It was the first thing that fell out when I unpacked my purse/guidebook/
cam era bag at home: my palm-size, dog-earred spiral notebook. That was my real passport to Eastern Europe, the one in which I wrote destinations, trains, anything I couldn`t point to and couldn`t say in German,
Czechoslovakian or Hungarian.
On the open page, my best Hungarian, carefully copied from a guidebook, spelled out the words, Etterem Szechenyi, a restaurant on Margaret Island, Budapest`s version of Central Park, in the middle of the Danube River. I walked more than an hour from my hotel to get there, a wonderful journey through the old and new parts of the Hungarian capital, showing my small notebook to a passerby whenever I lost my bearings.
The restaurant was wonderful-a terrace of umbrellas jutting out into the
”lawn” of a park filled with children climbing a giant fallen tree, bicyclists of all ages, strolling families and arm-linked lovers.
That`s an example of the small, low-key pleasures of Eastern Europe. In addition to a spiral notebook, you`ll need a sense of humor, friendliness, patience-and a lack of embarrassment about asking directions to a building sometimes directly in front of you.
Easier for individuals
The good news is that you don`t have to join a package tour to see countries like East Germany, Czechoslovakia or Hungary. As visa and currency barriers collapse, travel is becoming easier for individuals, and autumn is the perfect time for a visit.
Look at it this way, not only is it easy, but you`ll never have to sit through canned ”folkloric” presentations in Eastern bloc versions of Holiday Inns, never see the inside of a tour bus or hear a guide`s spiel about things you didn`t care about in the first place. What you will see is the disbelieving look on the faces of two small boys with their first U.S. dollar bill and clusters of Czechoslovaks standing in front of store windows to watch videocassettes of the history they were forbidden to learn about.
I discovered all this on a three-week journey through East Germany, Czechoslovakia and Hungary, mostly made on my own. My trip was your average spend-a-little-here, scrimp-a-little-there affair, without youth hostels, camps or (with one exception) deluxe hotels.
Despite recent bad press, my stays of several days in Berlin, Prague and Budapest produced no hassles with transportation, sightseeing or hotels, even when I had no reservations. Instead, I got insights into Eastern European life, experiences impossible to come by from behind the windows of a tour bus- and a lot of fun.
In East Berlin, where I traveled with West German friends, I discovered that what a bankrupt Communist system means in real life is no food, even in one of the best restaurants in town.
Superb people-watching
On the other hand, East Germany`s culture for masses means that you can see the magnificent Pergamon Altar and one of the gates of ancient Babylon for less than 75 cents. In addition, travel on the subway system is similarly cheap and walking-easy to do in this city of broad boulevards-is not only great exercise, but superb people-watching.
In Prague, where hotel reservations are said to be a must, I found a room within 20 minutes of getting off my train from Berlin by going to the accommodations bureau of Cedok, the Czechoslovakian tourist agency. The 20 minutes included the time in the train station dodging my way through throngs of people offering rooms in their home, which I would have considered had I not been traveling alone.
Prowling Prague-in my opinion the most beautiful in Europe after Paris-I found the Halevi Street flower and vegetable market. Near there, a four-seat restaurant provided the best soup I`ve ever eaten-after an elderly customer and I stopped it from boiling over and got ours for free, along with a glass of wine. Prague also has one of Europe`s few surviving ancient Jewish ghettos, now a state museum. None are on the typical guided tour.
In Budapest, where my husband joined me for several days, we discovered Margaret Island, a refreshing escape from the city`s dense smog and pollution, a 19th Century park filled with bicycles, fountains, cotton candy and other treats, concert spaces, playing fields and acres of flowers. Nearby, in Obuda, one of three original cities that comprise today`s Budapest, we lunched for hours in the courtyard of an old country inn, listening to violinists.
Safety was never a concern. Whether I was carrying a shoulder purse or a small daypack on my back, I had no problem with pickpockets and no hassles at all, even though I sometimes was on the streets until 11 p.m.
In restaurants, I was occasionally asked if I minded sharing a table with another woman-I never objected and had some fascinating conversations, in a polyglot of pidgin German, broken English and pantomine.
Language not a problem
So-called language barriers also posed no problem, even if, like me, you speak no German, Czechoslovakian or Hungarian. Most people speak at least a little German and a few words of English, which is more than enough to get you to the train station or a restaurant, particularly if you have even minimal skills in pantomime.
Trust me, pointing to your mouth while making eating motions with your hands will get you to a restaurant in seconds, anywhere. And most people assume that when you`re standing on a street with a heavy suitcase, you`re looking for either the train station or a hotel.
My ace in the hole was my little notebook, bought on West Berlin`s glittering version of Michigan Avenue, the Kurfurstendamm. To get places, I simply wrote down where I wanted to go and showed it to people. Everywhere I went, people either gave me directions or walked me to my destination-and I met interesting people that way.
To get around, mostly I walked because I got to see more that way and it was cheaper.
My notebook also worked in subways, where I showed the printed name of my destination to people-ticket takers, police, fellow commuters-until I got where I was going. Buses I never bothered with. Avoiding the hassle of figuring out which one to take, the fare and their creeping (and creaking)
pace, I usually could walk to my destination faster and with a lot less aggravation.
Using subways is a great way to see things off the beaten track, even if you have very little time. For example, when you`re tired of looking at the East German government`s showcase attractions on the Alexanderplatz, Nicolai Quarter and the State Opera, take the subway, pick a stop away from the center, get off and walk around. That way, you`ll at least have a glimpse of reality, with its 30 years of unrepaired stucco, peeling paint, crumbling sidewalks and pot-holed, curbless streets.
Tips always appreciated
One cardinal rule applies everywhere: Tips are always appreciated for any service or request, particularly in Deutschmarks or U.S. dollars. Small tips got me into a closed museum in East Berlin, taxi rides in ”not for hire”
cabs and things not listed on restaurant menus. I carried at least 20 Deutschmarks, in one-mark pieces, and 20 U.S. dollar bills with me at all times for just those kinds of things.
Transportation throughout Eastern Europe is also easy, particularly if you know a few tricks. Always buy first-class train tickets-the compartments look like what we would call second class and, on some runs, you don`t even want to know what second class compares to here-and buy there, in the cheaper Eastern European currencies. The one exception is Hungary, where you can travel on a Eurailpass, five times within 15 days for $198 first class.
You must, however, get seat reservations and confirm them. This is unavoidable. This means you`ll have to stand in two lines, one to buy your ticket and one to purchase (for a nominal price) a seat reservation. Almost never can you get a seat reservation at the train station, even the main ones. In East Berlin, that`s done at the main Reiseburo (tourist office)
Alexanderplatz 5; I learned the hard way that other Reiseburos don`t sell the seat reservations. In Prague, the whole operation took about a half hour at Cedok (back room, Na prikope 18) and about an hour in Budapest (Nepkoztarsasag utja 35).
As for guides, you can always take a sightseeing tour to get your bearings, but with a good guidebook you don`t have to. ”Eastern Europe on a Shoestring” is excellent for the whole area, because it gives specific directions (”turn right at the stairs, second door on the left”) for walkers as well as for those using local transportation. The ”Olympia Guide to Prague,” available there and in English-is a godsend, with its many pictures of sights.
Money can be tricky, particularly when it comes to having the right kind at the right time. Good hotels take payment only in foreign currency, so you can use either travelers` checks or credit cards. For almost everything else, you`ll need local currency, which in Czechoslovakia and Hungary isn`t convertible back into dollars. But get the minimum amount you`ll need because there are few souvenirs to buy and food is inexpensive. In Prague a full dinner with two glasses of wine cost me $2.82.
But your most prized ”souvenirs” are likely to be your memories of your adventures and your photographs, the best reason I can think of-aside from its astronomical cost and questionable quality in Eastern Europe-to bring twice as much film as you think you`ll need. And don`t forget that notebook.
Inside one traveler`s bag
Traveling alone requires carrying certain essentials. Some items, like contact lens solution, are not available in stores at any price. Others are simply a lot less hassle-and money-to bring with you.
The following is my personal list of travel essentials:
Small spiral notebook.
Kleenex in small purse-size packets, to use as toilet paper, particularly in public facilities where there frequently is none.
Swiss Army knife or the equivalent, with as many blades/attachments as possible. You never know what you`ll need. One day I had to jimmy a sliding door between train compartments.
Dollar bills or single Deutschmarks to use as tips.
Soap for clothes-washing, preferably concentrate in a tube (available in travel stores and many airports).
Regular hand soap in a small plastic case.
Contact lens solution, with a backup supply.
Aspirin and bandages (the ones available in Eastern Europe wad up after minutes of walking). Neither are readily available.
Lightweight, roll-up nylon raingear with a hood. Forget the umbrella, unless you`re good at juggling one and carrying a bag.
