The most romantic aspect of Hungary is not to be found in the beautiful women that walk the high streets of Budapest. Neither will it be discovered in the vineyards that climb up the hillsides of Villany and Tokaj, nor in the fin de siècle architecture that still soars above the Old Towns of so many Hungarian provincial city centers. Instead, the most romantic aspect in Hungary is to be found in the most inhospitable place. A land with more animals than people, a natural wonderland and wasteland ironically protected for its cultural values. That culture, despite or perhaps because of the harsh environment, lends itself to romanticism. At least that was what I came to believe after taking a wagon journey out onto the heart of the Great Hungarian Plain in Hortobagy National Park. This was an opportunity for me and my future wife to see one of the great cultural landscapes of both Hungary and the world.
Frontier Mentality – A Reverence For Tradition
Cowboys are the great icons of frontier culture. Chiefly associated with the American West, they are tough and rugged, the essence of independence and individualism. The cowboy is symbolic of a time when man was locked in a fierce struggle with the natural and animal world. The essence of this struggle was conquest, subdue or submit, conquer or be conquered. The Hortobagy is Europe’s answer to the American West. It was and to a small degree still is today another quintessential breeding ground for cowboys. Yet finding them on the Great Hungarian Plain still managed to shock me. I had expected to see exotic animals, wetlands teeming with bird life and endless expanses of grass covered steppe. Yet finding the Hungarian cowboy alive and well in the middle of nowhere was another matter altogether. To discover these romantic characters still roaming these flatlands was cause for an afternoon of reverential romanticism.
Known in their mother tongue as Csikos, Hungarian cowboys are as much a part of the Hortobagy’s history as the mind-bending spaces that are a hallmark of this desolate steppe land. The Csikos have been riding the range in eastern Hungary for a millennium, crisscrossing the vast expanses on horseback. Stock growing and sheep herding is as much a part of the Hortobagy as the seeming endlessness of the terrain. Time and technology have largely failed to transform the region or its few inhabitants. The Csikos on the Hortobagy today carry on in much more moderated form the traditions of their ancestors. I soon discovered this when our wagon ride halted on the steppe. and a group of Csikos suddenly appeared on horseback. Rather than the blue jeans that American cowboys have helped make world famous, they were wearing looser fitting bright blue pants and shirts. Black boots and vests, along with a wide brim hat completed this fashionable garb. Watching the Csikos gallop forth and then alight from their steads was a study in frontier stylishness. With their clothing fluttered by a gentle breeze, it was as though they were unfurling themselves upon the landscape. Their unique and colorful clothing acting as an impressive response to the bland natural surroundings.
Romanticism & Reality – Csikos are the Great Hungarian Plain’s Master Horsemen
From Another World – An Incredible Amount of Determination
Silhouetted against the cloudless sky with an autumnal sun burning bright and vibrant, the Csikos looked as though they had come from another world. To a large extent they had. A world where only the toughest managed to survive the endless succession of sunup to sundown days. Where weekends meant just as much work as weekdays while toiling outdoors in all four seasons. Struggling to graze and raise the massive herds of livestock that roamed the Hortobagy. The Csikos had been shaped by the unforgiving nature of this land. Only those as tough as the natural environment could survive. Weakness had no place in a world where the elements were the real opposition. Forging an existence out of the grass, dust and periodic bogs that laid upon this land took an incredible amount of tenacious grit.
Unyielding determination came to mind as the Csikos stood before us mounted on their dark steads. These muscular, sturdy men, many with flourishing mustaches, sun baked features and faces chiseled from stone, were the human embodiment of the will to survive in the Carpathian Basin’s most inhospitable landscape. A dismounted leader of the Csikos soon moved to the fore. He brandished a giant whip which he swung with great dexterity. As the whip cracked, each of the horses and riders focused their attention. Soon all the horses were brought to heel. They dropped to the ground and sat beside a still standing Csikos. The Csikos leader made several exhortations, calls that horse and rider obeyed. It was an impressively indigenous display of historical choreography that hearkened back to the earliest roots of historic Hungary, a cultural touchstone that was being kept alive by the men who stood before us.
Each person in our group was offered the opportunity to mount a stead with assistance from an accompanying Csikos. The thrill for me was less about getting atop the horse, than coming face to face with a Csikos. The one I met up close conveyed immeasurable strength. In concert with his exotic clothing, he looked like a historical character who had stepped straight out of central casting. It was impossible not to fall in love with the performance that was put on for us. Of course, I knew that these men were more substance than style. They led a hard life in an isolated region. Independent from the modern world, they were cut off from the comforts that have made the average Hungarian’s everyday existence a walk in the park. They had chosen a life of laborious hardship filled with satisfactions that those who came in cursory contact with them could scarcely imagine. For all the theater of their short performance, I knew this was largely an illusion. Their day to day existence was one of wearisome toil.
Staying Power – Hungarian Gray Cattle
Survival of The Toughest – Life In The Hortobagy
On the ride back from our journey, the wagon took us past a herds of Hungarian Gray Cattle and Racka Sheep. The animals, like the Csikos, mirrored the landscape. They were stout, with a look of forceful determination and inherent stubbornness. While docile, I was ever mindful that they could turn fierce in a matter of moments. To survive in the Hortobagy such traits were essential. There was nothing easy in this land for man or beast. While Romanticism may inform the popular image of the Hortobagy, it is toughness which allows it inhabitants to survive.
Europe Between East And West 