Magical Budapest

History museum, painted ceiling Opera House, eagle, elephant, view of St. Mathias across the river.

I am in the magical city of Budapest, mourning for my brother Loren. He would have loved it here.

Budapest has a complicated and sorrowful history, a history of destruction and reconstruction over many centuries. The story is well told in the columned Hungarian Museum of History, a beautiful classical structure. Loren knew this story well. He would have filled me in.

After marveling at the beauty of the museum, which is right across the street from our funky hostel, the Lavender Circus, my PCV friend Jud and I went from room to room, from one era to another. It is a chronological presentation from medieval and Renaissance times, with their artisanal traditions and exquisite craftsmanship--jewelry, fabric, metal work, furniture--into the 20th century, dominated by World Wars I and II, Nazi atrocities, and harsh Stalanist regimes. The displays, artifacts, documents and memorabilia are fantastic, often accompanied by authentically produced dioramas in rich detail and some of the earliest historical film footage. A fascinating journey through time.

Much like Ukraine, in some ways, Hungary has a tortured history of foreign invasions, occupation, war, dispersion, resistance, loss, and rebuilding. Budapest has been victim of all of it. While looking at grotesque statues of fearsome soldiers definding the city, in front of the Buda castle or in Heroes Square, I think I heard Loren say something about how necessary it might have been at the time, but how senseless it seems now. Sounds like Loren. He not only knew this complex history, he also knew that Hungary, inspite of its dark past and struggles, fiercely hung on to its identity through the worst of times. Loren understood this on many levels.

Budapest is now in its glory. It shines with magnificent architecture, great parks, bustling squares, great shops and restaurants, friendly people, and the fabled Danube River. Sometimes I think I see Loren peering out from spires and gargoyles, on Buda palace, around St. Stephen's Basilica, from St. Mathias Church, in Heroes Square and the Fine Arts Museum, around ancient palaces that have been reborn as museums. He's often behind angels and chubby cupids and lovely floating women painted on the ceilings and walls of these awesome churches, the Opera House, the History Museum.

I passed a statue of a large cheerful elephant in front of The famous Gerbraud restaurant in Vorosmarty Square, the heart of Pest, and Loren could have been hiding behind it. I looked for him, but I didn't see him. I think he might have been playing hide-and-seek behind that elephant, an animal he was fond of for its lumbering persistence. He might also be around the many statues and carvings of lions and eagles that are everywhere, on buildings and bridges and parks and walkways, all over Budapest. Symbols of courage and freedom. Symbols Loren loved.

Jud and I especially enjoyed our walks along Andrassy ut, a boulevard so full of fantastic architecture from every historic period that it is a UNESCO World Heritage site. The Champs Elysee of Pest, Andrassy ut is graced with grand buildings in gothic, classical, baroque, art nourveau and other styles. Many of the older buildings were once almost rubble, destroyed during wars, some still pock-marked with bullet holes, but most have been lovingly restored over time. It is a feast of the senses to walk along this boulevard, and best of all, it's on the way to the Opera House.

In fact, Loren pulled us inside, and last night Jud and I saw the most ethereal ballet I have ever seen in one of the grandest Opera Houses I've ever been in. The surroundings were breath-taking. The dancers were heavenly, so fluid, so elegant, so masterfully trained (at the Hungarian National Ballet), and the choreography, the lighting, the music so exquisite, that we were transported to another realm. I felt closer to Loren.

As long as Jud and I keep moving, I am okay with Loren fading in and out. But when I am still, the silence is too great. I want Loren by my side, talking to me, going on and on about everything he knows and wants to tell me, like we did in Costa Rica, on our Southwest and Utah adventure, or our Florida explorations. No intermediaries. No gargoyles, spires and statues. Just Loren, with me in Budapest.