly fall asleep and dream about being a külföldi, being scolded by her fellow guests for neutering her dog.  Damn Törley bellinis...x

Rudas Fűrdő

Rudas Fűrdő, Dobrentei Ter, 9 Budapest, 1016

 Inside a humble, rather plain little building, tucked between the Danube and the white, limestone cliffs of Buda, rests a small gem the Turks left behind after they retreated from Hungary.  This steamy little paradise is the 500 year old Rudas Bath, an intimate and unique member of Budapest's bath network.

Beneath the cupola

Dark and dank, musky and sulphury...the Rudas is about as sexy a place as you could imagine a public bath to be. Underneath a cupola studded with colored glass sits an small, octagonal thermal pool, surrounded by smaller pools of varying temperature.  These range from mountain lake cold to almost unbearably hot...and inside all of them, couples could be found, teasing, embracing, making out.  I swear I could hear sperm counts rise and ovaries release eggs.  This place could get a girl pregnant.

  But only on the weekends, since the Rudas is reserved for men during the week, save for Tuesdays, which is reserved for women.  On Saturday and Sunday, the genders are allowed to mix and Saturday is when our fun-loving group of guys and dolls decided to visit.

  The Rudas offers mixed sex changing rooms as well, although privacy is ensured by the tiny cabanas that all guests receive.  Of course, the privacy depends upon closing the doors of said cabanas...I was treated to one or two glimpses of uncovered, unrestrained male members.  Oh well...it ain't nothin' but a thang.

  Of course, the Rudas offers sauna and steam rooms too.  The steam room could blister the skin right off of your bones if you are silly enough to remain inside for longer than a minute or two.  After a nice, cleansing sweat, it feels divine to stand under one of the overhead buckets, pull the rope, and release a lovely dose of cold water over your glistening body.
  All of this heat makes a person quite thirsty, and the Rudas has a drinking fountain out of which flows some of the finest drinking water in the city.  I filled my bottle up three or four times during my stay and it still was not enough to quench my thirst.
  The Rudas also contains a lap pool for those who want a little cool water exercise.  Swimming is huge in Budapest...every district has at least two or three swimming pools to choose from.
  It would be like comparing apples and oranges to do so with Rudas and the grand Szechenyi.  But I really love the Rudas and would choose it over Szechenyi for a few reasons.  Firstly, it is fairly close by, on my side of the river, easily accessible by tram, no need to bother with the metro.  I also prefer its smaller scale and the fact that everything, the pools of varying temps, the steam room, and the sauna are all just a few footsteps away from each other...nothing is outside.  The individual cabanas are also nice, albeit, a little cramped. At times I felt like a clumsy oaf banging around in the tiny rooms and more than once felt the creep of claustrophobia threaten to overcome me.
  And then there is the antiquity and the humid beauty of the place.  I felt as if I could happily float inside the octagon and stare up at the round, jewel toned windows, set into the dome like rubies, sapphires and emeralds, for the entire day.  I will be going back....probably on a Tuesday!  x

not a space ship landing, but the Rudas' bejeweled dome

Sad River Spirits

Danube River Bend, at Szentendre

By now you've perhaps heard of the toxic "red sludge" which burst from the holding reservoir of an aluminum plant.  So far no one from the plant will admit to human error and officials continue to downplay the toxicity levels in this poisonous mud. A criminal investigation is now underway. In the meantime, four people have died, homes have been destroyed, animals have perished, and "all life in the Marcal river, which feeds into the Danube, has been extinguished".
  The Duna's tributary, the Raba, is also threatened and dead fish have been found in both rivers.  The river spirits are now sick and very sad.  So am I.  Thanks a lot, Industrial Revolution...

for vivid and disturbing phots of the devastation follow this link: http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2010/10/a_flood_of_toxic_sludge.html?ref=nf

Szechenyi of My Heart

I woke up grouchy this morning.  Nothing new, a daily phenomenon, I'm definitely not a morning person. However, out of necessity, I have been forced to ignore my natural rhythms since moving to Budapest.  Oh, to sleep until ten a.m. and hit the sack at two a.m.

  The reasons for my ill humor are both definable and not so much.  Reason? Nem...sajnálom. I'm often fresh out of the stuff. 

  If I had my forint saved up, I would head, hovering black cloud and all, to the public baths at Virosliget (Hero's Square) and soak my cares, real and imagined, straight away.

  I would forgo a bath in my own fairly spacious tub, grab the plush, sunny yellow towel I purchased on my maiden visit to Szechenyi, and hop the HEV to Batthyanny Ter, where I would catch the red line to Virosliget.  At this point my mood might begin to lift in anticipation, or I might at least be distracted from  the prevailing ill winds of thought.
  The grand yellow building is enormous and private...you cannot see what is inside the compound from the outside, and as I first strolled along the grounds, headed for the entrance, I was filled with a calm anticipation as well as with a certain grave serenity  that came with the knowledge that I was about to partake in a very important, quite ritualistic, aspect of Hungarian culture.  The baths are not mere pools of varying temperature.  These pools have healing properties, their minerals great for the muscles and bones, as well as anything else that might be ailing a body.

   If I were again on my way to the baths, which, at 3000 forint (fifteen bucks) a person, could be considered a major splurge on my budget, I would remember to stay all day and use as much of the offered services as I could. As I enter the ornate foyer, I would immediately purchase on of the plush Turkish cotton robes that are sold there.  Emerald green?  Royal blue?  Depends on my mood, which would now be rising at a steady incline.

  Now, I am accustomed to bathing in hot pools completely naked, both men and women present.  During my years in Montana, I took many a trip to the natural geothermal pools (hot pots) in nearby Idaho.  Nothing sexual about this the nudity, it just seemed impractical and silly to wear a swimsuit in a hot pool hidden in the forest.  The Szechenyi Baths offer coed pools as well as pools for men only and women only.  I would stick to the coed situation, where swimsuits are mandatory (they even offer old, seventies era suits for rent if you arrive without one).  The hottest pools are here.
  After changing into my suit and leaving locker room, a stinky and humid chasm, where women of all shapes, sizes, and age mill around in various states of dress or undress, I would head for the main pool, towel and robe (and a few hundred forint to spend on refreshments).  Hopefully there would be an empty table and bench close by, where I could keep an eye on my beloved robe, but, honestly, I think the sense of fellowship and well-being these pools induce is so strong, the chance of theft is diminished at least a little bit.

  As I walk down the steps into paradise, my skin would enjoy a delightful prickle as a result of the cold air/hot water contrast. We all know that delightful feeling we get when we step into a hot bath after a chill. The first few minutes in the pool are the finest as the body warms up and the muscles relax.  Perhaps I would do a couple of slow laps around the circumference of the pool, do some people watching, enjoy a bit of semi-weightlessness.  There are plenty of interesting folks here in, blissed out, chatting casually, debating politely, embracing each other, playing chess.
  After swimming around a bit, I would head for Leda and the Swan, who overlook the massage fountain, and enjoy a watery neck massage.  A spot underneath this spout is precious.  If a space becomes available, you'd better occupy it quickly, because there is surely someone else eyeballing it.

In which case, I would stay underneath Leda for as long as I could stand, then search for an open space along the edges of the pool...these are also a "hot" (pun intended) commodity, not easy to come by.  Here, it is easy to sip your beer, engage in casual conversation, watch people float on by as well as keep an eye on your stuff.  No one seems to budge from here once they have laid claim.
  Assuming that I could not find such a space, I would instead leave the pool (it is recommended that you remain no longer than 20 minutes, but, who heeds such recommendations?), grab my belongings, and stroll over to the sauna/steam rotunda.  Here is where some real bodily healing can take place.
  Within this rotunda are three saunas and a steam room.  I would hit the saunas first.  I prefer the aromatherapy sauna, not as blistering as the regular sauna, and heady with the scent of lavender and eucalyptus.  The sinuses drain, energy builds, the mood lifts. After a few minutes, I would then walk over to the little cold pool and plunge into it...it may sound unpleasant, but it is so very invigorating.  I would probably forego the UV sauna, just because it is not as hot.  However, UV rays can be beneficial for skins suffering from psoriasis and small doses may help prevent skin cancer. I'd rather spend a few more minutes in the aromatherapy sauna myself.  My last visit in the rotunda would be to the steam room.  This proved to be an endurance test my first time, when I managed to stay put for about three minutes (which seemed and eternity), pores sweating, nose running the whole time.  I would try again for three minutes then after leaving the room,  plunge once more into the cold pool.  The skin loves this...I was rosy- cheeked for days after.

  The rotunda also features a pool that is body temperature...this way you can gradually build up your core temp after the cold plunge.  The really hot pool is also within, but, it is very often so crowded that movement is nearly impossible.
  So I'd head back to the pool outside to warm up again.  Maybe I'd finally score an empty spot around the perimeter.  If not, I'd simply swim around bit more, visit Leda again, hang out underneath her fountain away from the spout.  I'd probably grab a refreshment or two, enjoy them wrapped in my new robe, then step back into the pool for the last time.  Unless the company is stellar or I remember to pack a good book, I'd start to get bored and sleepy.  Dragging myself out of the pool, now limp and completely relaxed, I'd head back to the locker room, dry myself, pack my treasures, get dressed and mosey on home, under the river, via metro.  So close and yet so far.
  I'd return home still flushed from the experience and I would be in a much better mood... relaxed yet pleasantly alert.
  I have always loved being immersed in hot water, whether it is in the middle of the forest, in my own little bath tub, or in a big pool in Budapest.  Once upon a time, a wise Englishman advised a friend, a stressed out bundle of nerves...."Good God, man, take a bath!"  In times of trouble and personal disarray, I would advise the same to you, my dear friends and followers! x