Eger

Our first sensual contact with Hungary was through Eger, in our first celebrations of our forthcoming year. While I couldn't find Hungarian wine in the two wine shops near our house, I located a bottle in the Greenwood Market. For $20, I bought a dusty bottle of Egri Bikavér, and we drank it with the chicken paprikas Stephanie made that night.

Bikavér means bull's blood, and it wasn't until this last weekend that I learned the significance of this name. Eger's shining historical moment was repelling a Turkish army of 80,000 in 1552. How did 2,000 people, of whom only three quarters were soldiers, achieve such a feat? The story is that the men fortified themselves with wine, and were so vicious in battle that the Turks believed the sodden beards of the Hungarians was stained with the blood and power of bulls. Dozens of women, meanwhile, poured hot oil down the sides of the fortress, as depicted in this paiting, "Women of Eger."


We love this town! We love the city, the river, the buildings, the squares, the size, the history, the colors, the energy. It has a castle on a hill and beautiful cathedrals and on this weekend, a stock car rally.

We were also quartered in a luxurious apartment over a courtyard, with heated floors and stained furniture, upholstered chairs and a trousers-bar. The girls were so delighted with the rooms that they immediately began playing princess and peasants, or whatever it is they play when they put on those bulbous tones. It wasn't easy to get them out of there to see the town.


Below you see a picture of the girls on our balcony and the castle in the near distance. On the right you see the same balcony as viewed from the castle.



Breakfast at the hotel was very pleasant, too: surrounded by thoughtful portraits, curtains and newspapers and mirrors in gilt frames, we ate a long, generous meal.

And the car had quite a kingly location as well.

We spent an hour and a half on the castle grounds, touching history and breathing in the town below.

We ate pancakes for dinner. The joy I felt anticipating a savory and kitchy-exotic meal surrounded by jaunty posters and brightly arranged cigarette boxes in a town we adored exploring wasn't quite met by the meal itself, but the presentation was outstanding.



After dinner, we followed sounds of revving engines back to the main square near our hotel, where the Eger Rally was just getting lined up. Amelia and I stayed to watch the cars get announced and the drivers interviewed and then time-checked. On the left you can see the cars turning the corner as people watch and drink their coffee, a setting captured in the first photo of this blog entry as well. The picture on the right shows cars taking turns over the winner's podium, in front of Eger's beautiful Minorite Church.

There was something amusing about the tiny cars with their upset-grumbling engines, peeling out in front of crowds and slowing hard just around the corner. Amelia and I waited for the biggest rev and peel before Stephanie joined us and we left.

The next morning, I left the girls at the castle to ride ponies and shoot arrows while I returned our room key. While alone, I ran to the town's minaret. It is the tallest of the three left in Hungary from the Turkish occupation. While Stephanie had read in the guidebook that climbing the minaret was possible starting in April, she had also read that it was not good for claustrophobes. Which sometimes I can be. I showed up and waited for three others to come down, and soon understood why comers and goers couldn't co-exist: each step on the inside was no wider than ten inches and there was no room to extend the arms until one emerged outside. There, a small rail protected the fourteen inch wide deck, around which no passing was possible. Or desirable. My knees were twisted and wobbly by the time I came out the bottom.

Maisie wanted ice cream for dessert the night before. Because she had just finished a chocolate-filled pancake, he had to say no. But before we left, sitting on the square now vacated of the racing machines, we ate something cold and said goodbye.