The Eighth Tribe, 1981 (8. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)

1981-10-01 / 10. szám

seems they have a strike every day. We are afraid that the Russians will intervene there.” Another Hungarian put it this way, “It’s really a no-win situation for the Russians. If they don’t get involved in Poland, the Communist Party might totally lose control and then what’s going to happen? And if they do get in there, who is going to feed millions of Poles?” There is concern that Soviet in­tervention in Poland may result in a hardening of Hungarian internal policies. An elderly barber at a fashion­able Vaci Street shop said, “Right now, things are going well in Hunga­ry. Our government has a philos­ophy of ‘live and let live.’ We are looking to the West more and more. We want trade and want to travel.” Indeed, the only queue I saw in Budapest was at the Ibusz travel agency, people lining up to buy tour tickets to the West. Last year, 16 million tourists and Western businessmen came. AMERICAN money helped build a new Hilton Hotel in Budapest. At a popular outdoor cof­fee house in Balalonfr.red, a resort city at Lake Balaton, west of Buda­pest. a band played nothing but American disco music when I vis­ited one evening. Vocals were in English. Better restaurants in Budapest and at Lake Balaton carry the menu in two languages — Hungarian and German. Some signs are posted in German. Hundreds of thousands of Austri­ans and Germans visit Hungary each year to listen to Gypsy music and enjoy spicy Hungarian cuisine. At the Baricska restaurant near Balatonfured I saw a busload of West German tourists being enter­tained by a fiery Gypsy band. One young German summoned the leader and demanded that the band play ‘‘Deutschland, Deutsch­land Uber Alles” — the German national anthem. Despite the loss of a nice tip, the Gypsy declined. In Balatonfured, László Dorogi has the only real American-style ice cream store. It is a private enter­prise. The ice cream is made of real cream, nuts and fruits. Dorogi left Hungary in 1956 and lived in Las Vegas 20 years. He returned four years ago, bought a home and set up shop. Dorogi kept his American citizen­ship but is considered a Hungarian by the government there. “Business is pretty decent,” he said, “but I do miss the States. I liked it there. I liked it a lot.” Dorogi could sell his property but the law says he cannot convert his Hungarian forints into dollars and take them out of the country. One reason Hungary is attracting tourists is because prices are gener­ally cheap. Top theater tickets can be had between $1.50 to $4, depending on the show. Movie tickets are under 70 cents. A ride on the streetcar costs about 3 cents. A decent meal can be had for $2. I rented a villa at Lake Balaton ($13 for three per day) and it had two bedrooms, two bathrooms and a terrace. ★ ★ ★ I counted about two dozen Ameri­can movies shown in Budapest, in­cluding “Coma,” “All that Jazz” and “Kramer vs. Kramer.” In comparison, there were about a dozen Soviet films playing. Other movies included the latest French, Italian and English films. In a small nightclub in Buda, the pianist played Hungarian Gypsy tunes as well as Israeli folk songs. I found this somewhat unusual, considering that Hungary and Israel maintain no official relationship. Yet, a Hungarian TV crew was dispatched to Israel recently and a report in a Hungarian magazine about life in Israel was without any anti-Israeli bias. The Hungarian government has restored churches damaged during World War II. There is considerable church attendance in Hungary, de­spite an official atheist policy. I saw many offerings to a Hun­garian saint — Saint Margit — such as flowers and statues. Hungary is the only socialist country that permits a seminary for rabbis. Sándor Scheiber, director of the rabbinical school in Budapest, said his staff has been training not only Hungarians to become rabbis but several Soviet, Polish and Czecho­slovak students. “The Hungarian state does con­tribute to our expenses,” Scheiber said, sitting in an old leather chair and surrounded by books, some of them hundreds of years old. “Although this is a nation of Catholics, Hungary has about 60,000 Jews. (There were about 800,000 before the Holocaust.)” ★ ★ ★ There is full employment in Hun­gary. The average salary is about $150 per month. Most wives work and people often have second jobs. There is a shortage of public housing in Budapest — and private­ly owned apartments can sell for $25,000 and up. The waiting to get public housing can take years. But if one does get an apartment from the state the rent is low as $20 a month. Some people who are desperate for decent housing sign contracts with the elderly stipulating that they will take care of them for life provided the apartment is willed to them. Sociologists blame a high suicide rate, divorces and alcoholism on the apartment shortage. Yet, there are many who not only own an apartment in Budapest but a summer home at a resort. Some earn their money legally, employed by the state. Others do well in small private businesses. Still others beat the system. “Take a restaurant manager who works for a state-owned joint,” one Hungarian explained. “This guy knows that a certain amount of meat is going to be used each day. So he’ll give less meat for each portion and pocket the rest. “Or he could buy meat under the table from his local butcher and make money on it when it is sold at the restaurant. “The government knows it, of course, but it tolerates it unless this guy gets too greedy, because of its ‘live and let live’ policy.” An elderly woman who sells lot­tery tickets told me some Hungar­ians have found a clever way to “legalize” their wealth. “Let’s assume someone has made a lot of money by ripping off the system,” she said. “He is afraid to spend it because the government could ask, ‘Where did you get the money?’ “So he would find somebody who won a nice sum in a lottery drawing and would actually buy the winning ticket — the original winner still would have the money and the buyer would have the ticket.” She winked. “Hungary is full of lottery winners.” In the fashionable Fifth District near Váci Utca, I saw brand-new Skodas, a Czechoslovak car, adver­tised for $3,300. The car can be purchased on the spot with a 50 percent downpayment. More popular autos — such as Fiats made under license in Poland — have waiting lists up to five years, even though payment is in cash.

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