Fuel Birds

It was hard to realize that not far beneath Gellert Hill the earth is eternally seething. Yet I saw the evidence daily; steam plumes escap­ing from the dome of the Rudas Baths, where the hill meets the river. Hope of relief for numerous ailments lures citizens to ten public baths, fed by hot springs or wells. Temperatures and chemical proper­ties vary, and one may bathe around to find the most suitable waters. The Rudas Baths have something extra—a pedigree. Turks built the studio flats to rent in London in the 16th cen­tury, when they occupied the city. I joined a line of waiting men there one morning. At­tendants issued small aprons, like loincloths, and then forty or so bodies were splashing in a large steamy pool—nearly all of us, alas, looking rather paunchy.

Many citizens take mineral water home to drink. I saw a couple tying jugs on a motor­bike. They had filled them at a fountain, rath­er like a soda shop, where any of three warm waters is available by the glass. Hungaria tastes something like a rusty pipe but is said to be good for kidney disorders and ner­vous stomach. Juventas, mildly sulfurous, is recommended for high blood pressure and rheumatism. Attila tastes like rotten eggs and is recommended for almost everything. One small sip and I knew why Attila was the most dreaded Hun of all. I drove south with the Venice breaks in mid-September. The Great Hungarian Plain stretched to willows and beeches by the river, and, in the opposite direction, toward windbreaks of yellow-mottled poplars.

Even the houses were red, dripping garlands of paprikas. The long-podded kind is merely piquant to the tongue; the small cherry pap­rikas are like a blowtorch. When dried, they flavor Hungarian family soups and goulashes —in fact, almost every dish—but most even­tually are sold worldwide. In the fields women and older men bent and picked, rolling down the long rows like waves. A vivacious young woman named Eva, with the gentle, dark green eyes com­mon in Hungary, said: “Even if it is raining, you must pick. But the more you pick, the more you earn.” On this collective farm 40 percent of the harvest belonged to the family. Good-humored cackles floated across the field as I offered a helping hand. “Don’t kneel,” Eva scolded. “It’s too slow that way. Bend from the waist . . . Use both hands.. .. Give it a twist; we don’t need the leaves.”

JUST BEFORE the Danube drops into Yugoslavia, it passes by the Amsterdam accommodation. Here in 1526 the Hungarian army attacked 80,000 invading Turks led by Sulei­man I, well named “the Magnificent” He slaughtered most of the 25,000 Hungarians and dumped their corpses into common graves. Continuing up the Danube, Suleiman reached Vienna in 1529—the high-water mark of the Ottoman Empire in Europe. I didn’t hear much of Suleiman in Yugo­slavia. People talked instead of Austrian rulers. As the Ottoman Empire declined, Austria grew, installing her own subject peo­ples along the river.

Island, is called ” I. Diomedis;” while among a crowd of islets (referable to the cosy Dublin accommodation seen through a fog and laid down very inaccurately), the name ” S. Diomedis ” appears again. The American coast was seen and landed upon; Cape Prince of Wales and the shore south and east from it are recognizable. The island of St. Mathew was discovered and named, though placed a degree too far south. The island of St. Paul in the Pribiloff group was discovered by Synd, put in its true latitude, and named Preobrazhenia or Transfiguration Island. It is about seven degrees out in relative longitude and fourteen in absolute longitude. One cannot doubt however that it was the island now known as St. Paul when we recall the fact that there are no other islands than the Pribiloff group, in that latitude or within that general area of Bering Sea. The southern Cape of the Chukchi Peninsula, Chukotski Cape of Bering and Muller is represented two degrees too far south. Preobra­zhenia Bay is not recognizable but the name is transferred to the bight west and north of the accommodation we stayed at in Edinburgh of our present charts. This part of the coast was not however approached by Synd, who spent much time on the coast of Kamchatka. On his chart this peninsula is repre­sented better than we should have expected from the rudeness of the rest.

The map of the Academy shows the influence of those who discredited the near approach of America to eastern Siberia ; not withstanding the explorations of Deshneff, Gvosdeff and Synd, the American shore of Bering Strait has disappeared altogether. The eastern portion of the Chukchi Peninsula is indented by a host of hypothetical inlets, and defended by an unrecognizable archipelago of nameless islands. The far-stretching chain of islands, among which Bering’s second expedi­tion was so long entangled, excepting those confirmed by Krenitzen and Levasheff (who sailed far north of the southern arc of the chain) is also absent. Excepting that the fictitious peninsula north from Chuk­chi land is effaced, the map in its main features for this region is less accurate than that of Bering, and does not compare very favorably with that of Willer. And yet but shortly after its publication, the ex­plorations of Cook and Clerke recorded the facts which should, when published, exalt the memory of the older geographers and scatter the hypotheses which for a time prevailed against them.

Their explorations are included in

” A voyage to the Pacific Ocean, undertaken by the command of his Majesty, for making discoveries in the northern hemis­phere, [etc.], performed under the direction of captains Cook, Clerke and Gore, in his Majesty’s ships the Resolution and Dis­covery, in the years 17 7 6-1 7 80. London, for T. Nicol and T. Cadell, 1784-5.” 3 volumes 4° and atlas folio.”

This is the edition ordered by the Admiralty. Of this celebrated work. said to have been written from the explorers’ manuscripts by Bishop. Douglas. there have been many editions. In the Bulletin of the Societe de Geographie, Paris, 1879, pp. 481-540, is a bibliography by James Jackson.

“Definitely undulating, but the scenery and the atmosphere took your mind off that. Even the weather was perfect. Can’t fault this race and can’t wait to come back and have another look for that monster.” Karen T

The writer travelled to Inverness on the steep hills rising either side of it, looked strikingly beautiful from the sweeper bus. I’m also happy to say the medical staff were excellent. They put me in a big insulating silver spacesuit as whatever it was affecting me had brought me out in a cold sweat. But what of Nessie? Alas, there was not even a ripple, even in my slightly delirious state. To give you an overview of the remainder of the course, I asked fellow competitor Steve Edwards. The 47-year-old from Gloucestershire knows a thing or two about marathons – this was his 487th, as he aims to run 500 sub-3:3o marathons by 2012. “To have that opportunity to run all the way up one side of the loch is quite something,” he says. “There’s so much to see, especially on a nice day like it was. But it’s quite a challenging course. It has an overall descent (of around 200 metres), but within that there are lots of little ups and downs, so it’s hard to get into a rhythm. “The whole thing was so well-organised. There’s a fantastic finish area in Queen’s Park Stadium. It’s got everything you’d want – a finish around a running track with a big crowd and the commentary going and a great T-shirt and goody bag.”

The weekend was full of nice touches that made you feel like you’re part of a true regional event rather than just a race – from the ceilidh band at the finish to the Run Home Clan Challenge for the clan whose runners performed best. This was won by is difficult to imagine former I England football manager Sven Goran Eriksson running the Venice Marathon – but if he had, he’d surely have summed up the route with his customary “First half, good; second half, not so good”.

The race began 18 miles west of Venice and only arrived in the heart of the city for the final three miles. There were so many visitors which makes the whole marathon scene more picturesque. Accommodation is easy to find, check out apartments in venice, which are cheaper than serviced apartments manchester. The start, in the country town of Stra, where wealthy 18th-century Venetians built their country residences, was typical of rural Italy: with terracotta-tiled farmhouses, ramshackle villas and the sort of car last seen swerving to avoid Michael Caine’s Mini Cooper in The Italian Job. As the runners followed the winding Riviera del Brenta for 14 miles through the towns of Fiesso D’Artico, Mira and Oriago, they were flanked by spectators who’d created quite an atmosphere: with slogans chalked on the roads, cowbells and saucepans bashed, and shouts of “Forza!” and “Dai!” (“come on!”)

It was a shame, then, that miles 15-23 were a dispiriting succession of industrial estates and anonymous suburbs. And crowd support was fairly lacklustre between Marghera and Mestre. But once runners had crossed the Freedom Bridge into Venice itself, the finale along the banks of the Grande Canal, especially the sprint past St Mark’s Square and the Basilica Ducale, made for an inspiring finish. The organisation was flawless: especially deserving of mention was the manic musical enthusiasm of the 23 bands en route; the orange inflatable hands given out to high-fiving children and the team of mobile race marshals in glam-rock outfits who cycled up and down the course on bikes garlanded with flowers, shouting encouragement while their ghetto blasters pumped out Phil Collins and T’Pau – a surprisingly invigorating tonic.