The average tourist who visits Hungary becomes so entranced by Budapest that they can be led to believe that only glory and beauty are found among the hills of Buda and along the wide avenues of Pest. Who can blame them? With the Danube flowing right through the heart of the city, tourists are left starry eyed as soon as they stand on its banks. On the Pest side of the Danube, they see one of the most spectacular Parliament buildings in the world, on the Buda side rises Castle Hill with domes and steeples reaching up to the sky. And then there are the three historic bridges (Chain, Liberty, and Margit) rising above the river. One of those bridges has an arterial link to Margit Island which floats in the middle of the Danube.
If that is not enough, there is also continental Europe’s first metro line, a clutch of outstanding historic bath houses, Hero’s Square, and Andrassy Avenue, Hungary’s version of the Champ Elysees. The list of attractions in Budapest is long and illustrious. A visitor could spend weeks in Budapest completely satisfied by its many charms. Many are likely to believe they have seen the best of Hungary. The problem is that Budapest happens to be a super-sized, steroidal Hungary. Is this reality? Not really. To really know a place, you not only have to see it in the best of times, but also understand what happened there in far worse times.
Scars on the memory – Bullet holes at the former War Ministry building on Castle Hill in Budapest
Beyond Glory – Rediscovering Reality
I often think that every woman dreams of a life affirming romance, just as every man imagines themselves in battle with a gun in his hand. Which of these two delusions are more dangerous is debatable. I can only speak for myself from the perspective of a man who has traveled around Eastern Europe searching for tangible remnants of history’s worst moments. When I found them, I wondered less about what happened and more about whether I could have faced the moment when my life was at stake with courage. When it comes to war, I have trouble seeing beyond my own lack of experience. This is personal. I guess my passion for standing in the exact place where history happened could be considered something of a romance, a dark rather than dreamy one. This was one of the main reasons I visited Budapest. I wanted to see the bullet holes in certain buildings, as much as I wanted to see the city’s most famous and uplifting attractions.
Budapest has plenty of places where the reality of history can still be experienced. These are not marked by magnificent political and military figures portrayed in public monuments and sculptures. Those memory markers give a more glorious view of the past. Even those Hungarian leaders who suffered a less than heroic fate, such as Ferenc Rakoczi and Lajos Kossuth, are portrayed in a glorious light. There are no statues of Rakoczi and Kossuth living out their final years far from their beloved homeland. Better the myth, then the reality. Budapest is there to remind us. Some parts of history cannot be hidden. They are waiting to be rediscovered. We tend to forget that light always casts shadows.
Battle scarred – Buda Castle in 1945
Snapshots – The Wounds of War
The worst times in the modern history of Budapest were World War II and the Hungarian Revolution. Much of the history surrounding those events is preserved in multiple museums found in the city. Museums are one way to engage with this history, but they keep visitors at a distance from the harsh reality of warfare. That reality does still exist in tangible form. At the old War Ministry on Castle Hill, the Citadella, and the former Ministry of Agriculture across from the Hungarian Parliament, I have run my hands across bullet holes scarring their stone facades. These are the wounds of war left behind by bullets fired during the Battle of Budapest in 1944-45 and the 1956 Hungarian Revolution. Those two events cost tens of thousands their lives and Hungarians their freedom. The iron curtain’s descent started when the Red Army stormed the city during the final winter of World War II. It was extended by the Red Army’s return in the autumn of 1956.
Tangible evidence of the destruction inflicted upon Budapest is still accessible. When I probed these wounds with my hands, I was reaching back to touch a time when soldiers and civilians were confronted with life and death decisions. A city now known for tourism was an epicenter of terror back then. People ran for their lives on the same sidewalks where tourists snap selfies. The debris and bodies from those times have vanished. Buildings in the city have been restored to their former grandeur with only a few exceptions. The city that stands today has very little in common with what happened during the worst of times. But look close enough and the scars that time could not heal remain. I often wonder what all the starry-eyed tourists make of the bullet holes. That is if they notice them at all.
Out of the shadows – Bronze markers for bullet holes from the 1956 Hungarian Revolution in Budapest
Acts of Violence – Acts of Remembrance
The bullet holes in Budapest are an antidote to the heroic versions of history that stalk the streets and museums of the Hungarian capital. The scars remain for a reason. This is a past that cannot be papered over or explained away, it demands contemplation. It has been said that history is a messy business, it is also a bloody one. The bullet holes are a warning of what happened and what could happen again. Tourists are likely to see them as a curiosity, but they are the closest anyone will ever get to the most important historical events that shaped modern Hungary. The bullet holes might not look like much, but they were the ultimate outcome of radical ideologies, deep rooted hatreds, and tremendous amounts of fear. Acts of violence then, acts of remembrance now. A time when life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness ended with bullets flying through flesh and shattering stone. Those bullet holes in Budapest brought me up close and personal to the reality of war. I hope to never get any closer.
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Europe Between East And West 