View Larger Map
Monday, August 19th - Vienna to Gyor, Hungary, 9269 km
I am up and packed early so that Robert can leave for work on time. We eat a breakfast of toast and cereal while watching Sky News from England. The leaders of the Russian coup have been broadcasting a “Declaration of the Soviet Leadership” on state radio all morning. Tanks have rolled into Moscow and paratroopers have been dropped by the hundreds. For some reason, the coup leaders have not arrested Russian Federation President Boris Yeltsin. He has arrived at Moscow’s White House and announced to the nation that a reactionary, unconstitutional coup has occurred. He has asked the military not to participate in the coup and has called for a general strike with a demand to let Mikhail Gorbachev address the people.
We both took deep sighs after listening to the developments. There is so much tension there. It is a real powder keg, and I am definitely moving closer to it on my journey.
Robert sees me off as he goes to work. I guide myself back to the bike path along the Donaukanal. The canal, being set below the level of the streets, seems to take me right out of the city once I am on it. Vienna has the most pleasant entry/exit route of any major city I have visited because of it. It is a peaceful experience cycling on it, while I hum the Waltz of the Blue Danube.
The canal rejoins the main river ten kilometres south of the core and the trail again is at the same level as the roads. The river heads east to the Czechoslovak border just outside of Bratislava, the capital of the Slovak province. I have no visa to enter the country so at the town of Bad Deutsch-Altenburg (love that name) I leave the train and take a small highway away from the river that will detour me around Bratislava.
The scenery in generally flat and the traffic light. The day is sunny and I have a slight tailwind. I reach the Hungarian border at Nickelsdorf around 12:30 with 78 km behind me. The border guards are efficient and brief and now I am on Hungarian soil, somewhere on the Hungarian plain. I continue at my steady pace towards the town of Mosonmagyarovar, which have way between the border and tonight’s destination – Gyor.
I pass a couple farmers and people waiting at bus stops. They wave at me, something I did not see in Austria. It must have been a strange and strained partnership, the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Hungarians seem open and welcoming, the opposite of Austrians. Until recently, Budapest and Vienna were to co-host a world’s Fair in 1995 but earlier this year Vienna backed out. Hosting foreigners doesn’t exactly turn them on. Although the weather has been consistently pretty good, riding in Hungary feels like riding out of bad weather into good.
I stop briefly in Mosonmagyarovar (which used to be two towns, Moson and Magyarovar until 60 years ago) for my second light meal since Vienna. I have covered 90 km so far today but I am not tired. There is not much to the town. The older buildings are rather unremarkable, with a chipped an peeling coat of ochre-coloured paint which seems to be the most available paint colour here. The Hapsburg House is one of the few interesting buildings, even though this town is supposedly several hundred years old.
The highway I am on is Hwy 1. It has a fair bit of local traffic on it for the 40 km from this point to Gyor (pronounced "Djewr"). But most of the truck traffic uses the expressway that runs parallel one or two kilometres to the west. These final two hours two smoothly with no surprises. I coast into Gyor around 5 pm and seek out the tourist information office near the city centre.
I am directed to a small, inexpensive hotel in the centre with space in their storage room for my bicycle. The proprietor is an older fellow with minimal English but he is warm and friendly overall. I shower, change and stroll around the small downtown area looking for a place to eat. I come across a three-level McDonald’s restaurant, the largest I have ever seen anywhere. It is packed with people stuffing
their faces with processed cardboard and meat byproducts and imitation cheese. Apparently, McDonald’s represents American freedoms to many over here and capitalism and consumerism is still enjoying a honeymoon in the former East Block. I hope they get over it soon.
After a simple meal in a small Hungarian restaurant, I return to the lobby of the hotel where the television is on. The broadcast is in Hungarian and probably has the attention of every household in Hungary this evening. I don’t know a single word in Hungarian, other than “goulash”, but the images tell a lot. Boris Yeltsin is standing on a tank of loyal troops along with other dignitaries making some sort of proclamation. There is no one around to translate but it is clear he has not been arrested. Gennady Yanayev, the spokesperson and one of the key players of the coup, also makes a press statement but, unlike Yeltsin, his posture is weak and his hands shaky as he reads his statement. Things do not seem to be going smoothly for the coup, which is encouraging.
There is nothing much to see or do on this Monday night. I am tempted to find a local bar and try to find other English-speaking patrons to chat with, but my 138 km ride is taking its toll on a full stomach. I relax in my room in preparation for tomorrow’s ride into Budapest.
PHOTO 1: Danube floor line marked on trees near river
PHOTO 2: pub in Mosonmagyarovar
PHOTO 3: Hungarian border
PHOTO 4: on the Danube near Gyor
PHOTO 5: church near Gyor
PHOTO 6: square in Gyor
PHOTO 7: finally, something not painted ochre
PHOTO 8: Gyor streetscape
PHOTO 9: Gyor Benedictine Grammar School
PHOTO 10: If I read Hungarian, I'd tell you what this is
PHOTO 11: Catholic cathedral
No comments:
Post a Comment