Flashback, Euro!

MOST of you don't know it, but I was born in Hungary in 1955.

My father, who had defected to France in 1947, had come back the following year and was arrested and placed in a detention/concentration/camp for political prisoners and spent the next 6 years at hard labor. 


After "Uncle Joe" died in 53, Nikita Khrushchev came into power and denounced Stalin, declared an amnesty and he was released in 54.  I was born the following winter.




Hungary revolted in October 1956 and the Hungarian communist party called in the Russians to 'stabilize' the situation.  Of course what followed was a very bloody revolution that was beat down by the military.  Tanks in Budapest, Molotov cocktails, a shooting war.



At this time a quarter million Hungarians fled the country, my family included.

DURING my travels in Europe, I found many vestiges of the cold war.





Old military blocks, border check points now rusting and decaying, military equipment and museums.


 

On the outskirts of Budapest there stands a park dedicated to that era.

You can view black and white period films depicting communist superiority, how to rat out your neighbor/family, the procedures for spying on your friends, where to search for contraband, in the flour jar, the sugar bowl, the false bottomed drawers.  How to clandestinely record the discussions of dissidents, where to contact the secret police.



There are just a few remaining of the thousands of mammoth statues dedicated to the USSR, the communist party, Stalin, the worker.



Just before returning to Canada, we had a chance to view this unusual exhibit and believe me, it was frightening.  There was no opportunity during the occupation to travel, to operate a business, to worship as you pleased, to talk without recriminations.  In essence, there was no freedom.  You could be turned in at any time for any reason.  In fact many people did just that.

We have no idea what that was like.

Of course in due time, the "Iron curtain" as Winston Churchill called it after WW2, fell into a crumbling mass of rubble and for all intents and purposed into history.  Walking through the communist park was a grim reminder of living in an oppressed society, and made me glad my family had fled the country and allowed me to grow up in an open age, where I could earn a decent living, play out my dreams and ambitions and make my own choices.

WE joked about it, poked fun at it, while we were there, most of us too young to remember, but of course, for those that lived through the decades after the war, I'm sure it wasn't a laughing matter.