Chaotic Conclusions – The Right Side of the Border in Historic Hungary (The Lost Cities #14a)

Sometimes the only place left to go is home. As my armchair travels around the lost cities beyond Hungary’s borders nears the end, I began to look for the way home. There was one problem, I had trouble finding my way home. Was home back inside Hungary’s borders in Budapest where my itinerary started? Or was home outside those borders in the lost cities that I found a source of endless fascination. In my imagination, I felt more at home in the lost cities because they were the places still fraught with tension. Places where history was palpable, and ghosts could be discovered in broad daylight. 

Standing tall – City Hall in Szeged

Going Home – Subotica To Szeged
When I started developing the lost cities’ itinerary, I planned on ending the journey where it first began at Keleti Station in Budapest. Something about that slowly came to seem not quite right. I had drifted to so many places beyond Hungary’s borders, that heading back into its heart did nothing to excite me. I wanted to stay on the fringes and walk along the edges. There were old frontiers still worth exploring both inside and outside Hungary’s current border. That is why I am choosing one of the cities that ended up on the right side of Hungary’s border as the final stop. Szeged is not far from my final stop in Subotica and manages to surpass it in architectural wonders. Subotica and Szeged are not far apart. Both cities suddenly found themselves on the frontier. They have much in common and are distinctly different. For Hungarians, Szeged is the dream, Subotica the reality. That sense of bipolarity was something that millions of ethnic Hungarians came to know all too well when the Treaty of Trianon went into effect.

Finding home on this journey was not only pertinent to me. It also recalled the lost cities’ history. I was following in the footsteps of ethnic Hungarians. Millions had suddenly found themselves outside the borders of Hungary after the Treaty of Trianon took effect. Their lives and livelihoods were in limbo. They were left with two choices between bad and worse. They could either leave the only life they had ever known behind, or they could stay and try to make the best of what would be a very difficult situation. Some of them went back to Hungary because they had little choice as ethnic Hungarians were threatened, attacked, or faced discriminatory policies. Others stuck it out and managed to keep their lives afloat in the turbulent years ahead. 

Trianon was not the start of problems for ethnic Hungarians in Transylvania, Banat, Vojvodina, and southern Slovakia. Their problems began as the worst conflict up to that point in world history was entering its most chaotic phase. World War I did not end in Eastern Europe the way it did in Western Europe. By the time the armistice was signed in France on November 11, 1918, Austria-Hungary had already disintegrated twelve days earlier. This led to an extension of the war, albeit on a smaller, but more chaotic scale. The front lines were blurred with civilians caught in the crossfire. Hungary battled Czechoslovak, Romanian and Serbian forces on different fronts. The Romanian Army fought its way to Budapest before the victorious powers forced them to leave. Adding to the chaos was a revolution in Hungary that brought a communist government to power for six months in 1919. This did nothing to endear the Hungarians to the victorious powers. Territory was up for grabs. The strongest military force often proved decisive. 

Flag waving = The Union of Transylvania with Romania is declared on December 1, 1918 (Credit: Samoila Marza)

Internal Exiles – Climate of Chaos
The Hungarian Army was in no condition during this time to take control of all the territory that historically had been part of the Kingdom of Hungary and administered as such during the Austro-Hungarian Empire. For all its faults, the Treaty of Trianon brought order to this chaos, but that was not until it went into effect on June 4, 1920. By then hundreds of thousands of Hungarians had fled back to the core territory of Hungary (the nation as it exists today). These refugees were especially conspicuous in Budapest. Housing was in short supply. Many of them were forced to live in railroad boxcars. Fear, anger, and resentment were pervasive. When a counter-revolution was conducted by right-wing Hungarian forces, paramilitary justice against real and perceived communists was brutal.

It is hard to imagine just how chaotic the situation was in Europe during this time. It is just as hard to imagine the violent upheaval that took place across Eastern Europe. The political, military, and economic situation in Hungary was one of the epicenters of volatility. Ethnic Hungarian refugees who fled to the core of Hungary found that peace was precarious and prosperity non-existent. Only after the counterrevolution led by Admiral Miklos Horthy took power was a sense of order restored. Those who opposed the regime were lucky to escape with their lives. Many of them did not.

Horthy’s regime was not strong enough to do anything other than take control of core Hungary. The cities in what had been the Kingdom of Hungary were all but lost. Trianon would finalize facts on the ground. The refugees would not be going home anytime soon, if ever. Their resentment over what they had lost would be one of the defining factors in Hungarian politics during the interwar period. Regaining the lost lands would become a top priority for the Horthy regime. In that effort, they had the support of a populace seething with discontent towards socialists and Jews at home, and the successor states which took hold of Hungarian territory.

Cut off – Trianon memorial in Bekescsaba (Credit: Tobi85)

Traumatic Times – No Direction Home
Anyone who has ever suffered through a crisis in which they were forced to leave their home knows the psychological trauma and physical hardship it can cause. When there is no going back to the way things were and no clear path forward, people often turn inward on themselves. The same is true for nations. This happened to Hungary, as it did to the ethnic Hungarian refugees who fled there because they had no other place to go. Home had become a nebulous concept. In the lost cities and lands ethnic Hungarians were suffering much the same thing. The difference was that they had stayed put.

Click here for: Anecdotal Evidence – The Wrong Side of the Border in Historic Hungary (The Lost Cities #14b)

Magic Act – Subotica’s Starring Role (The Lost Cities #12)

I felt depression beginning to descend upon me as I neared the end of developing my itinerary for the lost cities beyond Hungary’s borders. By the time I reached the final city, Subotica in northern Serbia, I should have been suffering full blown sadness. Instead, I began to feel radiant. Subotica can do that to me. My first visit to the city took place four years ago and it was spectacular. A bright winter day, cool and crisp beneath a sky that could not have been bluer. Subotica’s architecture matched the rays of light that shined down upon it. The City Hall was one of the most impressive buildings I have ever seen and that was without stepping inside. Subotica gave me everything and left me wanting more.

Lighting ceremony – Splendor in Subotica

Now Playing – City Of Survival
Sometimes for your own sanity, you need to let things go. Loved ones you have lost, first loves that faded, other romances that failed, human and otherwise. Love usually comes and goes. It is like a secret that gets passed around. Once in a great while, true love stays with you. And so it is with the lost cities. They continue to occupy my imagination. Perhaps that is because of the inherent drama in their history since the late nineteenth century. Any one of the lost cities would make a great play. My final stop in Subotica is grand theater. There are multiple acts (Austria-Hungary, Kingdom of Yugoslavia, wartime Hungary, communist Yugoslavia, Serbia), heroes (Art Nouveau architects) and villains (communists, fascists, and nationalists), romance (not just for individuals, but for the entire city) and tragedy (World Wars I and II, Treaty of Trianon, the Holocaust) suffering and loss (ethnic Hungarians, Jews, other minorities), survival and resurrection (the city center, synagogue). All the ingredients are there for tragedy and triumph.

Various iterations of the play have been running for over a century to dramatic effect. There are matinees and midnight showings. The current version features Subotica’s survival and resurrection. Art Nouveau architecture plays the leading role. The performance does not disappoint. The play opens with the main protagonist seeing the Raichle Palace just after arrival at the train station. The decorative floral patterns on the building are in full bloom. That opening catches the viewer’s attention, Subotica Synagogue captures it. The superlatives to describe this scene have not yet been invented. The play unfolds from there throughout the city center. Reviews fail to do it justice, but the scribes still try. I located the following review deep in my imagination:

The Subotica Synagogue is the closest thing to magic. For those who have trouble believing in God, seeing the fully restored synagogue will prove to be a revelation. Its architecture and aesthetics, symmetry and spirituality are inspired by a higher power. Eternity is preserved within those hallowed walls. The synagogue proves to be as astonishing as the history of the people who worshiped there is tragic. Nothing in the viewer’s experience can prepare them for such a setting,

Subotica’s survival is the counterpoint to all the hurt, all the anger, all the pain, that fell on this little corner of Eastern Europe after the First World War. The city suffers grievous wounds for many decades, but the cityscape survives as an expression of human creativity and ingenuity. Its most stunning pieces of architecture represent the highest levels of artistic achievement. For the play’s protagonist, Subotica’s city center is a stand in for all that is worth saving in the world. He finally realizes that he has entered the magic kingdom. The spiritual force of the structures is so real that the viewer, like the protagonist, can feel them. The hand of God which designed, crafted, and sculpted Subotica reaches out to touch the audience.

Heavenly ascent – Inside Subotica Synagogue

Transcendent Beauty – Desperate Tragedy
Subotica is an endless reel, a succession of spectacular images that keep playing in my head. Do all good things have to end? Maybe not since Subotica and all the other lost cities are still standing. The itinerary I developed will end, but the lost cities will go on. Someone, somewhere, right now is rediscovering them. They are seeing something of themselves in the transcendent beauty and desperate tragedy that stalks their squares and streets. The greatest discovery I made while developing my itinerary is that in the lost cities, I see the best and worst aspects of myself. In Eisenstadt, my frivolity is represented by the candy-colored Esterhazy Palace. In Bratislava’s Old Town, the walls I have built around myself to keep the rest of the world out. In Kosice’s towering St. Elisabeth’s Cathedral, a dream I will never reach. In Uzhhorod, the place where I fear to go. In Oradea, the best version of myself. În Timișoara, my ingratitude for the gift of life after the apocalypse. In Subotica, my belief that life is everlasting.

Each lost city feels like the first and last day on earth. I am sure many of those who suffered and survived in them felt the same. The Austro-Hungarian Empire could be just as bright and beautiful as those who built it. The empire could also be just as dark and decadent as those who destroyed it. All empires vanish, not a single one has managed to survive. That stark fact should be just as humbling to us as Austria-Hungary’s collapse was to its inhabitants. The true measure of an empire is not in its ascension and apex, nor in its decline and fall. The true measure of an empire is its legacy. What it leaves behind for others to build upon, to aspire, to protect, and preserve. In that regard, the legacy of Austria-Hungary is well served by the lost cities. There is still life in those ruins.

Lighting up the night – Subotica’s City Hall

Imperial Ways – Life Lessons
The lost cities are astonishing storehouses of art, architecture, and culture. They teach us lessons in history from which we can learn. They show how to prosper during good times and endure when all hope seems lost. They demonstrate the ability to bask in past glories, while stepping boldly into the future. They tell us to enjoy what we have because one day it will be gone. They demonstrate that nothing is inevitable, even if it seems that way.

Click here for: Obstacle Course – Navigating Trianon (The Lost Cities #13)

Beyond Experience – Trianon’s Living Legacy (The Lost Cities #11)

One of the most important and overlooked moments in history occurs when the last person with direct experience of an historical event dies. One of the more memorable recent examples was when Florence Green, the last veteran of the First World War died. That meant there was no one left with living memory of a war that launched the 20^th century on its violent trajectory and changed the world forever. While the war officially ended 94 years before Ms. Green died, the living memory of it lasted up to her death in 2012. Only then, had the war truly become history in the past tense. There was no one left with military experience of the war. At some undetermined point not far into the future, the last civilian who had personal experience of the war would also have died. After that, everything about World War I comes to us second hand. The greatest primary historical sources known to us are gone forever. That also holds true for other events surrounding the war such as the Paris Peace Conference. That seminal event radically altered the borders of Eastern Europe. That legacy lives on today.

Border control – Austria-Hungary border in 1914 & 1920 (Credit: Richard Andree)

Living Link – A Lasting Legacy
You don’t know what you got until it’s gone. That is one cliché that has the ring of truth. My mentor, who was also a university history professor, told me that one of his former colleagues had been at the Paris Peace Conference as an advisor to the negotiators. He spoke of this colleague several times, always bringing up their attendance at the conference. There were no specific stories relating to his colleague’s work in Paris, but that was not really the point. Just knowing someone who had been in attendance was a source of fascination. Hearing about a living connection to such an important world historical event made the peace conference seem much closer. The usual black and white photographs found in history books communicate distance. A personal connection brings the past closer. Everything that happened in Paris seems more intriguing.

I was only indirectly linked to my mentor’s colleague, but I wanted to ask him many questions. What and who did he see at the peace conference? Did he have any idea at the time of what troubles would result from the treaties? Those questions cannot be answered because the man passed away long ago. A living link has been broken forever. Other legacies of the Paris Peace Conference are as alive today as when the treaties that resulted from the negotiations went into effect. Specifically, the Treaty of Trianon which partitioned the Kingdom of Hungary’s territory.  More than any of the other treaties negotiated at the peace conference, Trianon is the one that is still controversial. I have felt the tension of that controversy when traveling throughout the parts of Eastern Europe affected by Trianon. The legacy of Trianon was the reason I planned my itinerary for the lost cities beyond Hungary’s borders.

A sense of finality – Treaty of Trianon (Credit: C. Stadler/Bwag)

Obstacle Courses – Trapped by Trianon
We are not trapped within the past, as much as we are trapped by it. That is because history hems us in. We are wedded to the past and it is difficult, if not impossible, to find grounds for divorce. All the history that has ever happened created the world in which we now live. And in my case, the world in which I want to travel. This includes my itinerary for visiting the lost cities. The Treaty of Trianon’s legacy is written all over my itinerary because of borders and railway networks. For instance, planning a journey from Timisoara to Subotica turned into a logistical nightmare. One that I suffered from the comfort of an armchair in a climate-controlled home. I can only imagine how tiring the actual trip might be. In the 21^st century, all the obstacles of borders, different national railway networks, and schedules that lead to increasingly lengthy travel times feel unnecessary. I have read quite a few books and articles which cover the treaty making that led to the Austro-Hungarian Empire being carved up by the victors of World War I. Very little of that reading prepared me for just how much the Treaty of Trianon’s legacy still affects travel throughout the region.

Planning a trip to visit the lost cities should have been relatively simple. Well, it was at the turn of the 20^th century. Back then the lost cities were all connected with Budapest. That would not last as the nations that inherited the lost cities after Trianon hit the kill switch on parts of the Hungarian Railway Network which ran into their territories. The lines that still ran were at the mercy of border control which meant mind numbing delays. This not only hurt people, but it also dealt a terrible blow to the economies of Hungary and all the successor states as economic connections were severed. People, transport, and commodities had to be rerouted. Subotica would now look to Belgrade, instead of Budapest. The same was true for Timisoara, whose overlords were now in Bucharest. The list goes on. None of the successor states trusted Hungary and Hungary seethed with resentment. This was fertile ground for radical ideologies to take hold. 

Monumental memory – Trianon memorial in a Hungarian town (Credit: Laslovarga)

Opening The Border – An Uneasy Peace
Whether the changes wrought by Trianon made any sense or not, they would have staying power. The Second World War altered them momentarily, but afterwards the borders snapped shut with a vengeance. The changes have been permanent ever since then. Only membership in the European Union has slowly pried some of them back open again. That is still not the case with Hungary and Serbia, or Romania and Serbia. Even the Hungary-Romania border still has border control. Seventeen years after Romania became an EU member state it is due to finally be allowed in the Schengen Zone. That might help make following my itinerary to the lost cities a bit easier. One thing that will not is the continuing legacy of Trianon. I sometimes wonder what my mentor’s colleague saw at the Paris Peace Conference in 1919, perhaps the end of one world, and the beginning of a more insular one.

Click here for: Magic Act – Subotica’s Starring Role (The Lost Cities #12)

Retro Rail Ride – From Budapest to Eisenstadt & Bratislava (The Lost Cities #2)

The borders changed, the bureaucrats changed, the demographics changed, the economies changed, the politics changed, the names changed, the official languages changed, the centuries changed and still Budapest remains, as it did at the turn of the 20th century, the hub for anyone looking to reach the lost cities just beyond the borders of Hungary. In the last half of the 19^th century, Hungarian National Railway’s network of lines was developed with Budapest as the epicenter. That remains largely true today for the cities which were once part of the Kingdom of Hungary. The old cliché “the more things change, the more they stay the same” still applies in this case. Those traveling to the lost cities are likely to find themselves starting in Budapest. That is where my own journey to the lost cities now begins.

Ready to roll – Dawn at Budapest Nyugati (Western Railway Station)

Border Complications – National Insecurities
The shortest distance between two points is said to be a straight line. The shortest distance between the early 20^th century and the lost cities of Oradea (Nagyvarad), Timisoara (Temesvar), Subotica (Szabadka), Pozsony (Bratislava), Kosice (Kaschau), Eisenstadt (Kismarton), and Ungvar (Uzhhorod) is at the three railway stations (Nyugati – western/Keleti – eastern/Deli – southern) in Budapest. Many things have changed, and some stayed the same since the early 20^th century regarding the lost cities. Rail connections are one of them. While Budapest is still the best place to begin any journey to all seven lost cities, national borders cause complications. These are a legacy from the aftermath of World War I when border control inhibited pre-existing rail routes. It took 84 years, accession to the European Union and Schengen Zone for borderless travel between Hungary, Austria and Slovakia. This is also slated to happen with Romania when it becomes part of the Schengen Zone in 2024. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Serbia and Ukraine. Borders are always complicating factors, the ones between Hungary and its neighbors still act as irritants for the traveler. The situation has improved, but it is still an obstacle the traveler must have overcome.

The complications of borders were expected after the Treaty of Trianon went into effect on June 4, 1920. The nations which had gained the lost cities were suspicious of Hungary’s future intentions toward them. Even with large numbers of Hungarians migrating out of the lost cities and into the newly constituted Republic of Hungary, there were still large numbers of Hungarians that were the cause of consternation for Romania (formed in 1866), Yugoslavia (formed in 1918), and Czechoslovakia (formed in 1918), Austria was a different matter altogether, but it too eyed Hungary warily. Better to make travel between these nations and Hungary more difficult. Borders were a form of security. Judging by the coming of another world war, they were not a very good one.

Awaiting arrivals – Eisenstadt Railway Station

Living On The Edge – Burgenland & Bratislava
As any traveler does before setting out on a journey, I am searching for the best route between my destinations. It makes sense to start in Budapest since it was the transport hub for the Hungarian half (Transleithania) of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. From Budapest, the question is where to go first. That decision will go a long way in determining the route I will take to travel from one city to the next. I am not looking for the quickest route between the lost cities. I am searching for the one that will prove most intellectually satisfying. One of the most important elements of any journey is getting off to a good start. That might sound simplistic, but when it comes to travel my experience has been that the beginning of a journey van either set the traveler up for success or failure. With that in mind, I want to ease into this journey. Looking at the seven lost cities, Eisenstadt in Eastern Austria stands out as low hanging fruit ripe to be plucked with a leisurely rail ride.

Due to the starting and final destinations for this initial leg of the journey being in different countries, it will require multiple transfers and take almost four hours. I can think of worse things than riding the rails across western Hungary and then hopscotching between a couple of stations before arrival in the Austrian province of Burgenland. It only seems right that I should finish this first leg of the journey in what became a newly created ninth Austrian province in 1921. Along the way I will be passing through Sopron, known as the most loyal city in Hungary because it voted to stay part of the country during the messy aftermath of the post- World War I treaty making process.

Eisenstadt is a good first lost city to visit for logistical reasons. Of the seven lost cities, it is the furthest one to the west and in near proximity to Bratislava, which will be second on my itinerary.   Bratislava, known by Hungarians as Pozsony, has done better economically than any of the other lost cities. The reason can be summed up as location and size. Bratislava is just 30 kilometers from Vienna. It has become something of a bedroom community to the Austrian capital. Bratislava also became the capital of Slovakia in 1994. As the seat of government, the city had a self-reinforcing economy. Due to Slovakia’s lower taxes and cost of living (not the case anymore), businesses and people poured into the city. It was the largest city in the newly created country.  Bratislava continues its impressive growth today. The city’s Old Town is spectacular, and the surrounding area has much to recommend it.

Power & prosperity – Bratislava (Credit: Jorge Franganillo)

Lost & Found – The Eastern Frontier
From Bratislava I really have only one choice, head eastward. This is the direction that has captivated me ever since I first set foot in the region. As much as I love Budapest and Bratislava, nothing fires my imagination like heading ever deeper into Eastern Europe. This is the true heart of a region that has been greatly misunderstood by the western world. It is also a region that the Treaty of Trianon upended to a greater extent than anywhere else. The heartlands of historic Hungary can still be found in eastern Slovakia, sub-Carpathian Ukraine, and western Romania. These places are home to the lost cities that are the next stage in planning my itinerary.

Click here for: Eastern Questions – Plotting Paths To Kosice & Uzhhorod (The Lost Cities #3)

Inspirations & Aspirations – Subotica: The Destination, Rather Than The Journey (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #16)

It was not about the meal, but the men. It was not about the journey, but the destination. I only realized this after the fact. The meal and the men were in Subotica, that sublime Serbian city which hugs the Hungarian border. The destination was not only Subotica, but also Szeged, Odorheiu Secuiesc and Osijek. I stumbled upon tangible evidence that reconnected me to each of those places by way of Subotica. In a city that I had come to visit for its amazing array of Art Nouveau buildings, I found myself looking back at my previous pasts and finding inspiration for the future. This came to me while looking at photos I took during my time in the city. Most of the photos were of Art Nouveau buildings. These included multiple palaces, a synagogue and town hall covered with lavish decorative elements. Subotica was a place that put the “art” in architecture.

Amid images of one eye popping architectural confection after another, there were a couple of rather simple, elegant, and delicious photos. Delicious may seem the strangest adjective of the three, but it is also the most appropriate. One photo I took in a coffee house, shows a slice of chocolate cake and a small cup of black coffee at my table. Other set pieces in this photo include a glass of water and small fork that sit tantalizingly beside the slice of cake. This is an image that makes me long for the cakes, pastries, and puddings I have so enjoyed in Eastern European patisseries. Yet the photo is more than just a reminder of sugary sweets, it is also a stimulation to the memory of a few men who entered my world one winter morning in Subotica. The other photo shows a series of signs pointing in all directions. They are signposts to my past travels and possibly future ones as well.

Cake & Coffee – Lunch in Subotica

Dropping Off & Dropping In – A Visit With Friends
Arriving in Subotica long before lunchtime presented me with a quandary. I did not want to carry a piece of luggage around the city for several hours while I waited for a 1:00 p.m. check in at my accommodation. Fortunately, I happened upon the city’s main tourist office where the attendant allowed me to drop my bag. Delivered from the shackles of that suitcase, I was now free to roam around Subotica for several hours. I chose to pass the time by wandering around the main town square before slowly branching out beyond it. This offered up plenty of opportunities to take photos of anything that caught my eye. Subotica’s Art Nouveau Architecture was a feast for the eyes. The buildings were coated in an array of radiant colors. The colors did not so much pop, as explode into me. 

Before long I found myself longing for a bite to eat. It was almost lunchtime, so I searched for something on the lighter side. In a matter of minutes, I spied a coffee house. Through the window I could see the usual selection of mouthwatering pastries. The sight of these was magnetic, pulling me inside where I took a small table near the window. I would be able to watch the world go by while I relaxed with coffee and cake. The waiter, an older gentleman who spoke no English, was unfailingly polite as I made my order with hand signs and scattered bits of broken Serbian. While waiting, I could not help but notice the vigorous conversation taking place among three men seated around a corner table in the coziest of confines. By their graying hair and relaxed demeanor, I was able to discern two things. They were pensioners as well as old friends.

The art in architecture – Art Nouveau in Subotica

While I enjoyed a bracing cup of coffee that sent my pulse racing, I watched these men vigorously engage in conversation with one another. Their conversation was animated by kindness, inquisitiveness and understanding. There is something entrancing about listening without comprehension to an unintelligible language being spoken. By carefully listening to the peculiar enunciations and expressions of emotion I could tell how the conversation was going. Words ebbed and flowed between the three men. I had no idea what they were discussing, but for me the topic was really their friendship. I, a loner in a strange city thousands of kilometers from home, was witness to something simple and enchanting. The coming together through conversation of three friends. At that moment, I thought to myself that this is what we should all aspire to in the later years of our lives. A sense of comradery and unity, that kinship with our fellow man that offers us the ultimate opportunity to be ourselves. This was something remarkable that happens every day and yet I have barely taken time to notice. We should all be so lucky as those men in Subotica.

Pointing the way – Signs in Subotica

Signing On – Pointing The Way
Only a few meters from the coffee house were a series of signs that I noticed not long after finishing up at the coffee shop. I had seen such signs before, in other Eastern European cities such as Lviv, Krakow and Belgrade. They point the way to other European cities in a variety of directions. I recall looking at one of these on my first journey to Eastern Europe, thinking how much I would like to visit all the different cities. It had scarcely seemed possible at the time, but after a decade of traveling across the region my perspective was quite different. I was now intimately familiar with several of the cities listed on the signs. I would never have guessed that when I first started my travels.

I could now look at a sign pointing the way to Osijek in Croatia and recall a train journey over the Danube there. Or that Odorheiu Secuiesc would conjure images of fin de siècle architecture in a modest sized city on the edge of southeastern Transylvania. Or that Szeged would evoke images in my mind of its pristinely preserved Belvaros. I was astonished that I had made it to all those cities, but I could not help but aspire to go further. Fortunately, one sign listed a place I had not been or ever heard of, Dunajska Streda in Slovakia. I wondered if I would ever make it there, the same way I wondered if I would make it anywhere in Eastern Europe a decade ago. Somehow, I had found those cities on the signs and now they had found me.  On that day, it was about the destination rather than the journey.

Click here for: From Discovery To Destiny – Konigstein: The Czech Connection (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #17)

Love Your Neighbor as Yourself – The Jews of Subotica: Twisted History (A Balkan Affair #39)

It was not at Auschwitz that I realized what had been destroyed during the Holocaust. I found Auschwitz unfathomable, even more so when I visited it. On the other hand, it was while standing in the Subotica Synagogue that I comprehended the Holocaust’s venality. A community of people who could create something so beautiful and eternal was worth revering not destroying. Tragically it was the latter that occurred. The destruction of Subotica’s Jews was nearly complete by the end of World War II. Of the approximately 5200 who lived in the city at the beginning of the war, only 1200 made it back to the city and most of these fled to Israel not long after their return.

There was not much left of Subotica’s Jewish community by 1950. The unthinkable seemed set to happen. A community and culture which had once seemed so vibrant and vivid only a decade earlier looked like it was fated to vanish from the city. It is not an overstatement to say that Subotica’s Jews were on the verge of vanishing from memory. That never happened due to an ironic twist of fate. Subotica’s Synagogue, which is the greatest legacy of its Jewish community, rose from negligence back to prominence. Strangely enough, this incredible resurrection fits within the context of Subotica’s Jewish history. It was in line with other unlikely events that gave rise to Jews within the city. Two and a half centuries ago, an improbable trajectory started that continues right up through today.

Outlines of History – Subotica Skyline (Credit: Vladimirk)

An Empress’ Decrees – Moments of Decision
During the 18^th century, the greatest influence in Subotica did not come from Serbs or Hungarians, but an absolutist female monarch who ruled large portions of Central and Eastern Europe. By her word or decree, this Empress had the power to change the fate of individuals as well as cities. Such was the power of Maria Theresa who ruled the Habsburg Empire for forty years (1740-1780) that she could single handedly make decisions influencing the region’s future for centuries to come. She did this by making several key decisions that affected Subotica’s long-term development. One of these decisions was whether to allow a Jewish man to settle in the city. It probably seemed relatively insignificant at the time. Only in hindsight can its lasting ramifications be discerned.

Maria Theresa was more known for expelling Jews from cities than allowing them access. By later European standards of anti-Semitism her measures seem somewhat benign, but on the Empress’ authority Jewish communities were expelled from Prague in 1744 and Buda in 1746. An extortionate tax she instituted three years later pilfered Jewish finances. In 1779, just a year before she died, Maria Theresa received a Jew by the name of Salamon Hajduska who had requested an audience with her majesty. Hajduska had been denied permission to live or work in Subotica.

The Empress showed her disdain for Jews by only receiving them from behind a screen. Nonetheless, the fact that Hadjuska had traveled all the way from provincial Serbia to Vienna made a great impression on Maria Theresa. She not only granted his request, but also took it upon herself to personally ensure that city officials provided Hajduska with the permits to now live and work in Subotica. After Maria Theresa’s son, Joseph II, became emperor in 1780, Jews gained a much broader range of civil rights. This in turn gave more of them the impetus to settle in Subotica. Salamon Hajduska’s refusal to take no for an answer and Maria Theresa’s willingness to accommodate his request, set in motion a process that brought thousands of Jews to Subotica.

The Jewish Heritage – Interior view of dome at Subotica Synagogue

Maria-Theresiopolis – A Dream Come True
Another decision of Maria Theresa’s that had a magnetic effect in bringing more Jews into Subotica and turbocharged its development occurred the same year of the Empress’ audience with Hadjuska. In 1779, Maria Theresa designated Subotica as a Royal Free Town, this gave it certain rights and privileges that led to a boom in trade and business. Subotica’s citizens could not have been happier. They showed their gratitude by changing the city’s name to the reverentially clunky Maria-Theresiopolis. Eventually the name would be changed back to Subotica, but irreversible forces of demographic change brought hundreds of Jews and Hungarians to the city and led to exponential population growth.

When the Hungarian Revolution of 1848 broke out, it would be the Jews and Hungarians of the city who fought side by side for independence from the Habsburgs. The Revolution failed, but liberation followed less than twenty years later when Hungary became an equal part of the monarchy in 1867. Austria-Hungary was a dream come true for Subotica’s Jews who gained equality under the law. The years between 1867 -1914 were a golden age for the Jews and the city. Their future looked bright until World War I darkened the skies above Eastern Europe. Subotica ended up being taken away from Hungary by the postwar Treaty of Trianon. In a convoluted twist of fate, the Jews got much of the blame for what happened to Hungary.

Moment of Silence – Memorial to the Holocaust at Subotica Synagogue

Building Blocks – The Synagogue as Symbol
The Jews who had helped build Subotica into a paradoxical blend of provincial cosmopolitanism were singled out as a fifth column. At first came oppression, then under fascism the policies soon turned toward eradication. Genocide made its way to Subotica, killing most of its Jews and a part of the city’s life along with it. The Synagogue was left to deteriorate. What was left of the Jewish community in Subotica could not maintain such a structure, in 1979 they gave it to the city on condition that restoration work take place. It was later used as an avant-garde theater, only leading to further degradation. Only after the collapse of communism, followed by the disintegration of Yugoslavia, could work really begin to recognize the Jewish Heritage of Subotica. That work focused on restoring the synagogue to its former glory.

After the World Monuments Fund (WMF) put the synagogue on a list of the 100 Most Endangered Sites, restoration finally became a priority. The WMF led the way with funding and expertise. The Hungarian government chipped in to pay for the interior restoration, as well as the grounds and fencing surrounding the site. This collective effort paid off when both the Prime Minsters of Serbia and Hungary spoke at its reopening. Their presence symbolized the change in attitudes towards Jewish history in both countries. It was another improbable twist in the fate of Jews, as well as their culture and heritage across the region.

Hopes & Fears – Nightmares & Dreams
Above the entrance to Subotica’s synagogue is a simple yet poignant message, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” If only that message had been followed throughout history, Subotica’s synagogue would be filled with the descendants of those who were instead doomed by the Holocaust. Much was lost in the Holocaust, but the memory of Subotica’s Jewry remains within the synagogue’s hallowed walls. Now only silence fills the beautiful spaces inside those walls. Listen long enough though and out of that silence the past will come calling, an echo chamber of hopes and fears, dreams and nightmares, death and resurrection.

Click here for: The Velvet Horizon – Beyond Subotica: Goodbye To The Balkans (A Balkan Affair #40)