1975. THE THINGS WE DID - AND GOT AWAY WITH
I spent most of the year skipping
classes at Karl Marx University. But instead of playing just hookey, I played
bridge. I literally was absent from all lectures and only showed up for classes
when it was totally unavoidable. Yet, I still passed all my exams, maybe not
always at the first try, but nevertheless, I passed. In Hungary exams could be
retaken, as long as it was done inside the six-week exam period. There were
some limitations with which I will not bore anyone.
My reward was another carefree
summer when I desperately wanted to find a place at the Lake Balaton for free.
My partners, in bridge and in crime, were all up for this task. I hang out with
Peter F. and his beautiful girlfriend Kati and some other bridge addicts for
years. Kati had a girlfriend Böbe, who did not really belong to our circle of
friends; however, her mother had a small summerhouse close to the lake. Kati and
Peter F were invited to stay for much of the summer. That, however, left me in
the city in a very morose state of mind. As it happened, Peter F’s cousin,
Peter M from Sweden, was spending the summer in Hungary. Well, one cannot leave
a foreign relative alone in the big city! So Peter M got permission to join
Peter F and Kati to enjoy the sunshine in Siofok. What the hell, I could have
as well been a foreign relative of somebody, or couldn’t I? So for the first
time claiming my Jewishness, we decided that I was from Israel. We could have faked
that I was from the US but we thought we were smarter than that. I spoke
English fairly well, but obviously could not have then (or today) passed for a
native speaker. What if somebody recognized I had an accent? Hence the idea of
me becoming an Israeli. In hind sight, there was not one person who could even
tell if I spoke English or Hebrew, let alone detect my accent! So Böbe’s
mother, the kind hearted but simple person she was, agreed to take in another
6-foot plus visitor. And as if this was not enough for the small 12x12 room,
Kati brought in two other girls, Jean from England and Monique from France. I
honestly do not remember any more how we actually slept, who shared bed with
whom.
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| Siofok, Lake Balaton 1970s |
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| We spent time at the bar of Hotel Marina |
But I got really tired and
embarrassed of pretending. I revealed my ability of speaking perfect Hungarian
to Jean’s friend, who was taking it really well. It took me a while to realize;
he still thought I was from Israel but spoke Hungarian as well. I confessed,
but he did not really care. And the girl I picked up at the bar? Well, I never
saw her after that night, never had the chance to say who I really was. The
summer ended and we all went back to Budapest, and played more and more bridge!
1976 - Hungary and Ceaușescu’s Romania
Next summer Monique returned with
her boyfriend Jean Jacques. Jean Jacques joined the French Army or the French
Foreign Legion when he was 16 and fought in Algeria. He was small in stature
but strong and fast and well trained in martial arts. I liked Jean Jacques,
although I cannot say I knew him well, given the fact that I did not speak
French nor did he speak anything else but French. By then Kati had a small
apartment at the lake, so we needed no more lies. We all crammed in, the same
gang minus, Jean and Peter M. Our new addition was Bird. Bird was his nick
name, which he hated, but since his last name was the name of one of the rare
bird species, we called him Bird. He was one of the smartest and most talented
men I have ever met. A mathematician, an excellent bridge player, a brilliant
mind. I don’t know what happened to him but at the time when I knew him he was
able to do amazing things. We were going to go to Croatia to play bridge. Bird
picked up some books and learnt Croatian in a couple of weeks. He was one of
those, you did not want to argue with about anything, for he was too smart.
Well, the pigs did not know that. They stopped us one late night when we were
walking back to the apartment. They wanted to see our identification papers. It
was not a pretty sight. Peter and I were worried about Jean Jacques doing
something stupid, so we literally held his arms trying to calm him down while
Bird was lecturing the officers. We
somehow got home without any major trouble.
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| Marosvásárhely |
In Ceaușescu’s Romania everything
was in short supply. We took soaps, deodorants and contraceptives. Selling just
a few of these items was enough to finance our trip. Marosvásárhely is a
beautiful city in Transylvania, yet I did not see anything of the city, not
because I was playing bridge all day, but because I fell ill. Could not eat or
drink anything, I had sores in my mouth and throat. Lying in bed all day I was
charged with the dubious task of selling all our „goods”. Contraceptive was the
hottest item but I had a hard time giving instructions how to use it. I would
have liked to tell the girls who bought them to keep the pills between their
knees for 100% effectiveness, but I really had to tell them that they needed to
swallow them instead of placing them in the other ”obvious” place.
I got out alive from Romania
without ever even playing bridge. Next time I was looking at pictures of
Transylvania was in 1989.
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| It all started in Transylvania |
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| Inside the torture chambers of Ceaușescu’s |
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| And another |
1977
I graduated from Karl Marx, and
before applying my vast knowledge to further build Socialism in Hungary, Kati,
Böbe and I were going to take a long trip in Western Europe. I had not seen
Böbe’s mother for over two years. She still did not know about our little white
lie and I was afraid of being found out. But fortunately she did not seem to
recognize me, or she was smarter and nicer than I have ever given credit to
her, and she knew everything all along. In any case we got on the train towards
Vienna, where I ended up in the same bed with two girls. Böbe was a bit apprehensive,
so she slept on the left, Kati in the middle and I on the right. All platonic
in the beginning and it stayed like that all the way through Munich, Paris and
Venice.
In Munich we were greeted by a
huge poster from which Hitler was screaming at us. For a second I thought that
I was time travelling back to the past, but soon I realized that the poster was
advertising a movie about Hitler’s life. The Germans, unlike the Hungarians,
were able to look into the eyes of their past demons, and build a real
democracy out of a terribly unjust political system. In the famous beerhouses I
only met a few Brünhildas but no brown shirts. Munich was (and still is) a
wonderful city with its happy and kind inhabitants and great museums.
Arriving to Paris at 5 am was
magical. The streets were all empty and Jean Jacques, now a tour bus driver,
took us around the city that was just about to wake up. No traffic jams just
the beautiful sights! We stayed with Monique and Jean Jacques, whose other
profession was being a chef. A French Chef! One night we woke up to a strange
noise. Periodically we seemed to hear somebody hammering something far away,
but only using the hammer every 20-30 seconds, or it was a real slow
woodpecker. The mystery was uncovered next day at dinnertime. Jean Jacque
bought live snails that he kept in a covered bucket overnight. These little
creatures tried to escape, they climbed up to the rim of the bucket, only to
fall back in the depth when they hit the cover. The meal was delicious, snails
as appetizers followed by steak. Only it was no beef, but horse meat. Well, we
stayed at Maisons-Laffitte, where horse races were kept and paddocks were
plentiful. 
Then, with bleeding heart I
parted from the two girls and took the train to Greece through Yugoslavia. I
shared a cabin with two Scottish girls, and was not really sure what language
they spoke. Fortunately, there was an Aussie in our cabin, who repeated
everything they said in English. When you understand someone better from
Australia than someone from Great Britain, you know something is wrong with
you.
In Greece I was supposed to be have
been met at the railway station by a girl I met a couple of years earlier in
England. I sent a telegraph to her from Venice. No small task to wait patiently
for your turn in an Italian post office, but I thought I was successful. Turned out I was, at least technically. The
telegram was only delivered 5 days after I arrived to Athens. So I figured I
would call her, but I could not really spell her name in Greek!!! and did not
have her phone number. The cabs were cheap so I got to her house but nobody
answered the door. Finally a woman came, she looked like her but 20 years
older. She was indeed her mother, but
spoke nothing but Greek, so naturally everything she said was real Greek to me.
I did stay with her, eventually my friend showed up as well. Greece was
wonderful, I travelled around, slept in parks, in other people’s tents, I shared
hotel rooms with three others I have never seen before and survived the biggest
storm in Delphi.
I ran out of money, my friend’s
mother ran out of patience, so she put me up in
hotel but only for one night. I had to change my ticket to catch a
flight back to Hungary where I knew I would score some food at my parents
place. I walked to the office of MALEV, the Hungarian Airline. I showed my
ticket to the girls who were minding the store. As soon as they looked at my
ticket they started screaming. I thought I must have handed them the wrong
document, but before I could even utter one more word, one of them got up and
ran into the manager’s office. He came out, smiled and shook my hand and
introduced himself. Only I did not know he was saying his name, I thought he
was asking my name. But no, the excitement erupted because he and I shared the
exact same first and last name!
I got back to Hungary at the end
of August to start my illustrious career in foreign trade in September 1977.
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