This Easter weekend we spent with Lennard's parents and aunt in Szakxe1csi, the village next to Irota where we are renovating our property. Apart from enjoying sunshine, wine and food, we got a lot done: we have electricity now, the huge garden is brought back (well, somewhat) to more decent proportions and the actual work on the basement is in full progress. Meanwhile, we were able to join in the local Easter festivitities and the May 1st lunch provided by the mayor.
This Easter weekend we spent with Lennard's parents and aunt in Szakxe1csi, the village next to Irota where we are renovating our property. Apart from enjoying sunshine, wine and food, we got a lot done: we have electricity now, the huge garden is brought back (well, somewhat) to more decent proportions and the actual work on the basement is in full progress. Meanwhile, we were able to join in the local Easter festivitities and the May 1st lunch provided by the mayor.
Now that we actually bought our high-potential picturesque ruin in the Hungarian countryside, it is not only time to start renovations, but also to get to know our future neighbours. To this end, we spent a first few days non-stop in the village, met the doggies, the lady who takes care of them, the guy who might redo our roof, another one who does fences and so on. We also got a bit of info on who does not like whom, so we seriously consider to put up one of these boards you always see in crime fighter shows in police precincts: the ones with the portrait pictures, arrows and that sort of stuff. It was all very exciting. Even better: it was the first gorgeous day of spring.
Back in 2008, when I crossed the Ukrainian-Romanian border at Siret, once in the heart of Austrian Bukovina, it already struck me that the only kind of shared 'regional identity' I could detect was a touching cooperation in the field tobacco smuggling. The Romanian government, probably not entirely unconcerned about Romania's contested entry to the Schengen zone scheduled early this spring, decided to arrest no les than 77 border guards suspected of corruption (apparently, all levels were involved in the profitable game of demanding money from smugglers who crossed the border with cheap Ukrainian cigarettes for the Romanian market). I am still not sure what surprised me most: the fact that it took the Romanian authorities this long to do something about it or the fact that the microscopic Siret border crossing employed (at least) 77 guards?
It just takes the ingredients depicted above plus Bill Bryson's bestselling pageturner 'At Home' to make me really happy tonight.
It just takes the ingredients depicted above plus Bill Bryson's bestselling pageturner 'At Home' to make me really happy tonight.
In Hungary (and all other former Warsaw Pact countries for that matter), socialist realist monuments and statues have either been discreetly removed or openly left to rot. In Budapest, they have all been gathered in a theme park in the outskirts of the city. Russia is different. As I witnessed in Samara, the aging 'Studying Construction Worker' adorning the theatre was replaced by a brand new replica. I wonder what causes this change in approach between countries. Is it maybe because Soviet-style communism and its cultural props were initially a Russian invention and therefore they hang on to it as part of 'indigenous heritage'? Or is it that the specific style was simply created to 'the Russian taste' and is still appreciated? Fascinating.
It takes quite a mental jump from the wax mummy on Red Square to the picture of the toddler we came across in the Lenin Museum in Ulyanovsk, Russia. Vladimir Ilyitsh Lenin was born here when the town was still called Simbirsk and Lenin still Ulyanov. During Soviet times both names changed and the freshly renamed town of Ulyanovsk became, as the Lonely Planet puts it, 'a Soviet Bethlehem'.
When my sister and her kids came to Hungary, we spent two great weeks in Szalonna, part of the "Hungary Less Traveled". Apart from all the summer stuff such as barbecuing, swimming and so on, we also explored the nearby woods (swampy, muddy and mosquito-infested) under the guidance of gypsy neighbour Atilla. It took a bit of effort to convince him to include the gypsy alley in the walk, but eventually he conceded and the walk was a big hit with both the participants and the residents. The kids were clearly told what was expected of them: learn Hungarian and come back next year. They just might.
