Tag Archives: Holocaust

Eastern Europe, Hungary, Memorials and monuments

Back to Budapest– Cloudy skies, Jewish memorials, quirky toilets, sexist servers, and Soviet monuments… part five

I got a kick out of the Art Toilet– especially the cat’s asshole…

After breakfast, after I did some morning writing, then picked up some vending machine tokens Bill had left over after getting water and a beer from the hotel vending machine. I figured after my walk on Wednesday, I could get something from the machine on the way up to the room.

The temperature had dropped, and the skies were cloudy. It looked like it might rain, so I figured I wouldn’t be walking many miles. To be honest, I wasn’t wanting to walk for that long, anyway. Nevertheless, I set off, and the first place I went to was a square where there was a statue of Archduke Joseph of Austria. On either side of the statue, there were two smaller ones with fountains that looked like they were made of ceramic. I was more impressed with the colorful, smaller, newer statues on either side of the bigger, older one of Archduke Joseph of Austria.

I continued walking and soon found myself near St. Stephen’s Basilica, a beautiful church with a treasury and observation terrace. I didn’t go into the basilica, because you have to buy tickets, and I prefer going to places like that with Bill. But I did take some photos, and I see I got a picture of that basilica in 2009, too…

From 2009…
I noticed this “Stolperstein” in Budapest. I didn’t see any others during our visit, but I’m sure they exist. In Germany, these are all over the place to memorialize people who died in the Holocaust.

I noticed signs for the Retro Museum near the basilica. That was a place I was actually willing to visit without Bill, so I headed in that direction. But, I turned the wrong way and headed further into the residential part of Budapest. Soon, I found myself near Liberty Square, looking at a very moving memorial for people who died in the Holocaust. Some of the papers in this memorial offered English translations.

I kept walking and passed a rather impressive looking playground, next to a large, rather Soviet era building, that didn’t seem to be maintained very well. The map tells me the building was the Exchange Palace. Close to that was the Soviet War Memorial, which commemorates Russian military who served in World War II. Looking at the war memorial brought back eerie flashbacks of my time in 90s era Armenia. A lady with four cute little dogs was also there. I focused my attention on them.

The sky darkened a bit, so I decided to move on. I walked through an unremarkable neighborhood, but noticed an interesting looking Hungarian restaurant called Taste of Hungary. You have to reserve to eat there, but I thought Bill might like it. I also noticed a familiar looking van… Unfortunately, we never got around to visiting the bistro, but maybe if we manage to visit Budapest again, we’ll make it there.

As I walked down the street, it looked like maybe there was a major road that might take me to an undiscovered part of the city, but as I got closer, I realized I was just looking at the Danube River. Soon, I noticed the Parliament building, which had become very familiar. I sighed and turned toward the now familiar Akademie Street, which I knew would get me back to the hotel. My ankle was starting to ache from all the walking, and soon it was painful. I decided it would be best to go take a rest.

I tried to decide if I wanted to eat lunch, but then determined I’d rather just relax for a bit. I got to the hotel and went to use the tokens for the vending machine. Unfortunately, I mistyped my choice, and wound up with a bottle of still water and M&Ms.

It was still late morning when I got back to the hotel. I went to the room, but it wasn’t yet made up, so I grabbed my iPad and peed, and went back to the lobby to wait for a bit. I noticed the housekeeping cart was in the hall, across from our room. I figured they would get to us soon. I played games on my iPad, ate the M&Ms, and drank the water.

After about 45 minutes, I went back to the room. It still wasn’t done, and they were still apparently cleaning the room across from us. I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell had happened in there, because they were doing an unusually thorough job of cleaning. I went back down to the lobby and then decided to take a short walk around, again thinking maybe I should have lunch. But I didn’t want to eat alone, so I went back to the hotel to try again.

Another Jewish memorial.
I made a note to visit this place…

I went back to the hotel… and ordered a large lager, just in case the housekeepers needed more time. When I went to pay for it, I was told one of my 1000 Forints notes is no longer valid. It’s old currency. I made what I’m sure was a hideous face when the lady told me that. Fortunately, I had another 1000 note that is good in 2025. I gave her that to cover the 2173 Forint bill for my beer, and told her to keep the change. I drank the beer, feeling really pissy and wanting to go home. Then, I went back up to the room, expecting that the room might finally be ready.

Below are 1000 Forints notes. The one on the left is no longer valuable. We’re going to send it to Bill’s grandson. Maybe he’ll find it interesting.

Unfortunately, once I got to the room again, they still hadn’t done the room. It was, at that point, after 1:00 PM, and I was feeling kind of cranky, because my ankle was hurting. As I was opening the door, one of the housekeepers appeared and asked if I wanted her to clean the room, or just change out the towels and get more toilet paper. I asked how long it would be before she was ready, and she said ten minutes. I told her she could skip us, because I didn’t want to loiter in the lobby anymore.

With the room situation settled, I took a nice nap. When I woke up, it was raining. I decided that would be a good excuse for us to go around the corner for dinner and eat at the Mercatino Ristorante Enoteca, an inviting looking Italian place very close to our hotel. When Bill got back to the room, that’s exactly what we did.

We walked to the restaurant, but first stopped at a very unusual public toilet near our hotel called Art Toilet. The below photos from from the men’s side, and we didn’t realize it was an actual working toilet until a woman used one of the stalls on the other side, which were identical, except there were toilets instead of urinals. You pay a machine admission, walk through a turnstile, and then get assaulted by the bizarre! There was weird 16 bit computer music playing, too. There was an art store next door, and a location of Madame Tussaud’s wax musuem. I think it was affiliated with Madame Tussaud’s. Have a look…

After we visited the quirky public pay toilet, we walked to the restaurant. We soon found ourselves sitting at a communal booth in the cozy restaurant. It was the kind of place where the tables were situated pretty close to each other, to maximize the number of people who could be served at one time. I understand that is a necessity in a city with as many restaurants as Budapest has, although it can lead to people being “trapped” at their tables, as they don’t want to have to squeeze their way out from between two tables that are close together.

I liked the inside of the Mercatino Ristorante. There were lots of bricks and a beautiful bar area, although it was just for preparing drinks, rather than sitting. The restaurant was pretty small, and I think reservations are probably a good idea there because of that. I got the sense that the manager/proprietor was very money focused, as well as loyal to his locals. He was clearly saving the coveted window seat for a regular who had made reservations.

Both a male and a female server served us. When the female server took a dish that had focaccia bread from us, I commented that I liked it. She hadn’t heard me, so I repeated myself. The male server piped up and said, “She doesn’t speak English very well.” I noticed that the comment offended the female, and she flipped him the bird. She and I privately shared a good laugh, as the male server was oblivious to his colleague’s middle finger salute.

There was an American couple sitting two two tops down from us at the banquette, and when two ladies showed up and said they had reservations, they were seated at the two top between us and the other American couple. The younger lady had asked if they could sit by the window, but the proprietor answered curtly, “No.” I was a bit taken aback by that, but perhaps I shouldn’t have been, after the way the male server had openly insulted his female colleague. I sensed a touch of sexism in that place.

The two ladies were speaking French, but they also spoke English. It turned out they were from Montreal, Canada. The American couple volunteered that they were in Budapest to start a two week cruise on a Viking ship. They asked if we were also on the cruise, and I said that Bill was in Budapest working, and I was tagging along.

The American couple gave off conservative vibes. They were from Florida, and I heard the American man asking about the taxes in Budapest. They only had main courses. The ladies from Canada shared an appetizer and had main courses. Bill and I had a bottle of wine, sparkling water, main courses, and dessert, so when we were paying the bill, we rated a house shot of limoncello. The manager asked us to rate them on Google, which I did. Below are some photos…

Bill had spicy tiger shrimp with black squid ink spaghetti.
I had seafood risotto.
I had pistachio cake for dessert.
Bill had tiramisu.

I liked the restaurant fine, but was a little put off by the rather curt manager and the male waiter. I also didn’t like that they held our wine hostage, and we had to ask them to top us up. Still, the food was good, and it was nice to talk to the Canadian ladies from Montreal. When the American couple left, it was kind of clear that they weren’t fans of our current POTUS… although they were polite about it. We didn’t bring up politics, by the way. The American guy at the other table did, just before he complained about Hungarian taxes.

As we were leaving, the female server and I shared another laugh and a hearty goodbye. I liked her. She clearly has spunk and personality to go with her good looks. I think she’ll go far.

Well, that about does it for Wednesday, September 10th. Stay tuned for part six!

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The Oppenheimers…

I mentioned a couple of posts ago that Bill and I went to Mainz to meet an old friend of mine from my days as a waitress in Williamsburg, Virginia. On our way to his hotel, I happened to notice the plaques (Stolpersteine) featured in today’s post. I haven’t spent a lot of time in Mainz yet, but I did recently discover similar plaques in my own neighborhood of Breckenheim, a suburb of nearby Wiesbaden. That discovery led me down a rabbit hole of a fascinating tale about a local family who escaped the Holocaust.

The Stolpersteine (stumbling blocks) in my neighborhood.

The plaques I discovered in Mainz were in memory of the Oppenheimer family. Father, Wilhelm Gabriel Oppenheimer was born in 1888. His wife, Anna Metzger Oppenheimer, was born in 1896. They also had a daughter named Rosemarie Oppenheimer, who was born on December 9, 1924. Together, the family lived at Schillerplatz 5, which today is a tony address in downtown Mainz, very close to the center of the city.

Just as I did for the Kahn family in Breckenridge, whose plaques I found in August, I looked up the Oppenheimer family’s history. The Kahns were lucky enough to escape the Holocaust and relocated to the United States. The Oppenheimers, unfortunately, were unable to avoid deportation. The three family members are commemorated in Stolpersteine.

In 1939, Rosemarie Oppenheimer left Mainz via Frankfurt on a children’s transport bound for the Netherlands. She had joined other young refugee children at a Quaker school in Eerde to learn how to farm. Oppenheimer and the other youngsters were trained by a Jewish teacher. She had hoped to eventually continue learning in the United States, but World War II prevented her escape.

On April 10, 1943, Rosemarie and other children were deported to Vught Concentration Camp. Vught Camp, which was constructed in 1942, was the only official Nazi camp in northwestern Europe. It was originally divided into two sections– a transit camp designed to hold Jewish prisoners before they departed for Westerbork, another camp– and a security camp, where all of the Dutch and Belgian prisoners were held. Rosemarie Oppenheimer was in the security camp.

On July 17, 1942, Rosemarie was transferred from Vught Camp to Westerbork, another transit camp in northeastern Netherlands, where she stayed for a couple of months. Westerbork was constructed by the Dutch government, and was supposed to serve as a camp for Jewish refugees who had entered The Netherlands illegally. It was used as a staging camp for the deportation of Jews, and from there, Rosemarie Oppenheimer was deported on September 21, 1943. Her final destination was Auschwitz in Poland, where she was ultimately murdered on September 24, 1943. She was just 18 years old.

Rosemarie’s parents, Wilhelm and Anna, also died before they could escape the Nazis. In 1939, they fled to Belgium, but they were captured and sent to Mechelen Transit Camp. The city of Mechelen had a railway hub between Antwerp and Brussels; it served as a convenient place for Jews to be rounded up and deported. Most of the people who ended up at Mechelen were later sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau. Mrs. Oppenheimer was deported in 1942 and died at Auschwitz. Mr. Oppenheimer died on his way to Kosel.

Rosemarie’s older sister, Hilde, was born in 1921. She had gone to the school in Eerde ahead of Rosemarie and was accepted as an apprentice in England in 1939. Hilde was in a group of students who went to England before the war made travel so much more difficult for Jewish people. Unable to get back to the Netherlands, Hilde remained in England and survived.

It would be so easy to miss these “stumbling blocks” that appear in this area. I walked past the ones in my neighborhood for months before I happened to notice them one day while waiting for traffic to clear. I have made it a point to look up the histories of the people behind these inconspicuous memorials scattered around the Frankfurt-Mainz-Wiesbaden areas. They were real people with fascinating and often tragic stories. Given what’s been going on at the southern border within the United States, I think it’s important to read about what happens to people who are declared “illegals” and deported simply for being who they are. I have to admit, reading about the “transit camps” and “detention facilities” for World War II era “illegals” kind of makes my blood run cold. You would think we would have learned something from World War II. Clearly, a lot of people haven’t.

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Spotted on today’s walk around Breckenheim…

It’s amazing what you miss when you don’t pay attention. I recently started taking my dogs on a different walking route. It’s not ideal for dogwalking, since it requires passing through our narrow streeted village, but it does allow us to avoid the busy main drag for at least part of our walk.

Usually, when I’m walking through our village, I’m focused on keeping the dogs out of the street. Our old village has a lot of traffic, especially considering how small it is. Consequently, I don’t always pay attention to the small stuff I could be stumbling across on our daily strolls. Today, I happened to get hung up at a driveway due to a small traffic jam. An Asian couple were maneuvering their large station wagon out of a gated entrance to our narrow street. They happened to intercept an annoyed looking German guy in his van. This was further complicated by a yellow German Post truck coming in the other direction.

I halted the dogs so the three vehicles could get around each other in the tight space. Then I noticed five bronze plaques on the ground. Here’s the second of two pictures I took of them.

Who are these people?

I determined by their names that they were likely a Jewish family and had once lived in Breckenheim. I discerned that they left Breckenheim for the United States. Judging by the dates, I could see that they were driven out of our town due to Nazism.

I just looked up these plaques online and found them listed. According to the plaques pictured above, they all left for the United States, but according to the Wikipedia article I linked (in German– Chrome is your friend), Rosa Kahn actually died in a place called Jacoby’s Nursing and Care Institute in a town that was once called Sayn, but is now known as Bendorf. Judging by my cursory search, Bendorf is located not far from here– it appears to be near Koblenz. Jacoby’s Nursing and Care Institute was a Jewish owned nursing home that was expressly for Jewish people who suffered from “nervousness” and “mental illness”.

Established in 1869, Jacoby’s Nursing and Care Institute ran until 1942, which is also supposedly when Rosa Kahn died. In 1938, all but three non-Jewish workers had to be fired. From 1940, the hospital was part of the Nazi persecution of Jewish people, but it was originally intended for Jewish people who suffered due to people who were ignorant about their beliefs.

Meier Jacoby, a local merchant who started the institute, justified building it, writing “I had often heard that nervous people who grew up in strict Jewish homes reluctantly enjoyed kosher food, that they probably refuse to eat such food or that they believe they have sinned by eating the food that they are teased by less educated patients and guards, especially because of their beliefs, etc. – circumstances that must certainly adversely affect the nervous and mental patients.” Jacoby took in some patients and hired a doctor to oversee their care. Until Nazism took over Germany, it was a good place for Jewish people who needed psychiatric care.

The Jacoby family were themselves able to emigrate to Uruguay via the Soviet Union and Japan. The main building of the hospital was demolished in the 1960s, but a couple of buildings still remain standing in Bendorf, including the ballroom and the synagogue. Sadly, it appears that toward the end of its existence, the nursing home was used to concentrate Jews for deportation to extermination camps. Between March and November 1942, 573 people were sent to camps in the East, while between 1940-1942, 142 people were too sick to travel and died at the hospital. Those who died at the hospital were buried on the grounds, but had no marker for their graves until the late 1980s.

Once the patients were deported, the hospital was used as a hospital for military troops, then as a replacement for the Koblenz hospital that was damaged in the war. In March 1945, the hospital was briefly taken over by American troops, and then in July 1945, French troops took possession. From 1951 until 1997, the site was a boarding school. Since 1999, it’s been a Catholic run nursing home for people with disabilities.

On November 17, 2002, incidentally the day after my wedding, a memorial was erected to honor the 573 people who were deported to Auschwitz and murdered there. Additionally, a plaque with all of the names of the people who died is hanging in the Wintergarten in the facility.

Isn’t it amazing when one story leads to another? I found out all about this simply by stopping and noticing five little plaques on a driveway that I pass all the time while I’m walking my dogs. Maybe some weekend soon, Bill and I can take a day trip to Bendorf and have a look around.

I highly recommend reading this detailed account of the Jacoby Nursing and Care Institute on Bendorf’s official page. The site is available in English, or you can use Google Chrome (2025– the page is no longer working).

Edited to add: my German friend found more information about the Khan family and it turns out Rosa Kahn did manage to escape. She and her husband celebrated their 50th anniversary in New York on February 22, 1943. Breckenheim was a Jewish community for many years before Hitler came to power. Perhaps another woman from the neighborhood died at the nursing home. Wikipedia is not always the end all, be all of information, but at least I learned something new.

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Hangry in Ludwigsburg…

My niece Elise stayed with us for most of this past week.  Today, we had to take her to the train station.  After dropping her off, we decided to go to Ludwigsburg to drop off a bunch of beer bottles that have been empty since December.  Though we had a nice breakfast this morning, we were out and about at around lunchtime.  By the time we got to Heinrich’s Drink Market 3000, I was starting to feel moderately peckish.  I knew my blood sugar was starting to dip when I was barely interested in perusing the international beers.

I happened to mention to Bill that I needed to eat something.  He agreed, so we headed toward our usual haunts in Ludwigsburg’s main square.  Bill usually knows when I’m getting hungry.  I start getting flushed and irritable.  Then I get pale, shaky, and have a resting bitch face.  Finally, I get snappish and start looking confused, nervous, and even frightened.  If I let it go too long, I start to feel very emotional.

Bill wanted to shop around for a place we’d never been before, but I was feeling more and more bitchy until I was in full on hangry mode.  After rejecting one place that looked like it had good food but was very crowded, we finally ended up at an Italian restaurant where we’ve dined before.  It was kind of busy in there and a charming waiter showed us to a table very close to two ladies who were finishing up.  I sat down, buried my face in my hands, and tried not to be too noticeably pissy.

I must have looked seriously irritated, especially since the waiter didn’t give us menus when he seated us.  I just wanted something to get my blood sugar up and was immediately frustrated by how busy the restaurant was.  After a few minutes of us watching him bustle around, tending to a large party of friendly looking Germans, he finally gave us menus.

I quickly decided on a pepper and potato soup, a glass of Montepulciano, San Pellegrino, and basil risotto.  The guy came over to take our order and as soon as I opened my mouth to order the wine and got out two syllables of a six syllable word, he said, “English!”  Before I could say anything else, he dashed away to get us English menus that we didn’t need.

“No! No, that’s not necessary!” I said as he scurried off, further pissing me off, causing more frustration, and making me even more hangry.  I actually felt like crying as he walked away without our order.  He came back a few minutes later and we finally ordered lunch.

While we were waiting for lunch, I went to the ladies room, where I was confounded by the toilets.  In my anxiety-ridden, nervous, flustered, hangry state, I forgot how to tell when one was occupied.  Some very tall lady who was in there with me said in German that the middle stall was free, but that was all I understood in my haste to pee.

I didn’t need to go that badly, actually… just thought it was a good idea…  until I realized there was no toilet paper.  So there I sat, dripping dry.  I stood up and realized that besides being hungry, I was also very dehydrated.  Then when I went to use the sink, I couldn’t get the water to turn off.  It was one of those automatic jobs that make me miss plain old faucets that are easy to figure out when I’m hungry and angsty.

Fortunately, when I got back to the table, the wine, water, and my soup were there.  Bill watched intently as I tried the soup, which was a little bland, but otherwise had just what I needed.  He smiled as the color returned to my cheeks and I very soon stopped looking so tense and upset.

“It never fails.” he said, amused as I perked up.  “It’s like that Snickers commercial was written for you.  It doesn’t take much… just a little bit and you’re back to normal again.”

I turn into a monster when I’m really hangry.

I finished the soup and felt so much better once I was fortified.  As a younger waiter carried the bowl away, I noticed him flash a thumbs up and a smile to the older guy who had seated us.  I kind of wondered if he thought I was a raving bitch or just realized how badly I needed some food.

The second course of risotto for me and ravioli for Bill was equally tasty.  After lunch, we had a round of espresso, and I left the restaurant smiling and feeling a whole lot better.  We detoured through the mall and stopped at the drug store to get some dental floss, which was in and of itself an adventure.

We parked in a different parking garage this trip to Ludwigsburg and, to get to it, we had to pass through a little park that was once the site of a synagogue.  It was destroyed on Kristallnacht on November 9, 1938.  The outline of the building is marked and there’s a commemorative stone tablet there explaining what happened.  People have left flowers and pebbles and in the center of the outline, there are suitcases bearing the names and lifespans of Jews who died in the Holocaust.  I think it’s a very poignant memorial.  For more reading about this synagogue, click here.

Suitcases…

Memorial…

We’re home again and I’m enjoying wine, comforting music, and watching the melting snow.

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