We stayed there until rather late, and then we walked past the Maria Theresa Place. The statue of the Empress was impressive against a backdrop of the full moon behind her shoulders. Near the Justice Building, we found a little coffee house, where we sipped sweet Viennese coffee, which was piled high with whipped cream. Here we listened to Hungarian music played on a cello, violin, and a xylophone-type instrument. The house was not very crowded, so I had the thrill of being serenaded at our table. The musicians played with such feeling, it almost made me weep. Hubert said that they were playing especially for me. He asked if I could feel the music in my soul, and that was exactly my experience. We were reluctant to leave, but it was quite late. After taking a taxi home, I said farewell to Hubert, for I was leaving early in the morning for Budapest and he was headed to Berlin. He was so very nice, but — oh, Max!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Blue Danube to Budapest, Hungary
Hungarian Music Can Be Treacherous
Date: September 10, 1938
Place: On the Danube to Budapest
Weather: Fine — a little chilly.
Instead of waiting to write a full diary entry this evening, I will add some thoughts this morning. It should be a rather uneventful day. The travel agent in Vienna did not think much of the twelve-hour trip down the Danube. The beautiful Blue Danube River was anything but blue, and it was not very beautiful when we started out. I am half inclined to agree with the travel agent, but here I am, gliding down the Danube to Budapest! This boat is full of German and Hungarian natives and we are sailing under the Hungarian flag. It was necessary to go through customs before boarding, and to my surprise, the Customs Agents looked through my bags very carefully, this time! They poked fun by saying that some my letters were probably from my sweetheart.
The officials here are quite intense about passports! I had to leave mine at the hotel for an hour, and relinquish it again today at customs. They said they would give it back to me, upon my leaving the boat. All this is most strange, but I guess they need to be careful. There was a typical old Austrian man sitting next to me. His hair was as white as his collar, which was spick and span. He insisted on trying to talk, but he spoke a dialect that I could not understand. At noon, he brought out his little package of brown bread, sausage, and pungent-smelling cheese, then gulped it all down. The Californian on board, turned out to be rather rude, and two English sisters were bored with everything! I enjoyed the company of a girl named Helga from Danzig. (That is exactly how she autographed this diary.) She spoke some English and we were able to communicate beautifully. It was dusk when we neared Budapest. By this time I was becoming ecstatic about being on this boat trip. The final few miles were mesmerizing!
The reflection of the moon on the serene Danube, and the approaching lights of Budapest, created an incomparable romantic setting. Near the shoreline, adding to the dreamlike scene, were the black silhouettes of treetops, emerging from the water’s surface. As we two swayed to the haunting strains of Hungarian music — wafting toward us from a radio — Helga and I exclaimed over the ever-changing panoramic views. All we could manage to say was “sunderschon” (gorgeous) over and over again! As we grew nearer to Budapest, we saw millions of lights — a spectacular display! Gazing up to the summits one could see (illuminated) the Citadel, the Parliament building, as well as churches and domes. We were totally enraptured, and wished it would never end.
Alas, the time was 8:45, and it had been a long journey. I sadly lost track of Helga somewhere at customs and the driver who was to transport me to my hotel, was nowhere to be found. Not wanting to go hotel-hunting in this land of strange words and signs, I hastened to a taxi, and had to pay the driver with Hungarian money borrowed from my hotel! Before flopping in bed, which looked so inviting, I made arrangements for a trip to Mezokovesd, for tomorrow. Mezokovesd is a village outside of Budapest, where on Sundays the peasants put on their festival clothes, attend church and promenade around the square. I came directly to Budapest just so I could be here on a Sunday, and will return to Vienna later.
Date: September 11, 1938
Place: Budapest
Weather: Fine, but very windy.
I reached the travel place by subway and was delighted to find several other English and Americans waiting for the tour. During lunch at Mezokovesd, our small group was entertained by more of that captivating Hungarian music. The English-speaking folks in our group congregated around one table. Lunch consisted of sausage and cheese, with bread, fruit and tea or coffee. On to the promenade! As planned, we climbed up into the balcony of the church and waited until it looked like the service was about to end. Then we tiptoed down and outside, so as not to miss the promenaders as they came out. Sure enough, we saw the girls walk around the square in front of the church, in the “Corso” as they call it. The young ladies joined hands in groups of two or three and strutted. The little boys looked so cute, spiffed up in their equally fancy suits. The colorful clothing was made up of multiple layers of fabric, lace, pleats, and petticoats for the girls. Some boys pointed, laughed, and made silly remarks about the girls. Ignoring the boys, the young ladies welcomed the opportunity to show off their beautiful, elaborate outfits.
When we stopped for coffee and cake on the way home, a Dutchman entertained our table with feats of magic. During a visit to one little village, we intermingled with some crazy wine festival revelers! Somehow, we became so caught up in the fun that we found ourselves marching with the natives in a long parade! Finally, realizing our bus was about to leave, we dashed back onto our bus laughing and dancing down the aisle to our seats.
At 8:00 p.m., I joined a group for a nightlife tour. At first, I was dismayed, because I couldn’t find another English-speaking person on the bus. As always, things turned out just fine! A friendly German man from Hamburg, sort of attached himself to me, thus banishing my lonely feeling. Budapest must be one of the most beautiful cities in the world at night, starting with the lights twinkling on the river. The buildings are illuminated from their bases — with a lovely pale green hue — which imparts a fairyland atmosphere to the whole scene. You are afraid to breathe for fear it will all disappear! We drove around the city then up to the Citadel for a higher view of the lights on the river. Our second stop was at a small coffee and wine café which had a Hungarian orchestra. That visit put us in the mood for the Moulin Rouge, a charming nightclub just around the corner from my hotel. Here we danced the Tango, drank champagne, and watched an excellent floorshow. I surprised myself and did the Lambeth Walk like an old hand.
Music was being performed everywhere we went! Next to the door of each nightclub there was a saucer full of coins, with a sign that said “for the music.” After several more stops, the bus dropped me at my hotel at 2:15 a.m. Saying “Good Night” to everyone was difficult!
Date: September 12, 1938
Place: Budapest
Weather: Perfect.
Arthur, the handsome young desk clerk, invited me see the Gypsy Boys orchestra at the Café Ostende this evening. Having heard so many wonderful things about this group, I was delighted at the thought of seeing them in person! This morning, he told a porter to accompany me to the subway that went to the tour office. They suggested the three-hour express tour, which was about to leave. In order to see Budapest and the Blue Danube from above, we drove up to the Fishermen’s parapet. The seven towers symbolize the seven Magyar tribes that arrived in Hungary in 896. The Turks have so often overridden Hungary that their traces are everywhere, beginning with an odd mixture of Turkish and Gothic architecture. We visited the famous Gellert Thermal Baths, which opened in 1918.