Postcard from Budapest, Hungary: The church of the Raven King of Hungary stands as stunning landmark

In 1458, a raven flew from Transylvania to Prague bearing a ring sent by the mother of Matthias to let him know to return home. Or so some claim. The raven and the ring symbol can be seen throughout Budapest, and Matthias became known as Matthias Corvinus, corvinus meaning raven in Latin.

The Diet elected the 15-year-old king, even though he had no direct dynastic claim to the throne. He would rule until his death, somewhat suspicious in cause, in 1490. His reign was noted for increased military power, the rise of power of lower nobility at the expense of the upper crust and an artistic Renaissance.

Perched atop a hilltop on the Buda side of the river, the church known as Matthias Church is dedicated to the Virgin Mary. The earliest portions of it were built in the 13th century. Styles range from a medieval relief depicting Mary’s death dates from 1370 to major Gothic details added to the outside and murals inside added at the close of the 19th century. The tallest tower was added by King Matthias, whose royal wedding was held in the church.

Conquering Turks in the mid-1500s white-washed the walls and covered them with carpets to transform the church into a serviceable mosque. Before the Ottoman invasion, some of the faithful walled up the Loreto Chapel containing a statue of the Black Madonna dating from 1515. An explosion in 1686 at the castle nearby sent that wall crumbling, and the statue reappeared for the faithful prior to the end of Ottoman control in 1699.

The church then was remodeled in the Baroque style. Among the kings whose coronations have been held there is Emperor Franz Josef in 1867.

The extensive changes characterizing the appearance of the church today were undertaken in 1895, including the installation of the gleaming, colorful Zsolnay ceramic roof tiles. Despite the intermingling of so many conflicting styles through the centuries, Matthias Church stands as a stunning landmark above the Danube.

Postcard from Oaxaca, Mexico: Where fiestas erupt all the time

(We briefly interrupt the series of postcards from Budapest with breaking news from Oaxaca.)

Out for a stroll last evening with no room for dinner after a major lunch at La Biznaga, I requested a route that would pass by the front of the Basilica de Nuestra Senora de la Soledad. The Mister was not fooled. My real mission was the Plaza Socrates in front of the basilica, home to a dozen ice cream vendors.

But, before I could even begin to ponder the flavor options, music erupted on the street below. Brass bands and dancers with floral arrangements crowning their heads were gathering for one the city’s numerous exuberant processions, Las Calendas, to call out townspeople to celebrate, usually in advance of a saint’s day. This one appears to be a warm-up for the Feast Day of the Assumption of Mary, El Día de la Asunción de María, on August 15.

The festive dancers, fearless as castillos showered sparks around them, gigantes or mermotas, stilt-walkers, a truckload of little angels and the woman in blue bearing extra rockets and castillos to set off every couple of blocks completely distracted me from my original mission.

I shall return to both the delayed delivery of postcards from Budapest and to Plaza Socrates another day.

That leaves me time to ponder whether I want to order rose or chocolate-chile ice cream. Those wouldn’t pair well in one dish, would they?

Postcard from Budapest, Hungary: Bittersweet reflections from window-shopping

We’re not much on shopping. We return from trips with nothing new aside from calories consumed.

But we appreciate the efforts shopkeepers make to entice us to enter.

We bought no teapots or fine porcelain in Budapest. We added no snazzy men’s shorts, furry hats, Chucks, Sergeant-Pepper-worthy jackets, funky used clothing or Gucci doggie sweaters to our wardrobes. We felt no need for war “nostalgia” and ate such ample lunches neither a plate of rainbow-colored macarons or the stunning architecture of the New York Café could tempt us with sweets.

We flunked the frugality test when it came to coffee.

The apartment we rented came equipped with a Nespresso machine. I have no complaints about the quality of the coffee. It is pretty close to perfect.

But Nespresso manages patent law effectively to prevent much interference from competitors imitating their jewel-toned, diamond-cut capsules.

With no opportunity for ordering by mail when traveling, we were forced to seek out Nespresso storefronts staffed by black-suit-wearing, model-perfect young men and women with command of numerous foreign languages.

Okay, a limited command. But we were in his country. “Less bitter” to describe the coffee I wanted left him totally befuddled. He kept on repeating my request as “less better.” I don’t think anyone ever had requested capsules that were “less better” before.

We finally negotiated a less bitter score and made a $60 purchase we hoped would take us through the month. It did not quite make it. Even that amount required a supplemental coffee allocation.

It’s a necessity, right?

Window-shopping is certainly a less expensive hobby.

Hey, what the hell can one expect from a company that has George Clooney for window-dressing?