Train north to Sátoraljaújhely

I hardly slept the night before I left Budapest for Sátoraljaújhely, knowing that I needed to catch the train from the East train station (Keleti pályaudvar) at 6:30 am. I have great difficulty falling asleep, but once asleep, I can sleep through even the loudest alarms.  And I didn't want to miss this train.

Sátoraljaújhely was the former capitol of Zemplen county, world-famous for its wines--the Tokaji wine. Lajos Kossuth was one of the city's most famous alumni, renowned and honored all over Hungary for his efforts to free the country from the Hapsburg empire. Ferenc Kazinczy, considered the founder of the Hungarian language, worked in Sátoraljaújhely as the chief country archivist for 16 years.

25 Arpad utca

The biggest draw is that my mother and her family spent a good part of their life in the town before crossing the border to Slovakia and later entering Germany as refugees.

Three and a half hours later, I stepped off the train from Budapest into another world. Signs posted on locked gates warned of dogs, and as I walked along the sidewalk, I heard them barking angrily at me.  The shops were closed; not many people were outside. Partly because of the cold, I imagined as I pulled on my mittens and hat.  It was freezing. But I also sensed a more guarded atmosphere, and I felt less likely to blend in as I did in Budapest, save when I opened my mouth.  My pronunciation of what few Hungarian words I knew must be painful to hear.

Gates

The owner of the guest house where I stayed didn't speak English, nor did most people I met.  But she did speak German, and when I didn't understand the Hungarian, she tried out some German on me.  The room where I stayed was well heated, almost too well heated.  Too cold outside.  Too hot inside.  Walking briskly was a healthy medium.

I set out to find the streets where my mother lived, turning down Arpad utca, and continuing because I spotted a bazaar set up with clothes, vegetables, fruits, pots and pans galore. The merchants (is this too formal a word to call them?) were entertained by me taking photos.  One man posed with his upright bundle of brooms made of twigs.  They reminded me of the story a Hungarian woman had told me about St. Nicholas's day on December 6--that children would receive miniature versions of these brooms festooned with chocolates. There were cauldrons for gyulas, and lots of stalls with clothes. 

Mozes Teiteblbau's tomb is also in the old Jewish cemetery in Sátoraljaújhely; he was a rabbi who miraculously healed the young Lajos Kossuth who was deathly ill, and predicted the boy would become a great statesman. And there were once a great many Jews who lived in Sátoraljaújhely, but all of them were rounded up during WWII and put on trains north to Auschwitz.

After WWI and the Treaty of Trianon divvied up Hungarian territory to other countries, Sátoraljaújhely was divided as well, and the town that became part of Slovakia was renamed Nove Mestro.  I walked down Rakoczi street, where my grandmother owned a store, all the way across the border.  On one side was a sign that read "Hungary" with a bar through it, and on the other was "Slovakia". I saw the smaller railroad station by the side of the tracks, which is where the Jews of Sátoraljaújhely were loaded up on trains.

I found an open bar to use the restroom, warm up, and have a drink. Then I set out once more despite the dimming light at 3:30 pm; I would not have much daylight left.  The underground cellars were closed up tight, as were the museums that I could have visited, and the 13th century church, too. But I only had to phone, as they tried to help me do at the tourist information office in town, when I asked to visit the old Jewish cemetery.  It was thanks to them that I had a place to stay at all; they had help me arrange the accommodations& Privát Guesthouse, 3980 Sátoraljaújhely, Dózsa György u. 17.

Downtown, Kossuth square

I went to the 5 pm service at the Greek Orthodox Catholic Church, which dominates Kossuth square in the center of town.  Although I didn't understand a word of the service, I knew the parts of the mass so well from growing up Catholic. There were a great many dressed up older women, and only one youngster as far as I could see.

Norpan's delights

And the next morning, I had a delicious fish paprika stew served over noodles. It was second only to the meal that Katalin later made me in her home. Gabor in the tourist office sent me to Norpan, a delicious bakery on Rakoczi street. And then back at the guest house, I met a wonderful Hungarian gentleman who is a physician and professor in Washington, D.C.  He grew up in Sátoraljaújhely, and he told me a great deal about the area and about Hungary as we rode the train together--him to Eger and me to Budapest.