From what little I learned through some very limited research before arriving in Gyor, it was a city whose historic treasures could almost all be found in its Belvaros (City center). This was the oldest part of the city. It was said to be filled with Baroque buildings, structural survivors of the multiple conflagrations that had beset Hungary time and again throughout its history. Gyor was one of those lucky places that as history would have it, just so happened to be on the other end of the country from Hungary’s most ferocious invasions. The Ottomans came up through southern Hungary, the Mongols and Soviets roared in from the east. The Austrian Habsburgs were relatively benign compared to these other invaders. Due to the Habsburg influence much of Gyor’s historic architecture was still standing. The same could not be said for its beautiful old railway station. I first arrived in the city at its cavernous successor on a late weekday afternoon.
Austere & gloomy – Gyor Railway Station (Credit: G. Garitan)
Hardened Target – A Less Than Warm Welcome
The railway station was a communist-era concrete concoction that managed to be both banal and sinister. It did nothing to improve Gyor’s image and might best be described as functional, uncomfortable and aesthetically displeasing. Part of this was my own country’s fault. On April 15, 1944 Gyor’s railway station was badly damaged by an Allied bombing raid. The building, which was one of many designed by Austria-Hungary’s railway station architect extraordinaire Ferenc Pfaff, had sported turrets and spires. That grand old fin de siècle style greeted passengers upon arrival. Unfortunately, the wartime damage was so bad that the station had to be demolished. In its place, a new station would be built in the preferred post-war Socialist Realist style. From 1953-58, the communists implemented their usual brilliant idea of building something that looked a lot like their imagination, austere and gloomy. There was concrete and cement galore, stiff lines and square forms. This was architecture for the people decreed by a party that never failed to misrepresent them.
I found the station, in its current form, to have at least one enduring trait. It looked as though it would be able to withstand a nasty bombing. There was nothing soft about the place, the phrase, “hardened target” would be an appropriate description. Above the front entrance, carved out of the concrete were reliefs that honored the working class. Figures of workers, both male and female, marched in a variety of strange forms. The oddest by far showed a woman with taut breasts, pulling a horned steer that stared outward at the viewer. All the figures looked totally confident in what they were doing, representing a brave new world that never existed. I was glad to leave this looming hulk of a station behind. After suffering through such an unwelcoming eyesore Gyor could only get better. Almost immediately, it did.
Gyor Town Hall (Credit: Glanthor Reviol)
Points of Stubborn Pride – The Height Of Ambition
Only a few hundred meters from the station was Gyor’s astonishingly regal Town Hall (Varoshaza). It was here that I realized this city was something special. Gyor’s Town Hall looked like the kind that can be found in large western European cities, in countries such as Belgium or France. The Neo-Classical edifice is topped by a 59-meter tower reaching into the sky above. This stately architectural confection demanded my attention and left a lasting impression. Photographs were not long in coming. Whereas the figures on the reliefs carved at the train station exuded a faux confidence, the Town Hall looked like the very essence of architectural confidence. The building had been constructed in 1896 at the height of Hungary’s Bell Epoque. This was the year of the Hungarian Millennium celebrations celebrating the Magyar conquest of the Carpathian Basin. The Town Hall was a sign of confidence, an expressive singularity that represented the city’s ambition. It was a case where architecture was more than a building, it was also a feeling.
It soon became apparent that there was plenty more to see as I made my way into the city center. My hotel turned out to be on the other side of town from the train station. The accommodation was a great deal for the price, but it also meant a several kilometer long walk. This included a stroll through the middle of Gyor’s Baroque building lined Belvaros, which was just the way I had imagined it, rough around the edges, with plenty of faded grandeur on display. It managed to be spectacularly quaint. The only drawback for me was trying to lug around a suitcase with a broken pull-up handle. This meant I had to either hunch over to grab the handle and push it along by the wheels or try to carry it by the handle. Adding weight to this impromptu workout was the backpack I sported on one shoulder. To say that this was awkward would be an understatement. As a point of stubborn pride, I tried to carry the suitcase just above the ground, switching hands when my arm grew numb from exhaustion. Despite temperatures in the mid-60’s I began to sweat profusely. It was not long before I decided to stop for a momentary break at a gelato kiosk in Szechenyi ter. There can be no more refreshing experience than having a cone of gelato in the heart of a provincial Hungarian city’s Belvaros.
Gyor – Spectacularly quaint (Credit: Olga1969)
A Feeling Of Possibility – The World Before My Eyes
I finally made it to the hotel, a fine establishment that was clean, pleasant and quiet. My weariness from traveling the entire day was no match for the excitement of being in a totally new place. I had started the day in Ljubljana, two countries away from where I now stood. Here I was in Gyor, a place that a few days ago I had never heard of. Now it was my base of operations for the next several days. To be in an unknown town, without any friends or family members having the slightest idea where I was at enthralled me. This was like living the first day of your life. These are the moments that I find most satisfying, when a whole new world opens before my eyes, one that earlier in my life I could never have imagined and that now I will never forget.
Click here for: What History Is Made Of – The Walls Of Gyor: Guarding A Gate To Vienna
Europe Between East And West 