My only frames of reference for judging Communist Hungary in 1973 was to compare it to East Berlin in 1962 and Moscow and Leningrad, which I visited in the winter of 1970. East Berlin, the year after the wall was built, was empty and sterile. And I know that housing conditions in the USSR in 1970 were terrible, but I wasn’t in anyone’s dwelling units then, so all I saw were the public sections of the cities. I was not restricted in any way, so I made my way around the two Russian cities anywhere I wanted to go. The streets were busy, everyone seemed well-dressed, the stores were busy, restaurants were filled, I went to the ballet, to museums, to the circus. I was surprised at how relaxed and liveable it seemed from the eyes of a visitor. On the other hand, the elderly women cleaning the streets at dawn, the concierge on every hotel floor, the lack of laughter in the streets, and the fact that each shop was government owned made it clear that this was not Kansas.

Budapest in 1973 was different. It could have been Chicago or Boston. It was alive, there were what appeared to be private stores and restaurants, people smiled and laughed. I felt a bit off center because there were no familiar labels and no western cars, so there was some feeling of being in a parallel universe. But it seemed separate but equal.

I wasn’t there long enough to do everything, but I did do quite a lot. I ate in restaurants that looked like this

where I could get a full, multi-course meal with wine for $3.

I went to the opera

where I saw Don Giovanni (I think) in Hungarian, which made it sound to me like they were using made up syllables. The opera, pictured above as it looks today, was unrestored and drab in 1973. I was able to get into the Doheny Street Synagogue before it was fixed up after being damaged in World War II, when it was closed to the public, not being used, and still had holes in the roof where water fell on the Bima and the seats. Today, it looks like this

Then, not at all. I was lucky to get in. There was a workman doing something and he opened the door for me.

On our more recent trip to Budapest, Edie and I went to the opera and toured the synagogue. To say it was night and day is to understate the differences.

From Budapest, I went to Prague by train. Night and day again. I think I will tell the Prague story tomorrow and then come back to 2025.