Frozen Random Splendor (and some political irony in Parliament Square)

Snow-covered but still imposing soldier and mother on the István Tisza monument
 - ironic considering Tisza's politics.

I've avoided posting images of the admittedly stunning Parliament building and Kossuth Lajos Square. Why replicate what a million postcards and tourist snaps have already captured? But there's been snow in the night, and the mounds of white on the black cast-iron statues looks awesome. Plus, there is some real irony to what is included in the composition of these monuments.
First, overlooking the (frozen) Danube is a massive monument to István Tisza. The man himself stands bold and intellectual, flanked by WWI soldiers and mothers with screaming infants in their arms.

István Tisza, cloaked in snow as he looks down his nose at the liberals.

You'd be forgiven for assuming Tisza (twice prime minister 1903-05 and 1913-17) to be a real man of the people. In actuality, when this reconstructed monument opened in 2014, Hungarian socialists protested. Tisza was actually a defender of landowners, opposed reform and supported compromise with his Austrian rulers. The inclusion of soldiers in the monument is particularly ironic as Tisza not only supported Hungary joining the First World War, he also blocked plans to give soldiers on the front the right to vote. (At that time only 10% of Hungarians had suffrage). So how come he has almost the most impressive (after the revolutionary Kossuth) statue in the square? A clue may be found in the opening of the reconstruction by current prime minister Viktor Orbán. He drew a parallel between himself and Tisza, as nationalist leaders who are trying to guide Hungary after a "disastrous liberal period" and who believe hard work (but not socialism) to be the saviour of Hungary. He didn't mention that Tisza actually encouraged migrants, especially Jewish workers, as the future of the Hungarian economy. Nor that Tisza was so unpopular that there were three assassination attempts, before he was finally killed by 'Chrysanthemum' revolutionaries on the first day of Hungary's separation from Austria in 1918. 

Statue of Francis Rákóczi II - with that damned horse!

A more traditionally heroic statue is that of Rácóczi, complete with formidable rearing horse. Rácóczi's revolutionary status is less controversial that of Tisza: he led a revolt against Habsburg empire with an army of Hajduk (emancipated peasant warriors) rather than nobility. But the inclusion of the horse seems a bit odd. Rácóczi's revolution was effectively ended during the Battle of Trencsen in 1708 when his horse stumbled, fell and knocked him unconscious. His soldiers believed he'd been killed and fled. The statue is impressive, even flecked with snow, but I'd have probably left the horse out of it.

Ice floes on the Danube at dusk.

Meanwhile, the Danube majestically flows on, past the Parliament and its statues, and it's been so cold that the mighty river has frozen. Huge slabs of ice drift past, making the beautiful cityscape even more dramatic than usual.

However, spotted by the river's edge: an early duckling looks like it really, really regrets hatching in mid-January. Shivering passing pedestrians empathise.

Squint and you can just about see the tiny duckling, unappreciative of the semi-frozen water.

Nine Budapest bars with dazzling decor pt3: Café Zsivágó

The seductively warm glow of Café Zsivágó

Imagine you are entangled with three different, equally imposing Russian men: a lascivious socialite, a fervent revolutionary, and a soulful doctor (who, obviously, due to his soulfulness, is also a poet). And you look like Julie Christie circa 1965, rocking some serious quivery-lip, fur-coat-and-hat action. Where could you meet all three lovers, sequester each in a different bar area, then spend your evening somehow darting between your different beaus; looking panicked and bewildered, but secretly bloody loving it? The answer, looking like a set from David Lean's classic film, is Café Zsivágó. 

View from the mezzanine

It's not early 20th century Moscow, it's 2017 Budapest. But the cold feels like it could freeze your Bolsheviks, and you welcome stepping into the café's warmth. Glowing chandeliers, flowery wallpaper, Secession furniture and amorous atmosphere. The latter is no joke. Something about the place seems to encourage couples to clinch, not least the mezzanine floor with it's cubbyhole sofas. (I had to wait until the various lovers' had departed to take pictures!)

The balcony of the mezzanine - perfect for a discreet rendezvous.

Daytime there is a teahouse vibe (served in very pretty china), but evening is when the samovar is ditched for the vineyard: there's a short borlap (about five whites, five reds) but they're all quality - and they don't refrigerate the reds. Thankfully, it's far more Czarist opulence than Leninist collective, and it's a perfect refuge for when the snow falls and the Danube freezes over.

Not quite early 20th-century Moscow, but the weather's about right.

Random Splendor (on Báthory utca)

Stunning murals and statuary on the corner of Vadász u. and Báthory utca.

Báthory utca runs from Kossuth Lajos (Parliament) Square to Bajcsy-Zsilininszky ut, and building after building yields stunning architectural treats.

Báthory utca is named after Stephen Báthory, Prince of Transylvania and King of Poland during the 16th century. As well as managing to stabilise the region by playing the Holy Roman and Ottoman empires off each other, he was also famed for his religious tolerance, issuing decrees that condemned any kind of religious violence and offering protection to Polish Jews.

Tormented-looking titans flank a doorway on Hold u.

From Classical murals, statuary and rose walls through ornate balconies and doorways to more rundown, pockmarked plaster... take a stroll along Báthory and revel in some of District V's random splendor.

Pockmarked but the grandeur still peeks through...

19th-century lions (and some more contemporary security systems) guard this balcony.

Nine Budapest bars with dazzling decor pt2: Apacuka - the sculpture park in a bar

Sculpture by Gergo Kovách, dominates Apacuka's main room

Apacuka (Nagymezo utca 54-56) is a bit like stepping into a hand of cards from the surreal boardgame Dixit. A geometric steel staircase; gigantic wine-bottle containing, micro-cosmically, more wine bottles; a huge statue of a bugle-playing cartoon lady, surrounded by a flock of geese. The sculptures are faux-naive, their child-like simplicity also suggesting hidden depths. The scale is off-kilter, but joyous rather than discomforting. In the street window, there's a sequin-covered mannequin - but she doesn't beckon or pose like a shop-window dummy, instead she looks like a confident bad-ass: you can join her club, if you're bold enough.

Adding an 18th century portraiture twist in the bar area

The bar and restaurant has a polish that sets it apart from the shabby-chic haunted-forest decor of Instant, just down the road. The overall design is by Balázs Csepregi, and the twirling lampshades, backlit glass scenes, and huge wall-spanning 17th-century portrait mark this place as a high class eaterie.

Winner of Best Beer Garden at Terasz Budapest 2016 awards

But then the sculpture installations - by Gergo Kovách and Norbert Kotormán - add an eccentric, beguiling twist. They also extend to the award-winning terrace where a giant pair of sunglasses and an abstract nude (by the same two sculptors) surround the tables in a peaceful courtyard that won the 2016 Best Beer Garden at the Terasz Budapest award; no easy task in this city.

The subtle innovation continues onto the menu (by chef Gabór Bacsa) which takes Hungarian and Mediterranean dishes and gives them a slight twist: like having black salsify and brick pasta as the vegetarian starter, or red snapper (instead of the standard pike perch or salmon) as the fish option for a main.

Clever but not over-fussy food and a beautiful sculpture garden vibe that continues indoors for these winter months.

Budapest's Random Splendor 1

Everywhere I walk in Budapest, ornate grandeur looms over me. Even the backstreets often surpass the most beautiful boulevards of Paris or Vienna. 'Random Splendor' is an ongoing photographic series capturing the architectural awesomeness I see as I wander around the city. All of the the below I spotted as I walked from my flat to the nearby Aldi, to do a food shop! Most of them just house private businesses or apartments.

Goblin head and basilisks on door arch on Báthori Utca.

Pyramidal spires on corner of Honvéd u. and Honvéd ter.

Architectural sculpture and clock on corner of Honvéd and Báthori utca.

Statues on door portico top on Kálmán Imre u.

Boar and wolf head ornamentation on Szemere u.

Window on Szemere u.

Corner of Báthori utca and Aulich u.

Window on Honvéd u.

Antique shop sign, corner of Falk Miksa and Honvéd tér.

Nine Budapest bars with dazzling decor pt1: Café Égoist - the Secessionist wet dream

The ornate interior of Café Égoist

Budapest is renowned for the beautiful design of its bars, cafes and restaurants; from the baroque kafé-ház to the eccentric and anarchic decor of its ruin bars. But here are nine places to drink that aren't in the guidebooks and are a little further from the beaten track. Starting with the Secession splendor of Cafe Égoist (Honvéd u., a few steps from Liberty Square). 

A Secessionist time capsule.

Café Égoist basically feels like you are having coffee inside Gustav Klimt's imagination. Art nouveau arcs, undulations and ovals crowd every space, from mirror frames to the wooden slats of the balconies above the café itself (the mezzanine houses a small museum). Even the characters and air balloons on the vintage posters seem to curve and bow in harmony with the organic shapes of the jugenstil. On a mantelpiece there's a statuette of a sylph-like flapper with a calligraphic figure - it is easy to imagine her reclining on one of the ornate sofas, sipping her tea then knocking back a palinka.

Front doors of Café Égoist, designed by Attila Benkovish to resemble the fan of a peacock.

First built in 1903 by Emil Vidor for the Bédo family, the exterior and ground floor were restored between 2003 and 2007 by the architect Attila Benkovich, supervised by art historian János Gerle. (Click here to see their remarkable achievement). For most of its life the café and museum was a luxury furniture store and it looks like most of the pieces are still here. Every chair and bench is a perfectly formed work of art, you're almost scared to sit down on them. There's a wonderful air of hushed reverence for the majesty on display - this is not the place to bring a stag-do. The calm, confident eyes of the portraits (of the Bédo family and early 20th century acresses) stare down at you, daring you to break the calm. 

The emphasis is on coffee and cake (most gluten-free) but they also have a wine and palinka list. So if you want to take your tipple inside a Secessionist time machine, and indulge your ego's demands for "the best of everything" (the café's motto) then this is the place.

The restored front of the Bédo building in 2016.

Eger pt3 - Wine Valley of the Beautiful Ladies

Eger's 'Valley of the Beautiful Ladies' - where the wine literally runs down the streets!

The intoxicating aroma of fermented grapes wafts over as we start to descend the hill. Some burly men lifting a huge barrel emerge from one building, empty its deep burgundy contents and the scent intensifies. It's red wine - perhaps deemed unfit for customers - and it forms a carmine stream as it flows down the slope. This is the 'Valley of the Beautiful Ladies', a collection of over 40 wine cellars about 15 minutes walk from the centre of Eger.

The Valley, from afar.

Wine production in Hungary has had its ups and downs. The Romans introduced vineyards here and in the 10th century the first Christian monastries quickly turned their hand to viniculture. The influx of techniques and grape varieties from people fleeing the Ottoman empire in the following centuries - especially Serbs and Romanians - resulted in a diversity and quality of wine that peaked in the 19th century. This is when the Hapsburg empire sourced the tipples of the upper classes of Austria and Russia from Hungary. But then disaster struck: first the phylloxera aphid caused a wine blight that devastated European vineyards, and especially those in this area of Hungary. Then the First World War and the subsequent Trianon Treaty reduced Hungary's borders by over two thirds, meaning many of its chief vineyards were now officially in neighbouring states. The Second World War meant many vineyards were abandoned or destroyed, and when the Russians took over in 1947 they collectivised the wine industry. Every peasant received three hectares of land, but without the skill and knowledge of the large vineyards, these soon fell into disrepair. Wine production was forced to meet Soviet quotas and this had a disastrous effect on the quality. In Tibor Fischer's novel 'Under the Frog', set during this period, the quality of the Hungarian wine is reflected in a bar that is called 'You Can Even Make Wine From Grapes'. But the fall of the Iron Curtain and especially the entry to the European Union in 2004 reversed Hungarian wine's fortunes.

Cellar 20 - Greg Haz

Evidence of this is everywhere in Eger. Most restaurants only serve wine from the region, and the diversity comes from the array of vineyards (over 200) and the blends of grape varieties. The Valley itself (named after a fertility goddess and her followers) houses a huge range of cellars - some that exceed those of the Loire in terms of product, decor and the expertise of the staff. Others are a little more 'rustic' and unpolished. 

Kulacs Csárda Panzio - charming with excellent food and wine.

We begin by lining our stomachs for the vini-frenzy to come. Kulacs Csárda Panzio has variable reviews online, but I find it charming with some top-class wine and food. My partner exclaims that her catfish paprikash - a Hungarian staple - is the best she's ever tasted, and the cheese board starter outclasses Michelin-starred restaurants in Budapest with both quality and range of the cheeses included. The Bulls Blood wine that I have to accompany my goose leg is also one of the tastiest variations that I have over the rest of the afternoon's tastings.

Kulacs Csárda's interior.

Egri Bikavér (Bull's Blood) is the most famous wine from the Eger region. It's made from a mix of grapes, so every cellar and every bottle could be completely different to the one you last tried. The name is mythically associated with the famous battle against the Ottomans. It is said that during the siege, Dobó poured all the wine the defenders had stored into one vat (hence the mixing of grapes) and then fed it to his soldiers to 'inspire' them to ride out and take on the Turkish hordes. The (sober) Ottomans saw the Magyars bearing down on them with red-stained beards and spread the rumour that their foes were drinking bulls' blood to give them strength for the battle. Whatever the truth in this, the name has persisted. And the wine is delicious - at least in the first three or four cellars we visit. Magister (Cellar 39, named after the university dean who co-owns the vineyard) and Kiss Kristina (Cellar 37) are particularly lovely with friendly, knowledgeable staff. Here, they explain exactly what grapes have been used in their Bikavér blend, and there is plenty of fruit and spice to swirl around the palate. In terms of white wines, the Egri Csillagok ('Star of Eger' - same as the famous novel about the siege) is a sauvignon-style white, while the Cserszegi fuzszeres (literally 'spiced wine') lives up to its name, dry with a spicy aroma, a bit similar to Gewurtztraminer.

Glug-glug-glug... at Cellar 37 Kiss Krisztina.

But wine tasting here is not like in other wine areas across the world where the portions are small and where tasters are even encouraged to spit not swallow. Many of the cellars will give you a (paid-for) full deciliter, so our mini-tour of the various cellars soon becomes an afternoon pub-crawl, all the blends of Bikavér starting to mix in both tummy and head. When I tell a Hungarian friend I am here, she texts me to warn that it is one of the "Black holes of Hungary!". I later ask her what she meant, and she says she was referring to her pre-EU experience where the 'wine' was often little more than meths mixed with grape juice and you really would awake with no memory of the previous few days! The present Valley is far from this, but glass after glass does take its toll.

The hostess of Cellar 2 shows off her decanting skills.

Early evening, we finish at the now infamous Cellar 2, where a very jolly Hungarian lady does a fantastic routine of decanting tastings from a long, blown-glass pourer: she pours an arc of wine that nearly spans the narrow room. Obviously well-practised, she doesn't spill a drop.

The 'Beautiful Lady' herself bids us farewell.

Then, glowing with wine-generated warmth against the cold evening, we walk back to town, past the stained red tarmac of the carmine river that first greeted us.