Author Archives: martinoregan

Stone free or stone mad!

Stone free or stone mad!

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Up in the hills which comprise the 12th district the Stone Kávézó Söröző is run of the mill. Modern decor, indicative of youth-club culture, its strength is it’s at a transport hub, where the 112 and 102 bus terminus cojoin.

With a Tesco in proximity, looming in fact above the eyeline, the cafe itself offers street life, quiet-suburb style.

It is a cosy affair with prices that won’t make one feel like one of Fagin’s gang has just lightened your pockets and, considering the wealth of the neighbours, this comes as a relief.

There are a few things marked on the menu; though a list is provided, the majority are not priced, suggesting their lack. A meleg szendvics,a pizza, some beer, a chat – this place could work.

That I’ve never seen a crowd mid-week is typical of residential Budapest where families stay at home. As for the weekends, that’s up to you. Personally, I wouldn’t make the trek up here if it were just for this, but that I have to has allowed me the opportunity, and yes, I can imagine sitting here pre- or post- class as the weather warms up- pondering- as to what – that remains to be seen.

https://www.facebook.com/kavezosorozo.stone

 

©TheHairyTeacher2013

 

Everybody’s place

Everybody’s place

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Martin’s Bistro in the 2nd district is not only a pleasure by namesake (not The Hairy Teacher!) but also by service. The staff is pleasant and professional. The menu is user-friendly with a compact choice, and a surprising number of fish dishes considering.

The location is questionable, tucked away as it is and, by fact, a failed spring board for previous businesses with the same culinary ambitions. Still, having got there the reward was awaiting.

The dish I chose was grilled wild salmon with creamy garlic spinach and potato ravioli, cooked succulently, hinting at red to the centre…hmmmmm. What was more surprising was the tenderness of the steak which my girlfriend ordered (Argentine braised steak with roasted potatoes, grilled vegetables and fried onion sauce). It practically melted in the mouth, not an experience I’ve had much in Hungary when it comes to beef, especially steak.

The evening panned out perfectly with even the chill accompanying us on the homeward track endearing, so satiated were we.

Warning: the portions are not Hungarian Étterem in size but all the better to enjoy the taste and not just the gluttonyJ . As for the latter, for the month of February every Thursday is/was Torkos Csütörtök depending on when you are reading this), and so everything comes/came at half-price.

“I just love it when a plan comes together!” Hannibal Smith, The A-Team

Tempting Faith

Tempting Faith

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I traced the stained glass story of your deity.

Perched in a pew, any one will do

Therein lies the memories –

Of my youth.

No solace except in sentiment;

No solution, but I tried.

I mixed the colours, pastel, in my mind.

The angels promised heaven,

The “szents”, they sang a song

While Jesus, God, the Holy One,

Sent blessings from Anon.

I sat below, redundant,

Seeming new but still familiar

The light of day it shuffled in

And spoke in the vernacular.

“Like a Morgue” my cynic muttered

“To keep the soul preserved”

Still I’d rather the scent of churches

To any hospital ward.

I left my mind adrift

But nothing tangled,

Nothing bit –

The bait remained unused.

And so with geneflective ritual

I upped and crossed the threshold out…

Yet Solomon’s wife,

A seasoned statue –

Like this I turned that one last time.

The past in ruins, my faith collapsing,

I dared look back

The Library

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As of February this year I will be starting up a library section as part of my service and students are free to choose from a list which I will publish online and which I will then deliver to them at our next meeting. The books will include, mainly, fiction but there are also some course books and grammar books which I will be pleased to offer. A comprehensive list will follow shortly.

Thanks

Martin

There comes a time, not now.

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“The time for joviality –

 is lost,” he said with much hilarity

“I don’t believe a single word!

I’m much too used to your being absurd.”

He frowned and left me with a glance.

Such looks as born of bitter chance.

“I knew you couldn’t tolerate

The very things I had to say.”

But these last words they sadly fell

On his deaf ears – this I could tell;

Because he turned once more

And smiled

And left the distance separate –

The time

Leaving (not gladly)

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The relative stillness,

Almost deathly,

The waiting.

The big hand-

played  tricks

Gave more minutes;

Just a shadow

Or a battery low.

Yet time, itself,

Seemed weighted –

Even if it finally passed;

Those last few moments

Then seemed rushed,

As broken from the

Reverie.

Torn from the

Tender embrace.

Time and taxi whisked

Me away.

Tram Thoughts 2

Tram Thoughts 2

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Loosened by the draw of day
the sunlight passes,
dust paths flicker,
the hurdy-gurdy lumbering feels
of the rattle-worn-infested tram.
The noise of life enshrouds
the hiss, the fizz,
metallic rumbles:
the passing glory-questioning
and the silence of the cyclists.
The occasional move to rupture-
an all-intrusive noise surrenders,
for with the daily wear and tear
the idea lingers, the truth asunder.
Upon the steel; in driven poise
emerging, purging with each noise.
The pen clicks on,
the tram collides,
with the future as is present time.
The destination never reached
till when it is and darkness scours
the corners of the mortal weave
the soul is routed, then sent forth.
Aligned, laid flat, that final pose,
not matters then, the weed nor rose.
When stone shall mount and commemorate
and dirt and dust and weeds take flight.

Tram Thoughts

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As the tram light races along the track towards me,

The morning wraps its autumn chill around me:

I draw comfort from the little things –

My breath; a couple’s kiss;

A child’s questioning of a weary granddad,

enlivened, reawakened in his life by this, such youth.

As the tram passes on into the city,

Its bobbing on the tracks, my lullaby,

I feel the weighty eye-lids that I fight,

the chance to float away again consigned to night,

I persevere, with beauty all around…

Set In Stone

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csabautca

Off the street, out of the pubs –

I traced the stained glass story of your deity.

Perched in a pew, any one will do

Therein lie the memories –

Of my youth.

No solace except in sentiment;

No solution, but I tried.

I mixed the colours, pastel, in my mind.

 

The angels promised heaven,

The “szents”, they sang a song

While Jesus, God, the Holy One,

Sent blessings from Anon.

I sat below, redundant,

Seeming new but still familiar

The light of day it shuffled in

And spoke in the vernacular.

 

“Like a Morgue” my cynic muttered

“To keep the soul preserved”

Still I’d rather the scent of churches

To any hospital ward.

 

I left my mind adrift

But nothing tangled,

Nothing bit –

The bait remained unused.

And so with geneflective ritual

I upped and crossed the threshold out…

 

Yet Solomon’s wife,

A seasoned statue –

 

Like this I turned that one last time,

The past in ruins, my faith collapsing,

I dared look back

And so am doomed.

Set the scene at A Table

Set the scene at A Table

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It has a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’. It’s small with a rather cramped appeal but this somehow allows it to always feel full. The counter on entering whets the appetite with its impressive display and if one is interested in take away or sitting in there is the choice. The traditionally French twist, the baguettes, the croissants, the éclairs, the croque monsieur et madame all fit. I remember when it first opened I had the fear it might fail on this Franco-feel, Trianon still burning in many a Hungarian heart. However, not enough of them, it would seem, care to, at least this, associate the food and culture with the travesty of war – and that’s a good thing. Thriving, I would say, A Table is as much a testament to Hungarian open-mindedness as it is to any good business plan. Being Buda side is obviously a plus with the up and coming all vying for real estate this side of town, and, with the traditionally wealthier classes hereabouts, any business plan with such culinary aspirations was bound to have a greater chance of success. Still it is nice to see its progress in slotting into the life of Retek utca and long may it continue. That I hold some of my classes here nowadays does in no way compromise me in regard of this critique…unless it gives me a discount. Oh how principles are thwarted by the promise of power!!!

A note to the negative: It can get cramped in here as mentioned but on a cold winter’s day this may turn out to be a little biased to the side of endearing. However, on a scorching summer’s day, with air-conditioning coming in the way of an open window this place may become stifling for many. That said give me the smell of croissants and other butter pastries at the death of my light over the stale stench of a butt-filled ashtray, or rancid spilt beer, any day.

 

www.atable.hu

 

Copyright © Martin O'Regan
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