Wednesday 6 August 2014

Budapest (Part 5)

It’s not often that one gets invited to a gypsy wedding. Or, more to the point, that a gypsy wedding invites itself to your event.
Our first day in Budapest we drove out into the countryside about 35 kilometers to the Domonyvolgy area. This is a picturesque valley close to the former summer residence of Queen Elisabeth in Gödöllő. It is also where a lot of the residents of Budapest have their summer homes (what we would consider cabins) close by the cooler lakes and ponds (it was 30 degrees plus while we were in Budapest – in June). We were going out to the Lazar Equestrian Park (Lazar Lovaspark) to see a show and beautiful Lippizaner and Hungarian Warmblood breed horses. The Lazar Brothers are famous for their carriage-racing, somewhat akin to chuck wagon racing at the Calgary Stampede. They put on a bit of a (very circus-like) show, complete with archer on galloping horseback and a comedy routine with a donkey.

When we first arrived we were greeted with small glasses of apricot and apple brandies called palinka. They urged us also to take a salty-doughed lump of cake called pogacsa. The brandy should be patented to be used in countries where they suffer greatly from myriad intestinal parasites. This stuff would not only purge their guts of anything the least pestilent but could also be used for taking asphalt off roads. It was fierce – and at (I was told) about 85% proof, no more than a small glass was required to acquire quite the buzz. It became obvious what the bread was for. The salty thick dough served the purpose of keeping the stuff down and also that of alleviating the caustic effect on one’s intestines. Though I appreciated a lot of the Hungarian cuisine, I will not be rushing out to buy any of this any time soon.

We had also noted when we arrived that there was wonderful music being played somewhere around the area. I had originally thought that it was for our benefit – it was lovely infectious music to which you wanted to twirl and dance – Romani music, with touches of Spanish flamenco. But .. . . we discovered that there was a gypsy wedding occurring in the pastures out behind the main house. We arrived a the Lazar’s about 1:00 in the afternoon. It became obvious that the wedding partying had been going on for some time before we arrived. And that their tolerance for palinka was much higher than mine! The bride was gorgeous, courteous, and indulgent of her new groom and his groomsmen – who were all rowdy and loud, with a lot of good-fella slapping of backs, and a lot of sexual innuendo.

We were to sit on bleachers around the dirt track on which the horses would be performing. The wedding, en masse, invited themselves to be part of our group and sat amongst us, smiling and gesturing, and none of us understanding a word they were saying.  But, despite some rather volatile arguing, they were a happy lot and included us in the conversations, though all we could do was nod our heads and provide congratulatory handshakes. The dust was thick and plentiful so the bride moved sedately into the back row. I am amazed that even from there her dress stayed white.

At one point in the performance, a woman rode a horse out into the middle of the ring. She was playing the role of Queen Sisi (actually Empress Elisabeth of Austria), a very benevolent royal much loved by the Hungarians. She was very beautiful, cared a great deal about her people, and lived quite a tragic life, finally being stabbed to death. As the host explained, alternately in English and Hungarian, what her role was in Hungarian history; and she had her horse climb on stands and twirl circles, the gypsy menfolk made remarks.

“Ooooohh, Sisi,” they smirked, shaking their hands at the wrist, along with other remarks that made the poor woman either smile indulgently or blush. But their time to blush was coming – at least the groom’s.

One of the features of the Lazar show was to involve members of the audience. One of the Lazar horsemen demonstrated his dexterity with a long bull-whip, culminating in the ability to take a bottle of wine off a tree stump with one snap of the whip. Then it was time for someone from the audience. The bride nominated her groom, who was drunk and reluctant and barely able to stand. After much cajoling, his groomsmen finally picked him up, themselves reeling and unsteady, and bodily carried him into the ring. They then stood to one side, cigarettes dangling from lips, and urged him on. It took the groom three tries before he, sloppily, was able to tweak the bottle from the stump. This resulted in much questioning of his manhood.

The second audience member was a woman of our group. She strode out into the ring and without much ado, plucked the bottle of wine from the stump on the very first try. Even the horseman was impressed. Well, she was from Texas and did ride horses and did say she was familiar with whips, but nonetheless the derision the poor groom suffered as a result of being bested by a woman was merciless. It didn’t help that his bride smirked as broadly as the Texan.


After a carriage ride and a visit to the stables, we left. The gypsy wedding was obviously going to continue long into the night and we were hot, dusty, and tired. Also the cake was beginning to lose its affect!













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