Budapest: A River Runs Through It

I'm Jake Johnson, a Journalism Student at Ball State University. This is my attempt at documenting a week in Hungary's largest city.

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Had dinner with outstanding journalist and true rabble-rouser Attila Mong. We ate at Kôleves, which had a pub (kert) that I blogged about in the early stages of our research. Attila's story is fascinating and I'm honored to have met him. He was also the only person we met that I didn't have to shake hands with. As soon as dinner was over he just walked away, like a boss.

This is a link to his blog, check him out. I didn't get any decent pictures from dinner, so it's the least I could do.

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Day Szíx-vesen

We ended up back at Parliament for a more extensive stay this fine morning. I guess it was fine. It was the first time we had seen clouds the whole week. Our tour guide was this wonderful, little Hungarian woman whose name strays from my memory at the moment. She really helped me get a better perspective on the different parties in Parliament. Her interview will be available soon if all goes to plan for my story.

The Parliament building is a staple of Hungarian tourism. One cannot Google Budapest without seeing the shining display of Gothic Revival architectures set like a jewel on the bank of the Danube.

I'm going to have to cop out on this little bit because I'm working on a video package that will do it more justice. I will mention, though, that our tour guide's husband was a political science professor for Prime Minister Viktor Orbán, way back in the say. She seemed like she knew what she was talking about.

We spent our lunch at Trattoria Pomo D'oro. The joint is owned by some dude named Giannai. I never really found out who he was, but the signed jerseys from fútbol's premier players made him seem very important. Once again, the caliber of food we ate and the significant person we met were equally astounding. We talked to a former member of the Hungarian Socialist Party. Currently he's working with Strategopolis, a communication and advising company for the government.

I had the Batutu. Our guest didn't even know what it was, so it was perfect. It's basically a sauteed round steak. It was very thin, kind of rough and bigger than my head. It was pretty, pretty, pretty good. The fact that I ate the whole thing, for lunch mind you, is astounding. There was no point in touching the salad, unless it was had strips of Batutu on top (It didn't).

I had a big day really. Our tour guide at Parliament and our lunch guest provided me with quite a bit of background for one of my stories. After lunch we headed to the Dead Library exhibit, where I would get another story. It was nice to be productive for once, and it was International Women's Day.

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So yeah, I fudged up and put the wrong post on the wrong blog. I'm way too tired to care.

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Day Five: Water and Wine

If I had to pinpoint a main goal for this trip, I would say it was to better understand a culture different from our own and to document it as professionally as possible. However, one of the bigger facets of our trip was a fact-finding mission for Ball State over the implementation of a new, sustainable wastewater treatment facility. This facility would be a state of the art system developed by the Organica water company based in Budapest.

Organica's treatment facilities, or blue houses, use a series of small, natural ecosystems with plant and animal life to filter out clean water. That's probably the easiest way I could explain it. After a meeting at the company headquarters in the city, we headed out to Telki, a small village about twenty minutes outside of town that was home to the company's research facility.

The facility is really a wonderful design. The overall flow of the blue house is intricate. With all of the phases of the system right in front of one's eyes, however, it's all pretty simple. A couple guys watched over computer screens to make sure nothing went wrong. Other than that, their job really took care of itself.

The main thing BSU seems to be concerned with is the overall smell and aesthetics of the blue house. We saw two different generations of Organica's designs. Both were very impressive models and didn't have any sort of stench. If Muncie were to get a blue house, it would likely be implemented with the White River and serve Ball State's campus.

As a representative of the school I was pleased at Organica's work. I feel like we would be silly to turn down this kind of opportunity. Our new geothermal project is something else, but the blue house is the next step.

We spent the afternoon with the people from Organica at this wonderful restaurant on the hill of this village. Once again we had place all to ourselves. It was probably for the best. We were a lively bunch. We discussed having students work at the prospective Muncie blue house. All of us agreed there wouldn't be any harm under the right training in supervision, but Prof. Swingley made it apparent that the university wasn't much up for the idea of students running their own wastewater treatment facility. Dinner was good. I had pork and goulash.

The restaurant had its own winery and vineyard just up the hill. I'd never been to a wine tasting and I had never been too particular to try it before. It wasn't bad. I would certainly attend a tasting if the opportunity arose. My favorite was a Sauvignon blanc they had from 2010. Since being back, I haven't shied away from a glass or two of Pinot with my microwave dinners.

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Csak Art Bar and our new friends RocketFuel

We planned on going out with a some of the students from dinner the other night. Unfortunately, a few of the students got a bit of a stomach flu. There must've been something in the air that week in Budapest; Jena's illness was not an isolated incident. Luckily Gáspár was feeling up to the occasion.

Gáspár took us to one of his favorite hangouts called Csak Art Bar. Not knowing what an art bar was, I assumed we were going to be drinking wine and staring at abstract charcoal drawings of albino alligators (I'm tired, cut me some slack). It turned out to be a rather nice little joint. The furniture seemed to be collected over a lifetime of thrift shopping. The works of art in the bar weren't anything spectacular. I couldn't produce anything nearly as striking if I tried, but the overall atmosphere was homely and unpretentious.

We had a couple of tall Drehers and a round of Palinka. I felt like we were sort of drilling our new friend with question after question. Gáspár was happy to oblige, though. It seemed like there was a bit of an 'us and them' vibe between us and the students after dinner the night before. After this night it didn't seem like we were American students speaking to a Hungarian student. We were simply young people with the same hopes and fears regarding our respective political and economic future (only on complete other sides of the Atlantic Ocean). 

We left Csak to meet up with a few of Gáspár's friends. On the way he told us about his musical endeavors. He was the only one to know what the O.Z.O.R.A. music festival was when I brought it up at dinner with the other students, so he seemed well versed in electronica. RocketFuel is the combination of Gáspár (Space Kook) and his buddy Ciklik. They produce dubstep and host their own rave nights at clubs around the city. I dig their style. What's most impressive in my opinion was their marketing strategy.

Bands will make stickers. Hungarian bands are no different. Getting your band's name out there is just about as important as the music you make. RocketFuel printed around 2,000 stickers, by Gáspár's estimation, and put them all around the city. He pointed out a few along the way to the next pub, but not nearly as many as I would see over the next couple days. We spent the rest of the night at Cafe Akkord (where plenty of RocketFuel stickers adorned the bathroom walls). Even after their friends had left hours before, Space Kook and Ciklik sat and chatted with Logan, Brian and I about goodness only knows. Dreher seemed to stray my memory for the night.

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Vak Varjú

It really feels like the places where we eat and the people we meet for dinner are on a completely different level. I don't feel worthy of this kind of stuff. Our meal at Vak Varjú (Blind Crow) was out of this world. The menu offered plenty of authentic Hungarian dishes. Our culinary imaginations were spared for once. The bill of fare came complete with pictures and English translations.

I got beef cheek stew with this cheese lasagna stuff. It was that or sausage stuffed pork medallions with goose liver pate. Brian and I were on the fence about both dishes so we shared a bit of each.

The beef cheek stew was great. It had a rich sauce and the meat was so tender. That kind of goes without saying, though. I cannot picture any animal's jowls being anything but soft.

The sausage stuffed pork was pretty extraordinary. I never understood how chefs could cook two different meats at the same time. Turducken is kitchen witchcraft to me.

Goose liver is just about as good as it sounds, especially in a form similar to a cube of cream cheese. Up until this point, Hungarian food was the bees knees for my gullet. It just didn't have the most pleasant taste, it was kind of bitter, I guess. The consistency of the pate was probably what got me.

Our guests for the evening were two AP writers. They shed a little more light on the media law issue. They also gave me updated numbers on the religious reform aspect of the new Constitution that the U.S. Embassy DID NOT have.

What struck me most though was how easily they could go on and on about these issues and then speak to us just the same about the nightlife. Talking to officials at the U.S. Embassy made me feel insecure and doubtful for any chance at making it as a professional journalist. Talking to the AP writers made me feel a little more at ease about my topics and the progress I was making. I didn't feel like I was having a conversation with droid. Perhaps there's a metaphor in there.

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Blingdapest

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Hummus Point

During our visit in the Jewish quarter, we stopped in at a hummus bar. The girls went to some silly cafe, while the men got chickpeas and felafels. The place was set up like a little dive. You ordered at the counter and the food is prepared right there in front of you. Decent price and excellent service from an older gentleman that seemed to be the owner.

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Holy Cow! That Synagogue is Jewmongous!

All racy wordplay aside, the Dohány Street Synagogue is largest in Europe. It was built between 1854 and 1859. Along with the synagogue, the complex also features a museum, a graveyard, the Heroes' Temple and the Holocaust memorial. Dohány Street itself was the border of the Budapest ghetto.

Our tour guide was phenomenal. She even loaned Jena her scarf because it was cold. Besides the valuable knowledge gained from our tour, Brian made a new friend.

One of the more fascinating parts of the synagogue I thought was the gift shop. There were some very interesting pieces of glass artwork. The best part in my opinion was the Neil Diamond album in the basket of traditional Jewish music. Gotta love Neil.

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We spent our morning at the American Embassy. Afterwards Brian, Jena and I spent lunch in this little cafe on Radáy. The place was covered in posters from the late 80's and early 90's. They seemed to really like Keanu Reeves: there were posters for Point Break and My Own Private Idaho. The music seemed to reflect their appreciation for the time period, as well. I got a mini cauldron of goulash and a Soproni. If you had the opportunity to get a mini cauldron of soup, would you say no? Didn't think so. Though a word for the wise is necessary: metal bowls stay hot for quite a bit of time. Be careful.

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Kurt Vonnegut wants you, Hungary!

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Jaffa

After our dinner with the Hungarian students, it was a dudes-night-out. Brian, Logan and I trolled up and down Radáy looking for a place to quench our thirst. Most places were closed. Luckily we found Jaffa.

Jaffa was pretty retro. The wallpaper and furniture gave off a 60's, swingers club kind of vibe. We were the only ones in the place. We had a couple drinks and decided to retire early. I went up to the bar and was greeted by a man who seemed to be the owner. "What's up buddy?" His English was a bit off, but I don't blame him for that. His accent had a tinge of French in it.

"Can I get the tab?" I said.

"Sure, buddy. Sure, sure." He seemed to understand.

I returned to the table. A couple minutes later, the bartender came up with another round of drinks. We apologized told him we wanted the check. He didn't' seem too irked and we were able to leave with all fingers still attached. I did goof, however, by pushing the door that was supposed to be pulled. It created quite the commotion "Americans! Ha!" I yelled back nervously.

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We were serenaded at Kiskakukk by this gentleman and his violin. Evidently the table had been celebrating their buddy's bachelor party. Not exactly as raucous of a time as say The Hangover, but still very interesting.

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Kiskakukk

We had dinner with some Hungarian students this evening at a restaurant whose name I definitely can't pronounce. It seems like it could be "kiss a cook," because the food was out of this world.

I ordered pork, but the waiter said something to me in Hungarian that I didn't quite understand. I just nodded and hoped for the best. Turns out I got some sort of chicken breast/schnitzel kind of thing loaded with paprika. It was still great and the salad was the freshest I had ever tasted.

We got to talking with some of the Hungarian students. After the initial, awkward "first date questions," like: what's kind of music do you like, what are some of your hobbies, do you hate Americans, we actually started to connect. I sat across from Anna, who didn't know any of the other students. We were both at the end of the table right next to the heating vents. I probably seemed very nervous because I was sweating. "So what do you like to do in your free time?" I asked Anna.

"Drink," she said.

For the next hour we debated going up to the bar, since everyone else was wrapped up in very political conversations. We never did, but eventually we convinced our professor that we should all get a round of palinka.

We had heard before we left the U.S. that Hungarians define hipsters the same way we do. I was nominated as the hipster of the group early on in class.

"What about Jake, is he a hipster?" Erin asked the Hungarian students.

They all seemed to agree that I didn't look TOO hipster.

Then one of them asked: "Wait, do you have a Tumblr?"

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Hey it's Steve Jobs' statue. What's that? He's holding an iPod. How fitting! It's a bit odd, but I do like the quote they chose for the plaque... and the fact that it's in the Microsoft office park in Budapest.

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Burger King and the Hungarian State Opera House

Who knew eating at a Hungarian Burger King would be a bad idea? I mean that's as much of a relative domain as us patriots were going to find in Budapest, right? WRONG AGAIN!

We should've taken a hint as soon as we walked in the place. A young woman had just vomited at her table. Nobody was really cleaning it up either. Ordering was a nightmare. Nobody seemed to speak English, though the American images adorning the wall suggested they did. I'm not complaining, I learned hand signals worked best in these short merchant/consumer exchanges. The food was too small. We complained, we were laughed at. It must've looked like we had the stars and bars tattooed on our faces.

The bathroom was really nice, though!

We had a couple hour break to recoup before we set out for our final sight for the day, the Hungarian State Opera House. We all met in the lobby, except for Jena, who was not feeling well. Erin stayed with her. On the way to the Opera House, words were brought up about how nobody felt at 100% homeostasis after our lunch at the BK lounge. I felt a little tired from jet lag, but I didn't feel sick... yet.

When we got inside we had to wait for an English speaking guide to greet us. This is when things got weird. The lights seemed to dim, people were moving slower, my vision began to blur. I didn't think anything of it until Prof. Swingley came up to me.

"You don't look good," she said.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," I said wiping sweat from my upper lip. "I feel weird."

Don't get me wrong. The Opera House was a beautiful piece of architecture. I just couldn't handle the lack of cool air in my condition. Whether it was dehydration, food poisoning or jet lag, there was no way I was going to appreciate the music hall for what it was worth. I completely forgot what our guide said. Whatever, just Google it.

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St. Stephens Basilica

I know. They named a church after a Grateful Dead song. Groovy, right? WRONG!

Saint Stephen was the first King of Hungary. His reign took place at the turn of the tenth century. When his father Géza passed away, Stephen and Géza's brother Koppány both felt entitled to the crown, which was referred to as the Grand Prince of Hungary then. Stephen was believed to have the throne by divine right as heir to the throne. Koppány thought he had seniority over young Stephen, because that's how bros do it. The two fought during a battle between Koppány's pagan tribe and Stephens Magyar forces.

Stephen came out on top and took the role of Grand Prince. Soon after, Pope Silvester II declared him the Christian King of Hungary. The pope sent over a jeweled crown, known today as the Holy Crown. In 1945, the crown was sent to Fort Knox for safekeeping during WWII. President Carter returned the crown in 1978.

The church is the third tallest building in Hungary. It is home to the oldest bell as well as the largest bell in the country. Big, important churches like this one also house important relics from the church's history... right? I'm not too much of an expert on holy relics. Call Indiana Jones. I once visited the huge church in Köln, Deutschland. The relic there was a the bones of one of the wise men. Maybe it was his scarf. Either way, it was a big deal.

St. Stephens Basilica has a very special relic (pictured above). It's the almost eerily well preserved right hand of his saintliness. The church unearthed Stephen to move him to a cushier tomb. What they found was his arm in a nearly perfect state. So the arm was split up between Austria and Vienna. The fist stayed in Hungary. Yeah, bro! Pound it...