Fathers and Revolutions

by carla edwards (Australia)

Making a local connection Hungary

The task was an easy one, deliver a fellow traveller in Budapest say our goodbyes and head back to Paris. Not one to prebook but to leave options open for the adventure to unfold, an hour or so out of Budapest my companion went through the cheap accommodation sites looking for cheap accommodation in an interesting area. Phone call made, room secured I navigated to the hotel on the hill with a view of the city in the distance. We were on the edge of the Buda side of the city. Breakfast was a buffet for an extra cost. “We have to eat somewhere, why not here?” *** Entering the restaurant area I said my good morning to the older man behind the bar who informed me tea and coffee can be dispensed from the machine at the other end of the bar. “Thank you, I’ll have some of your juice first. You speak good English, much better than my Hungarian.” “Yes, it’s better than my Russian,” he replied. Perplexed I continued to the buffet and spied the salami. “Real Hungarian salami?” I asked with humour. “This is our paprika salami. Wait, I’ll cut you some fresh pieces. Go sit, I’ll bring it to you.” Breakfasting with my companions celebrating the safe arrival in a city we’d never been to before or was even on the radar until two weeks earlier, we discussed a plan to spend the day sightseeing. “I’ll meet you in the car, I want to chat to the server a little more.” “Ok, don’t be long,” he said hopefully. “Can you tell me why your English is so good?” I asked the elderly man. “I get by,” he replied. “My sons live in England and I visit them regular. I have a granddaughter there and I need to speak English with her so I practise. Where have you come from? America?” “No, Australia. We’re only in Budapest to drop off our companion and then we have to be back in Paris in two days. We’ve just driven over via Dachau and Salzburg.” “My mother was in Dachau.” “Oh my goodness, this is the universe bringing us together. Our young companion was distraught with the site and records of what went on. I must get him to speak with you before we leave. Tell me more.” “My mother was Jewish and was taken there. Then when she was released she met my father. They married and had us six children. You’re from Australia, my nephew is there.” “How did he come to be in Australia?” “His mother divorced my brother and took her children to live there. He’s a film maker and has won awards. Have you heard of him? Peter Hegedüs. It was for his film, Grandfathers and Revolutions.” “No I haven’t. My phone’s upstairs. Let me get it and let’s connect on Facebook and stay in touch. I love a good story.” I go up to the room to pack my things and do a quick bit of research on Peter Hegedüs and Grandfathers and Revolutions. I go out to the car and tell the young companion he MUST go and speak to the server to hear his side of the story of Dachau. Returning to the restaurant, “Peter Hegedüs teacher of film in Brisbane?” I ask him. “Yes, that’s him. Very clever man.” “Grandfathers and Revolutions his documentary about the Prime Minister in 1956 who ordered the Russian Army to quash the People’s Revolution?” “Yes.” “So your father was András Hegedüs, the Prime Minister?” “Yes." An enquiring silence sat between us, I wanted to know so much more but I was on a strict time limit. Only 5 more minutes was allowed. “Yes my father was the Prime Minister. After that event we were forced to move to Russia for a few years. That’s why my Russian is not as good now as my English. When you get back contact Peter and tell him we met." "Well, we better get a photo to show him. Let's stay in touch, I want to know more. I think I want to come back to hear the story." "That would be good."