Plump, Prosperous Pecs

This post is a month overdue, but in my defense two big events occupied much of the last month. First was my triumphant return to the stage of the local Liszt society, a performance about which my teacher told me, in characteristic fashion, I can be "half happy," which is equal to "half miserable" by my calculations. As in any unhealthy relationship (captor/hostage, bully/victim, Sonny/Cher) this all seems perfectly natural to me. Some gems from Bela's lessons leading up to the event:

"That was better than I thought it was going to be"
"You made fewer mistakes than I expected"
"Actually, the last page was not bad"

and, after I jokingly started taking his possessions from a table while I was leaving the lesson, and without missing a beat I might add,"And yet you don't steal any of my knowledge!"

Ouch. However, I have since come to realize that this is mild by Hungarian standards, as I learned during a piano masterclass today with a teacher from the Liszt Academy just down the (three hours by train) road. The zingers flew fast and furious, but here are three that stood out:

(during a particularly chaotic passage) "It's like the Afghan War: everyone's shooting at each other"
(At a march-like section) "Oh dear, now we're in Nazi Germany"
"Don't stop here; there's no passport control"

The second reason for my delay was a training trip for a tour I'll be running this summer of Romania, Serbia, and Croatia, or as they're known in these parts, "Greater Hungary." By the way, they love it when you say that in those countries. I especially enjoyed my time in Transylvania, though I think a local nobleman followed me home. Yes, the other night I was visited by this handsome fellow, who flew in my window and proceeded to circle the chandelier like a plane in a constant holding pattern:

"Can I be your most rabid fan?"

Thinking quickly, I called the neighbors who sent their daughter, a future vet, to deal with the situation while I heroically cowered in the corner. Eventually the disoriented shapeshifter was caught (passive voice; by me or the neighbor, who can remember?) and released to fly home, no doubt to the menacing ruins of some fortress on a hill somewhere.

Speaking of Transylvania, it's interesting to note that it was a semi-autonomous province while most of Hungary was under Ottoman rule, and consequently was the place of origin of the first of several failed attempts to regain Hungarian independence, the Rakoczy Rebellion in the early eighteenth century. Ever risk averse, Pecs prudently remained loyal to the Habsburgs...resulting in Rakoczy's army pillaging the town. Nevertheless, the city recovered, was eventually granted Free City status in 1780, and evidently was not a major player in the 1848 revolution either, though my street pays tribute to the 13 Martyrs of Arad, Hungarian generals hanged for their role in the rebellion.

Not sure how I feel about living on such a morbid street.

                                       
The situation in Hungary finally stabilized through the Compromise of 1867, returning a degree of autonomy to the eastern part of what became known as the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Industry flourished in Pecs: a brewery, Littke champagne...er, sparkling wine, Angster pipe organs, and Zsolnay Ceramics, which will be the subject of my next and final post. Many of the most impressive buildings of the city date from this period, which I will now show in no particular order. First is doubtless the most impressive, the Neo-Romanesque cathedral, a rebuilding of the medieval structure finished in 1891.

Of views I have held out my window, this is somewhere between a glaciated mountain and a brick wall.

Next is Kossuth Square, named after the hero of the 1848 revolution honored with a statue in its center.

To the right of the Square is the Synagogue, still in operation.

 Interlude: much of my knowledge of this era was aided by a recent visit to the City Museum of Pecs, tucked away in a nondescript side street and evidently forgotten by all. With some hesitation, I rang the bell and, after a good five minutes, I heard footsteps and a woman of a certain age answered the door. As she stared at me in astonishment, I managed to communicate my interest in visiting the exhibit in my halting Hungarian. Shrugging in acquiescence, she shuffled back to her desk, blew the dust off a comically large key, and unlocked the museum. A relic of the Communist era, most information therein was either typed or handwritten on yellowing paper in Hungarian and German, the latter language offering me at least a fighting chance. Particularly enjoyable were the 3d models and charts tracking the development of the city through the ages:

The walled city of Pecs: cathedral and bishop's palace in NW corner.

Model of the former town hall.

Photograph of Cathedral before rebuilding; note lower towers without spires.

Chart showing ethnic makeup of Pecs over the years. "Német" is the German minority.

 What follows are buildings I pass on a daily basis:

Former home of Littke Champagne; the cellar is now a restaurant.

Nador (Palatine) Hotel, the first hotel in town, sadly now unoccupied.

Town Hall, with statue of John Hunyadi.

County Hall

Hotel Palatinus, a beautiful Art Nouveau building.

The Theater, a Neobaroque monstrosity.

Statue commemorating Franz Liszt's lone visit to Pecs in 1846.

Plaque commemorating the same visit on the house where Liszt performed.

Cathedral Square after an unseasonably late snowfall.

Administrative building of the University, notable for its Atlases and fading splendor.

Evidence of lick-and-stick facade over brick, hallmark of nineteenth century building methods.

 This post will be on the briefer side, but this is merely the lead-up to the grand peroration in which I will brilliantly tie everything together, finally giving Hungary the special treatment it deserves...or finishing the job the Ottomans started.