Category: Adventures Abroad

Our first stop in Vienna was to visit a garden. It was called the People’s Garden (Volksgarten), and since we were people, we found it quite suitable for a pleasant stroll.

But the Volksgarten is set among and within walking distance of some of the chief landmarks and main attractions of Vienna. As soon as we got off the bus we began to encounter them. There was the neo-Gothic Votivkirche, which we could see over the treetops of the Volksgarten, and the Burgtheater, formerly the theater of the Imperial Court and now the national theater of Austria.

There is an interesting bit of history behind the Votivkirche. On February 18, 1853, a Hungarian nationalist attacked the Austrian Emperor, Franz Josef, with a knife as he was strolling on his palace grounds, which now constitute the Volksgarten. The Emperor was only wounded, and his companions quickly subdued the assailant. The Emperor insisted that the would-be assassin not be mistreated as he was led away to his execution. Franz Josef also granted a small pension to the assailant’s mother. After this incident the Emperor’s brother, Maximilian (later Emperor of Mexico), proposed that a new church be built on the site of the assassination attempt, as a votive offering in thanks for the preservation of the sovereign’s life. Construction of the church, which has the typical form of a Gothic cathedral, was begun in 1856, but it was only completed in 1879. By then Maximilian himself had been executed for being Emperor of Mexico.

As we ambled our leisurely way through the gardens, we came across the Theseum, or Temple of Theseus, built in 1829 and modeled after an Athenian temple completed in 418 BCE. It was originally intended to hold a single sculpture, a depiction of Theseus battling the Minotaur by Antonio Canova, but nowadays it operates as an art gallery of an unusual sort: a single work of art is exhibited for a limited time and then swapped out for a different one. The original Canova sculpture is now in the Kunsthistorisches Museum elsewhere in Vienna, which also operates the Theseum.

A little further on we encountered a pretty little café, almost hidden away in the trees, called the Stelldichein Meierei im Volksgarten. “Stelldichein” has the connotation of a trysting place for lovers. It seemed like a great place to stop for coffee and a pastry, but our schedule did not allow for it and, in any case, the place gets very mixed reviews, as I later found from online research.

We were slowly making our way toward the Hofburg, the huge main palace of the Austrian emperors, at the eastern end of the Volksgarten. Out in front of the palace is an area called the Heldenplatz (Heroes’ Square), where a couple of equestrian statues stand. One is of Prince Eugene of Savoy, the great general who led the Habsburg armies against the Turks and later partnered with John Churchill, the Duke of Marlborough, to foil Louis XIV’s schemes to establish French dominance in Europe. We had already met Eugene in Budapest, so I won’t dwell on him here. The other equestrian statue is a memorial to Archduke Karl von Österreich-Teschen, brother of Emperor Franz I, who less successfully commanded Austrian armies against the forces of Napoleon a century later. He actually inflicted the first defeat of Napoleon in a major battle, that of Aspern-Essling, in May 1809, but two months later, in July 1809, he was in turn defeated by the French emperor in the bloody Battle of Wagram, which forced the Austrians to ask for an armistice.

From the Heldenplatz I was able to photograph a building on the Ballhausplatz, a little way off to the northeast, which houses the Bundeskanzleramt, the Federal Chancery of the Austrian Republic. This is a historic structure which was originally constructed in 1719 and for two hundred years has been the official residence of the senior Austrian cabinet minister, formerly the Imperial Chancellor, now the Chancellor of Austria, Austria’s equivalent of a Prime Minister. Among its noteworthy occupants was Chancellor Klemens von Metternich, and it was there that he convened the Congress of Vienna, which made the dispositions that reordered Europe following the defeat of Napoleon in 1814. The Ballhausplatz, as the chancery building is usually referred to, was also the scene of the murder of Austrian Chancellor Engelbert Dollfuss by the Nazis in 1934, and of the resignation of Chancellor Kurt von Schuschnigg prior to the Anschluss, the Nazi-engineered merger of Germany and Austria in 1938. The President of the Austrian Republic, its official head of state, has offices in the Hofburg.

The imposing semi-circular Neo-Classicist structure facing the Heldenplatz is actually the newest part of the Hofburg, known as the Neue Burg. It was built between 1879 and 1902 and now houses five museums. It was from the balcony of the Neue Burg that Adolf Hitler proclaimed the Anschluss, the annexation of Austria to the Third Reich in 1938. The older wings of the Hofburg are on the northeast side of the Heldenplatz, to the left as one approaches the Neue Burg.

We did not linger long in front of the Neue Burg, but soon took a left turn and entered the Inner Courtyard (Innerer Burghof). The centerpiece of that space is the Kaiser-Franz-Denkmal, a monument to Franz I, first sovereign to hold the title of Emperor of Austria. He was also the last person to hold the title of Holy Roman Emperor as Franz II. The Holy Roman Empire had been in existence continuously since Otto I was crowned by the Pope in 962, but for much of that time it was an empire in name only; Voltaire famously said that it “was neither Holy, nor Roman, nor an Empire.” Following the catastrophic defeat of the Austrians and Russians in the Battle of Austerlitz in 1805, and Napoleon’s reorganization of many of the German principalities into the French-dominated Confederation of the Rhine in 1806, Franz II abdicated as Holy Roman Emperor and assumed the title of Emperor of Austria, thus dissolving the HRE for good.

The Inner Courtyard was originally an open square where jousting tournaments were held until the late sixteenth century. On our right as we entered it, we passed the Swiss Gate, which provides entry into the Swiss Wing, the oldest part of the Hofburg. It had its beginnings in 1275 as a simple fort with four towers and a rectangular courtyard, today’s Swiss Court. The elegant red-and-black Swiss Gate was added in 1552.

At the opposite end of the Innerer Burghof from the Swiss Gate is the Amalienburg, named after Empress Amalie, wife of Emperor Joseph I (r. 1705-1711). It was actually built during the time of Rudolf II, Holy Roman Emperor from 1576 to 1612, patron of the astronomer Johannes Kepler among others. The Amalienburg is chiefly noteworthy for its cute little tower with a cupola on top and the astronomical clock on its façade.

Connecting the Amalienburg wing with the Swiss Court is the Leopold wing of the Hofburg, an Early Baroque structure dating from the reign of Emperor Leopold I (1640-1705). Empress Maria Theresa and her son Joseph II also took up residence in the Leopold Wing. It now holds the office of the Austrian Federal President, who receives state guests there.

The St. Michael’s Wing, closing in the Burghof on the northeast, was begun in 1730 but finally completed only in 1888. Emperor Franz Joseph and his wife Elizabeth (nicknamed Sisi) lived in this wing, which now is home to the Sisi Museum among others. Flanking the several portals of the St. Michael’s Wing are sculptures depicting the Twelve Labors of Hercules.

We exited from the Inner Court through the portal where Hercules was wrestling with Antaeus on the left and, on the right, beating some poor sod with a club (I don’t know which of his labors that was supposed to represent). We then passed through a rotunda containing a number of sculptures with classical motifs, a parking lot for bicycles and another entrance to the Sisi Museum. On the other side, the Michaelertor, a gate with elegant iron grillwork, opened to St. Michael’s Square (Michaelerplatz).

Michaelerplatz is the location of the Church of St. Michael (Michaelerkirche), after which both the square and the facing palace wing is named. It is one of the oldest churches in Vienna – a late Romanesque, early Gothic structure originally built in the early 13th century, but much modified afterward, though it has been unchanged since 1792. The square is also the location of an archaeological dig that uncovered some ruins from ancient and medieval times, including the site of a brothel frequented by Roman soldiers.

Also fronting on Michaelerplatz, across Kohlmarkt Street from the Michaelerkirche, is the Looshaus, considered to be a premier achievement of the Viennese Modernist (Wiener Moderne) movement in architecture. In 1909 the owners of a high-end men’s clothing business commissioned the architect Adolf Loos to design a new office building for them. Loos had lived in New York and Chicago and was heavily influenced by American design trends, such as reinforced concrete. But the design he produced for for the building was quite controversial, and Loos was forced to modify it, adding window boxes on the upper-story windows to relieve their “nakedness.” Even so many people hated it, including Emperor Franz Josef, who supposedly ordered the curtains of the Hofburg to remain closed so that he would not have to look at it. I was unaware of the significance of this structure at the time of our visit, and the photo I shot only shows part of it; otherwise I would have taken a better picture.

Exiting the Hofburg through the Michaelertor, we took a right turn and shortly encountered an imposing sculpted fountain, titled Power at Sea (Die Macht zur See), by Rudolf Weyr, which was supposed to symbolize Austro-Hungarian naval might. It has a counterpart at the other end of the building, Power on Land (Die Macht zu Lande), by Edmund Hellmer, but we missed it because we were going in the wrong direction, toward the Stallburg. The Power at Sea sculpture features a female figure, representing Austria, standing in the prow of a ship which is crashing over a group of sea creatures including the god Neptune, throwing them into confusion and disarray. At the time the fountain was installed, the Austro-Hungarian Empire was a considerable sea power, with naval bases on the Dalmatian coast, but after the First World War both Austria and Hungary were landlocked and didn’t need a navy any more.

Shortly we came to the Stallburg, a Renaissance-style building originally built in the later sixteenth century for Archduke Maximilian, later Emperor Maximilian II. Later it was turned into an art gallery which became the core of the Kunsthistorisches Museum. Later still it was converted into the Imperial Stables, and now it belongs to the Spanish Riding School (Spanische Hofreitschule); the famous Lippizaner horses are stabled there.

Next to the Stallburg is Josefsplatz, named after Emperor Josef II (1741-1790), son and successor of Empress Maria Theresa. He was co-regent with his mother from 1765, but held little real power until her death in 1780. After that Josef II ruled as an “enlightened despot,” according to the principles of the 18th-century Enlightenment, and sponsored reforms aiming at the advancement of education, freedom of worship, secularization of church lands and reduction of the influence of the Catholic church, emancipation of the peasantry, and rationalization of government administration. Unfortunately he also promoted complete centralization of authority and compulsory use of the German language, which earned him the opprobrium of the Czechs and other non-German nationalities of the Empire. In the play and movie Amadeus, he is portrayed as a pompous ninnyhammer; when meeting Mozart and being asked for his opinion of Mozart’s music, he has to turn to his aide to provide an answer, which is the idiotic “too many notes.” Actually Josef II was not so stupid, and he was a knowledgeable and enthusiastic patron of music and the arts. (Amadeus is mostly fiction, based on the 1830 play Mótsart i Sal’yéri by Alexander Pushkin.)

An equestrian statue of Josef II stands in the Josefsplatz. On the north side of the square is the Redoute Wing of the Hofburg. This began in the 17th century as an opera house; Empress Maria Theresa converted it into a concert hall and ballroom, and it now serves as a conference hall.

On the south side of Josefsplatz is the Augustinian Wing of the Hofburg. This is a baroque structure built in the early 18th century, but it since became integrated with the older Augustinian church (Augustinerkirche) and monastery next to it, which date from the fourteenth century. The Augustinerkirche was the parish church of the Habsburg court from 1634, and numerous royal weddings were held there. These days it is a venue for sacred music concerts.

Between the Augustinian and the Redoute Wings, on the west side of the Josefsplatz, is the former Imperial Library, now the Austrian National Library, a Baroque structure dating from the reign of Charles VI (r. 1711-1740). One of its chief benefactors was the general and statesman Prince Eugene of Savoy (d. 1736), who contributed 15,000 of the 200,000 volumes it held at the time. It now has over 12 million items in its various collections.

From the Hofburg we strolled down Bräunerstrasse to Graben, where the Vienna Plague Column is located. Along the way we passed some upscale boutiques, including the shoe store of R. Scheer and Sons, which featured the most expensive shoes I have ever seen in my life, at 4000 euros.

Every central European city, it seems, has to have a Plague Column, and Vienna is no exception. The Vienna Plague Column, Wiener Pestsäule in German, commemorates the last great outbreak of the plague in 1679. The first version was erected in that year and was made of wood; a permanent one was completed only in 1694. Meanwhile, in 1683 the Ottoman Turks had besieged Vienna for two months, but were defeated by a combined Polish and Habsburg army led by the Polish king Jan Sobieski, a rare instance of cooperation between the Austrians and the Poles. Leopold I, the Holy Roman Emperor, had concluded a defensive alliance with the Poles before the Ottoman onslaught, and this proved crucial. This was how the Plague Column evolved also into a victory monument for Leopold I. (The Austrians thanked the Poles in the 18th century by helping the Russians and Prussians to partition Poland, whereby Poland ceased to exist until the 20th century.)

The Plague Column as completed in 1694 has a tripartite design, both horizontally and vertically. The lowest level, the pedestal, is the province of mankind, and features Leopold I praying for deliverance; the second and top levels, comprising the column itself, are reserved for the angels and the Holy Trinity, respectively. The Trinity also appears in the vertical segmentation of the pedestal, with the western face devoted to God the Father, the eastern face to the Son (Jesus), and the northern face to the Holy Spirit. The western face also bears the coat of arms of the Holy Roman Empire and its core Austrian domains; the eastern face bears the coats of arms of Hungary, Croatia, Dalmatia and Bosnia; and the northern face bears the coats of arms of Bohemia, Lusatia and Silesia.

At the Plague Column we turned right and headed down Graben to Stephansplatz, location of St. Stephan’s Cathedral (Domkirche St. Stephan). There, in the shadow of St. Stephan’s, our tour guide disbanded the group, leaving us on our own for the remainder of the morning. Sandie and I headed up Kärntner Strasse to find a place where we could have coffee and a pastry. On Stock-im-Eisen Platz, next to Stephansplatz, we passed the Palais Equitable building at Stock-im-Eisen Platz. On the exterior of the building is a glass case containing the famous Stock im Eisen (German for “staff in iron”). Actually it is a “nail-tree” (nagelbaum), part of the trunk of a tree cut down in 1440, into which hundreds of nails have been pounded into it over the centuries for good luck. I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but only found out about it later, so I didn’t take a picture of it; but it does appear, though almost indistinguishably, in my photo of the Palais Equitable building.  

Incidentally, Stock-im-Eisen Platz is also the location of Haas House, a postmodernist building with a facade that is part stone and part reflective glass. Designed by the architect Hans Hollein, it was completed in 1990 on a site formerly occupied by the Haas Department Store. It is considered controversial because its detractors claim that the architectural style clashes with St. Stephan’s Cathedral across the street. Its advocates counter that the reflective façade mirrors and complements the cathedral, just like a lake or pond. Haas House now belongs to a catering company and houses shops, offices and a five-star restaurant.

After our coffee break, Sandie and I headed back down to the Stephansplatz. I didn’t take many pictures of the cathedral because the space was too confined to get a good perspective on it; mainly I concentrated on the west end, where the main entrance, known as the Giant’s Door, is located. There are plenty of websites where one can find great photos of the entire cathedral, especially the towers at the east end, as well as the interior, which we did not see.

St. Stephen’s was begun as a Romanesque church in 1137. Construction continued on and off until 1511. The oldest part of the church is the west end, which is the location of the Giant’s Door, and also of the two Romanesque towers called the Heidentürme (pagan towers), 65 meters (121 feet) tall. The massive South Tower, a Gothic addition, 136 meters (446 feet) tall, was built in the 14th and 15th centuries, and it was supposed to be matched by an equally tall North Tower, but the latter was only partially completed and at 68 meters (223 feet) is only half as tall as the south tower. It was capped with a Renaissance dome in 1578.

For me the chief glory of the cathedral is its roof, which consists of 230,000 richly colored tiles arranged to form complex mosaics. On the south side the mosaics depict the double-headed eagle of the Habsburg empire; on the north, the coats of arms of the city of Vienna and the Republic of Austria. The roof was badly damaged by fire at the end of World War II and since has been reconstructed.

From the Cathedral we wended our leisurely way down Rotenturmstrasse to Schwedenplatz. Along the way we spotted a number of seductive attractions; we had no time to enjoy them, because we had to get back to the Monarch Queen in time for the afternoon excursion, but I recorded them with my camera for future reference.

As we crossed Lugeck Street, off to the right I saw an elegant Baroque-looking white building a block or two away, which I instinctively took a picture of. (My high-school English teacher would have beaten me nearly to death for ending a sentence with a preposition, but she isn’t here to do so. Ninner, ninner.) Later research revealed that this is the Edificio Wüstenrot (Grandes almacenes Orendi), which means nothing to me – the web pages didn’t really provide much enlightenment – but it also houses a highly rated restaurant, the Regensburger Hof. It turns out that since the 14th century the location was a staging point and inn for merchants from Regensburg (which we were to visit a few days later) in Bavaria. It was rebuilt many times, most recently in 1897. It was then the site of a carpet store; now, in addition to the Lugeck Figlmuller Wien restaurant, it hosts a nightclub, bicycle store, and other commercial establishments, as well as private apartments.

Food and drink was clearly not in short supply in this district. We encountered a number of tempting eating places, although we didn’t have time to try any of them. My favorite was Der Mann der Verwohnt, which I translate as “The Spoiled Man.” The pastries and sandwiches in its display case were very nearly impossible to resist, and would have been had I not already had a bite to eat.

Before long we arrived at Schwedenplatz to board the bus back to the Monarch Queen. Schwedenplatz is a transportation hub, and there is a subway station there, as well as a tram (streetcar) stop, bus stop, and boat docks. Vienna has a very efficient public transportation system. The streetcars are quite colorful, and sport a great many advertisements; one came with the words “Fashion ist gern gross,” which I translated as “Fashion is gladly gross.” (Gerngross is actually a shopping mall.)

The Danube is the second-longest river in Europe, after the Volga in Russia (which I’ve walked on, in the winter, but not cruised on). It rises in the Black Forest of Germany and flows southeast to the Black Sea, but in Hungary it takes a sharp turn due south near Visegrad and continues that way for 371 kilometers or 232 miles to Vukovar in Croatia, near its border with Serbia. Budapest is near the north end of this long north-south leg, only about 40 kilometers from Visegrad. Since our cruise was headed upriver, on the afternoon of June 17, 2023 the Monarch Queen began the voyage heading out of Budapest to the north.

By departure time we had already passed a day on board the ship. We first boarded on the afternoon of Friday, June 16, after completing our tour of Castle Hill. At 6 PM we gathered in the lounge for a briefing by Krysztina, the Cruise Director, who introduced us to the Captain and other officers of the ship. It turned out that the officers and crew were from all over the world, especially Eastern Europe (including the Ukraine). The Hotel Manager, Pavel, was from Rumania. The Activities Director, Nico, was from Italy; he was especially helpful to us in Budapest, as I related in my last post. Krysztina herself is a native of Hungary.

Like most river cruise boats, the Monarch Queen has a top deck, known as the sun deck, which is designed for passenger relaxation and entertainment. I spent a lot of time there during the cruise. Even before the ship left the dock I took a lot of pictures from the sun deck, and I continued doing so as the ship sailed up the river out of Budapest. Inevitably I took many photos of the same attractions I had already shot during our tours of the city; at the cost of some redundancy, I’m including some of them in this post because they are taken from a different perspective and, well, because I like them. But I also shot a lot of attractions that I haven’t touched on previously, so don’t hit the exit button in disgust just yet.

The Monarch Queen was parked on the Pest bank, just south of the Elizabeth Bridge. At the Pest end of the bridge stands the Inner City Parish Church, the main parish church of Pest. It is one of the oldest church sites in Budapest, dating from the 11th century. The church itself has been through several incarnations, the most recent being Baroque. After World War II, when the Elizabeth Bridge was being rebuilt, the Communist government of Hungary wanted to demolish the church, but the Catholic Church managed to negotiate its preservation. Next to the church stands a venerable building which now houses a theological seminary.

The Elizabeth Bridge itself was named for Elizabeth of Bavaria, who was wife of Emperor Franz Joseph and Empress of Austria from 1854. In contrast to Franz Joseph himself, Elizabeth loved Hungary and was popular there; she is still remembered fondly as “Sisi” by the Hungarians. She was assassinated in Switzerland by an anarchist in 1898. A statue of her now stands on the Buda side of the bridge.

The first version of the Elizabeth Bridge was completed in 1903; it was somewhat similar to the Széchenyi Chain Bridge farther north. Like all the other bridges of Budapest, it was destroyed by the Germans in World War II. The Communist government of the post-World War II era could not afford to reconstruct it in its original form, so it had a new plain suspension bridge built on the same foundations.

On the Buda side, on the hill above the Elizabeth Bridge stands a colonnaded monument to St. Gellért, one of the patron saints of Hungary, along with Saints István (Stephen) and Imre (Emeric). In fact, the hill itself is named Gellért Hill. Known as Gerardo di Sagredo in Italian, he was a native of Venice and Benedictine monk who went on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land in 1020 and wound up in Hungary instead. King Stephen persuaded him to stay there and made him tutor to his son. Eventually the king also made him a bishop. He was martyred in 1046 in a pagan uprising; the heathens supposedly put him in a barrel and rolled him down the hill which now bears his name.

At the top of Gellért Hill is the Hungarian Statue of Liberty. This is a bronze statue, 14 meters tall, standing on a pedestal that is 26 meters high, and holding a palm leaf. It was erected in 1947 to commemorate the 1945 Soviet liberation of Budapest from the Germans.  On the pedestal was an inscription in Hungarian and Russian which translated to English as “To the memory of the liberating Soviet heroes from the grateful Hungarian people 1945.” After the collapse of Communism in 1989 the Hungarians, no longer feeling much gratitude to the Soviet army, changed the inscription to read “To the memory of those all who sacrificed their lives for the independence, freedom, and prosperity of Hungary”.

Budapest also has a Liberty Bridge. It is the next bridge south of the dock where the Monarch Queen was moored, and I was able to take a couple of pictures as the Monarch Queen was getting underway. To my shame I didn’t get one of the entire bridge, just two pictures of east half. It is a beautiful bridge, designed in an art nouveau style and decorated with Turul bird sculptures and the country’s coat of arms. It was built during the 1890s as the Emperor Franz Joseph Bridge and inaugurated by the Emperor himself. At its west terminus (Buda side) is Gellert Square, with the Gellert Spa and the Budapest University of Technology and Economics close by; at the east end, the Pest side, is Fővám Square, the location of the Central Market Hall, which we had visited that very morning, but I hadn’t been in a position to get a good photo of the bridge then.

As the Monarch Queen began its leisurely voyage northward, crossing under the Elizabeth Bridge and heading toward the Chain Bridge, we passed a number of sites I hadn’t noticed or paid much attention to before. There was the Orthodox Church of Our Lady, just north of the Elizabeth Bridge on the Pest side, in Petőfi Square, originally built in 1801. Next came the massive structure of the Budapest Marriott Hotel, built as the Duna Intercontinental Hotel in 1969; it only became the Marriott in 1993. It is a 5-star hotel and is said to have wonderful views from all of its rooms.

On the Buda side, we passed the Hauszmann Palace, an Italian Renaissance mansion built by the celebrated architect Alajos Hauszmann for himself in 1892. He lived there until 1919, when the short-lived Hungarian Soviet Republic confiscated it. I don’t know whether he got it back after the fall of the Soviet regime.

Back on the Pest side, we came to the Four Seasons Hotel near the end of the Chain Bridge. The Four Seasons, considered by some to be the best hotel in Budapest, began life as in 1906 as an office building, the foreign headquarters of the London-based Gresham Life Assurance Company. It also contained apartments for the staff. But it was designed and built by Hungarian architects in an elegant art nouveau style. At the end of World War II, the Soviet army used it as barracks; later, under the People’s Republic, it served as an apartment building. It only became the Four Seasons Hotel at the end of the 20th century, when private investors purchased the property and rebuilt it as a luxury hotel, restoring the original amenities and works of art – staircases, mosaics, ironwork, gardens. It is now owned by the Sultanate of Oman, though Four Seasons continues to manage it. It is considered one of the finest examples of art nouveau architecture in the world.

As we cruised by the Four Seasons Hotel and the Ministry of Interior next to it, we passed under the Széchenyi Chain Bridge. Built in 1849 by British engineers, it was the first permanent bridge across the Danube in Hungary, and it is still Budapest’s most iconic bridge. It is named for Count István Széchenyi (1791-1860), an aristocratic Hungarian reformer and modernizer of the 19th century, at whose initiative it was built.  

From the sundeck of the Monarch Queen we had great views not only of the Chain Bridge but also of Buda Palace on the hill above it. As we sailed further up the river, just before we reached Parliament Point I turned my camera astern and shot a telephoto view of the part of the city we had just left. In the center of that picture there is a tall building, in fact the tallest in Hungary, called the MOL Campus. It is the 28-story headquarters of the MOL Group, a multinational oil and gas conglomerate based in Hungary. It is Hungary’s most valuable enterprise, reporting a net profit of $770 million in 2019. MOL gas stations are all over Budapest. But the group is truly multinational; its members include the formerly state-owned Croatian and Slovak oil and gas companies, among others, and it has operations in 30 countries.

On the Buda side, we were passing a district called Watertown (Víziváros), a long, narrow neighborhood between Castle Hill and the Danube, and partially built on the side of Castle Hill. Historically, it was an area inhabited by fishermen and artisans. Its most prominent landmarks are churches – St. Anna’s Parish Church, the Church of the Stigmata of St. Francis, and the Reformed Church in Szilágyi Dezső Square, with a neo-Gothic architecture strikingly different from the Catholic churches nearby.

On the Pest side, we took a last look at the House of Parliament as we continued north to the Margit Hid (Margaret Bridge). It is Budapest’s second oldest permanent bridge, after the Chain Bridge, having been built by French engineers in the 1870s. It is also rather unusual in having not two but three end points – one on each bank of the river, of course, and the third on Margaret Island in the middle of the river. Margaret Island, Margitsziget in Hungarian, was an important center of religious life in medieval times, and it is strewn with ruins of churches and convents. It is named after Saint Margaret (1242–1270), the sainted daughter of King Béla IV of Hungary, who lived in a Dominican convent on the island. Nowadays, however, it is a parkland and recreation area.

Another bridge crosses the north end of Margaret Island, but it does not provide access to the island. Completed in 1950, it was opened as Stalin Bridge, but the name was changed to Árpád Bridge in 1958.

As we passed under Árpád Bridge we came into a stretch of the Danube which apparently catered to aquatic recreation. This was the Vizafogó district, where pleasant beaches, docks and boat ramps line the riverbank, with parks and upscale hotels, condos and apartment buildings set back from the river. We shortly encountered a modern structure with a peculiar design, looking like a large windowless aluminum box with strips peeling off from the sides. There was nothing that we could see from the river to identify it, but later I found out that it is the Dagály Budapest Aquatics Complex, commonly called the Danube Arena, built in 2017 to host the World Aquatics Championships, and as a possible Summer Olympics venue. Just beyond it is Foka-öböl, or Foka Bay, with a marina and a yacht club.

Before long we noticed that the riverbank was becoming more verdant and less populated. We had reached the northernmost precincts of Budapest, and would soon leave the city behind. We were passing Óbudai Island on the left, the Buda side, and on the right Népsziget, originally an island (the name means “People’s Island”) but now a peninsula, which forms a bay with the Pest bank. The bay used to be the location of two shipyards, but now there is only a ship repair facility. The peninsula itself, secluded and sparsely populated, is home only to a homeless shelter and a few other small establishments. It is crossed by the Újpest Railway Bridge, which runs from the Újpest district of Pest to the Aquincum district on the Buda side; but it seemed to us, viewing it from the river, to emerge right from the thick woodland on Népsziget. The first version of this bridge was built in 1896, destroyed in World War II like all the other bridges in Budapest, rebuilt afterward, and finally demolished in 2008 to make way for a completely new bridge built on the old, though renovated, piers.

Bemused by the tranquil ambience of the sundeck, I was reminded of an old song from the 1940s by Russ Morgan which I had first heard as a child:

Cruising down the river on a Sunday afternoon
With one you love the sun above waiting for the moon
An old accordion playing a sentimental tune
Cruising down the river on a Sunday afternoon.

However, the pleasant atmosphere was suddenly shattered by the appearance of a small drone, which appeared to be following us. In the days of the People’s Republic I would have thought it was flown by the secret police to try to catch us smuggling any would-be defectors out of the country. But it was difficult to imagine the current regime doing any such thing. My best guess is that it was flown by someone in the crew to take aerial pictures of the ship for marketing purposes. Eventually it disappeared, and I didn’t see where it landed.

We had one more bridge to cross (under) before we could consider ourselves to be out of Budapest. This was the Megyeri Bridge, opened in 2008 as a section of the M0 Ring Road circling Budapest. At the point where it crosses the Danube, there is a large island, Szentendre Island, in the middle of the river, so that the bridge must cross the eastern or main branch of the Danube, the island, and finally the west branch of the river. The eastern span of the bridge, is cable-stayed and quite spectacular. I couldn’t get enough pictures of it. But no less memorable than the bridge itself is the controversy that arose over its name.

In 2006, when work on the bridge was beginning, the Hungarian Ministry of Economic Affairs and Transport organized a public online vote to solicit possible names for it.  The early leader in the contest was Chuck Norris, the American martial arts movie star who happened to be popular in Hungary (and also a Republican), but when Stephen Colbert heard about this he organized a campaign to get the bridge named after himself, posting instructions on his website for viewers to follow in casting votes. Some overenthusiastic computer-savvy fans wrote scripts (“bots”) to automate the voting process and used them to cast multiple votes. The result was that Colbert received 17 million votes, about 7 million more than the entire population of Hungary.

The Ministry countered by declaring a new round of voting, which this time would require registration to prevent multiple votes and automated voting. Colbert also asked his viewers to stop stuffing the ballot box. Nevertheless, Colbert won the second round of voting also.

The Hungarian Ambassador to the United States, András Simonyi, appeared on Colbert’s show to announce Colbert as the winner. However, he explained, under Hungarian law Colbert did not qualify as a candidate in the first place because he did not speak Hungarian and was still alive; contestants had to speak fluent Hungarian and be dead. The bridge was eventually named the Megyeri Bridge because it connected two suburbs of Budapest with “megyeri” in their names, Káposztásmegyer and Békásmegyer.

As the Megyeri Bridge receded into the distance, we bid a last goodbye to Budapest. A little later, as the Monarch Queen drew near to the great bend in the river which would take us west to Bratislava, I was able to mark the occasion with a farewell shot of the sun setting on the Danube.

The previous post, as you may recall, ended with me lost at the Visitors’ Center near the Hungarian Parliament, with no clue as to how to get back in touch with the tour group or find my way back to the Monarch Queen.

Before leaving the USA, I had made arrangements with our cell phone provider to ensure service abroad. I called the Gate1 emergency number, and the operator set the wheels in motion to rescue me, but that turned out not to be necessary. Sandie also had purchased travel service for her phone, and in a few minutes she called me and dispatched her chaperone, Nico, to fetch me from the Visitors’ Center.

It turned out that our tour guide had led the group to a strudel place at Liberty Square, southeast of Kossuth Square, where everyone was enjoying delicious strudels, except me. It was a bit of a hike to Liberty Square, but with Nico leading I made it there in time to enjoy a strudel myself. The downside was that I couldn’t stop to take many pictures on the way, and I missed some good shots.

It was a shame that I didn’t have time to explore much of Liberty Square, because it is one of the most historically interesting places in Budapest. Under Austrian rule it was the site of an army barracks and later a prison. Lajos Batthyány, first prime minister of the revolutionary government of Hungary in 1848, was executed there by the Austrians in 1849. The semi-autonomous Hungarian government created by the Compromise of 1867 tore down the barracks/prison in 1897 and converted the space into a public square.

The post-World War I Horthy regime erected a number of monuments in the square, mostly with the theme of lamenting Hungary’s losses of territory and population under the Treaty of Trianon. These of course were all swept away with the Soviet occupation at the end of World War II. The Soviets built an obelisk-type monument with a red star and hammer-and-sickle on top, and it is still there, although many Hungarians would like to see it gone.

Nowadays Liberty Square is a vibrant place with many different points of interest, often representing conflicting points of view. In 2013 a Memorial for Victims of the German Occupation was built on the south side of the square, depicting the Archangel Gabriel, representing Hungary, being attacked by an eagle representing Germany. Critics of the monument objects that it portrays Hungary as a passive victim of German aggression, ignoring the willing participation of Hungarians themselves in the war and the Holocaust. In protest, they created a Citizen’s Holocaust Memorial across the street from the official monument. Also known as the Living Memorial, it apparently consists of photos and personal objects of Holocaust victims, as well as placards, notes and other expressions of opinion.

But not all of the attractions of Liberty Square have political associations. Just to the south of the Citizen’s Holocaust Memorial is an “interactive” fountain, sometimes called the “Dancing Fountain,” consisting of a large square of pavement with holes that shoot water up at random intervals; the game is to see whether you can cross the square without getting wet. While I was watching, nobody succeeded. I didn’t try myself because I didn’t want to be walking around Budapest in soaking wet clothes.

Liberty Square also contains statues of U. S. presidents Ronald Reagan and George Bush. The U. S. Embassy stands on the east side of the square. I didn’t get that far, though, because the guide whisked us off to St. Stephen’s Basilica right after strudel time.

St. Stephen’s Basilica, though it is named after the first king of Hungary, who reigned a thousand years ago, is not a very old church. It was actually built between 1851 and 1905. The first architect designed it in neo-classical style, but he died in 1867, and his replacement switched to a neo-Renaissance style.

The basilica is set in a large square with plenty of open space around it. At the northwestern corner of the square there is a fountain with an obelisk, which turns out to be a monument to Stephen’s queen, Gizella, a Bavarian princess who married Stephen in 996 and is credited with a significant role in Christianizing the Hungarians. She is known in Hungarian as “Boldog Gizella”; “boldog” means “happy” in Hungarian but I think in this context it is better translated as “blessed.” She was the sister of Holy Roman Emperor Henry II. Deeply religious, she wanted to enter a convent, but when Prince Geza of Hungary asked for her hand for his son Istvan, she agreed to the marriage after being convinced that as Hungarian queen she would be in an excellent position to further the conversion of the Hungarian people to Christianity, which would please God far more than living in monastic seclusion.

Although St. Stephen’s is not the largest church in Hungary, it has the largest bell of any church in Hungary. The bell weighs 9250 kilograms, or 20,350 pounds; it was cast in Passau, Germany in 1990, transported to Budapest by riverboat, and hung in the southwest tower of St. Stephen’s, where it remains. By comparison, the Liberty Bell in Independence National Historic Park in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, weighs 940 kilograms or 2,080 pounds. (The heaviest bell in the world, the Tsar-Kolokol in the Moscow Kremlin, cast in 1735, weighs 201,924 kg [445,166 pounds], but it broke soon after casting and has never rung.)

The great 1990 bell has had two predecessors in the southwest tower of the basilica. The first, known as St. George’s Bell, was hung in 1892 and was the largest bell in all of Austria-Hungary at the time, weighing 7735 kilograms (17,017 pounds). The military requisitioned it during the First World War, along with the other bells of St. Stephen’s, to be turned into cannons. It was not replaced until 1930, when a new bell, known as the Bell of Heroes or the Bell of St. Emeric (Latin form of the Hungarian name Imre), weighing 7945 kilograms (17,479 pounds), was installed. That bell was cast in Budapest by a Hungarian firm and was the pride of the nation; judging from its pictures, it was a very beautiful bell, a wonderful work of art. It lasted only 14 years before being hauled off by the Germans in 1944, presumably to be melted down for war production; at any rate it was never recovered.

Near St. Stephen’s we boarded our tour bus once again to make our final stop in Budapest – the Central Market Hall, or, as the Hungarians call it, the Nagy Vásárcsarnok.

Our Saturday morning tour of Pest had been billed as “A Taste of Budapest,” and other than our strudel stop at Liberty Square, the Central Market was where we indulged our palates.

The Central Market Hall, built in 1897, is a huge structure, 10,000 square meters in size, and is both a functioning market and a major tourist attraction. It has three floors filled with a myriad of small stalls, shops and eating places. The ground floor stalls offer produce, meats, pastries, candies, spices, and spirits.  The top floor (first floor in Europe, second floor in North America) is a mezzanine hosting mainly cafes and souvenir shops. The basement features fish, butcher shops and pickled vegetables.

At the entrance to the market, we were greeted by a pleasant lady in traditional Hungarian costume, carrying a placard advertising the Restaurant Mesterek Konyhája. I thought it was a nice touch.

Inside the market, our guide showed us to the Mintabolt Delicatessen, where we were regaled with an abundance of tasty free samples of bread, Hungarian sausage and cheese appetizers.

Our guide then turned us loose for a few minutes to explore the market further before meeting up to board the bus. But since we were slated to return to the ship, where lunch was waiting, there was no point in shopping for noshes; and I had already bought my souvenir T-shirts. In any case, Sandie and I were too exhausted from the morning’s exertions to take advantage of the opportunity to see more of the market, and we were barely able to stagger back to the bus.

After lunch we still had a few hours before the Monarch Queen was scheduled to depart, and I really wanted to see more of Budapest, but I was too worn out and most of the places I wanted to visit demanded too much time. I had already gotten lost once, and I didn’t think it was a good idea to miss the boat when it sailed. Which it did, promptly at 5 PM. But I am not done with Budapest yet; the departure was in itself a memorable experience, and I’ll deal with it in the next post.

Our bus deposited us at the corner of Bajcsy-Szilinski Boulevard and Alkotmány Street, leaving us to walk about five blocks to Kossuth Square, where the Hungarian House of Parliament, the Országgyűlés, is located. (We did a lot of walking that morning.) On the way to Kossuth Square we passed the Budapest Unitarian Church. I was surprised to find that the Unitarian Church has a long history in Hungary, having been founded in 1568. It is based in Transylvania, which is now part of Romania, but it has a majority Hungarian following.

We also passed the National Togetherness Monument (Nemzeti összetartozás emlékhelye in Hungarian), or National Unity Monument. Unveiled in 2020, it consists of a hundred meter long, four meter wide stone ramp descending underground, with an eternal flame burning at the end of the ramp. It is also known as the Trianon Monument because it laments the Treaty of Trianon, which ended World War I for Austria and Hungary, but also deprived the pre-war Kingdom of Hungary of two-thirds of its territory and imposed heavy reparations. The Treaty was dictated by the victorious Allies, and the Hungarians have resented it ever since. A major issue is that while the treaty rescued several non-Hungarian nationalities – Croats, Rumanians, Slovaks, etc. – from Hungarian domination, it also removed 3.3 million Hungarians, about a third of the Hungarian-speaking population, making them minorities in countries such as Rumania which benefited from the partition. The monument gives expression to irredentist sentiments by listing on its walls over 12,500 names of places in the pre-World-War I Kingdom of Hungary, many of which ended up in the surrounding countries in consequence of the Trianon Treaty.

We did not explore the monument, due to lack of time, but instead pressed on to Kossuth Square.

Kossuth Square is named for Lajos Kossuth, leader of the Hungarian Revolution of 1848, which briefly succeeded but was ultimately suppressed by the Austrians with the crucial aid of an army dispatched by Tsar Nicholas I of Russia. After the suppression of the Revolution of 1848, Kossuth went into exile and died in Italy in 1894.

Kossuth Square is dominated by the House of Parliament (Országház), the seat of the National Assembly of Hungary (Országgyűlés), the largest building in Hungary. It is mostly symmetrical, with two main façades – on the west (Danube) side and the other, with the main entrance, on the east side. Completed in 1904, it was built in Gothic Revival style with a Renaissance Revival dome. It is said to be equally impressive inside as outside, but exploring the interior was not on our schedule. Instead we circled around Parliament counterclockwise, starting on the east of Kossuth Square and going north, then west toward the riverbank.

On the north side of Kossuth Square stands the Kossuth Memorial. First inaugurated in 1927, the original memorial was replaced in 1950 by a different one more suited to the taste of the ruling Stalinist regime. Many years later, in 2014, the government of Hungary had the original monument recreated and installed in Kossuth Square. It depicts not only Kossuth himself but all the members of the first Hungarian parliamentary government during the 1848 revolution.

On the northern and eastern sides of Kossuth Square, facing the House of Parliament, stood several structures undergoing renovation. The most prominent of these was the former (and future) Palace of Justice, which was originally built in the 1890s to house the Hungarian Supreme Court (Magyar Királyi Kúria). After World War II, with the advent of the People’s Republic, the Kúria was abolished and its building was handed over first to the Labor Movement Institute of the Hungarian Workers’ Party, then to the Institute of Party History and the Hungarian National Gallery, and still later to the Museum of Ethnography. Now the Museum of Ethnography is in its new home in the Budapest City Park, and the Palace of Justice is being readied for the return of the revived Supreme Court, again named the Kúria.

Also under renovation are the Ministry of Agriculture building, to the south of the Palace of Justice, and the dilapidated office building on the north side of the square.

Just to the north of the House of Parliament stands a monument to Count István Tisza, who was the prime minister of Hungary during most of the First World War. Although he was a strong advocate of industrial development and a staunch foe of anti-Semitism, he was also adamantly opposed to democratic reforms. He was a firm adherent of the Dual Monarchy – the partnership with Austria – and a relentless supporter of Hungarian participation in the war effort. He was also a champion duelist, but this did not prevent his assassination by leftist revolutionaries in 1918.

Next to the Tisza Monument is the Visitors’ Center, where we took a short break and then resumed our hike around the square, heading west toward the Danube riverbank. There we enjoyed some great views of Buda, especially Buda Palace and Castle Hill, as well as of the river itself with its myriad watercraft.

I was also able to get some nice shots of the west façade of the Parliament building from the riverbank.

József Antall Boulevard runs along the east bank of the Danube, on the west side of the House of Parliament, and it has sidewalks on both sides of the street. Near the southern corner of Parliament we came to Parliament Point, where the Kossuth Bridge once stood. At the end of World War II, retreating German troops blew up all five bridges across the Danube in an effort to hinder the advance of the Soviet Red Army. This made life inconvenient for the inhabitants of Budapest more than the Soviets, who built a pontoon bridge across the river and continued to pursue the Germans. To remedy the situation, a makeshift bridge was built in January 1946, using metal salvaged from military equipment, cannibalized oil rigs and other expedients. There is disagreement as to who built the bridge. The Soviets claimed that their military engineers built it; the Hungarians dispute this. It any case the bridge was roughhewn and rickety, but for a while it was the only link between Buda and Pest, and it became known as the “Link of Life”. In the following years the prewar bridges across the Danube were rebuilt, and in 1960 the Kossuth bridge, having served its purpose, was demolished; so far it has not been replaced.

At Parliament Point stairs are provided for climbing back up to Kossuth Square, which at this point is above street level. But before making the climb, we had one more stop to make: the Shoes on the Danube.

By October, 1944, it had become abundantly clear to Miklós Horthy, Regent of Hungary, that the Hungarian alliance with Nazi Germany was no longer a good idea, and he attempted to conclude an armistice with the Soviets, whose armies were crashing into Hungary. To forestall this Adolf Hitler sent his favorite commando, Otto Skorzeny – the man who rescued Mussolini from jail in 1943 – to give Horthy the boot. Skorzeny engineered a coup in which Ferenc Szálasi, head of a fascist, anti-Semitic militia called the Arrow Cross, became head of government. Freed of the restraints which had existed under the Horthy regime, Arrow Cross militiamen began large-scale executions of Jews, as well as other citizens of Hungary they considered undesirable. One of the militia’s preferred methods was to bring their victims to the banks of the Danube and shoot them, so that they would fall into the river and their bodies would be carried away by the current, saving the trouble of burying the corpses. Before shooting them, however, the militiamen would require the victims to remove their shoes, because with the prevailing wartime shortages shoes were valuable and could be sold on the black market at a handsome profit. I have seen different figures as to how many people were executed in this way: anywhere from 3,500 to as many as 20,000. (It should be remembered that the Arrow Cross thugs as well as the Nazis executed the vast majority of their victims in other ways, such as deporting them to Auschwitz.)

Many years later, a film director named Can Togay conceived the idea of creating a monument to the victims of the riverside massacres. He joined forces with a sculptor named Gyula Pauer, who fashioned 60 pairs of shoes out of iron, replicating types and styles of footwear worn in World War II. The shoes are true to life in size and detail, and a full range of shoes are represented – men’s, women’s and children’s. The shoes were installed on the promenade near Parliament Point on April 16, 2005. Nearby are commemorative plaques in Hungarian, English and Hebrew. The one in English reads “To the memory of the victims shot into the Danube by Arrow Cross militiamen in 1944–45. Erected 16 April 2005.” The Shoes monument is one of the most heavily visited sites in Budapest, attracting hundreds of thousands of visitors per year.

Leaving the Shoes monument, we climbed the steps at Parliament Point to complete our tour of Kossuth Square. On the south side of the square we found several more monuments commemorating important events and personages in Hungarian history.

Just south of the House of Parliament there is an equestrian monument of Count Gyula Andrassy. Andrássy was a prominent figure in the revolutionary movement of 1848 and had been sentenced to death by the Hapsburg government, which he avoided by emigrating. But in 1858 he returned to Hungary, somehow managed to reinstate himself in the good graces of the Imperial authorities, and became active again in politics as a reformer. Following the Compromise of 1867, which marked the formation of the Dual Monarchy of Austria-Hungary, he was appointed the first prime minister of Hungary. Later he served as Foreign Minister of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

Not far away, in front of the south wing of Parliament, stands a monument of a very different sort. It is a gray stone block with a flat top, completely bare except for the inscription on its face: “IN MEMORIAM 1956. octóber 25.” On that day a crowd of civilian demonstrators gathered on Kossuth Square to protest Soviet domination of Hungary and demand reforms. The area had been occupied the night before by Soviet troops, who opened fire on the demonstrators. The number killed has never been firmly established, but it is estimated at anything from 75 to 1,000. Along with other incidents, the massacre sparked a full-scale popular uprising that, as everyone knows, evoked brutal repression by the Soviets.

In a large green space in the southeast corner of Kossuth Square I spotted another equestrian statue with the name Rákóczi on the plinth. I had heard the name before but knew little about the person to whom it belonged, and I wanted to get some good shots of the monument so I could look him up and find out more. It turns out that Ferenc Rákóczi was a Hungarian nobleman, indeed a scion of the the richest family in the kingdom, who led an unsuccessful revolt against the Habsburgs in the early 18th century.

After retaking Hungary from the Turks at the end of the 17th century, the Austrians treated it as a conquered province with which they could do as they pleased. What pleased them most was to confiscate the estates of Hungarian nobles, especially Protestants, of whom there was a sizeable number in Hungary and whose loyalty was suspect, and award the land to outsiders, especially Catholic Austrian Germans. In 1703, with the Habsburgs fully engaged in the great War of the Spanish Succession, a desperate struggle with King Louis XIV of France, the disgruntled Hungarians thought they had their chance and rose in revolt. Rákóczi assumed leadership of the rebellion and for a time it appeared that the anti-Hapsburg forces would succeed, since they held most of Hungary east of the Danube; but eventually the French war wound down, and the Habsburgs were free to turn their full force against the rebels. Rákóczi fled to Poland and attempted to obtain help there, but in his absence the commander of the rebel army signed a peace treaty with the Habsburgs, who agreed to rule according to the constitution and laws of Hungary and to grant an amnesty to the rebels in return for their submission to the Crown. Rákóczi himself did not accept this settlement, and went into exile, ultimately defecting to the Ottoman Turks; but today he is regarded as a national hero in Hungary.

If it seems that I’ve included an excessive number of photos of the Rákóczi Monument, it’s because of all the trouble taking those photos caused me, which was almost as much as Rákóczi had caused for the Habsburgs. I was so anxious to obtain a good photo of his monument that I failed to keep track of the tour group. When I finished taking my pictures, I looked around and saw nobody I knew. I could hear Erika, the tour guide, on my Vox-box but I couldn’t see her, even with the flag she held to ensure she was visible from a distance, and I had no idea which direction she had taken. Soon I couldn’t hear her either. I looked for Sandie, who had been at the tail end of the group in the company of Nico, the Gate1 director who was making sure she didn’t get left behind, but they had vanished too.

For some reason I had the notion that the guide intended to completely circle the Parliament building and return to the Visitors’ Center before heading back to the bus. So I headed back to the Visitors’ Center, which turned out to be exactly the wrong direction. I soon realized that I was lost in Budapest, hot, tired and hungry, with no idea how to reconnect with the tour guide, and no idea how to get back to the Monarch Queen.

For the exciting conclusion to this cliffhanger, you’ll have to read the next post.

After leaving Buda Palace, we headed north to see the rest of Castle Hill: Holy Trinity Square, St. Matthew’s Church and Fishermen’s Bastion.

To get to Holy Trinity Square, we traipsed back past the Old Hussar and Disz Square, then down picturesque Tarnok Street, where we passed a number of majestic monuments, seductive shops and enticing restaurants. An inconspicuous sign next to a souvenir shop indicated the way to the Labyrinth (Labirintus). This is a network of caves and tunnels under Castle Hill which has been variously used over the centuries as a refuge, dungeon, prison and bomb shelter. Supposedly Vlad the Impaler was imprisoned there for 14 years. These days it is a museum, said to be quite interesting. We didn’t have time to venture into it, but I’ll make sure to do so next time I’m in Budapest.

Arriving at Holy Trinity Square, we first encountered the Holy Trinity Monument (Szentháromság-szobor), a 15-meter (50 feet) tall column with sculptures representing the Christian Trinity on top. Lower down on the column are figures of saints, angels, cherubs and the Virgin Mary. On the base are three bas-reliefs; the central one depicts King David praying for the end of the plague which God had inflicted on the people of Israel in punishment for David’s adulterous affair with Bathsheba. That scene is the key to understanding the monument. In 1691 an outbreak of the Black Plague visited Buda and Pest, and the City Council decided to erect a Holy Trinity Column in hopes of warding off further outbreaks. The column was finished in 1706, but it didn’t work; in 1709 the Plague struck again, and the City Council decided that a bigger column was needed. This time it worked; after the unveiling of the second column, in 1713, no further plague outbreaks are recorded. Indeed, the column appears to have survived the devastation of World War II intact, though everything around it on the square lay in ruins.

Not actually on Holy Trinity Square, but I’ll mention here since it is only a block away down Holy Trinity Street, is an equestrian statue of a hussar named András Hadik, whom I had never heard of before. It turns out that he became famous for an incident that occurred during the Seven Years’ War (1756-1763). Frederick II, King of Prussia, had incurred the implacable hatred of Maria Theresa, Empress of Austria, by rudely seizing her rich province of Silesia, and she formed an alliance with France and Russia to take him down. In 1756 he invaded Saxony in an attempt to head off the Russians, who were getting ready to send troops to aid Maria Theresa. This was where András Hadik stepped in, or rather rode in. Evading Frederick’s army – Frederick II wasn’t much of a cavalry guy, his forte was infantry – Hadik wheeled his 5,000 hussars around in back of the Prussians and seized Berlin. This didn’t stop the war, but Frederick had to pay 300,000 thalers to ransom his capital. Hadik distributed the sum among his men, and Maria Theresa made him a Field Marshal.

The premier attractions of Trinity Square are Fishermen’s Bastion and the Matthias Church (Mátyás-templom in Hungarian). The church spire is visible from afar and there is no mistaking it. It is not Saint Matthias’s church because the man whose name it bears, King Matthias, unlike some other Hungarian kings, didn’t become a saint. Anyway, the official name is Church of the Assumption of the Buda Castle; Mátyás-templom is the popular name. It is not the largest church in Budapest, but it is the most historic. In one incarnation or another, it has been the scene of numerous major events, including several coronations of Hungarian kings and both marriages of King Matthias.

And indeed the church has been through several major incarnations as well as a number of minor renovations. The first church was built on the site around 1015 CE, but it was destroyed by the Mongols (1241). It was replaced by a Gothic version, begun in 1255; construction and remodeling continued over the following two centuries, with the most memorable addition, the bell tower, erected in 1470, during the reign of King Matthias Corvinus – hence its common name.

When the Ottoman Turks occupied Buda in 1541, they turned the Matthias Church into a mosque, discarded the Christian accoutrements, and plastered over the Christian paintings on the walls.

In 1686 the Christian Holy League came to take it all back. Struck by cannonballs, one wall of the Matthias Mosque collapsed, revealing a statue of the Virgin Mary hidden until then behind it, causing costernation among the Muslim defenders, who thereupon surrendered. This became famous as the “Marian Miracle.”

Of course the Matthias Church had to be rebuilt, and this time most of the accretions were Baroque in style, especially in the interior. Fast forward to the 19th century: another major rebuilding of the Matthias Church takes place, under the direction of the Hungarian architect Frigyes Schulek, and by order of King Franz Joseph. The aim was to restore the Gothic church in its pristine glory; this could not be completely realized because too much had been lost, and Schulek introduced a number of elements of his own creation when he could not replicate the originals, or where he saw room for improvement. For instance, the colorful diamond pattern roof tiles were his doing. Although his work was somewhat controversial in its day, it is now considered a masterpiece of Hungarian neo-Gothic architecture.

Of course the church was mostly destroyed again in World War II, except for the bell tower, but it was subsequently restored and was in splendid condition when we visited.

The interior of the Matthias Church is also largely the work of Frigyes Schulek and his associates, though there are some significant survivals from earlier periods, and they took pains to restore the original appearance wherever possible. The stained glass windows, the murals in the side chapels, the reconstructed 1690 altarpiece, and several chapels are among the fruit of their efforts. One outstanding new addition, at least to my unsophisticated eye, is the pulpit, which was created from an original design by Schulek himself, and executed by a number of different artists.

The Fishermen’s Bastion or Halászbástya, as it is known in Hungarian, runs behind the Matthias Church and encloses part of Trinity Square. Its name originated with the historical circumstance that the guild of fishermen was supposedly responsible for defending this area of the city in earlier times.

In the space enclosed in the walls of the Bastion stands a large equestrian statue of St. Stephen (István in Hungarian), the first king of Hungary, who lived from reigned from 1000 until his death in 1038. and is credited with permanently establishing Christianity in Hungary.

Fishermen’s Bastion is a monument in the form of a castle wall, overlooking the Danube, with seven stone towers along its length. The towers represent the seven Magyar chieftains who became the founders of Hungary. They are described as Neo-Romanesque, but the conical shape of the towers gives them what seems to me a Turkish appearance. Although there were castle walls here from earlier times, the current wall was built at the end of the nineteenth century under direction of Frigyes Schulek, the same architect responsible for the restoration of the Matthias Church. Like almost everything else in Budapest, the Bastion was badly damaged in World War II and restored afterward.

As we climbed the stairs up to the walkway along the top of Fishermen’s Bastion, and at intervals along the wall, we saw steel gratings with padlocks hanging from the bars. These turned out to be the work of amorous couples who put the locks on the gratings with nametags to swear to their undying love for one another. I couldn’t help speculating on how many couples had come to place a new lock on the wall and been broken up by the discovery of another lock linking one of them to an erstwhile prior relationship. I also wondered what would happen if, after a relationship cemented with one of these locks fell apart, one of the pair showed up with boltcutters to cut off the lock.

Along the north section of the Bastion, just to the north of the Matthias Church, stands the huge block of the Hilton Hotel, opened in 1977. The northern wing was built on top of the remains of the 13th-century Dominican monastery of St. Nicholas, while the southern wing is decorated by the façade of a Jesuit’s College built at the end of the 1770s. The former tower and ruins of the monastery church lie in a courtyard between the two wings.

From the walkway on top of the Fishermen’s Bastion wall we obtained our best views of Budapest, even better than the ones from the Danubian terraces of Buda Palace.

Before we had to leave Trinity Square to catch our bus, I went back to the shops on Tarnok Street and fulfilled a small quest by buying some postcards to send to friends, and also a couple souvenir T-shirts. Unfortunately I missed the post office in the Old Town Hall nearby and failed to mail the postcards until near the end of the cruise. They didn’t arrive until more than a month afterward.

From Castle Hill our bus took us to board the Monarch Queen, which would be our home on the Danube for the following week. But since we weren’t scheduled to set sail until late the following afternoon, we still had most of a day to continue seeing Budapest, which will be the subject of the next post, and I’ll wait until I get to the tale of our departure from Budapest to relate our first experiences on board the ship.

Our bus deposited us on Castle Hill near the Statue of the Old Hussar. Hussars originated in Hungary in the fifteenth century; they were a type of light cavalry particularly useful in scouting and raiding, in contrast with dragoons, who were heavy cavalry fighting both mounted and unmounted. This hussar seemed to be contemplating his sword, which he held in his hands, and I wondered whether he was trying to decide which victim to behead next or merely considering whether it was sharp enough to do so.

In contrast to the peaceful and sedate Philosophers’ Garden, Castle Hill was bustling with activity, both of tourism and construction. In 2013 the Hungarian government initiated the “National Hauszmann Program” to restore and revitalize the historic structures of the Castle district, such as the Archduke Joseph’s palace, which was the first structure we encountered. It and several other structures were cordoned off and encased in scaffolding, and several giant cranes presided over them.

Continuing on down St. George Street, we came upon a neo-classical palace built in 1806 by Count Victor Sándor, a Hungarian aristocrat. Since 2003 it has been the residence and office of the President of Hungary (currently Katalin Novák; Victor Orbán is Prime Minister). We were able to witness the changing of the guard there.

At Sándor Palace we made a left turn and came to a large open plaza, elegantly fenced off with iron grillwork on the south side. On a column at the southeast corner of the plaza is perched the statue of a large bird, which looked to me like a vulture, but which is intended to represent the Turul, a mythical falcon-like bird and a national symbol of Hungary. Not far from the Turul is the Habsburg Gate, which opens to the Habsburg Steps, a stone stairway descending to a courtyard below called Fisherman’s Terrace.

Before going any further I should note that although the vast complex I am describing is usually listed in guidebooks as Buda Castle, I prefer to call it Buda Palace because the word “castle” implies a fortification, which it is clearly not. It is a Baroque palace first built in the reign of Empress Maria Theresa during the years 1749 to 1770 to replace the great Hungarian medieval palace, which did deserve to be called a castle but was destroyed in the Turkish wars of the 17th century. The Hungarians call it Budavári Palota, which translates as Buda Palace, and I shall follow suit.

After its initial completion, the Baroque palace underwent many modifications and additions. It was wrecked in the Revolution of 1848 and rebuilt during the rest of the 19th century, under direction of the celebrated Hungarian architects Miklós Ybl (1814-1891) and Alajos Hauszmann (1847-1926). They were responsible for several new additions, and the palace complex reached its “final” form under Hauszmann in 1912.

Finality is rarely final. During the siege of Budapest in World War II, Buda Palace became the last stronghold of the German occupiers against the advance of the Soviet Red Army, and the fighting reduced it to a nearly complete ruin.

Reconstruction efforts began shortly after the war’s end. But the Communist government installed by the Soviets considered Buda Palace to be a symbol of the ancien régime, and their architects regarded the Hauszmann style as too ornate. They undertook the rebuilding in a modernist style, simplifying everything and sweeping away many of the historic details of the prewar palace in the process. When, after the collapse of communism, the republican government undertook to restore the palace complex to its prewar state, it found that many of the changes were irreversible, and had to seek acceptable (and affordable) compromises.

The postwar reconstruction also included efforts to excavate and restore some of the medieval Gothic and Renaissance elements of the complex, but I am unable to distinguish those from the later construction, and to me it’s all Baroque. Art historians, not to mention locals, will undoubtedly find much to criticize in my descriptions, for which I abjectly beg and beseech forgiveness.

The current restoration and reconstruction project, the National Hauszmann Program, aims not only to further restore the Buda Palace complex as far as possible to its pre-World War II state, but also to revive its role as a seat of government. The first part of the program is already partially complete with the rebuilding of the Royal Riding hall, Stöckl Staircase and the Royal Guard headquarters (2019); reconstruction of the Archduke Joseph’s Palace is underway. The transfer of government functions to Castle Hill has also begun with the relocation of the Prime Minister’s offices from the Parliament building to Buda Palace in 2019. The next moves on the agenda are the relocation of the Ministries of Defense and Foreign Affairs to newly rebuilt quarters on the Hill.

The Hauszmann project has evoked a great deal of controversy. Proponents assert that Castle Hill is historically the proper place for government agencies and having them there improves the appearance of the district as well as the country’s image. Critics argue that the ministries are doing fine in their current locations, moving them is extremely costly, and having them on Castle Hill will increase traffic, inconvenience local residents and interfere with the tourist trade.

Descending the Habsburg Steps to the Fisherman’s Terrace, we came to the famous Fountain of the Fishing Children. The Fountain holds a 1912 creation by sculptor Károly Senyei depicting two children trying to catch a fish. Their net is especially notable for its fine workmanship. From the Fisherman’s Terrace, which fronts a side wing of the palace, one continues on to the Savoy Terrace, in front of the main entrance. These terraces provide wonderful views of the city of Budapest. The Savoy Terrace is the location of an equestrian statue of Prince Eugene of Savoy, the great general who decisively defeated the Ottoman Turks in the late 17th century and later partnered with the British Duke of Marlborough in saving the Austrian Empire from French conquest.

Also on Savoy Terrace, on either side of the palace entrance, are statues of Csongor and Tünde, the title characters of a major Hungarian literary work, the fairy-tale poetic play Csongor és Tünde, by Mihály Vörösmarty. I only photographed the statue of Csongor.

From the Savoy Terrace I was able to see and photograph the Hungarian Parliament building on the Pest bank of the Danube to the north; and directly across the river from Castle Hill, the Chain Bridge over the Danube, the Four Seasons Hotel/Gresham Palace, the Ministry of Interior to its right, and St. Stephen’s Basilica.

After soaking up the spectacular views from Savoy Terrace, we went around a corner of the palace to the Hunyadi Court on the west side. There we encountered a magnificent fountain sculpture created in 1900 by Alajos Stróbl. It depicts a hunting party led by King Matthias Corvinus (1443-1490) and is said to be the most photographed item in the castle complex.

On the west side of Hunyadi Court is the Main Guard Building, the former headquarters of the Hungarian Royal Noble Guard, founded in 1760. It now houses the Főőrség (Guard House) Restaurant and Coffeehouse, which is reputed to be mediocre at best.

On the south side of the courtyard there is an archway flanked by two stately and dignified stone lions. This leads to the Lions’ Court, which was an open court until 1896, when it was closed by adding the Krisztinaváros wing of the palace, named after the daughter of Maria Theresa. It now houses the Hungarian National Library.

The inner side of the archway is guarded by two more stone lions, who in contrast to the dignified lions on the other side are menacing, so much that you can almost hear them roaring. This was puzzling to me because I would have expected that the the hostile lions would be positioned on the outside to discourage undesirables, such as Donald Trump, from entering the courtyard, rather on the inside to discourage them from leaving.

On the east side of the Lion’s Court, opposite the Library, is the facade of the Grand Ballroom in the main wing of the palace. The interior of the Ballroom did not survive the destruction of World War II and the post-war remodeling.

The Lions’ Court also contains the Palatinal Crypt, which we did not see because it is underground. The entrance is presumably in the National Library. The Crypt is the burial place of the palatinal branch of the Habsburg family, i.e. the Hapsburgs who actually resided in Budapest. The Austrian emperors normally lived in Vienna and made only occasional visits to Budapest, but they sent their junior members – usually brothers of the monarch – to govern the unruly Hungarians. From 1796 to 1847 that was Archduke Joseph Anton, younger brother of Austrian Emperor Francis I. It was he who established the crypt as the family mausoleum for the Hungarian palatinal branch of the Habsburgs. Ironically, this place of death was the only part of the Buda Palace to survive intact the ravages of World War II.

Exiting the Lions’ Court, we backtracked through Hunyadi Court and left the palace grounds by way of Beggars’ Gate, as it had been known in medieval times. We encountered no beggars, but we did pass an iron spiderweb gate grille presided over by the figure of a raven with a ring in its beak. This is a symbol of the Hunyadi family, and is especially associated with King Matthias, on whose family crest and coat of arms it appears.

The place is inarguably misnamed. When George Bush was asked during the presidential campaign of 2000, “Who is your favorite political philosopher?” he answered, “Jesus Christ.” The answer was clever but inappropriate. Jesus Christ was not a political philosopher; he was a religious leader. He is also one of the figures memorialized in the Budapest Garden of Philosophers (Filozófusok kertje in Hungarian), along with Abraham, Buddha, Laozi, and Akhenaten, Mohandas Gandhi, Daruma Daishi (aka Bodhidharma), and Saint Francis of Assisi, all of whom, with the possible exception of Gandhi, are considered religious leaders rather than philosophers.

But other than the name, the Philosophers’ Garden is a pleasant and edifying place, well worth a visit. It is located on Gellért Hill in Buda, and provides wonderful views of the city, not the least of the reasons for visiting. It’s also a great spot for picnickers, hikers and people who just want to amble around and meditate. Parking is very limited, and I have to commend our bus driver for his amazing parking job in fitting the bus into a space which seemed impossibly small for the vehicle.

The Garden was the brainchild of Hungarian sculptor Nándor Wagner (1922-1997), who emigrated from Hungary following the 1956 revolution and spent the rest of his life in Sweden and Japan. His intent in creating the Garden was to promote mutual understanding among the adherents of the world’s great religions.

The centerpiece of the garden is the ring of five statues surrounding a pool with a silver ball in the center, symbolizing the divine essence. The statues represent what Wagner saw as the founders of the world’s major religions. Why he would include the Egyptian Pharaoh Akhenaten, whose monotheism did not survive, and not Zoroaster and Mohammed, I have no idea. A second group of statues, representing three figures whom Wagner considered to be leaders in fostering spiritual enlightenment, stands in a row outside the first circle. Again, the choice of Gandhi, St. Francis and Daruma Daishi (founder of Zen, one of many schools or sects of Buddhism) seems entirely subjective and whimsical. Wagner planned a third group, consisting of great lawgivers (Hammurabi, Moses, Justinian, and Prince Shotoku of Japan), but he died of cancer before he could complete this project.

The statues have a certain Asian mien to them, perhaps a reflection of the fact that Wagner spent the last 25 years of his life living and working in Japan. Indeed, another version of the statue group was cast and installed in Nakano, Japan.

In April, 2007 thieves made off with the statues of Gandhi, Bodhi Dharma and Saint Francis, probably to sell them for their metal value. The three missing statues were replaced in 2010 by new copies cast in Japan.

Our guide next led us to the top of the hill, where we found another sculptural monument, symbolizing the unification of Buda and Pest into one city in 1873. A prince, personifying Buda, and a princess, personifying Pest, stretch their hands out to one another over the river Danube. The bronze sculpture is the creation of a Hungarian artist named Márta Lesenyei and was installed in 1982. 

Our first full day in Budapest concluded with a “Welcome to Hungary” feast at the Vadaspark Étterem (Étterem means “restaurant” in Hungarian – not exactly a cognate, think “eatery”!). The place is hidden in a woodland high in the hills of west Buda hills woodland next to the Budakeszi Wildlife Park. In appearance it is a traditional Hungarian hunting lodge, and it serves traditional Hungarian cuisine. Guests are seating on wooden benches at long wooden tables and the ambience is pleasantly rustic.

Dinner began with an aperitif, attractively served in a little ceramic cup in the form of a mustachioed Hungarian farmer in traditional costume. The little cup was filled with pálinka, a fruit brandy with a rather high alcohol content, between 37% and 86%, typically around 40%, but I think ours was more than 50%. Pálinka can made from plums, apricots, apples, pears, cherries and many other kinds of fruit, but not grapes. Brandy made from grapes is called törkölypálinka. When made entirely from apricots, it is called barackpálinka. One wonders how former President Obama feels about this. (Actually “barack” in Hungarian is pronounced “baratsk”.)

The food was delicious and attractively presented, and the wine flowed freely. But after pálinka and a few glasses of wine (both white and red), my memory ceased to operate effectively and I can’t say for sure which traditional Hungarian dishes we were served. I can say that it was all superb.

After-dinner entertainment consisted of folk dancing and music played by a live mini-orchestra with a superb violinist. But for the fact that the dancers were in traditional Hungarian dress, I would have thought it was a hoedown in the western USA, an impression that the pictures of cowboys and cattle on the walls reinforced.

After dinner, on the way back from the restaurant to the Hotel Corinthia, I shot my only photo of Budapest at night, with my Samsung phone camera – not a very good one, to be sure, but at least I managed to include both banks of the Danube in the frame, with the Parliament building (left, on the Pest side), Buda Castle (center) and Castle Hill with St. Matthew’s Church and Fishermen’s Bastion on the right. Try to ignore the reflections in the windows.

The Dohány Street Synagogue is affiliated with the Neolog or Congressional wing of Hungarian Jewry, a liberal and modernist denomination largely associated with middle and upper-class assimilated Jews, in sharp contrast to the conservative and traditionalist Orthodox Jewish community. The latter have their own places of worship, one of which is the Kazinczy Street Synagogue, which was our second stop in the Jewish Quarter. To get there we threaded our way through narrow, crowded streets, passing a number of interesting shops and tempting restaurants which I would have loved to patronize if there had been an opportunity.

The Kazinczy Street Orthodox Grand Synagogue was built in 1913, just before the First World War, in a style which is the last thing I would have expected from a conservative and traditionalist denomination: Art Nouveau. In fact it is considered a masterpiece of Art Nouveau architecture. The narrow street and the limitations of my equipment (not to mention the skills of the photographer) prevented me from doing visual justice to the synagogue, but one can see more adequate photos online, for example here. In the post-World War II period, under the kindly auspices of the Communist regime, the Orthodox Grand Synagogue deteriorated to the point of unusability, and a smaller house of worship, the Sasz-Chevra Orthodox Synagogue, was built next to it (after the collapse of Communism the main synagogue was restored and can be visited today). I initially mistook the unpretentious doorway providing entry to the smaller synagogue, which also leads to the Hanna glatt kosher restaurant, for the main entrance to the Grand Synagogue.

From Kazinczy Street we ambled on to the Carl Lutz Memorial, at the corner of Dob and Rumbach Streets. Carl Lutz was a Swiss diplomat who is credited with saving 62,000 Hungarian Jews from the Nazis during World War II.

Interestingly, Carl Lutz as a young man had emigrated to the United States. He lived there for two decades and worked his way through college, graduating from George Washington University in Washington, D.C., in 1924. By that time he had started working in the Swiss Legation there, and continued to pursue his diplomatic career in other American cities, remaining in the USA until 1934. In 1935 the Swiss diplomatic service sent him as a vice-consul to Jaffa in Palestine, where he apparently developed strong Jewish sympathies after watching a Jewish worker being lynched by an Arab mob. In 1942 he was appointed Swiss vice-consul in Budapest, and soon began helping Hungarian Jews emigrate to Palestine. He did so by issuing safe-conduct documents to Jewish families and by establishing safe houses, such as the famous “Glass House”, where Jews could live under official Swiss protection. His activities became so provocative that the German plenipotentiary in Hungary actually contemplated having him assassinated, but failed to obtain permission from his superiors. The Swiss government’s reward for his efforts was to reprimand him for exceeding his authority, though this was later reversed. He died in Switzerland in 1975.

The Carl Lutz Memorial on Dob Street is a most unusual construction. Its most striking component is a statue of Lutz in the form of a golden angel standing sideways on the side of a building. From his height, Lutz throws a very long cape to serve as a ramp for an wounded Holocaust victim lying on the ground. extending an arm up to plead for help. Also on the wall is a plaque featuring a quotation from the Talmud, “Whoever saves a life is considered to have saved an entire world.” Beneath the golden statue on the wall have been scrawled a plethora of graffiti, which some people feel has ruined the atmosphere, but it didn’t bother me. The graffiti were unintelligible to me, and I could not tell whether they consisted of the ravings of anti-Jewish hatemongers displaying their idiocy for all the world to see, or else they have nothing to do with the memorial at all, in which case they are merely artwork. In any case, the memorial is set in a shady garden which provides a semblance of peace. On the street corner, at the opposite end of the garden from the memorial itself, we noticed three mounds which consisted of the same kind of brickwork as that supporting the victim statue, but which had nothing near them to indicate what they represented. I don’t recall whether the guide said anything about them and I haven’t been able to find out anything more, so if anyone reading this can help I would be much obliged.

Turning the corner of Dob and Rumbach Streets, I found a graffiti-bedecked parking lot which turned out to be the base of an outfit calling itself Hot Rod Budapest, which offers tours of the city in fake “Deuces” – cut-down, souped-up 1932 American Ford open roadsters. Although these are obviously cheap imitations of the real thing, we would have tried them if we had a chance; we did something similar a few days later, in Prague, and enjoyed it greatly.

Continuing down Rumbach Street, we came across the Frogbite Tattoo Parlor. I don’t favor tattoos myself but I loved the name of the place. I had an old friend from FileNet days (mid-80s), Dennis Griesser, who was a ranarophile, otherwise known as a frog freak. I would have sent him a picture of the logo, but he passed away earlier this year. This page is dedicated to him in memoriam.

Also on Rumbach Street we encountered a number of other enticing establishments, such as the gaily decorated Bluebird Cafe, where I shot a picture of the entrance with an attractive young member of our tour group in front.

The Rumbach Street Synagogue is an octagonal structure built in 1872 in Moorish Revival style, like the Dohany Street Synagogue. In fact it was intended for the Neolog branch of Hungarian Jewry, but in the 1870s the schism between the Orthodox traditionalists and the Neolog modernizers evolved into a three-way split, with another conservative branch following its own path, to become known as the “Status Quo” faction; and the Rumbach Street Synagogue came under their aegis. Like the other two synagogues we viewed, the Rumbach deteriorated badly in the late 20th century, and was eventually restored to its pristine grandeur; today all three rank among the top architectural wonders of Budapest.

From Rumbach Street we headed back down Dob Street toward Károly Boulevard, a wide main thoroughfare which converges with Dohány Street near the Great Synagogue, where our bus awaited. On the way I was able to capture a few more subjects of interest with my camera, including a couple that probably won’t show up in any guidebooks.

For example, I noticed that in the crowded Jewish Quarter some attempts had been made to maximize the use of real estate by building archways spanning the space between buildings over an intervening street. An example is shown below.

Károly Boulevard and Dohány Street mark the border of the Jewish ghetto of World War II, and the “Gentile” side of the street is lined with upscale apartment buildings, pricey boutiques and posh hotels. Nevertheless, I found a specimen of the ubiquitous Budapest graffiti even here, and in a rather inaccessible yet highly visible place.

Budapest’s historic Jewish quarter might well be called the Playground District these days because it appears to be the center of the city’s night life. But that would obscure the fact that the quarter has seen a great deal of history, much of it tragic, which should not be forgotten.

So it was appropriate that we began our tour of the Jewish Quarter at the Dohány Street Synagogue. (Dohány means “tobacco” in Hungarian.) This is the largest synagogue in Europe, seating almost 3,000 people, and the only synagogues in the world that are larger are in Israel and New York. It was built in the 1850s in a Moorish Revival style with an admixture of Byzantine, Romantic and Gothic elements. I’m a big fan of Moorish architecture and I regard the Dohány Street Synagogue as a masterpiece.

The synagogue played a key role in World War II. Hungary, under the right-wing government of Admiral Horthy, a former Austro-Hungarian admiral, was an ally of Germany in World War II and sent troops to participate in Hitler’s invasion of Russia. In 1944, after the tide turned decisively against the Axis powers, the Nazis perceived that Hungary was wavering in its commitment to the alliance; they sent in the troops and installed a puppet government. Up to that time, the anti-Semitic Horthy regime had conducted sporadic deportations of Jews and allowed occasional atrocities against them, but now Adolf Eichmann took charge and the Holocaust in Hungary began in earnest. In 1944 over 400,000 Jews were deported to Auschwitz. Those who were not deported were mostly relocated to the Jewish ghetto in Budapest. About 119,000 remained in the ghetto by the time the Russians liberated the city in January 1945. The Dohány Street Synagogue served as a refuge for many Jews who were unable to find quarters elsewhere in the crowded ghetto. Nevertheless, the winter of 1944-45 was a cruel one, and many ghetto residents died of cold and hunger. About 2,000 of them are buried in a makeshift cemetery behind the synagogue. The cemetery courtyard is a place of verdant beauty and tranquility, with walls, arches, windows surrounding a garden, all reminiscent of Moorish palaces in Spain.

The cemetery courtyard is walled on one side by the Heroes’ Temple, an adjunct to the synagogue built in 1931 to commemorate the Jewish soldiers who lost their lives fighting with the Austro-Hungarian army during World War I. On the other side of the Heroes’ Temple is the Raoul Wallenberg Holocaust Memorial Park. As most people know these days, Raoul Wallenberg was a Swedish diplomat who managed by various subterfuges to save thousands of Jews from Nazis and Hungarian fascists during the terrible days of 1944. In January 1945 he was arrested on suspicion of espionage by the infamous Soviet counterintelligence organization SMERSH (abbreviation for the Russian words smert’ shpionam, “death to spies”), depicted somewhat cartoonishly in Ian Fleming’s James Bond novel From Russia with Love. Twelve years later, in 1957, the Soviets reported that he had died of a heart attack in 1947, while imprisoned in the notorious Lubyanka prison in Moscow. There is no need to dwell on the suspiciousness of the Soviet account.

The Raoul Wallenberg Holocaust Memorial Park contains two memorials: one to Wallenberg and other persons, mostly diplomats, who saved thousands of Jews from the gas chambers by various subterfuges; and the second to the over 400,000 Hungarian Jews who died in the Holocaust. The latter, known as the Emanuel Tree, is in the form of a weeping willow tree, made of metal, each leaf of which is inscribed with the name and tattoo number of a victim.