Ceausescu's Place in Bucharest
Yesterday was unusual for this trip–in that we had nice weather, warm and sunny, for the first time in two weeks, and a free day till 6 p.m., for the first time on the trip. My understanding is that students spent it a variety of ways: visiting the nearby museums, one documenting the terror of living under communism (our Soviet guide waxed nostalgically for the days when Mother Russia embraced her family!), another housing one of the finest Spanish painting exhibits outside of Spain; the spa (30 florints for a drink of sulphur water from the spa), shopping (Kelsey bought a musical instrument of some sort, a fleugelhorn), and general hanging out.
At 7:45 in the morning, Alex, Michael, and I left by train for Eszztergom, the religious capital of a Catholic country, and the burial place of many prelates including Cardinal Mindtzety, who hid in the American Embassy after the 1956 uprising until he was allowed, 15 years later, to leave; he was reburied at Estergom after the end of Communism. After an hour and a half train ride, we arrived at the city, which houses a huge Basilica that fronts on the Danube, and that I’d seen often enough to want to visit, for the views, if nothing else.
The city sits on a great bend in the Danube, and has been inhabited for almost 2000 years, by Celts, and Romans (we passed a major ruin that is being excavated of Roman baths; the Roman name refers to the hot springs in the area), Magyars, and during the Turkish occupation, Turks. The Eztergom Hill was the site of a castle, now a museum, that was the first royal palace of the Arpad dynasty; one of the rooms was reputedly where St. Stephan was crowned king in 1000, and ordered the Magyars to convert to Catholicism. The Basilica offers a grand view of the river–which bends south at that point–and 800 florints, about 4 dollars, lets you climb a tower for 274 steps that provides an even better view of the Danube Valley. The Basilica also contains, as many important churches do, a Treasury of religious artifacts that demonstrate the piety and wealth of the church–copes, monstrances, and my favorites, drinking horns and gold/jeweled staffs from both Esztergom and Hungary. Some of the relics were from King Mathias Corvus, whose church we saw on Buda hill. In the old prelate’s palace, we saw a Christian museum, with artwork from the 11th to the 19th centuries, containing some stunning pictures and objects, including a “Christ’s coffin” used in parades. The church on the site was razed during the Turkish occupation (there were Turkish tombs in the Castle area), then rebuilt over a period of years in the 19th century. I had hoped to visit another site on the way back, but we had just enough time to get back, get something to eat (it was both a Sunday and a holiday–Monday is Pentacost, which means Catholic Europe shuts down, and the two Hungarian restaurants I had fancied patronizing were closed), and board our train for the Carpathian Mountains, and the last stop on our tour (Bucharest).
It seems fitting that our trip, which started in a non-European Union country, ends in one of the newest (and poorest) entrants into the EU. Romania appears from the train (I’m still on it as I write the above) the least prosperous country we’ve visited. There’re a lot more horses supplying horsepower than we’ve seen in the countryside, but the trip through the mountains made for a slow trip (17 hours) but interesting scenery.
The train was about an hour late into Bucharest, but we still had ample time to shower and change before embarking on our tour of the city. Over 2 million people call Bucharest home, and most seemed to be driving today. Fewer of them, I believe, were tourists than in the other countries we’ve visited.
Bucharest seems to have some of the characteristics of many of the countries we’ve visited. It was part of the Ottoman empire; parts of Romania were part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire (where I’m going tomorrow did not get to become part of Romania until 1919, when it was ceded at the Treaty of Trianon, a decision our Hungarian guide denounced; Romania constructed an arc d’ triomphe to commemorate the occasion). Germans played a role in it, from the Hohenzollern King Carol, who brought credibility to the country in 1866 (and whose descendent, Michael, invited the Russians in to get rid of the Nazis and correct Romania’s misguided decision to go with the Nazis; the Soviets promptly offered him the choice of abdication or death. He chose abdication, and is still alive today, and reclaimed some of his property after the 1989 Revolution) to the Schwabians who were invited in to settle the border lands and help fend off the Ottoman Empire). Bucharest in the late 19th century sought to be the Paris of the East (didn’t everyone?) and built the impressive fin de siecle buildings that distinguish so many European cities, and a wide street and mansions that was supposed to resemble the Champs Elyssee–the ties with the French language and culture, so important in 19th century Europe, for Romania led to its siding with Britain and France against Austria-Hungary, and hence the additions after 1919. Finally, like much of Eastern Europe, it was part of the Soviet bloc during the Cold War. Ceausescu, who became the last Soviet dictator of the country, pursued a semi-independent policy toward Russia, which earned him some praise from the West (and a medal from the British); by 1989, however, when Gorbachev warned him, “things are changing,” C. is reputed to have said, “not here; the people love me.” Over 1,000 Romanians lost their lives in the revolution that followed. Christmas day, 1989, Carolyn and I were in Paris, watching the events on TV–a block from the Romanian Embassy, where the pro and anti Communist expatriates and their supporters marched every night–when C. was shot. Our guide said it’s not entirely clear who executed C.
If nothing else, Ceausescu in my opinion should have been at a minimum voted out of office for what he did to architecture. He closed most monasteries and churches, and destroyed blocks of Bucharest in an effort to create a “modern” Ceausescu city. In the center, he built the second largest building in the world, known in some circles as Ceausescu’s palace, and a wide street with fountains leading to it; 8% of the building is occupied.
A Maramures church
Our guide has been one of the best. He and I got talking, and it turned out the tour company Carolyn and I came here with have used him (and will be using him this Wednesday; he confirmed what I knew–Tauck is one of the best companies, and I know they use only the best guides). His company has taken us to two of the best restaurants we’ve been to on the trip (most have been hotel restaurants) with filling European fare–meat and potatoes. One overlooked a lake, and we chose off the menu. Hence, I was able to sample Sascha’s tripe soup, which he said is “an acquired taste.” One spoonful was not enough for me to acquire it. Tonight’s final dinner was in a palatial restaurant that could have been meant for royalty; the meal was cabbage rolls and polenta, with a yummy pastry desert. Quite fitting finale.
We stopped at the country’s outdoor museum, which had a number of wooden homes from the Maramures area where I’m going tomorrow. One of the reasons I decided to go there was what I saw at the museum. As the students begin to journey home (4 are staying somewhere in Europe; Sascha will be visiting his parents in Germany), I’ll begin my next journey. My closing words to them were Chinese (which I translated)–“a peaceful journey” not just home, but through life. Yi lu ping an.