Not wanting to order an Americano (which is a diluted expresso in a larger cup), I attempted to describe an expresso with just a little bit of water. He got out a tiny spoon and began to measure how high I wanted the liquid in the cup to be. I'm thinking...not too high to be a big cup...yet not so low that it's pure expresso...a shot. Why do I have to complicate things so much? At this point I gave up and just let the coffee specialist do it for me. Then he asked me to go sit and he will serve me. Ok. I can do that.
Next. This image was taken from inside tram # 6. She stands at the tram stop, holding her rug in the midst of the crowd every day. It was 9am.
With no agenda, I hopped off the yellow tram #6 at Octogon, walked down Andrassy, a main street, toward Hero's Square, a major park and tourist attraction. Within a few blocks I found myself intrigued by the little side streets. One by one, I'd look to the left and wonder what's down there, look to the right and wonder what's down there, then I actually turned left on Szenyei Merse. I don't know why, I just did. A few sparse shops were beginning to open their doors, I'd peek in but didn't stop. On the corner was a bakery where I got my pastry for the day, a long twisted and flaky stick with an unexpected slight taste of ham and cheese.
As I meandered the side streets I came upon some old, what looked to be, ruins of statues all toppled over behind a wrought iron fence. I began to photograph them when I noticed wooden scaffolding, molds, iron and various sheets of torn plastic. Perhaps this was the back of an art museum and this is where they restore old relics, I thought.
I followed the fence line around the corner and could see hidden sculpture relics all along the overgrown paths. At this point I could see empty classrooms, obvious studios, empty of students but full of cans and brushes and tables and stand up easels. I had found an art school! At the gate opening, I saw a guard who spoke English. Even though there was a chain across the entrance, I asked if I could walk around inside. "Yes. Today, yes." in his Hungarian accent.
I had entered an oasis of art inspiration. I was in heaven! Truly the highlight of the day.
The remainder of the day was spent viewing the Gabor Kovacs Art Collection of Hungarian artists, which has to be the best exhibit of fine art that I've ever seen and well worth the admission price; followed by lunch at the Turkish cafe next to the Embassy of the Republic of Macedonia. Why did I go there? Why not? (I'll write about that one once the Hookah smoke clears.)
Tomorrow, it's out of the city and into the country side, by train, to the little village of Tokaj in northern Hungary. We'll be spending the weekend at the vineyards where the famous Tokaj wines are produced.
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| Vaszary, Janos Interiors with Red Chest |
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| Sandor Nyilasy Rowing on a Lake |
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| Karoly Marko the Elder St. Paul Shipwrecked on Malta |
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