Posts

Hungarian road trip (3): Nyíregyháza to Hajdúszoboszló

Up at the crack of dawn, we joined the procession of cars wending their way towards the flea market. According to the guide book (?) we could look forward to ‘a motley crowd consisting of Hungarians, Romanians, Poles, Ukrainians and Roma selling the usual diamonds-to-rust mixture of goods’. In my mind, I’d already found the csillár (chandelier) for my living room, complete with four complementary wall lights, not to mention an eight-place Herend dinnerservice in muted greens. What I found was the usual tacky tat (mostly from China) and lots of vegetables. As we left, the queue of cars to come in was about two miles long! I would have been gutted, had I queued for hours only to leave empty-handed. It wasn’t a complete waste of time though – the chocolate palacsinta (crepe) made a great breakfast!

The plan was to drive to Beregdarác for the village fair and then take it from there. Simple really. The previous couple of days, both the church in Parádsasvár and the one in Mezőkövesd had been closed and as churches (open churches, ones where I can have three wishes and light a candle) are high on my list of things to see, we followed the signs for Máriapócs, home to the weeping Black Madonna (I have a fascination with the Black Madonnas). This particular one though has been removed to Vienna and what remains in Máriapócs is a nineteenth-century copy. This gave us some solace when, after driving around the country for sport (neither of us are great navigators: in fact, when I say I couldn’t find my way out of a paper bag at the best of times, KG is only marginally better, but better she is!) we arrived to find the chuch under renovation. And yes, it was closed. What do the faithful do for sanctuary in this part of the world? An open church is as difficult to find as a glass of wine in Parádsasvár after 9pm!

IMG_3483Our luck was in, though, when we got to Nyírbátor. The Calvinist church there is reputed to be one of the most beautiful Gothic churches in Hungary and it was open! Now, I’m a tad rusty on my architectural periods but this certainly isn’t what comes to mind when I think ‘Gothic’. Nice ceiling though. Am sure PJF will have a comment or two on this! From there it was on to Mátészalka for some Hortobágyi húsos palacsinta (meat pancakes – what can I say, I’d been in pancake mood since breakfast!). Having eaten our fill, we mosied on to Fehérgyarmat, where the chuch was also closed. Honestly, I was beginning to despair at this stage. Mind you, it did have some rather lovely carvings in the grounds: once again, we were on the outside looking in! IMG_3495From there is was on to Tivador, a little town with the most gorgeous carved wooden street signs and then on to Tarpa, home to yet another Calvinist church, also closed! IMG_3497 Apparently, the Reformation brought Calvinism to Hungary and the Thirty-Years War (1618–1648) established Debrecen as a fortress of the Reformed faith, which explains the number of Calvinist churches in the area.

Eventually we made it to Beregdaróc – the reason for the road trip in the first place. The place was deserted. What could we do but laugh – all this way for nothing. Not a sound from anywhere. And then we turned a corner and met the crowds – the cars, the buses, the villagers, and a Canadian! It was good, down-home fun with lots of music, dancing and crafts. KG had arranged to meet a cross-stitcher (who has won the Kis Janos Bóri prize in her day) so we hooked up with her and went to see her exhibit at the school and then back to her house to sample some hazi palinka. I couldn’t drink, of course. Those damned laws! But I did get a little bottle to take home with me. The Greek Catholic chuch was open and although there were no candles to light, I did get my three wishes!  With all the fun at the fair, it was past five when we left. And, as neither of us can make a decision to save our lives, we just drove on down the road to see where it would take us.

IMG_3608The road led to Csaroda , where a lovely little old woman took a massive key from her pocket and opened the church for us. The cross-stitching in this part of the world is everywhere – and is recognised as a true craft with women gaining folkartist status if good  enough. The church here was full of it. And the painted woodwork was something else. I think that after this trip, plain and simple is the way to fo for a house of worship… forget the marble and the gold. As I child, I remember Fr Jim, a relative of my mother’s, coming home from the missions. When he’d visit a church, he’d pop inside the confessionals and tap the wood; walk up on the altar and check out the tabernacle; he’d even check out the altar cloths! I was horrified that someone, anyone, could be so bold. If he were alive today and visited Hungary, he’d get plenty of ideas of simple houses of worship, where you can simply be, without distraction.

Then it was on to the almost Sussex-like village of Takos for a much-needed coffee and some decision-making. There again, the church (known as the barefooted Notre Dame) was bloody closed  but the café was open. The woman of the house was sitting by the window, cross-stitching. To be female in these parts and not to be able to wield a needle and thread must be akin to being Irish and not knowing how to cook a potato! We decided to head south to Debrecen and make up our mind where to stay along the way. Through an inability to decide, an uncooperative hotelier in Hortobágy, and a wedding en route, we ended up driving to Hajdúszoboszló. The guide book calls it a cross between Blackpool, Bondi Beach and Coney Island. I’ve spent a lovely day in Blackpool watching the bikers take their dancing shoes from the saddlebags and twirling around the dance floor. I’ve never been to Bondi and  I honestly can’t remember Coney Island but truth be told, all I wanted was a bed and it was supposed to have accomodation aplenty! It was like driving through a time warp. Flat land everywhere. Fields of sunflowers and corn. Lights in the distance but nothing to suggest the sheer size of the place. Known as the ‘poor man’s Balaton’ the thermal springs were discovered when some plonker was drilling for oil. The place is surreal. Packed to the gills with the young and the trendy; sidewalk bars and restaurants; amusement parks; stalls selling touristy tat and candyfloss… it was incredible and it was buzzing. So much for those who think this is where the frail and the elderly come to be cured! There wasn’t a zimmerframe in sight. I was stuck to the seat of the car, in danger of hallucinating for want of a beer on what was still a very hot day. I’d driven nearly 275 km, so KG had to go find a room – we drove around and must have checked 12 or more places, none of which would take us in, before we found the Lila Hotel. Now, it’s seen better days, but it was clean. And so what if there were no towels and the wallpaper was peeling off the walls, and the clientele looked liked the bailmen could be coming a callin’, it was a bed. And was I grateful! The beer could wait.

Hungarian road trip (2): Parádsasvár to Nyíregyháza

IMG_3412For once in my hotel life, I was ready for breakfast before it was ready for me. Parádsasvár goes to bed early and wakes up late! Breakfast didn’t start until 9.15! Fully fortified and laden with crystal, we set off on the road to Nyíregyháza…a journey of about 190km, without detours! One of the best things about roadtrips is being able to stop whenever and wherever you fancy. My shout was for the National Memorial Park at Recsk. It was here, between 1950 and 1953, that the Bolshevik dictatorship’s death-labour camp operated, far from public eye. When Stalin died, Nagy Imre closed the camp (he, himself, was later executed by the Communist government). It’s a strange place. Very simple. You can clearly see the foundations of the barracks and the kitchens,  and some of the original barbed-wire fence still exists. There is one barracks standing (I think it’s a replica, as from what I gather, the original camp was completely destroyed – the physical evidence disposed of). Athough the exhibit is in Hungarian, you don’t need to understand the language to imagine what must have gone on there. Wolf Pangloss has some interesting stuff to say about it on his blog. And it all went on, just 5km outside the town. Robbie Burns had it right when he spoke about man’s inhumanity to man.

Duly chastened, we continued on to Mezőkövesd, home to Bóri Kis Jankó, IMG_3442Hungary’s answer to Grandma Moses. For nearly 80 years, she stitched her famous ‘100 roses’ patterns and now, in the Hudas district of the town, other artisans display their work and demonstrate their crafts. Legend has it that, one winter, the devil kidnapped a Mátyó lad. When his girlfriend begged the devil to send her boy back, he agreed but only on condition that she swapped him for her apron and a flower (mmmm….interesting…the going rate for a man in those days!) The devil thought he was being clever as flowers are in pretty short supply in this area in winter. But the girl was smart; she embroidered a rose on her apron and got her man back.  The traditional costume of the region still includes an apron with a rose (for both lads and lasses). Why doesn’t this sort of stuff still happen?

Anyway, this collection of thatched and whitewashed cottages houses the best of traditional craftwork in the Mátyó region. The thatch is different to what we have in Ireland – more of a hollowed-out reed. Interesting. The detail is really something, though, in everything…even down to the carved wooden gates! I was particularly taken with Tibor Fehér’s ceramic bells and have added one to my travel tree. KG was in her element, her being in the business and it was impressive watching her talk with the embroiderers in Hungarian. We were half-expecting to see some old dears sitting outside, cross-stitching in the sun but we were out of luck. One reason to go back – another would be the pizza! If you ever find yourself there, and hungry… go to Pizza 6  on Szomolyai u. 3. Am salivating at the thought of it.

After all that lovely traditional culture, we ran slap bang into another sort of culture as we drove into Nyíregyháza. Me being a rugby fan, KG having little obvious interest in sport, and the region’s expert on all things soccer was in India, the chances of our knowing that Ferencváros were playing Nyíregyháza (soccer) that evening were non-existent. We were circumnavigating the city (the seventh-largest city in Hungary) trying to find our  panzió when we ran into two busloads of FV supporters being ‘escorted off the premises’ by riot police…scary-looking chaps in kevlar vests, helmetes, brandishing semi-automatics! At least, given the state of them, I hope they were being taken away from the match rather than being escorted to the stadium. The convoy crossed in front of us and it was like watching a particularly nasty movie. Some (?) FV fans are ultra-right-wing, violent racists – young kids and grown adults, boys and girls, men and women – whom you wouldn’t want to meet in daylight, let alone in a dark alley. (I met the lovely Kriza Bóri recently, who directed Dübörög a nemzeti rock, a documentary that scared me shitless. Her interviews with the FV fans made my blood run cold. How such mindless hatred can exist is beyond me.) Once the convoy passed, we motored on and again, ended up in the middle of it – this time nearer the stadium (The signposting in Nyíregyháza is woeful.) Driving slowly up a crowded street, a couple of opposing fans were doing a Siege of Ennis  advance/retire across the road in front of our car. At one retire, we passed through. In the rearview mirror, I saw a chap guy take off his belt, wrap it around his fist so that the buckle swung free and then launch himself across the road. All hell broke loose. These lads were old enough to know better. The car behind us had a front-row seat.

IMG_3474We eventually found our hotel… a small 26-room affair billed as a ‘former communist retreat’ – Ózon – near to Sóstófürdo. It was rather lovely. In a country where customer service hasn’t really caught on, this place has it in spades. They couldn’t have been nicer and the food… my God, the dinner I had is up there on the top 10 meals in Hungary… and high up there… No. 3 spot!!!! Before dinner though, we headed up the road to Sóstófürdo to the salt lake, which wasn’t really salty. But the thermal baths were a peculiar shade of green though… a nice way to start the evening after a long, hard day on the road! And yes, there is a soccer God…. FV were beaten 3-1 by the home crowd. Nice one!

It was another early night. Hungary has a zero-tolerance approach to drinking and driving so not as much as a chocolate liquer or a spoonful of sherry trifle is advised. We could have left the car at home and walked, but then we thought it prudent not to wander the streets that particular night. Anyway, I was knackered: I remember as a child asking my dad why he was tired – all he had done was drive all day!