I'm Dreaming of a Red Christmas

I took the communism theme walking tour, so of course we walked to the man who slayed the Red Menace

Red.  The color of "workers of the world unite." 

This morning I went down to Vörösmarty tér (Vörösmarty Square, for those unfamiliar with the Magyar tongue) (which probably would be everybody who doesn't actually live in Hungary). I found that this was the place where the Budapest Christmas Market is centered.

But I did not go to Vörösmarty tér for the Christmas or for the capitalism.  I was there for the communism.  Specifically, the communist-themed walking tour of Budapest.

Christmas and communism.  Together in Budapest.  (Apparently, when Budapesters want to go to Christmas markets to get into the Christmas spirit, they head to Vienna.  So, yes, Budapest has a Christmas market, but it does not appear to be a "destination" type of Christmas market.)

Let's walk.

Good news for Budapest, but bad news for the tour, there are not many vestiges of communism to see in Budapest.  Budapest Centrum, the downtown core, was spared the Brutalist style of Soviet architecture, and the horrors of Le Corbusier and the Bauhaus School of architecture, which decreed buildings must be unadorned and ugly.  In Soviet Brutalism, it was the actual intent to kill the spirit through public ugliness in architecture.  For the moderns and post-moderns, it was merely an unhappy consequence.

I mean, come on, St. Stephen's Basilica!  (Szent István-bazilika in the original Magyar.)  It's nice that there is no communism to its design.

On the other hand, across the street, is this monstrosity.

Soviet brutalism.  Why the tour was light on actual communist sights, it was packed with historical knowledge.  Such as:  Did you know that Bela Lugosi, you know, Count Dracula Bela Lugosi, fled Hungary in 1919.  Why?  He was part of the very brief communist revolution that seized power in Hungary at the end of World War I.  One.  Not two.  There were communist takeovers of Hungary at the end of both world wars.  The post-WWI communist takeover was brief, only 131 days, and the 37 year old communist fled for Hollywood after it was over, a place where the communist revolution took hold, and despite a brief hiccup in the McCarthy Era, has ruled Hollywood unabated since.  Oops.  Sorry.  Not going to get political.

This carving above looks like it could be communist.  Workers and farmers and all that.  But it's not.  And it's on the side of a bank,

Next up is a very very very controversial holocaust memorial:

The eagle represents Nazi Germany.  The archangel Gabriel below represents Hungary.  This is to represent a holocaust being foisted upon the innocent Hungarian people by the Nazis.  Reality, unfortunately, was more complicated.  Apparently the Hungarian Nazis, the Arrow Cross, were even more efficient than the Germans in operating a holocaust within their borderss.

That could be a communist era building there.  It's ugly enough.  Final note on the Arrow Cross and the communists.  After WWII, a large number of the members of the local Nazi Party, the Arrow Cross, joined up and became loyal communists, continuing their work of slaughtering the local population.

Speaking of controversy and of slaughtering the local population, above is an obelisk that serves as a memorial to the Soviet Red Army soldiers who were killed liberating the country from the Nazis.  If that is not the very definition of "mixed emotions," I don't know what would be.

Lots of nice buildings surrounding the Soviet Red Army memorial.  Such as:

And this:

These certainly would have been part of the pre-communist Budapest.  But the man more responsible than any other American for their being a post-communist Budapest  (and, perhaps, more responsible than anyone else on the planet -- you decide)

Ladies and gentleman, I give you Ronald Reagan.  He's posing here with our tour guide.  Tour Guide is in blue.  The President is in bronze.

And here's President Reagan posing with an elderly American tourist,

Here is a sort-of Hungarian hero of the communist era: Imre Nagy.  He was the premier of communist Hungary who allowed the 1956 revolt against communism to happen.  It was brutally suppressed by the Soviets and their Warsaw Pact allies.

Nagy was executed by the communists as a result.  Buried upside and in an unmarked grave.

After communism fell in 1989, Nagy's body was exhumed and he was reburied with proper honors.  But, to keep Hungary, a lot of red blood flowed in the interim.

The metal balls -- which are all over the courtyard and square behind the Parliament building -- represent each bullet that was fired into the crowd of true revolutionaries who died trying to throw off the yoke of communism.

Speaking of Parliament, this is Budapest's signature building, its Parliament building.

Most certainly not communist-era.  It now houses the democratically-elected national legislature.  Because communism is dead.  The only red in modern day Hungary is their delicious "Bull's Blood" red wine.  As it should be.

The communist tour complete, it was time for some other touring.

This is a non-evil eagle, the symbol of Budapest's multi-sport Ferencvárosi teams.  Well, non-evil if you're a fan.  Evil is cheer for a different Budapest football club, I guess.

I then went back to the hotel for a brief nap.  Woke up at 3:00 p.m. feeling well-rested and awesome.  Finally.  Then I realized that 3:00 p.m. local time is 6:00 a.m. Las Vegas.  I had just woken up at my regular waking time.  Oh well, time to head to the Rudas thermal baths for a soapy water massage!

It was only a quarter to four or so, and it already was dusk in Budapest.  The combination of being east in the time zone and rather far north makes for a very early sunset this time of year.

This area is St. Gellert Square, where the Gellert baths are located.  But we are not soaking in the water of the Gellert today.

Bridge with barges.  Artsy, no?

We are soaking at the Rudas.

No photos inside.  You would not want to see a picture of me wearing the loin cloth thing you wear to soak in the Rudas.  You really would not.

It was night time when I left after my soapy water massage, which is the Hungarian massage style using soap and hot water.  That's the Elizabeth Bridge above, named for "CiCi," an enduring popular Habsburg royal who pretty much lived a life that was the 180-degree polar opposite of "communist."

Unless you are referring to the "communist lifestyle" lived by high officials of the party.

Trams at Gellert Square.  Again, artsy, no?

Dinner was at a gluten free restaurant.

I had the porcini and sour cream soap for a starter.  I then had something truly American for my main course.

BBQ bacon burger with french fries and cole slaw,  On a gluten free bun.  The burger was tasty, with barbecue sauce, mayo (!), lettuce and tomato.  No cheese, however.  They missed that detail.  The bacon was crisp and thin-sliced like we Americans like our bacon, not all thick and fatty and European.  Yum.  The fries were given that double frying that makes them extra crispy, so that's a French fry-making secret that crossed the Atlantic.

The name of the restaurant was "Drop."  It was packed with Hungarian hipsters.  Yes, a little bit of Brooklyn all the way in Budapest.  I probably was the only in there because God said eat gluten free, rather than eating gluten free as some sort of Brooklyn hipster statement.  The restaurant was, literally, right across the walk from my hotel.  And I mean literally-literally, not figuratively literally.  The handle of the door fell off when I was leaving.  Which seemed like quality workmanship from the communist era.

A Winter Trip to Central Europe Because Why Not

Budapest statuary at night

I just completed an extremely busy stretch at work.  And that means I'm stressed out and exhausted.  So what better way to recuperate than to take a trip that's been on my list for years: heading to Germany to see the Christmas markets.  I'm not big on ethnic generalizations, but one that I am very comfortable making is this:  Nobody decorates for Christmas like the Germans.

So why am I now in Hungary?  Because.

Actually, the "because" is because I love Budapest.  It might be my favorite city I've ever visited,  And since I was in the general neighborhood, I thought I would drop in.  I'm staying at the Opera Garden.

The room is "European hotel room" small.  The bathroom and shower are so small that they are downright Parisian.

Remind me some day to again tell the story of the hotel I stayed at in Paris where the shower was so tight that I had to step outside it to soap myself down.  The neighborhood is residential, right near a main commercial arterial.

Lots of construction going on.  It's probably going to change the character of the place a bit, but those things are not for me to decide or to cast a veto.

It was a two-stop trip over here.  Las Vegas to Montreal on Air Canada Rouge, or, as I like to call it, "Spirit of Canada."  I was forced into a window seat and had to put my overstuffed backpack under my seat.  Quarters were so tight I nearly had a couple of panic attacks.  Fer realz.  The over-the-Atlantic leg to Brussels on grown-up Air Canada was much better.  (So Belgium, now officially stamped into my passport, counts as my 26th country visited.)  Then it was on to Budapest.  And a nap.

I went searching for Franz Liszt Square and a restaurant I enjoyed my trip to Budapest.

Plenty of statuary in the neighborhood.  Some of whom were of people I recognized.  From other Hungarian statuary, such as Jozsef Attila, the poet laureate of Hungary.

Like so many great poets, he died young and by his own hand.

Then I found the restaurant I was looking for.  Menza.

"Modern" Hungarian cuisine.  I had the pumpkin soup for an appetizer.

It's winter so the soup was hot.  No.  I'm not being facetious.  Hungarian cuisine is known for its cold fruit soups served in spring and summer.  My entree was a veal stew, in a paprika sauce with the obligatory dollop sour cream.  Spaetzle type noodles on the side.

A glass of Hungarian red -- Hungary is known for its awesome wines -- to wash it down.  Dessert?  Hungrian tokaji, a sweet dessert wine,

Perfect.  Here's the exterior in case you find yourself wandering Franz Liszt Ter and want to know which restaurant is Menza.

Hopefully the Hungarian wine will let me sleep well tonight and wake up at a normal time to start a day.  One thing is for sure, just being in Budapest is relaxing me already.  And I haven't even been to thermal baths yet for my soapy massage.  Tomorrow.

I don't want to end up all stiff like that guy.

Early Man in Washington County, PA

This is the "not even close to being as famous as it ought to be" Meadowcroft Rockshelter

My recent bout of Pennsylvania-based tourism ended with a long-awaited visit to Meadowcroft Rockshelter three miles outside of Avella, Pennsylvania.

A couple of years ago, I was watching a lecture video on pre-Inca civilizations in South America because ... well, I'm the compleat nerd and that's the sort of thing I do for entertainment. The lecturer was talking about the exciting new archaeological excavations taking place in the northern Peruvian desert that are re-writing the history of how man arrived in the New World.  For years, the prevailing theory was that when the land bridge over the Bering Strait connecting Kamchatka (for you Risk takers) to Alaska, the predecessors of the American Indian crossed the land bridge and raced down to Clovis, New Mexico. Corroboration for this theory was provided by the fact that "Clovis points," spear tips found in the Clovis area, was the earliest verifiable sign that man had entered into the New World.

The lecturer said that there was new evidence disputing that Clovis was the oldest sign of human habitation in the New World, mentioning, specifically, Meadowcroft in Pennsylvania.

Meadowcroft?  Pennsylvania?  I had never heard of it.  So I google-mapped it and holy [moly], Meadowcroft is only about 30 miles or so from where I grew up in Beaver Falls, PA.  Yes, the earliest sign of human habitation in the entire two-continent New World is a few miles from where I grew up.  And I never knew about it.

It's a recent discovery made in the late 1970s that has turned the archaeological world on its head.  Meadowcroft offers proof of a human presence in the New World going back at least 16,000 years, possibly as many as 19,000 years.

Welcome to Meadowcroft in Washington County, PA!

Off to the Visitors Center to pay my admission fee.

I learned that the next tour of the actual Meadowcroft Rockshelter was at 2:00PM, so I had some time to kill.  That means I had time to explore first the "modern" areas of Meadowcroft.

A Monongahela Indian Village from the 1570s and a Pioneer Village from the 1770s.  Not just modern, but ultra-ultra modern.  Relatively speaking.

Let's first take a stroll through the woods to the 1570s Monongahela Indian Village.

This is the inside of their home.  Spartan, but it's plush luxury compared to life in the rockshelter 16,000 years ago.

Not sure of the reason one is a dome and the other is lightbulb-shaped.

This fake deer is for target practice.  You use an atlatl and try to throw a spear at the deer.  So the whole tribe can eat protein for supper.  I made three attempts.  I hope my tribe is vegetarian.

I had better luck in the Pioneer Village circa 1770s:

Yes, I did in fact hit the target with my first axe throw.  (Full disclosure:  it was the lighter axe.)  I should've stopped there.  The second, third and fourth throws were beyond pathetic.

And, with that, it was Rockshelter time!

First a video movie.  The movie was a "talkie," so I know this was technology from after the first settlement at Meadowcroft.

Then a self-drive and self-park down at the Rockshelter to climb some stairs.

Nice view, which must be part of the reason Early Man liked it so much.  Cross Creek is at the base of the rockshelter.  Then our small group from all over the world (the U.K., Las Vegas, and New Jersey) got to hear the inside story of Meadowcroft Rockshelter.

Albert Miller found the first set of artifacts here in 1955.  He must have had an inkling that there was some significance to his find.  He kept the place a secret, however, because he did not want to see it looted.  He searched for an archaeologist who would conduct a proper excavation.  It took almost two decades, but he found James Adavasio, then of the University of Pittsburgh,

This was not a village.  It was literally, a rockshelter, a shelter made of rock.  Nomadic groups who stay here for a few days moving from one site that has disappeared into the ravages of time, to some other equally lost-in-time site.

Look closely and you can see tags.  The tags indicate the multitude of layers, each one going back thousands of years.

The erosion of the rock roof buried the artifacts and signs of these nomads who visited the site over thousands of year.  The artifacts were then perfectly preserved.

A more solid modern roof protects the excavation from the elements.  Also, you will note, the right side of the rockshelter has not been excavated.  All the secrets that Meadowcroft can reveal with current archaeological tools has been unearthed and revealed.  The remainder is preserved for future generations who may have better tools.

And here is me:

Meadowcroft has been listed as a National Historic Landmark only since 2005.

Amazingly, it was so close to where I grew up, yet its secrets were still secret when I graduated high school in 1978.