Eating between Cities

Published in 'Wine 'n' Dine - Edited by Lucy Mallows, The Budapest Sun May 11-17 2000 At the beginning of the 20th century, rail travel meant romance: Riding across the European Continent in luxury and style on the Orient Express, taking tea in the dining car, swishing one's crinoline along the corridors. These days, train travel does not always live up to those images, depicted in epic films. Delayed trains, leaves on the line, the 'wrong kind of snow', sitting stationary for fours in the middle of a field with no explanation, squashed up between two salami-eating uncles in grubby second-class carriages while babies scream and teenagers listen to the relentless 'tshk, tshk, tshk' on their not-so-personal headphones. However, on a recent trip back from a healing weekend in the spa resort of Hajdúszoboszló, we discovered that there were no seat reservations left for the over-crowded Sunday (back-to-Budapest) train, despite a first-class return ticket booked and paid for, and the only way of getting aboard and back home to the Hungarian capital would be to camp out in the restaurant car for the duration. Now, I wouldn't recommend this, as signs posted all over state the threatening message that, "You can only stay/consume here for a maximum 45 minutes," and, terrified, we realised that our journey would take just over two hours. What to do? Attempt the world record for the slowest chewing in culinary history? Linger over the soup until the gobbets of fat congealed into a solid carapace? Sup enough beer until the Dutch courage inspired us to stand up to the waitress who looked as if she could take on the entire Welsh rugby team and come out the winner? We girded our loins and decided to go for it. Our carriage this time on the Hortobágy Express was more functional than fancy, with neatness rather than nostalgia the main theme. Clean and painted white, the interior's best features were the giant windows, which afforded a much better view of the flat, endless fields of the Puszta than can normally be seen, even in first class. Framed by the pink curtains, the view of field after field sailed past as we examined the menu. Multi-coloured, checked tablecloths had been placed at diagonals over white linen and artificial cloth flowers were a nice touch. A whole range of nibbles awaited tempted fingers: pistachio nuts, salted almonds or peanuts, there were eight petit fours placed under cling film for those who couldn't bear the wait. The waitress was brusquely efficient, however, bringing each freshly-fried meal within minutes of request. This was not going according to plan...! My companion and I both decided we deserved a bottle of Dreher lager (260 forints), just in case the authorities got bolshy about the time limit, and we studied the menu items. It was encouraging to find a vegetable omelette (350 forints) and scrambled eggs with onions (250 forints) available, but I decided to try the fish fillets (700 forints), which arrived in an instant and were, actually, fish fingers. However, I didn't mind. I was just grateful they weren't from the poor, polluted Tisza river, which we passed over at Szolnok just as I was tucking in. The chips were home-made and oily but quite presentable on a long trip. With a side order of some gherkin pickles (150 forints) to cut through the oil, everything went down nicely, with the main problem being trying not to wolf it down too quickly. My companion was tempted by the humorous item on the menu, described as 'Utasmáj' ('traveller's liver), which conjured up images of unwitting voyagers being butchered in the back carriage by the Hannibal Lecter of the locomotive industry. She settled instead for the turkey breast (700 forints) stuffed with cheese, breaded and fried. This came with chips and she also decided on a side orer of 'csalamádé' (150 forints), a piquant miture of cabbage, peppers and onions in vinegar. Other items on the menu ranged from the usual breaded 'n' fried meats (700 forints) to rice with beef (650 forints). The most expensive offering was lemon chicken breast with stewed fruit (900 forints) and there was also consommé with egg yolk (150 forints) for starters. My companion finished too early and, in a panic, decided to have a pancake with chocolate (120 forint) to delay the arrival of the bill and stern looks. To keep her company, I had some chestnut puree, which was very rich but gave us another half-hour's breathing space as I slowly spooned the dense nutty pudding and created little artistic creations in the glass bowl. This didn't go down too well with the waitress. I have been told off many times for commenting on the frightening aspect of many Hungarian waitresses, but those who criticise are always middle-aged expatriate men, who get quite a different reception and treatment to two young-ish females attempting to dine and communicate in a language not their own. Ms Train Buffet raised her eyebrows in exasperation every time I attempted to order something, as if to say, "I really don't know why you bother." Nevertheless, we managed to stick it out to the bitter end, and after an enjoyable meal in pleasant surroundings, tumbled out on to Nyugati Station platform, replete and relaxed, well, relatively...

The Attila József Museum - A poetic genius

The poetry of Attila József is said to be the most beautiful in the Hungarian language and has reached the hearts and minds of many people in Hungary and abroad. It is possible to trace some of the events of his tragically short life at several sites throughout Budapest. József was born on April 11, 1905, in the poor working class district of Ferencváros. The modest two-roomed apartment at Gát utca 3, where he was born, has been transformed into a fascinating museum by Péter Sára of the Petôfi Literature Museum. It is easy to spot the apartment from a plaque, which was erected in 1965 and floral tributes and wreaths. The green door was ajar and a knock alerted Mrs Ferenc Soltész, the curator. "We had a Swedish translator here yesterday. People come from all over the world to pay tribute," she said. Inside the small apartment the walls are lined with black and white photographs. A picture of József’s father, Áron, in a military uniform is striking and a photo of his mother Borbála Pöcze reveals a pretty and delicate-looking woman. In his poem, A Dunánál (By the Danube) József wrote: "My mother was a Kun, my father was half Székely, half Romanian, maybe pure Romanian. From mother’s mouth the food was sweet, From father’s lips the truth was beautiful." József’s father, a soap boiler, abandoned the family when his son was three years old. There is a photo of another house in the same street and a poignant inscription reads: "Papa disappeared from this flat." His departure left his mother to care for József and his two elder sisters Jolán and Etelka on a small income she earned from taking in washing. In 1910, aged five, József was sent away for two years to foster parents, the Gombai’s, in the village of Öcsöd where the young boy worked as a swineherd, like other poor children in the village. At the age of seven, his mother took him back and with three children she again tried to make ends meet. A map by the door shows the 19 different places, all in Ferencváros, where the family lived. "Every time she had trouble with the rent, the landlord kicked them out and they had to move on," said Soltész, who supplemented the exhibition with stories and snippets of interesting information. The writer Zsigmond Móricz once asked József how he had managed to finish school. He expected him to say he sold newspapers to support himself, as many did. However, he said his sister Jolán married Ödön Makai, a lawyer from Hódmezôvásárhely, and they paid his school fees. József’s mother died of cancer in 1919 when he was 14 years old. Makai became József’s legal guardian and sent him to Makó boarding school. The museum shows József’s first volume of poems, Szépség koldusa (Beauty’s Beggar), which he wrote aged 17. The young poet furthered his education at Szeged university, but left after threats from Professor Horger who was disturbed by the publication of his poem Tiszta szívvel (With a Pure Heart) that began: "I have no father, I have no mother, I have no God and no country." József then left for Vienna and Paris where he became a member of the Anarcho-Communist group. When József returned to Budapest two years later he fell in love with Márta Vágó, who came from a very well-to-do family. But the romance failed and he wrote, "Osztálya elragadta tólem" ("Her class tore her away from me.") József’s love life provided fuel for his poetry, as did his political leanings. He became involved in illegal left-wing movements and published his fourth volume of poetry, Döntsd a tôkét, ne siránkozz! (Fight capitalism, don’t whinge!) The work was confiscated and József was charged with "political agitation and obscenity." In 1933, the Fascists were in power in Germany and József continued with his work in the Communist movement. József was very disappointed not to be invited to the Soviet Writers’ First Congress and in 1935, suffering depression, he entered a sanatorium for the second time. When he left the institution a year later he became the co-editor, alongside Pál Ignotus, of the civil humanist periodical Szép Szó (Beautiful Word). He wrote and edited much of the publication in the Japán Coffeehouse, now the Írók Boltja book shop at Andrássy út 45. Despite his work, József became more and more isolated and depressed. His life was occupied by painful love affairs and periods in hospital with depression. The poet’s sisters did their best to care for him, but to no avail - József ended his life in Balatonszárszó, on December 3, 1937. There are many places in Budapest where you can find Attila József. At Kossuth tér, by Parliament, a beautiful, melancholic statue of the poet sits facing the river, his hat in his left hand and coat at his side, as if exhausted after a long walk. An inscription in the style of József’s handwriting, taken from A Dunánál (By the Danube), reads: ”Mintha szivembôl folyt volna tova Zavaros, bölcs és nagy volt a Duna” ”As if it flowed straight from my heart Troubled, wise and great was the Danube” At Mester utca 67, you can see a plaque marking the spot where József attended school between the age of seven and nine. The plaque was erected on May 1, 1957, to mark the 50th anniversary of his birth (actually 52 years earlier in 1905). József was first buried in Balatonszárszó, then moved to Kerepesi Cemetery in 1942 to be united with his mother. József was then claimed by the working classes and given a decorated grave in the Workers’ Pantheon, but finally moved back to be with his mother, sister Jolán and nephew Péter Makai at Kerepesi. Recently add to the gravestone is the name of Attila’s sister Etelka who died in April 2004 aged 101. Former cemetery worker Antal Sinka added a theory to the many that surround the poet’s death. He said József did not commit suicide: "He left his sister’s house in a distracted state to buy two cigarettes. He was impatient for a train to pass and stepped out in front of it," said Sinka. To find the grave, go through the main entrance along the avenue, through the arcade and past the graves of Endre Ady and Mór Jókai. When you reach the next roundabout you will see a mausoleum with the words "Ave Domine" on your left. Turn right towards the Deák mausoleum and you will find Plot 35 where the great poet lies. The author and her hero...

The Crowman

Budapest's Bird Man of Deák tér
By Lucy Mallows
First published in The Budapest Sun, October 16, 1997

“Louder, Louder”, orders Pisti Bácsi (Uncle Stevie) and four huge black crows squawk on demand, flapping their jet black wings and creating a terrifying spectacle.
Little children giggle nervously and huddle closer to their parents, but they are transfixed, and not only by the birds but by the sweet tiny kittens and mischievous black puppies, dozing in a pile on a deck chair nearby.
The scene comes straight from a 16th century Brueghel painting, as the old man feeds bread from his mouth to a gigantic black crow, named Ügyes (‘Skillful’). The three other birds, Pici (‘Tiny’), Csavargó (‘Vagabond’) and Csöves (‘Tramp’) line up to sit on his head.
He offers the birds to sit on the arms of those brave enough, as, he says, the birds bring good fortune.
Pisti Bácsi, or rather István Ferenc, to give him his official name, is 72 years old and has shared his caravan, parked on Határ út in the twentieth district, for the last ten years since retiring with four giant black crows, two enormous black dogs, nine puppies and five kittens.
Every day he travels to Deák tér, in the heart of Pest, riding the metro with a selection of animals in a cardboard box and cart arrangement, a friend brings the larger dogs in a car. He spends the day at the square opposite the plush Porsche salon, entertaining the crowds of tourists and Hungarians alike with his eccentric, medieval zoo.
A mound of intertwined tiny puppies and kittens of varying brown and black colours are dozing in a heap on a beach deck chair.
Unusually, all the birds, cats and dogs get along together, and the crows occasionally give the puppies a friendly peck.
Pisti’s teenage daughter, Anna-Mária sometimes comes along to help him. She spends her time chasing after the playful puppies who wander off in search of fun or food and one adorable fluffy ginger kitten, who modestly retires to a bush to relieve itself. The tiny animal can barely open its eyes. “His eyes wouldn’t open at all but I have been putting cream on them and they see better now,” says Pisti Bácsi attentively.



Pisti Bácsi has placed a modest message to say he lives with all these animals and needs money to feed them and buy medicine.
He needs a little extra income since he retired from working for Budapest Transport Company, digging up the streets and laying the tramlines. Most people, however, ask if they can buy the crows and the answer is always a firm ‘no’.
A shopper with two small children asks if the puppies are for sale and Pisti Bácsi asks for 1,500 forints each. “What breed are they?” asks the man. “Wait until they grow and you’ll find out then”, answers Pisti Bácsi.
The little kittens may be sold after the winter when they are stronger, he says, but he is not desperate to sell off his family.
The donations from the passers-by are enough to feed everyone.
Two huge black Rottweiler and German Shepherd cross-breeds sit behind like the dogs with eyes as big as soup plates, who guarded the tinder box in Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale. In a more modern touch, one wears plastic sixties sunglasses and looks super cool, lying quietly at the back, no doubt he could well protect his master if there were any trouble.
In the hustle and bustle of the modern world, many stop for a few minutes to gaze at this comically gothic spectacle, the diminutive ancient man with huge black crows on his arm looks more like an animal trainer at the court of an ancient king, offering birds that bring good fortune and money to those who dare to hold them.



Pisti Bácsi kisses two year-old Pici (Tiny) lovingly on the beak, offering the bird bread from his mouth.
The audience is transfixed. “They must be a hundred years old,” says one man and asks if Pisti Bácsi has ever tried making Crow Soup, “I know a recipe if you want to try”, he says.
Pisti bácsi is offended that he should ever try to eat his friends. “The animals are my biggest friends, I know some nice humans, but I also know some really wicked ones. Animals are always honest”.
Pisti bácsi thinks he may also have nine lives, like a cat. On Saint Stephen’s Day, August 20 he fell from a nine metre height in another of his haunts at the Fisherman’s Bastion up in the Castle District. “I lost consciousness, but I did not lose my life”, he says. This was extremely fortunate for all the dependents of this Magyar Doctor Doolittle.
“Why don't the crows fly away?” asks a tourist. Pisti bácsi’s reply says it all, “Because they have never known such love before”.

Dob utca history

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Dob utca begins at Károly körút and runs up to Rottenbiller utca along the length of the long narrow seventh district of Erzsebetvaros (Elizabeth Town) which continues up to Dózsa György út and the Városliget - City Park.
Within is long and varied length, a microcosm of Hungarian society and history can be found.
A wide variety of craftsmen still ply their trade.
Gold and silver smiths, engravers, dyers, tailors, watch-menders and stocking repairers all still try to eke out a living in the high-tech world.
The street also offers many different cuisine styles: Jewish, strict Kosher, traditional Hungarian through pizzas and pasta to even Indian curries.
The origin of its name Dob (Drum) utca is a mystery, but the assistant at the Philon Antique Book shop at Dob utca 32 says it has always been called thus.
According to some local historians, the street takes its name from a pub called The Drum, which used to stand on the street.
The entrance to the street starts on Károly körút with what was the Tuborg Viking sörözô at Dob utca 2, a green Danish beer hall and restaurant that has as its most interesting feature a tall, tube shaped lookout tower, plonked on its roof.
The premises was bought in early 2001 by the Wendys Burger Bar chain.
On the right hand side at Dob utca 1 is an IBUSZ travel agent, then we get into craftsman territory with hundreds of tiny shop fronts offering a range of unusual and useful services.
If you need a brush, head straight for Dob utca 3, where Katalin Smulovicsné Winter offers every possible kind. Her name appears like a merging of three cultures – Hungarian, Slav and German, and likewise Dob utca is very cosmopolitan.
Green’s Fôzelék Bar is at Dob utca 5 offers fôzelék, a traditional style of serving vegetables in Hungary. Take spinach, green beans, peas, lentils, carrots, kohl rabi even and boil it up until all the goodness has long gone and it is a mush of thick soupy consistency.
Then add a roux of sour cream and flour to thicken it even more so that the spoon stands upright to attention in the middle of the bowl. Then serve with a fried egg floating on top of the spinach or pea goop, a rudely carved sausage bobbing on the lentils or some frankfurter sausages lolling about on the light green kohl rabi.
It sounds quite terrifying, but in the bitter winter months provides a comforting and affordable lunch.
Opposite sits the Mob pizzeria and further along on the left we find the Arany Pince Vendéglô (Golden Cellar Restaurant).
The nonstop on the corner at Dob utca 7 is well-stocked and always has bread on Sundays
Opposite the Mini Cukrászda at Dob utca 11, where a lady waits for the shop to open and cool her down with ice cream, is the memorial to the Swiss diplomat Carl Lutz, who helped many Jews avoid deportation.
The inscription from the Talmud reads, “He, who saves one single person, could also save the whole world”.
A moving and unusual statue shows a gold angel figure suspended perpendicular to the wall holding out a lifeline - a long piece of cloth to a figure lying prone on a brick mound below.
Jutting out into the narrow street is the Kóser Rothschild supermarket offering matzo flour and kosher products, imported from Israel.
Dob utca 16 is the gateway to another world, the entrance to the Gozsdu udvar, decorated with signs for a
goldsmith, violin repair and engraving, although gold and silver smith György Falk says now only five residents and five workshops remain in the 230-meter-long chain of seven courtyards, built in the early 20th century, linking Dob and Király utca.
“A Romanian lawyer, Manuil Gozsdu had the apartment and craftsmen's workshops built”, says Falk whose workshop is opposite a Greek Orthodox chapel, open on Sundays.
He says until WWII, Romanian students studied here.
Like the Gozsdu udvar, Falk's future is also uncertain.
He says he has heard that the Israeli investors who have promised to turn the courtyard into a shopping leisure complex have now pulled out, and the local government who own the building have not yet offered him a suitable replacement. “I don't want to move to the back of beyond”, he says, “This place is perfect, and customers could park right outside before the guards locked up the courtyard”.
Falk has performed delicate surgery on priceless gold and silver artefacts for 30 years.
Then, there were 80 families living in the thriving old-style shopping centre, but gradually families left or were moved out and tramps moved in.
Classical music plays in the background and the walls are laden with diplomas and awards.
However, Falk was not always appreciated. “The communists didn't approve of my individual trade and called me the derogatory term ‘maszek’ (private sector worker) but I am proud to be a ‘kisiparos’- artisan. I work with my hands”.
Until two years ago, the oldest resident András Szlatki ran the gentleman's hairdresser in the part now demolished by the spread of the Madách center.
Over eighty, Szlatki had stayed in the courtyard throughout the terrible war period, when the Gozsdu formed one wall of the Ghetto. “Local government tried to move him out, but he died and his shop disappeared”, says Falk.
Dob utca is a bustling lively street where the past and present mix almost unnoticeable, new galleries and burger bars appear every day but the sense of history is maintained.


©LRMallowsBpAug2009

A modest sign at Dob utca 22 heralds one of the street's treasures.
The Fröhlich cukrászda has been producing delicious kosher cakes since 1962, although the establishment dates back to 1917.
Vera Fröhlich and her husband make the pastries in the back, specialties according to kosher rules on eggs, fat and no gelatin.
Vera’s husband has invented some unusual cakes, the Krakkói and the Szerelmes Levél (love letter) and the traditional Jewish Flódni a calorie-laden concoction of apples, poppy seed and nuts made with butter rather than margarine, although some favourites are off the menu at present because of the hot weather.
“An order was passed in the fifties, saying if the temperature stays over thirty degrees for more than three days, we are not allowed to make creamy deserts”, says Vera.
She hopes her children will continue the popular business, although the customers have gradually changed. “Many of our old customers have died, but this is still a friendly place, mainly visited by regulars and everyone talks to everyone else”, says Vera in between scooping out ice cream for workmen in the street and weighing out little cakes on antique red scales.
Fortunately business is booming, and the café doubled in size two years ago, replacing the hard stone floor with white tiles.
Some American Hungarians are visiting and have made this their first call on a tour of old favourites.
Vera's son, Robert Fröhlich, a Rabbi and teacher often holds meetings in the convivial surroundings, “The café's position, tucked away on Dob utca is a disadvantage for the owner, but an advantage for the customer”.
He says it is the only genuine kosher café in Hungary and possibly in Central Europe.
“The face of Dob utca and Klauzál tér has not changed, although in 33 years I have seen many new businesses move in”, he says.


©LRMallowsBpAug2009

At the corner of Kazinczy look right to see Pest's Orthodox Synagogue, designed by Béla and Sándor Löffler in 1912, serving Budapest's small community of just over 3,000 Orthodox Jews.
The smashed windows look dark and forlorn but the Jewish lettering on the very top of the facade is still in very good condition
It is not normally open to visitors, but you can get a closer look around the corner at Dob utca 35 and through the courtyard by the kosher butchers still functioning since 1914 and the strictly kosher Hanna restaurant you can find the former orthodox school.
The Hanna restaurant has a heavy chocolate brown wooden gate
An Orthodox Jews in a wide-brimmed black hat and ringlets speaks Hebrew on the public telephone outside
Above telephone is the number 5673 carved into the stone.
This number refers to the date in Hebrew and iit also appears on the other side in Hebrew lettering
The wonderful Kiskacsa restaurant at Dob utca 26 offers “one plate home cooking Ft220 daily menu if booked ahead on a Wednesday”.
Opposite Kiskacsa is a walk way that resembles a monastery cloister, covered in unimaginative graffiti tagging. Kiskacsa (Little Duck) is the little sister of the more grand Kacsa (Duck) restaurant in Buda.
There follows a patch of bare ground where car parks utilize the temporarily flattened space, until another office block springs up.
A paper and colored metal recycling business on the corner of Holló utca and Dob utca keeps the spirit of the area with its shop front, which has the same design as the fading, scratched off shop fronts all along the street. A bright green placard reads, “60 kilos of paper equals one tree’s life”.
Looking back along Dob utca towards the river and you suddenly get a perfect view of the Liberation Monument on top of Gellért Hill and unexpectedly see things from a totally different angle.
Then for 200 yards, Dob is transformed into Klauzál tér and the street numbers run backwards, anti clockwise around the square.
At Klauzál tér 16, a traditional neon sign announces Mûhimzô - embroidery for flag making, emblems, tablecloths and sheets.
In the spacious shady park, one man has the unenviable task of shoveling up the dog excrement in the designated dog walking area. In the hot weather, the smell is overwhelming.
Unfortunately right opposite is the Óvoda - kindergarten.
Next-door, the deliciously-named Gasztroker sign offers catering equipment and trade shop
Children play in the park on new climbing frames and the air is filled with shouting and squealing.
In the early morning heat, bácsis in clean white vests are already setting out the dominoes, cards and chess.
It is maybe a little too early to go for refreshment in the Lépcsôs Sörözô although it open at 6am.
A wonderful yellow and purple sign shows the ancient prices: a kisfröccs (small wine and soda) can be édes or savanyú (sweet or sour) and appears to cost Ft10.
Édes nagyfröccs cost Ft25 and a savanyú Ft20.
Running at right angles to Dob utca is Klauzál tér numbers 13-8. At number 11 is one of Pest's five main markets which has virtually all been absorbed into a Kaiser supermarket now.
Just a few small stall holders remain offering limp lettuce wilting in the heat
Klauzál tér 10 is the home of one of the best lunch venues in town, the Kádár étkezde.
From Tuesday to Saturday locals and famous film stars sit side by side stocking up on real home cooking, goose legs and sólet - a hearty bean dish.


©LRMallowsBpAug2009

Next door a plaque on the wall reminds passers-by that Klauzál tér was also a scene of confrontation in 1956.
A memorial tablet to Attila Gérecz who died, aged 27, reads “Only he who is bigger than his fate can win in the final push”.
The first grave of this poet of the revolution stood in the square and fading flags with the central communist motif burnt out are stuck behind the marble tablet.
By 1939 there were 200,000 Jews, living in Budapest, that number today is only 80,000, although they still constitute the largest community in Central Europe.
Klauzál tér represented the centre of the ghetto in 1944-45. Over 50,000 Jews were crammed together in terrible surroundings.
Local social worker Gábor Rotter says, "Many people died. First the bodies were kept in Klauzál tér market fridges, then when it was very cold they laid the bodies out in the square and buried them there."
Back toward Dob utca a nameless sörözô announces an interesting menu.
Things to eat are categorized as ‘before beer’, ‘with beer’ and ‘after beer’.
No prizes for guessing what is the main attraction.
Around the corner at Dob utca 45, a mini étkezde is more traditional about its offerings, proprietor József Karalyos offers home “home cooking, chilled drinks, speedy service and solid prices”.
The daily menu is mouth-watering - goose leg and cabbage for Ft600, roast duckling and parsley potatoes for Ft470 or stuffed pumpkin with dill sauce for Ft420.
The delicious ‘lucskos káposzta' (‘sloppy cabbage’) comes with a meat rissole and all the meals are typical of the area.
Over the road, above the gynecologist at Dob utca 46/b are six sculptured friezes, one on each floor, representing family life: a man, woman and child and a man gathering wheat to feed his offspring.
Further along, a beautiful old-fashioned sign, announcing Budapest Népruhazati -utility clothing- is covered by a cloth ‘for sale’ sign. Rotter says the interior layout is still intact and the territory is huge.
The district has produced a wealth of talented Hungarians and figures of contemporary Pest life. "The famous musician Gábor Presser was born just around the corner and his father used to have a stall, selling geese and ducks in Klauzál tér market," says Rotter.
Pop singer Szandi still lives around the corner in Akácfa utca and another local resident was the self-taught pianist Rezsô Seress who, in 1927, composed the melody to László Jávor's lyrics for ‘Szomorú Vasárnap, száz fehér virággal’ which became Gloomy Sunday, an international homage to melancholy, recorded by Billie Holiday, Ray Charles and Sinead O'Connor.
“Before the war, this area was 75 percent Jewish, now I would suggest the population is 50 percent Gypsy, with many living in the one-room, no comfort, outside-toilet flats that are so typical of this district”, says Rotter.
Despite the grime, Dob utca is known for its high proportion of restaurants and places of entertainment. At Dob utca 53, the Örökzöld Dallamok - Evergreen melodies restaurant you can listen to old-time music and dance on three levels in traditional surroundings.
On the other side of the road, at Dob utca 52, the Indian restaurant, Shalimar proves the cosmopolitan nature of this street. Next door is the stunning red shop front of the Háztatási Cikkek (Household Goods) shop owned by Éva Horváth. Next door to Örökzöld Dallamok is an ancient fur coat shop with the abrupt sign warning customers not to call.
Dob utca 57 parades the columns and yellowing yet intimidating walls of the Fészek Klub restaurant. Here, at the crossroads with Kertész utca, it is interesting to look around at the four different styles and shades of building in each corner.
A bright pink non-stop supermarket at Dob 61 holds all manner of foods you might need at three in the morning.
At Dob utca 60, György Lengyel operates one of the oldest men's tailors in the district and next door, Ferenc Kádár's decorative leather workshop is virtually a museum piece.


©LRMallowsBpAug2009

At the corner of Dob utca and Erzsébet körút, a plaque reveals how in the Kör coffee house, now a fast food pizza and hot-dog büfé, Kálmán Teszársz started the socialist teachers' union which in 1918 became the national teachers' union.
Poet Mór Jókai also lived in this house from 1899 to the day he died, May 5 1904. The elegant spiky tower and weather vane that decorate this literary home is rather overlooked amongst the bustle of the ‘Nagy körút’.
Crossing the main boulevard, we pass the Örökmozgó cinema and from here on, according to Róbert Fröhlich, the character of the street changes, “This is not the real Dob utca, the real heart lies between the little and large boulevards. It is like comparing the two halves of Váci utca, only one is real”.
However, the first stretch maintains the mood with small craftsmen's' workshops, offering tailoring, a gargoyle-laden goldsmith and little watch repair shops.
On the left are two rather dodgy-looking bars, at Dob utca 70 the one-room cramped Talléros bar where five stools all face away from the door and stare at the shelves of pálinka. Further along, but also sharing number 70 is the Postakürt étterem, from where a stream of bleary-eyed customers totter out into the bright mid-day sunshine.
Over the road, an eye-catching group of István I and historical figures guard the entrance to the giant post office on the corner of Hársfa utca.
Gábor Boda's statues bearing more than a passing resemblance to mustachioed Aztec warriors. Next door, a philatelist's dream, since Magyar Posta produces the most beautiful stamps in the world, can be found at the Stamp Museum.
The Transport, Communications and Water Ministry building, an ugly concrete and glass mess takes up space next door, before you reach the much more eye-pleasing junior school at Dob utca 83.
The Art Nouveau building has a very colorful turn-of-the-century mosaic frieze by Ármin Hegedus showing children learning and frolicking.
Over the road, at Dob utca 80, the chemist's has original furnishings, including beautiful lamps.
Along this stretch, it is worth risking the wrath of a thousand néni's to peer inside a few doorways and see the hidden life of Pest, continuing in beautiful sunlit, leafy courtyards.
Children play football, harassed housewives beat carpets over specially-designed wooden racks and grannies watch the action from balconies high above. Dob utca 82 courtyard is particularly attractive.
As Dob utca progresses, it crosses Vörösmarty utca, Izabella utca and Rózsa utca, all streets which also cross the grand Andrássy út.
We are now running parallel with the elegant nobleman's street, however downtrodden Dob utca with all its dirt and dust seems to represent the real Pest much more pungently.
Looking left down Rózsa utca you can even see all the way to the hills of Óbuda. Hármashatárhegy appears as a distant mirage, shimmering in the heat and the dusty town centre and countryside are inextricably linked.
Eri néni's non-stop supermarket is at Dob utca 100. "The social level is the same the whole length of Dob utca. I had a non-stop at number 61 and the customers were just the same," she claims, after working here for a year and a half.
But, passing the Hearing Aid repair shop at Dob utca 85, life gets distinctly calmer.
The Erzsébet district Gypsy minority local government offices are located in a quiet courtyard at number 107.
Dob utca finally comes to an abrupt end when it meets Rottenbiller utca running at right angles.
On the left is Holmi Design and on the right, the central laboratories, botanical and zoological departments of the Veterinary University, and in just under a mile, we have completed a journey through Pest's history, culture and cuisine.
©LRM2000

BARTÓK BÉLA ÚT

©LucyMallows2004
With its cubic cobble stones and plane trees standing guard along the way, ancient Hungarian craftsman’s workshops and fading neon shop signs, Bartók Béla út, in the eleventh district of Buda, was one of the few streets near the centre of town that looked typically Hungarian.
The cobbles have gone now, but Bartók, like Mester utca in the ninth district has that unique Magyar street ambience.
Others with their flashy palaces of denim and burger bars could be confused with streets running through other great cities of Europe.
The cobblestones are called macskakővek in Hungarian, meaning 'cat stones'.
However, this all changed in 2003.
In November, work began to remove the cobbles over which rattled the second largest stream of downtown-headed traffic. Every day 600,000 people jiggled along the painful route. The builders moved in and replaced the ancient electricity, gas, water and sewage systems.
After an agreement on the fourth metro line, the station diaphragm walls were sunk at Gellért tér, Móricz Zsigmond körtér, Kosztolányi Dezsô tér and Tétény út. Tram tracks and sidewalks were replaced and the green areas were given new park benches, flower pots and bollards.
Although the street looks a bit smarter, and the trams run more smoothly, the atmosphere has changed little.
Bartók Béla út, the street named after Hungary’s greatest composer doesn¹t actually contain much in the way of musical heritage.



At Móricz Zsigmond körtér there is a piano repair workshop and at the Budai Parkszínpad beside the Bottomless Lake (Feneketlen tó) at Kosztolányi Dezsô tér there are concerts by widely varying popular artists from Roma rap Fekete Vonat to guitar troubadour Péter Gerendás.
A statue of Bartók (1881-1945) by József Somogyi stands beside the lake, under a frame of bells.
Bartók Béla út begins at Gellért tér, graced by the beautiful Art Nouveau Gellért spa hotel and curves around the base of Gellért Hill to Móricz Zsigmond körtér. The fading Szabó photographer’s studio, second hand fur coat store and faded Cipôbolt share the wide, cracked pavements with more modern mobile phone outlets and optical showrooms.
The tiny, cramped book antikvarium (antique shop) front is almost hidden at 10am every day by the lines of pensioners who rob their own book-shelves to sell another selection of first editions for groceries.
On the right-hand side, some of the imposing buildings are worth a closer look, for the amazing stucco facades in pastel blues and greens and the hidden courtyards behind.
At No. 23 there is a fabulously grand yellow courtyard with Classical pillars, while No. 33 is a walk-in shopping area with a grotto and steps leading up to a leafy glade.
At the Bertalan Lajos utca tram stop, many homeless gather and sip wine take-outs from the countless borozós (wine bars, more proletarian than posh) on the street.
They sit under the statue to Géza Gardonyi who wrote Egri Csillagok (Under a Crescent Moon) and the building behind (No. 36-38) resembles a giant cinema Wurlitzer organ rising up in orange stone out of the street.
The doorway is guarded by two winged sphinxes with Cleopatra hairstyles.
A little further along at No. 40 is an interesting building designed in 1899 by Ödön Lechner, the father of Hungarian Art Nouveau, to accommodate his brother Gyula, a writer and painter.
The unusual decoration on the beige building resembles the stitching on the side of a blanket.



When Bartók died in New York in 1945, he left a condition in his will that no place in Budapest could be named after him, so long as there were still places like Hitler tér (now Kodály körönd) and Mussolini tér (now Oktogon).
Thus, immediately after the Second World War, the city decided to rename Horthy Miklós út after him along with eight other Bartók Béla út and utca dotted about Budapest.
Móricz Zsigmond körtér (circus) named, like the following Kosztolányi Dezsô tér, after one of Hungary’s great writers, is one of the busiest, most atmospheric squares in Buda, rivalling Mozskva tér for life and colour, noise, birds, flowers, trams, homeless, drunks and dog faeces.
A plaque to Móricz Zsigmond (1879-1942) reads “A Hungarian realist. The first to depict the realities of life of the Hungarian peasants”.
A neon sign high on the rooftops advertises the services of the Manfréd Weiss factory on Csepel Island and looks down on the simpler stylistic designs of a Mcburger bar’s golden arches.
The circus is a rickety wood circle around which trams rattle, the 18 and 47 on their way to Budafok, the 19 and 49 rumble all the way along Bartók Béla út to Kelenföld.
In the middle, a statue to Prince Imre by Zsigmond Kisfaludy Strobl portrays King Saint Stephen’s son who died in a hunting accident aged 24. Interestingly, this statue managed to remain as a resting place for tired pigeons throughout the Communist period.
The circus was designed in the late 19th century to the grand American plan, with wide streets and huge squares, continuing in style at Kosztolányi Dezsô tér which is quite a terrifying road junction where broad radial roads meet.
After Kosztolányi Dezsô tér, the road runs in an almost entirely straight line, cobbled all the way to Etele tér, in Kelenföld, the end of the line also for the famous No. 7 bus.
At dusk, the Bottomless Lake is one of the most atmospheric parts of Buda. The Szent Imre church is illuminated at night and shadows are thrown across the reeds and water of the former quarry pit, which is actually only a few metres deep.
At No. 62 a faded sign still bears witness to the one-time glories of the Bartók cinema.
This was part of an apartment block designed by Gábor Preisich and Mihály Vadász in 1934.
Preisich was a member of the Ciam group and was very influential in introducing modernism to Hungary.
This building is one of his best creations.



The street becomes more and more rural as it continues to Kelenföld, the ‘fields of Kelen’.
Outside No. 98 a pile of steaming horse manure on the pavement helps the village atmosphere.
Nearby is a horse tackle shop, a ‘Daisy’ gun shop, a knife shop and a garden equipment shop.
At No. 125 the Nagyon Kis Vendéglô (Very Small Bistro) is a family-run bistro offering ‘cheap home cooking’ and just along the way is the Melódiás Haladás Eszpresszó (Melodic Progress).
These types of establishments have died out in the centre of town but can still be found along the far reaches of Bartók Béla út, along with a wonderful workshop at No. 112 that will do everything from picture framing, to mirror cutting, zip repairs, bag lining and patches, as announced on a stylised brown sign.
The Karinthy Theatre at No. 123-130 has one of those ancient cinema signs, where you can click the letters into the lines to show what’s playing this week. A little further along the Szent Gellért church is a modern building, but look around the side to catch one of sculpture Imre Varga’s stunning works.
Jesus cradles Gellért in big silver wings with embossed metal decoration and carries him up to heaven.
In Brussels, a statue of Béla Bartók by Imre Varga stands in a forgotten square between the Grand’Place and the Centraal Station.
A group of Japanese tourists take photos and ask their guide who the statue depicts. “Bartók, a German composer I think,” says the young guide.
At No. 133 a huge tram depot stands with a yawning gate.
A group of static No. 19 trams gaze out from their shed.
As we approach Etele tér, we are now in the heart of Kelenföld.
It is somehow reminiscent of Szeged with wide tree-lined cobblestone streets and a sleepy Sunday afternoon ambiance.
Kelenföld was the centre of horseracing in the 16th century, introduced by the young King Lajos II in 1525 and the area was still fields and vineyards up until only 100 years ago.
The area received the name Kelenföld in 1847.
Prior to that it was called Tabán. The area became populated in the middle of the 18th century when grape workers moved in.
The origins of the name are argued about.
Some attribute it to ‘Krenfeld’ which is ‘Horseradish field’ in German and all the agricultural workers there at the time would bear this out.
Other say that there was a tribe leader called Kelen at the time of the occupation of the Carpathian Basin in 896 and they made their camps here and named it after him.

Budapest's Szent Lukács gyógyfürdô & uszoda

©LRMallowsLukacsBp2007

The Szent Lukács gyógyfürdô

The Szent Lukács gyógyfürdô is the most beautiful medicinal thermal bath complex in Budapest.
The Széchenyi has history and all the chess-playing bácsis (crusty old uncles) for the tourists, the Gellért has fin-de-siecle glamour and that wave pool (keep away from the wandering hands of crusty old uncles here!) and the Király and Rudas have their daring, quasi homo-erotic, steamy sense of danger (after all, think of all those verrucas you could catch).
The frumpy old Lukács isn’t a tourist destination, it’s a place for locals to kick off their papucs (slippers), soak their creaking joints and have a right old gossip within the crumbling, yellowing Baroque walls of the most atmospheric spa facilities in Central Europe.
The medicinal thermal bath recently opened its doors to show off a brand new ivócsarnok - drinking hall, where visitors can buy a korsó (half-litre stein) of mineral and salt-rich water to refresh their palates and help them live longer.
The building resembles a Greek temple and in pride of place is a pink marble fountain, from where gushes forth water, strangely labelled ‘not drinking water’.
However, to the right is a dark grey marble basin and patrons can fill up jugs from a golden dragon tap.
For five forints you can drink a korsó, filled with the warm, slightly eggy-tasting water and go away feeling you have done something good for your system.
Half a litre is considered the optimum daily intake, needed for the minerals and salts to be effective.
‘Budapest is really the capital of spas, and we hope the Szent Lukács will be a symbol of better times’, said Budapest deputy mayor Pál Vajda at the opening.
Renovation started in November 1997, at a cost of Ft25 million, mainly financed by revenue from tourism.
Gábor Horváth, CEO of Budapest's Thermal Baths and Spas Rt said the drinking hall was originally opened in 1937 when the first conference of the International Bathing Association was held in Budapest, acknowledging the thermal bath potential of the Hungarian capital. ‘This was really a peak in Budapest thermal bath life’, said Horváth.
However, since the turn of the century, thermal water has been bottled in green glass bottles and distributed around the world.
By the time the drinking hall was opened, more that five million bottles per year were being produced and exported to many counties around the world. Szent Lukács water can be bought in Buenos Aires, Mexico, Hong Kong and Sydney.
The bath suffered severe damage during the Second World War and a lack of funds prevented refurbishment.
Now the hall has been reconstructed according to original plans, ‘and there will be more opportunities to drink the healthy water on the spot’, said Horváth.
The Lukács thermal water contains calcium, magnesium and hydrogen carbonate, a significant amount of fluoride and the eggy, sulphurous compounds.
Drinking the water is good for stomach and intestinal problems, gallbladder, kidney stones and lung airway disorders.
Bathing in the water, in one of the many facilities: mud baths, medicinal weight baths, underwater jet stream massage or just relaxing in the warm water is effective in the treatment of degenerative joint diseases, spinal problems or for rehabilitation treatment after an accident.
If you go further into the main courtyard of Szent Lukács, you are confronted with what must be the most beautiful courtyard in a city blessed with many stunning courtyards.
The crumbling, yellow Baroque walls surround a shaded place where tall century-old maples rise up through the tiles and succulent lilies create an oasis of cool calm health and relaxation.
On the walls, stone tablets thank the saint in many languages.
‘Stubborn lumbago tortured me for years, Saint Lukács cured me immediately’, wrote Benô Sághy in 1899.
There is a tablet in Serbian deciated by Militsza Jankovitseva in 1906, one from Viennese Carl Horak in 1902, and one offering thanks from a Romanian lawyer Petru Caliunariu.
The earliest appears to be from 1898.
When it opened in 1894, the Szent Lukács was the biggest at 1,800m2, and the most popular spa in Budapest.
Besides those coming for cures, the Szent Lukács was also a favourite wallowing hole for writers and artists and it still remains popular in literary circles.
It was an informal literary salon, more recently with a dissident flavor from the 1950’s to the mid-1980’s.
The stone sunbathing terrace on top of the building is particularly atmospheric.
During the Turkish occupation, the Lukács territory held a four-towered castle which had been adapted into a medieval gunpowder mill.
The Turks called it Barutháné and the Buda Pasha Arszlan redecorated the building in 1565-66.
West of the mill building, a warm spring rose up from the hillside and the resulting millpond water drove the wheels to grind powder.
The building was also used in the manufacture of felt material, the mill still operated in the winter, because the warm water did not freeze over.
In the 1686 struggle to regain territory the place was returned unharmed to the possession of the Emperor, although they still used it as a gunpowder mill for long after.
Given the Turks’ fondness for hot baths, the hot waters surrounding the millpond were used for the creation of a pool, and in the vicinity of Barutháné were several other hot baths.
In the 1850's the Lukács baths functioned in the courtyard of the Emperor Mill ‘in whose tubs agricultural workers from the country bath as a curative method’, read a periodical of the time.
In 1863 the baths’ territory was enlarged, and in 1884 Rezsô Palotay bought the baths from the state treasury. The Emperor mill was demolished, one of the towers was used to build a new pool.
In 1893 Palotay took over the running of services in the Szent Lukács and built mud baths, steam baths, a sanatorium and swimming pools.
The Szent Lukács medicinal and thermal pool opened its doors to the public in 1894.
In 1946, the Lukács united with the Császár Baths, which has also reopened its pools and excellent sun-bathing terraces recently on the banks of the Danube.
Water of a temperature of 17 -65 degrees comes from natural sources and drilled wells.
The calcareous, hydrogen sulfuric water is good for rheumatics, muscle and nerve illnesses and joint. problems.
The Lukács is one of the few thermal baths in Budapest which offers mud treatments.
Trained attendants will slap on revitalizing mud, rich in minerals, salts and massage away you aches and illnesses as you sit among Budapest¹s literary society, who come here to gossip and heal.


Saint Lukács gyógyfürdô & uszoda (thermal 'health' bath & pool)
District II. Budapest,
Frankel Leó utca 25-29.
Tel 326-1695
www.lukacsfurdo.hu
Open daily 06.00—19.00
Day ticket with locker (2006) Ft1,500 – leave within 2hrs you get Ft400 back, within 2-3hrs Ft200
Day ticket with changing cabin (2006) Ft1,700 – leave within 2hrs you get Ft400 back, within 2-3hrs Ft200.
Hang on to your tickets!

Facilities include
Steam baths
Pool (06.00—19.00)
Underwater jetstream massage
Doctor's massage
Mud and weight baths

Drinking fountain ivókút open 06.00—18.00 Mon-Fri, 06.00—12.00 Sat/Sun.
You can drink korsós of healthy water full of minerals on the spot.
Half a liter costs Ft5…..yum, yum