Budapest Walks - The Horror

Five hundred and fifty thousand souls walked ...

The heat pursues our steps toward the mausoleum still of the Holocaust Museum. Five hundred and fifty thousand souls walk this way too. A silent procession. They have names, you know ... I read one on the glass-framed chair at the exit of the empty Synagogue room. Her name was Susa, she was seven, and she stood no chance.

Stripped of rights, stripped of assets, stripped of dignity ... stripped of life. We stand in the penultimate room, trembling as the images flash before us. And then the ghostly sound of Zycklon B released.

Why?

Budapest Gallery - No 3

Budapest Walks - Thirty Steps

A Wedding Anniversary ...

Our eyes look out across the Danube, thoughts washed downstream some thirty years past. A walk along the salt-licked beach with little hard cash in our pockets, but lots of love cherished softly in our hearts. We ate fish and chips on the way back, my new bride and me.

And so it is we celebrate each fresh year together. We set off to the subway and catch the line toward the Jewish Quarter of Budapest. Blinking into the light, we skirt past the Synagogue and down a gloomy side-street in search of a special place to eat. We find it tucked in the shadows, down shuttered stairs to a secret place.

We order. A kosher feast of fish and potatoes. Celebrating thirty precious steps in our walk together.

Budapest Gallery - No 2

Budapest Walks - The Dreaming Castle

We descend, deeper and deeper into the Castle. Bottle-glass window eyes flood green light into the cellars below. It is cool here in the womb.

We climb up once more. A room of square-paned pastels cut up the landscape of Budapest, a glimpse of the azure-topped tower in the distance. And across the cold stone floor toward the Chapel. A simple crucifix streamed onto the blood-red carpet beneath.

There is a secret place here, and we burst out into sunshine and a silent courtyard leading off to the left. A glorious, deep fig-tree green, its leaves like hands reaching out to catch us. We flee toward the beckoning spiral staircase and climb, climb, climb from their grasp, emerging into the circle-topped eaves of the watch-tower and a view to the Danube. The ships glide serene, and we hold each other close. Lovers, still.

Striding the ramparts, and a lizard crosses our path, in search of sun-warmed walls. And then, all too soon, the walk is over.

Budapest Gallery - No 1

Budapest Walks - Terraced Boots

We walk hand-in-hand, treading down the dusty heat of a Budapest summer evening past. Across a bridge where streaming traffic now lies stilled.

The shimmering Danube and a terrace of silent iron-boots hammered into the bank outside Parliament. They were shot here, their bodies disappearing beneath the thick, black night-waters. We watch the sun disappear.

Reflections on a Budapest Sunday.

To be Part

]

Two hundred and forty miles ...

Dear Little Lamper,

we travelled two hundred and forty miles.

A cross-country trip, and the sun dripping hot, molten tarmac. It burnt our eyes. We chased down tractors and joined the queue, a motorway becalmed. But we travelled two hundred and forty miles.

We played music along the way - contemplative, loud. A soundtrack to our journey.

Little Lamper, we got lost along the way. Followed the down-load, but strayed in a country side-road too soon. Pulled up and called. Your mum answered, your dad spoke. We pulled into a sun-baked car-park and waited. For family.

You came, all three and met us in the dying sun. Your mum carried you so proudly across. And placed you in the loving arms of your grandmother. How can we ever forget the way she smiled?

Two hundred and forty miles. To be with you all.

love from Grumps

Weeks .....