Hard-luck Hungarians brew some lemonade

Perched atop Gellert Hill in Budapest is the Liberty Statue, a bronzed figure of a woman holding a palm leaf with both hands. While this fetching image might seem to be a heart-warming symbol of freedom to the casual visitor, the reality is quite different. 

Initially, it was constructed in 1947 to commemorate the liberation of Hungary from the Fascist Nazi regime by the Soviets in WWII. However, that was before they realized that their "rescuers" had no intentions of leaving anytime soon, and that they had to endure the Communist ideology that the new bosses imposed. Ah, the sad reality of being a perennial loser in armed conflicts. ("In the next war, make sure we're not on your side", a walking tour guide sarcastically commented, only half-jokingly).

There is a happy ending to this tale though. In 1991, the last Soviet troops left Hungary, bringing with it not only independence, a painful transition to a capitalist economy, but also a unique dilemma. What should be done to the countless Communist-era statues (including Lady Liberty) that towered over public squares and parks, their Big Brother-like presence a constant reminder of oppression?

The initial overwhelming sentiment was to destroy all these statues, as a means to erase the bad memories. But then someone argued, these statues are part of history, and wouldn't it be fun to put them all side-by-side in one place, as a reminder of the dark past? (And perhaps make some money off curious tourists). 

This idea gained currency, and thus was born Memento Park (or Statue Park), situated about an hour's ride outside Budapest. The park operates a bus service that leaves from Deak Ferenc at 11am everyday, with optional guided tour which is well worth the extra cost.

The statues at Memento Park did evoke a sense of awe in me, both for their sheer size and notoriety of the people they depict. Although it was certainly no picnic under Communist rule, nowadays the locals feel free to laugh at the symbols that used to torment them. 

The one to the left is officially the Republic of Councils monument. When first placed in City Park, its immense back side did not make it popular with families enjoying their Sunday afternoons. 

However, here inside Statue Park, this is the most photographed monument, and has been nicknamed The Coatroom Attendant. With some imagination and from a certain angle, the gargantuan statue looks like a man running after someone, yelling "You forgot your scarf, sir!!". 

Consider another memento that won't evoke any nostalgia -  the so-called "people's car" , the Trabant. Owning one required a down payment of one-half of the sticker price, then twiddling your thumbs for 6 to 8 years before taking delivery. No word if choosing a specific color resulted in a longer delay. 

Now the Trabant, with its mediocre performance and smoky engine, is considered a symbol of the failures of centralized planning. A popular joke goes like this:

"How do you double the value of a Trabant?"
"Easy, fill up the tank with gas".

How about our friend Lady Liberty? Why was she left on top of Gellert Hill and not made to suffer the same ignominious fate as her peers?

Perhaps the Hungarians thought it fitting to have an eye-catching symbol of freedom visible to everyone, so the inscription on the plaque was simply changed to something more apt.

It now reads, "To the memory of all of those who sacrificed their lives for the independence, freedom, and success of Hungary."

Amen to that, and to the further expansion of Memento Park. While the past can never be erased, it's time to adopt a capitalist mindset and pack in the crowds who are eager to gawk at the Communist era's relics - for a price.

Pick your Pintxos in Old Town San Sebastian

"Choices, choices...", I sighed, as I surveyed the numerous plates laid neatly side-by-side on the bar at Tamboril, a restaurant just off the main square in old town San Sebastian. "So many pintxos to try", referring to the elaborately-prepared, colorful bite-sized creations that rested on each plate, "and only three meals a day".

Tamboril was the second stop on my lunch hour, preceded by a drink of txakoli (a cloudy white wine) and a taste of two dishes at another bar. Known as tapas in all of Spain, these appetizers were referred to as pintxos in San Sebastian, a charming seaside city located in the Basque country, a region in the northern part of Spain where the eponymous language rules.

In Basque country, there is a unique way of presenting and ordering pintxos. Instead of the dishes being enclosed inside a glass case, tradition dictates that they be laid out on the bar. Patrons are handed a plate and go from one end of the bar to the other to pick whatever pintxos appeal to their eyes and stomach, socializing along the way with other customers.

Once they have finalized their choices, depending on the bar, the attendant either adds up the bill based on the price of each dish (if prices are not the same), or waits until after the patron finishes eating and simply counts the number of pintxos consumed. The latter was more prevalent in the past, but since it wasn't quite fool proof (i.e. toothpicks stuffed inside pockets were not uncommon), thus I experienced it only once.

With all these dishes begging to be tasted, I decided that instead of eating sit-down meals at restaurants, a more ideal strategy would be to go on a pintxo crawl for every lunch and dinner during my visit to San Sebastian.

In addition to variety, the pick 'n choose method eliminated the guesswork involved in choosing food from a foreign language menu, and made for quicker meals - in just half an hour you're done and off to the next joint. For lunch and dinner I'd hit three different places, ordering a couple of pintxos in each one, along with a drink which was either the above-mentioned txakoli or low-alcohol cider.

Ah, the selecting part - that's where I was gripped by moments of indecision, especially if they all looked delectable. One personal guideline is to opt for the more elaborate creations (as the pics hopefully illustrate) instead of the more typical croquettes, Spanish omelet or jamon iberico straddling a piece of bread. Or sometimes I'd chose based on how colorful a particular pintxo looked, and hope for the best.

Newbies to the Basque pintxo culture could be forgiven for being squeamish at the thought of other people's errant fingers brushing against adjacent pieces of food, or wonder exactly how many hours the pintxos have been sitting around, but unlike other regions of Spain, tradition has overcome efforts to eliminate the practice here.

Another surprising part is that waste (napkins, toothpicks) are simply disposed of by chucking them on the floor. However, it is said that the quality of an establishment could be measured by how much detritus adorned its floors.

With the concentration of establishments in old town San Sebastian, It's quite hard to chose among them. There are a couple of ways around this - one can take a somewhat pricey two hour pintxo tasting tour with like-minded foodies that goes to five or six different bars and samples two or three dishes at each one.

A cheaper alternative would be to spend significant time, as I did,  in between meals consulting the website Todopintxos which suggests various routes for pintxo discovery, and where voters rate individual dishes and places. The effort is very much worth it, this I can personally attest to, as I smile at the memories of the delicious pintxos and pat my stomach contentedly.

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