Herend

Where: Herend, Hungary

When: July 6, 2017

With: Dave, Pam, Aunt Lee, Uncle Joe, Mary Kate

As I've mentioned in previous posts, the purpose of our trip to Hungary was to go back with my Uncle Joe for his second time since he escaped the country in 1957. He was 13 years old when he was caught up in a protest against Soviet rule in his country. A crowd of men hoisted him up on their shoulders and handed him the Hungarian flag emblazoned with the hammer and sickle of the Soviets. He took out his pocket knife, cut out the symbol, and officially endangered his life by becoming a rebel.

When the Soviets began to round up the rebels, Uncle Joe's mother knew she had to get him out of the country to ensure his safety. So they layered on clothes in the dead of January, boarded a train to the border, and met up with a group trying to escape the country. Except their guide got drunk, led them over the border to Austria, and then back into Hungary, where they were captured by Soviets. By a stroke of luck, they were only held for one night before being released to go back to their homes. Of course, they turned back towards the border, and this time, were able to make it over to Graz, Austria, and eventually to America. 

I've always loved hearing this story of how Uncle Joe came to America, as well as his life in Hungary before the escape. So leaving Budapest to go to his hometown of Herend was probably the day of our trip I was the most excited for. I couldn't wait for more stories of his childhood to emerge as we walked the streets of his village. 

The drive from Budapest to Herend was pretty quick, only about an hour and a half. But it gave us some crazy perspective on how times have changed that Uncle Joe never actually visited Budapest as a kid because they didn't have a car. In fact, our time in Budapest on this trip was the most time he's ever spent in his capital city. 

Once the city gave way to open fields, it was beautiful. The farmland that surrounded us rolled along in a bright green patchwork until it was interrupted by fields and fields of sunflowers. It was stunning (but hard to capture in a moving vehicle!)

When we arrived to Uncle Joe's village of Herend, the roads were narrow, with cute, bright little houses with red roofs. They looked more Spanish style than the cottages I pictured they'd be. 

Our first stop was with Uncle Joe's nephew, George, and his son, Carl. They were in the midst of moving so they just had a quick Hungarian catch-up in the front yard. I loved how similar they were all dressed - clearly related! 

We then took a short drive through half of town. We passed the post office Uncle Joe's mother worked in, and the house his uncle lived in. We heard a story about how Uncle Joe and his mother used to make palinka (Hungarian moonshine) in their bathtub and at night, carry it through the streets to Uncle Joe's uncle's house for bottling. This also led to a story about how Uncle Joe drank the palinka as a small child, thought it was delicious, and only remembers then waking up hours later on the bathroom floor. The whole time, Uncle Joe was talking with his niece Csilly, recounting stories in Hungarian and laughing to themselves.

We made it to the Herend Porcelain Factory with enough time to tour the museum. It's amazing that in this one road village, this incredibly prestigious company exists. The factory and its square straddle the main road with tons of porcelain decor around. 

What better decor for the museum than porcelain?

Csilly's VIP party. 

The museum was small, but beautiful. When looking out into the courtyard in back, Uncle Joe marvelled at how much nicer it looks now. He's well familiar with this factory, as it's where his father, sister, brother-in-law, and niece all worked, as well as countless friends and neighbors growing up. 

The museum gave a brief showing of how the porcelain is made, but as they keep the porcelain recipe a secret, all we really got was a kiln.

The second floor contains the porcelain through the ages. Founded in 1826, this porcelain has been serving royalty, both Hungarian and throughout Europe, for centuries, from Queen Victoria right up to Prince William.

The intricate designs and patterns on the porcelain have become distinctive and recognizable worldwide. 

Some earlier earthenware pots, trying something different but not as distinct.

Lots of vases.

When Csilly worked in the factory, she was a painter. At the end of the museum was a big display case of many of their plate patterns. 

It was at this point, Csilly pulled out her glasses, inspected a couple of them, and I didn't need to understand Hungarian to know that she was indicating the actual plates she painted. So I made her stand with her artwork. 

After the museum, it was mandatory to stop in the "dollar store", the nickname given to the museum shop. Nothing in here costs a dollar, in fact, things cost lots and lots of dollars, but the name comes from the time of communism, when dollars were one of the few currencies allowed in here. It was fun to walk through and see all the porcelain that Aunt Lee and Uncle Joe have had throughout their house from years of collecting. It was also fun for Dave and I to pick out which ones we liked best.

After the porcelain factory, the Uncle Joe tour-of-the-town continued. As we turned down the one main road again, we came to a small alleyway that barely fit our cars. At the end of the alley was a fenced in corner plot. This was the house Uncle Joe grew up in. He says its undergone a lot of work and is basically unrecognizable now, but the spot is the same. The only thing he could really comment on was that the garden he thought was massive as a kid was not as big as he remembered having to tend.

One of the big reasons the house needed renovations was that during World War II, the house was bombed. Uncle Joe was just a baby, but when the air raids came, his sister, Csilly's mother, would scoop him up and run him outside to a tree to take cover. One day, she came back and the house was half caved in. A short while later, another raid came, and she didn't have time to get out before the planes came. On that day, the tree they usually took shelter under was bombed. Completely crazy. 

When we came out of Uncle Joe's street, he looked to the right and chuckled. As a kid, he said he though the church was so far away. Looking now, it was just up the road, no more than a quarter mile. 

The church sits on top of a small hill that Uncle Joe used to sleigh ride down. He thought that hill was massive too and was surprised to see it wasn't. However, he one time broke his leg going down that hill, so I can understand why he'd think it was bigger than it was.

We pulled in next to the church to see where Uncle Joe spent time as an altar boy, ringing the church bells. The front door of the church had a big plaque with a list of names of those who died in both World Wars from Herend. 

Sadly there was a mass going on so we couldn't really explore or take photos. All Uncle Joe could tell us was how, again, he thought the church was so massive as a kid and that when he had to walk the stations of the cross, he felt like it took forever. 

Across the street from the church was Uncle Joe's school. Another funny story that came to his mind as we were standing there was when one day, Uncle Joe's nephew, Csilly's brother Freddy, decided to take a trip from his house to Uncle Joe's. He was a little kid, no more than five, and he grabbed his wheelbarrow and headed out the door. The only thing was he didn't have on any pants. As he wheeled up the street, the neighbors were chuckling at him, but they burst into all out roaring laughter when, as he reached the church, he solemnly lowered his wheelbarrow, made the sign of the cross, and then continued on. 

As we were leaving the church, we got a really special treat when the church bells started to chime. It was so magical to hear them in real life at this beautiful time of day, particularly after all the stories of how Uncle Joe used to ring them himself. 

The next stop on our Herend tour was another reason we had all come on this trip: to spread Uncle Joe's mother's ashes at his father and sister's graves. 

The cemetery was beautiful, sitting up on a hill with beautifully tended tombstones, covered in ferns and flowers. 

First, we stopped at Uncle Joe's father grave, who passed away when Uncle Joe was ten. 

Next was Uncle Joe's sister and her husband, Csilly's parents. 

We then crossed the street to the "newer" cemetery in the town to visit Csilly's brother Freddy's grave. This side had views on the big rolling farmlands. Uncle Joe pointed out the cliffs and forest in the distance that his dad used to take him to as a kid. 

While we watched them visit their family's graves, it was crazy to realize that Uncle Joe had this whole family over here that is just as close to in relation to him as I am and yet he hadn't seen any of them in 40 years. 

A nice moment between father and daughter.

It was all so peaceful and tranquil, we joked how it must have been tough to leave this beautiful setting for Newark, New Jersey. But Uncle Joe just chuckles to himself, I think cause he knows that he'd take the freedom he had in America over the communism he experienced growing up here any day, scenic views or not. 

After a nice traditional dinner with Csilly, we said our tearful goodbyes and headed on to our next destination. It was a short stop in Herend, but we were all so happy to have seen it. It was more beautiful than I had even imagined.