Our Weekend with Durhams in Hungary

This cute flowershop was right next door to the entrance to the Durhams' apartment complex's courtyard.

They lived on about third floor, with their door opening off the corner.

As we were out walking, this group of Irish kilts went by playing something Irish, we assumed in honor of St. Patrick's Day.

Ed Durham told us that Hungarians are depressed.

I think it's no wonder, with all the reminders of the Holocaust and World Wars around, from statues to memorials.

This one had just been put up by the government, in memory of the holocaust, with the black bird of prey representing Germany. The Jews were very upset about it, because they feel the Hungarian government and people were as much to blame for the murders of Jews as the Germans. There were many papers and much litter around this area, strewn by angry Jews.

I can see their point. Germans came in and did their dastardly deeds, but many Hungarians simply turned a blind eye, or were accomplices in some way.

Down to the right is the American embassy.

Here is the Hungarian Parliament building.

It was late afternoon, and we got to watch the soldiers taking down the Hungarian flag.

Here they are getting ready to fight the wind to fold it up.

Across from the Parliament building is this other building that had been riddled with bullet holes during the War. This particular corner wall is a memorial wall, with bullets planted into old bullet holes. Other old bullet holes have been patched and plastered over.

Then we walked down to the river. Budapest is actually a combination of two towns, Buda and Pest.

We noticed these iron shoes along the riverside, and Ed explained that they were a memorial to the Jews who had been murdered at that spot.

We listened to Ed's horrifying tale of how the Jews were herded down and lined up along the riverside here.

They had to take off their shoes (because in those days shoes were valuable)

and then the Jews were shot and would fall into the river.

To think that their shoes were valued more than their lives!

I walked along the bank, just like the many other people who were clustered around taking pictures,
and my heart broke.
Here was a wee pair of baby shoes, surrounded with flowers and candles.

To think the anti-Semites valued shoes more than the lives of the Jews!
To think they could just line people up like cattle and shoot them till they fell into the river!
Jonathan came walking toward me, (he knows his wife pretty well) and I buried my face in his chest and wept in his arms.

Dear God, help us to never value what people wear (or drive or possess) over the priceless value of their hearts and souls!

May we love people regardless of their apparel,
and stand up for the downtrodden and underdog.