Miskolc - The Kandia Alley Bridge

Our Lock (We Had to Scratch a "J+K"
in with a Key)

They say there are places that can do magic to people.  The small bridge leading from Kandia alley to Szinva terrace is one of those places.

On a summer evening when this place was opened for the town's inhabitants, a boy and a girl walked over the bridge.  They were both very young and deep in love.  Holding hands, they stared at the water of the Szinva, gleaming in the darkness, and listened to the soft music of the gurgling river flowing by.  The boy wanted to speak about his feelings but was too timid and shy to say a word.  And the girl was just standing there hoping to hear the confession of love.  Girls have always been like this: since the beginning of time, they have always wanted to hear and not only feel that they are loved.  In a trembling voice, the boy whispered to her, "I love you."  His words were echoed by all the tiny drops of water in the river, murmuring the wonderful lines of the famous poem by Attilla Jozsef:

I love you as a mother loves her child,
As silent caves love their depth.
I love you as halls love light
As the soul loves flame and the body loves calm... 

They were standing enchanted on the small bridge, leaving time, space and reality behind, and listened to the river reciting the lines of the poem.  Perhaps it was only an illusion, perhaps it was the magic of love, but the River Szinva was softly murmuring the lines of Attila Jozsef's immortal Ode, the poem which was born in the same place as the river itself: in Lillafured.  It was on the little bridge in Kandina alley that the two youngsters first kissed and vowed to love each other forever because all lovers are insatiable; they are not satisfied by the eternity of the moment, but long for the infinite too.

The next day they returned to the bridge, tied two small padlocks together and fastened them onto hte iron rail.  They threw the two small keys into the water so that the padlocks that were to symbolize their never-ending love could not be opened and separated by anyone, not even by themselves.

Miskolc – The Legend of the Palace of Music

The Palace of Music

The following is one of the legends we heard that both of us liked a lot:

"Around where the Palace of Music now stands there used to be one-story buildings.  If people opened their windows they could see the Szinva river, as it flowed uncovered at that time.  There was a small park next to it, perhaps where the present building is located.  There lived a young man at that time who everybody called the “invisible violin-player.”  He lived like the birds of the night: he hid from people during the daytime.

He was an unfortunate child.  His parents and brothers died in an inferno, something which happened quite often then.  Miraculously, he survived, but his face and body were seriously burned.  They say that only his hands survived completely.  The old doctor who cured him grew very fond of him, so he decided to raise him and teach him how to play the violin.  When the old doctor died the only thing the boy had left was his violin.  He could play it in such a way that it broke the heart of anyone who heard it.  In the evenings when the sun set over the small houses, people would sit out and listen to him playing.  At such times, the men kept quiet, the women stopped gossiping, and the mysterious celebration took over them as their souls disappeared into the depths.

They say there lived a girl nearby who fell in love with the invisible violinist.  Or maybe it was the music that she fell in love with.  It felt like someone touching her heart with her bare hands.  It felt like someone had opened a door leading to her soul and found new places and kept opening new doors inside her.

Love has power as great as music.  One night this great power led the girl to the invisible violinist.  She crept up behind him quietly, covered his eyes and turned his face around.  The violin stopped and fell out of his hand.  It was a full moon that night and it shone down on them.  Only the moon saw the girl and the violinist looking into each other’s eyes.  The girl gazed at the face that was burned and deformed and the violinist was surprised to see the pair of dark blue eyes staring back at him.

They say that the girl’s family never forgave her for loving the burned-faced violinist.  They say that she was forced to marry someone else.  She didn’t have a chance.  In order to prevent her from escaping to see the violinist her father locked her in her room.  But love cannot be kept in a prison.  When the sun set the violinist started playing and told the girl that love is eternal.  The strings shivered from pain, hope and happiness.

They say it was already winter when they heard the sound of the violin for the last time.  The sound of the violin went through everything: the thick walls, the closed windows, and sad souls…

Some late-night passers-by saw two figures standing on the banks of the river.  The silhouette of a girl standing still and a man playing the violin.  They saw the man put his violin on a bench and hug the girl.  But the strangest thing was that the music never stopped.  It kept playing as if a hand from the sky had taken control of the violin.  The music flew in the air loud and clear.  The strings of the violin sang every happiness and pain of human fate.  No one had heard such a beautiful sound before.

Some time around midnight it started snowing and snow covered the trees, all the bushes, and the houses.  By dawn the music had stopped, and the girl and the violinist disappeared and nobody saw them ever again.  There were no footsteps left in the clear white snow.  The violin was found on the ground after the snow had melted.  They say that as soon as someone touched it the strings snapped quietly, just like a person’s heart breaks.

Many, many years later in 1927 the town built a Neo-Baroque style palace there.  A building that is worthy of the legend connected to it.  Since then everything is pure music there.  That is what the lute on the front of the building, the square in front named for Béla Bartók and the statue of the boy playing the flute all represent.  The rails of the balcony, the door, the windows and stairs are all musical notes carved into iron.  The wall paintings in the concert hall also stand for this.  Everything is completely about music here even when the hall is quiet, when there are no concerts, when the sound of the pupils’ instruments are not heard on the street.

How odd, how great, that so many famous violin players are somehow connected to Miskolc.  Ede Reményi, the bronze relief of Ernó Lányi near the staircase, the statue of Jenö Hubay in the front room of the concert hall, they all remind the visitor of them.

The three of them were world famous, the whole world could hear them play.  The memory of the fourth one, the invisible violinist, is not preserved by any statue or memorial.  Only this legend is left.  But legends live forever, just like love and music."

Miskolc - A Day of Actual Exploring

Timber Church

Our second day in Miskolc was jam-packed with things to do.  We started the morning bright and early with a hot breakfast at the hotel.  Unfortunately the Hungarians’ idea of eggs and sausage consisted of very runny scrambled eggs and a microwaved hot dog.  We opted to stick with cold meats, yogurt, and cheese.

After breakfast we made the trek down to the bus station in Miskolc-Tapolca to head out to Diósgyör and the medieval castle.  It was clearly a haven for young children, but cool nonetheless.  Interestingly enough, the castle is where the Peace of Turin was signed to end the war between Venice and Hungary.  The castle is also home to the largest set of wax figures in Central Europe.  They were really poorly made and pretty creepy, but it was still kind of neat.  I felt really bad for our tour guide who was kind enough to ask us if we were American and then proceeded to painfully give the tour to us in English (And Hungarian for everyone else).

We spent the afternoon back in central Miskolc.  The kind ladies at the TourInform center gave us a pamphlet with walking tours of downtown Miskolc that would take us past all of the major sights in the city.  We opted to take the long tour and see everything.  The booklet was interesting in that it didn’t provide you with dry facts about everything in the city.  Instead, it stated upfront that the best way to get a feel for the city is to see the sights and hear the legends/stories behind each location.  If I have some time, I’ll post some of those later.  The walking tour was fun, but somewhat disappointing because for some inexplicable reason all of the churches and the synagogue were closed all afternoon on a Thursday.  It just doesn’t make sense.  There were no signs with posted hours for the churches, they just seemed to be closed all the time.  My favorite sight in the city was hands down the Timber Church, unique in that it is made entirely of wood.  Unsurprisingly, the current church is the fourth reincarnation on the same sight; the previous three having fallen victim to “infernos.”

It was a long day and we were both exhausted.  Kati had decided to wear a strapless dress all day yet neglected to put on sunscreen, so by the end of the day she was pretty burnt.  By the time we made it back to the hotel in Miskolc-Tapolca, it was around 5:00 and we were beat.  Yet, seeing as there was no food in the immediate vicinity, we knew we had to venture out at least one more time that evening.  We mustered up our strength, grabbed our towels, and headed back down to the cave baths to relax before grabbing dinner.  It was an excellent choice.  The thermal mineral water and the “healing” air in the cave really rejuvenated us…at least long enough to have dinner and hike back up the hill to our hotel.

Hungarian Frustration

“Reservation!”  That’s the only word I could comprehend.  It’s the only word that held any meaning; any value.  Not an hour into a mid-morning train ride across the Hungarian countryside from Budapest to Miskolc, I had a run-in with a Hungarian train conductor.  It’s in these routine, common-place interactions where communication is most taken for granted and yet effective communication is most important.  This is by no means a tale of effective communication.

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The night before our departure for Miskolc, I was already feeling a bit uneasy about the trip.  The language barrier in Hungary had already proven more substantial than any I had encountered before.  While I had managed to make due up until that point in the trip, moving from the cosmopolitan metropolis of Budapest to Miskolc, a non-tourist destination, raised deeper concerns about the extent to which the language barrier would be amplified.

My perception of Hungarian as an impenetrable language could be due to the fact that those Hungarians around Budapest seem to mumble and slur words together so much that it sounds like incomprehensible gibberish instead of distinct words and phrases.  However, more likely than not the language’s impenetrable nature has to do with the fact that nobody understands how it originated or from where it was derived.  Thus it is different from anything you will ever hear or encounter elsewhere.  It is unique in that it bears no resemblance to any other language in the area and it closest linguistic relative is, strangely enough, Finnish.  They say that Hungarian is the most difficult language in the world to learn, and, after this trip, I can attest to the truth of that statement.

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When the morning of our departure arrived, I had begun to feel more confident about the likely success of our trip.  A hot shower and a good night’s sleep had rejuvenated me and restored my confidence.  The morning started like any other.  It had become routine by now.   First, I load my clothes into my stuff sack and compress them down, tightening each strap in turn to minimize space.  The clothes go into the pack first—the need to access them while in-transit is minimal.  Next, my raincoat and jacket go into the bottom pocket for easy access.  Then, all of my electronics and books are placed in my day pack and it’s jammed into the remaining space near the top of my backpack.  After pulling up my socks and tying my shoes, I throw the backpack over my shoulders, buckle all of the straps, and I’m ready to go.

We made it to the train station just in time, and after a successful bilingual exchange with the lady at the ticket counter, we had two tickets to Miskolc in our hands and were ready to go.  The train was no different from any other we had been on in Europe.  We skipped the first class car and went straight to second class—we had made the mistake of sitting first-class in the Czech Republic, but the kind conductor informed us we were in the wrong car and pointed us in the right direction.  We easily found two open seats in a nearly empty train and sat down to the breakfast we had picked up along the way.

About 20 minutes into the trip, the conductor came around to check tickets.  I’d been through this process so many times, in so many languages, that I wasn’t concerned.  I’d mastered the simple art of handing my ticket to the conductor and taking it back after he confirms its validity.  Yet this time was different.  It wasn’t quite so simple.  I always held onto the tickets for both Kati and myself.  I handed both tickets to the conductor and he seemed to approve and handed them back to me.  Then he approached Kati clearly seeking her ticket.  In an attempt to head off any encounter between the two, I kindly gave him the tickets back, pointing to the tickets and then pointing to Kati and myself, indicating that my tickets were for both of us.  It was then that everything went wrong.  For some reason, having two tickets was sufficient for my trip, but insufficient to cover both of us.  Then he spoke the only word I understood: “Reservation.”  “These seats are reserved?” I asked.  He nodded his head in apparent understanding.  I pointed to our tickets and toward the car immediately behind us.  He was unphased.  No response.  I pointed to the car immediately in front of us.  “Reserved?” I asked.  No response.  No nod.

My Hungarian is limited to a few choice expressions I have written down in a little black, leather-bound book I carry with me everywhere.  My first instinct was to try to use signs to ask if we were in the wrong seats and, if so, where we were permitted to sit by our tickets.  My efforts were to no avail.  The only result was that he reached into his fanny-pack and pulled out a small computer, reading “720 HUF”—720 Hungarian forints, equivalent to just under $4.  Again, I attempted to use signs coupled with English to convey my point.  I could see the ivory glaze roll over his eyes.  It was clear that we were from two vastly different floors of the Tower of Babel.

I made the first attempt to breach the language barrier by grabbing my trusty black book.  Quickly flipping to the page of Hungarian phrases I’d jotted down, I found what I was looking for.  I kindly looked at the man, pointed to the tickets in his hand and asked, “Hol?”  “Where?”  He chuckled, and just pointed again at the digital display reading “720 HUF.”  By this point I was frustrated…exasperated, and the conductor was growing increasingly and visibly annoyed.  To head off any further and more severe confrontation, I paid him the 720 forints he was demanding and resolved to stew in my own annoyance.  In return for my payment, I received a small receipt.  It contained no seat numbers, no “reservation” and no identifiable information other than the clear and distinct fact that I paid “720 HUF.”

Cave Baths!

Today I learned an important lesson: Trust yourself.  I've spent years planning every detail of this trip; researching every minor point.  Yet there are still a couple areas that worried me due to a lack of reliable information.  Miskloc was one of those areas.  It's the third largest city in Hungary but for some reason isn't in any American Guidebooks.  Everything in our trip (Save our Hungarian overture) has gone relatively smoothy, yet for some reason the night before departing for Miskolc I lost my composure and became convinced that everything would go wrong on our trip.  It's very difficult to find lodging in the city and everything in the city is very spread out.  Thankfully, Kati stepped up and set up a contingency plan that really helped calm my nerves because none of the hotels I had contacted had responded by the time we had to leave.

Before discussing our day, it may be helpful to explain how Miskolc is laid out.  The area and its attractions are kind of arranged the shape of an "L" on its side.  Miskolc's downtown is found at the juncture.  Miskolc-Tapolca is about 20 minutes south of Miskolc.  Diosgyor is about 15 minutes west of Miskolc and Lillafured is another 15-20 minutes west of Diosgyor.

The Cave Baths

From the train station, we immediately followed Kati's (comprehensive and easy) plan and found ourselves at a "hotel" on Miskolc University's campus.  They had cheap and available rooms, yet we quickly realized that we were in the middle of nowhere and there was no food around (Yes, college campus and no food...what's up with that?).  Interestingly enough, the hotel was housing all of the young ladies from the FIBA basketball championship.  Yet to quell my complete and total unease with the situation we decided to make the trek to the center of the city To the Tourist Information Center and planned to find a hotel downtown.  Yet upon reaching the tourist information center we decided it would be more efficient to stay in Miskolc-Tapolca, near the cave baths.  Finding a place to stay was more problematic than anticipated.  One of the kind ladies at the center called a long list of hotels in the Tapolca area, only to find that 99% of them were completely booked.  Luckily, we found one with a free room that wasn't too much out of our price range.  Then we threw our packs back on to make the trek south of the city center.  Here's where my lesson of the day comes in: If we had followed my original plan, and if I hadn't freaked out about the trip the night before, we would headed directly to where we ended up after all of our unnecessary traveling.  Oh well, you live and you learn.

Our hotel was about 850 meters from the bus stop...uphill.  By the time we finally got there both of us were exhausted and our spirits were all but crushed.  We had arrived in Miskolc at 10:30 but by the time we checked into our hotel it was past 3:30.  Yet we decided to stick to our plan and check out the cave baths that evening.

Kati and Me at the Cave Baths

Miskolc-Tapolca is "famous" for being the only spa/bath in the world that is located in a natural cave system.  It is SO COOL!  There are a number of outdoor and indoor normal pools, but the focus of the area is on the five thermal baths that wind their way through caves.  The temperature of the water in the baths ranges from lukewarm to slightly warmer (Unfortunately no hot-tub temperatures) but there are saunas in the caves as well.  The first bath is kind of like a lazy river winding through cavernous halls.  The second has all sorts of water spouts crashing down through hollow cave formations.  Yet the best one (and the warmest) has three areas: two are relatively typical, but warmer than the others yet the third is a completely rounded dome room, painted black with constellations on it and anything that anyone says within the room echoes.  I really can't overstate how cool these baths were.  We were swimming...in a cave!  As we sat there, soaking in the water; massaging our feet with jets, all of the stress from the trip and the day just fell away and we both agreed that all of the suffering and misery from the earlier 3/4 of the day was totally worth it.