a.k.a. Statue Park (Szoborpark)
Heroes of the Workers’ Movement (Loop III)
More Communist Heroes (Loop IV)
More Communist Concepts (Loop VI)
When regimes fall, so do their monuments...literally. Just think of all those statues of Stalin and Lenin that crashed to the ground in late 1989, when people throughout Eastern Europe couldn’t wait to get rid of these reminders of their oppressors. But some clever entrepreneur hoarded Budapest’s, collecting them in a park in the countryside just southwest of the city—where tourists flock to get a taste of the communist era. Though it can be time-consuming to visit, this collection is worth ▲▲▲ for those fascinated by Hungary’s commie past.
(See "Memento Park" map, here.)
Name-Change Warning: Confusingly, this attraction—which for years had been called Statue Park—was later re-branded as Memento Park. The names are still occasionally used interchangeably; they refer to the same sight.
Cost: 1,500 Ft.
Hours: Daily 10:00-sunset.
Getting There: It’s in the countryside six miles southwest of the city center, at the corner of Balatoni út and Szabadka út, in district XXII.
The park runs a convenient direct bus from Deák tér in downtown Budapest (where three Metró lines converge; bus stop is at corner of busy Bajcsy-Zsilinszky út and Harmincad utca). The trip takes 2.5 hours total, including a 1.5-hour visit to the park (4,900-Ft fee includes round-trip and park entry, 33 percent discount if you prebook online at www.mementopark.hu, runs April-Oct daily at 11:00, Nov-March Sat-Mon at 11:00—no bus Tue-Fri off-season).
The public transport option requires a transfer, but is doable: Ride the Metró’s M4/green line to the end of the line at Kelenföld. Head up to street level and catch bus #101, which takes you to Memento Park in about 15 minutes (second stop, runs every 10 minutes—but only on weekdays). On weekends, when bus #101 doesn’t run, you’ll have to take bus #150, which takes longer (2/hour, about 25 minutes). On either bus, be sure the driver knows where you want to get off.
Hiring a taxi for the round-trip, including about an hour of waiting time at the park, should cost around 15,000 Ft (ask your hotel to call one for you, and confirm the price before you set out).
Tours and Information: This chapter’s self-guided tour gives you all the information you need. Alternatively, 50-minute English tours depart from the entrance (1,200 Ft, 33 percent discount if you prebook online; April-Oct daily at 11:45, May-Sept also generally daily at 13:00 and 14:00; Nov-March Sat-Mon at 11:45—no tours Tue-Fri off-season). The 1,500-Ft English guidebook, In the Shadow of Stalin’s Boots, is very informative. Tel. 1/424-7500, www.mementopark.hu.
Starring: Marx, Engels, Lenin, stiff soldiers, passionate patriots...and other ghosts of Hungary’s communist past.
Under the communists, creativity was discouraged. The primary purpose of art was to further the goals of the state, with creative expression only an afterthought. This Socialist Realist art served two purposes: It was Realistic, breaking with the “decadent” bourgeois art that came before it (Impressionism, Post-Impressionism, and other modern -isms); and Socialistic, encouraging complicity with the brave new world the communists were forging. From 1949 until 1956, Socialist Realism was legally enforced as the sole artistic style of the Soviet Bloc.
As propaganda was an essential weapon in the Soviet arsenal, the regime made ample use of Socialist Realist art. Aside from a few important figureheads, individuals didn’t matter. Everyone was a cog in the machine—strong, stoic, doing their job well and proudly for the good of the people. Individual characteristics and distinguishing features were unimportant; people were represented as automatons serving their nation. Artistic merit was virtually ignored. Most figures are trapped in stiff, unnatural poses that ignore the 3,000 years of artistic evolution since the Egyptians. Sculptures and buildings alike from this era were designed to evoke feelings of power and permanence.
(See "Memento Park" map, here.)
• The numbers in the following tour match the statue labels in the park, the official park map, and the map in this chapter.
As you approach the park, you encounter the imposing red-brick...
You’re greeted by three of the Communist All-Stars: 
Vladimir Lenin, a leader of Russia’s Bolshevik Revolution; and 
Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, the German philosophers whose Communist Manifesto first articulated the principles behind communism in 1848. (These three figures weren’t offensive enough to be destroyed, but very few statues survive anywhere of the biggest “star” of all, the hated Josef Stalin.)
Like the rest of the park, this gate’s design is highly conceptual: It looks impressive and monumental...but, like the rotted-out pomp of communism, there’s nothing behind it. It’s a glossy stage-set with no substance. If you try to go through the main, central part of the gate, you’ll run into an always-locked door. Instead, as with the communist system, you have to find another way around (in this case, the side gate to the left). Etched in the door is the Hungarian poem “Where seek out tyranny?”, published after the 1956 Uprising.
Inside the gate, buy your ticket and head into the park. Surveying the layout, notice that the main road takes you confidently toward...a dead end (the brick wall). Once again, as with life under the communists, you’ll have to deviate from this main axis to actually accomplish anything. Even so, notice that the six walkways branching off the main road all loop you right back to where you started—representing the endless futility of communism. The loops are thematically tied together in pairs: Roughly, the first figure-eight focuses on Hungarian-Soviet friendship; the second figure-eight celebrates the heroes of communism; and the third figure-eight shows off the idealized concepts of communism. The statues are also organized very loosely chronologically; the statues near the entrance are generally older than the ones farther into the park.
• Now we’ll zigzag back and forth through each of the six loops. Begin with the loop to the right as you enter the park.
All of these statues celebrate the Soviet Army’s triumphant rescue of Hungary from the Nazis in 1945.
Dominating this loop is a 
giant soldier holding the Soviet flag. This statue once stood at the base of the Liberation Monument that still overlooks the Danube from Gellért Hill (see here). Typical of Socialist Realist art, the soldier has a clenched fist (symbolizing strength) and a face that is inspired by his egalitarian ideology. After the fall of communism, some critics wanted the entire monument torn down. As a compromise, they removed the overt communist themes (the red star and this soldier), covered what remained with a sheet for a while to exorcise the communist mojo, then re-unveiled it.
To the left of this soldier, see the 
two comrades stiffly shaking hands: the Hungarian worker thrilled to meet the Soviet soldier—protector of the proletariat.
Beyond them is a 
long wall, with a triumphant worker breaking through the left end—too busy doing his job to be very excited. Just another brick in the wall. (The three big blocks protruding from the wall were for hanging commemorative wreaths.)
The big 
panel came from an apartment building in a conservative Buda Hills neighborhood. Each neighborhood had a similar monument to the liberation. The nail holes once held letters that proclaimed in Hungarian and Russian: “Everlasting praise for the freedom of the Soviet Union, for its independence, and for its fallen heroes in the battle to liberate Hungary.”
• Cross “main street” to a group of statues commemorating the key communist holiday of...
On this date, the Soviets forced the final Nazi soldier out of Hungary. The tall panel nearest the entrance shows a Hungarian woman and a Soviet woman setting free the 
doves of peace. According to the inscription, “Our freedom and peace is founded upon the enduring Hungarian-Soviet friendship.” (With friends like these....)
The 
woman holding the palm leaf is reminiscent of the Liberation Monument back on the Danube—which, after all, celebrates the same glorious day. Check out the size of that palm leaf: Seems like she’s overcompensating...
At the back of the loop, the 
Hungarian worker and Soviet soldier (who appear to be doing calisthenics) are absurdly rigid even though they’re trying to be dynamic. (Even the statues couldn’t muster genuine enthusiasm for communist ideals.)
• Cross over and head up to the next loop to pay homage to...
Look for the 
bust of the Bulgarian communist leader Georgi Dimitrov (ruled 1946-1949)—one of communist Hungary’s many Soviet Bloc comrades. During the 1956 Uprising, protesters put a noose around this bust’s neck and hung it from a tree. Next is a 
full-size statue of Dimitrov, a gift from “the working people of Sofia.” (Talk about a white elephant.)
At the back of this loop are 
three blocky portraits. The middle figure is the granddaddy of Hungarian communism: Béla Kun (1886-1938) fought for the Austro-Hungarian Empire in World War I. He was captured by the Russian Army, taken to a prisoner of war camp inside Russia, and became mysteriously smitten with communism. After proving himself too far left even for Lenin, Kun returned to Hungary in 1918 and formed a Hungarian Communist Party at a time when communism was most definitely not in vogue. We’ll see more of Kun later in the park.
To the left is one of the park’s best-loved, most-photographed, and most artistic statues: 
Vladimir Lenin, in his famous “hailing a cab” pose. It once stood at the entrance to the giant industrial complex in Budapest’s Csepel district.
• Cross over—passing the giant red star made of flowers (resembling one that was once planted in the middle of the roundabout at the Buda end of the Chain Bridge)—to meet...
This group—which includes a 
statue of an interior minister made a foot shorter at the bottom when the Iron Curtain fell—is dominated by a 
dramatic, unusually emotive sculpture by a genuine artist, Imre Varga (described on here). Designed to commemorate the 100th anniversary of Béla Kun’s birth, this clever statue accomplishes seemingly contradictory feats. On the one hand, it reinforces the communist message: Under the able leadership of Béla Kun (safely overlooking the fray from above), the crusty, bourgeois old regime of the Habsburg Empire (on the left, with the umbrellas and fancy clothes) was converted into the workers’ fighting force of the Red Army (on the right, with the bayonets). And yet, those silvery civilians in back seem more appealing than the lunging soldiers in front. And notice the lamppost next to Kun: In Hungarian literature, a lamppost is a metaphor for the gallows. This reminds viewers that Kun—in spite of his groundbreaking and heroic work for the communist movement in Hungary—was ultimately executed by the communists during Stalin’s purges of the late 1930s.
• Zig and head up again, for a lesson in...
Look for a rusty pair of 
workers’ hands holding a sphere (which was once adorned with a red star). This represented the hard-won ideals of communism, carefully protected by the hands—but also held out for others to appreciate.
The 
monument to Hungarian soldiers (who look like saluting Rockettes) honors those who fought against the fascist Francisco Franco in the Spanish Civil War.
Dominating this group is a 
communist worker charging into the future, clutching the Soviet flag. Budapesters of the time had a different interpretation: a thermal bath attendant running after a customer who’d forgotten his towel. This is a favorite spot for goofy posed photos.
To the left is a monument to the communist version of the Boy Scouts: the elementary-school-age 
Little Drummers and the older Pioneers. While these organizations existed before the communists, they were slowly infiltrated and turned into propaganda machines by the regime. These kids—with their jaunty red and blue neckerchiefs—were sent to camp to be properly raised as good little communists; today, many of them have forgotten the brainwashing but still have fond memories of the socializing.
• Now zag once more to learn about...
The 
long, white wall at the back of this section tells quite a story (from left to right): The bullet holes lead up to a jumbled, frightful clutter (reminiscent of Pablo Picasso’s Guernica) representing World War II. Then comes the bright light of the Soviet system, and by the end everyone’s properly regimented—striking Charlie’s Angels poses—and looking boldly to the future (and enjoying a bountiful crop, to boot). The names in the center represent “heroes” who stayed true to the ideology, Party, and nation and died in “defense of proletarian power” in 1956. Some became household names to older locals, who show their age by still referring to places using their communist titles (from 1956 until 1990, many Budapest streets were named in honor of these “heroes”).
Next is a 
fallen hero with arm outstretched, about to collapse to the ground—mortally wounded, yet victorious. This monument to “the Martyrs of the Counter-Revolution” also commemorates those who died attempting to put down the 1956 Uprising.
Finally you’ll see a 
plundered monument. Missing its figures and red star, it was destroyed in 1989 by jubilant Hungarians celebrating their freedom.
• Now continue down the main drag to, um, a....
The main path dead-ends at the wall, symbolizing life’s frustrations under communism. Here stand statues of two Soviet officers who negotiated with the Nazis to end the WWII siege of Budapest. 
Captain Miklós Steinmetz (on the right) was killed by a Nazi land mine, while 
Ilja Ostapenko (on the left) was shot under mysterious circumstances as he returned from the successful summit. Both became heroes for the communist cause. Were they killed by wayward Nazi soldiers, as the Soviets explained—or by their own Red Army, to create a pair of convenient martyrs? These two statues once flanked the road out of Budapest toward the popular resort area at Lake Balaton. Locals eager to get out of town would hitchhike “at Ostapenko.”
Heading back out to the entry gate, peruse the fun parade of communist kitsch at the gift shop. The stirring music may just move you to pick up the CD of Communism’s Greatest Hits, and maybe a model of a Trabant (the classic two-stroke commie-mobile). A real Trabant is often parked just inside the gate.
• Now head out across the parking lot to find...
This section of the complex is a re-creation of the giant grandstand that once stood along Parade Street (the boulevard next to City Park; the original site is described on here). Hungarian and Soviet leaders stood here, at the feet of a giant Stalin statue, to survey military and civilian processions. But during the 1956 Uprising, protesters cut Stalin off at the knees...leaving only the boots. (The entire tribune was later dismantled, and Stalin disappeared without a trace.) If you circle around behind the tribune, you’ll find stairs up top for a view over the park.
• Flanking the lot in front of the tribune are replica...
These are reminiscent of the ramshackle barracks where political prisoners lived in communist-era work camps (sometimes called gulags, described on here). These hold special exhibits, often including a good explanation of “Stalin’s Boots” (with a plaster replica, and photos of the original tribune) and the events of 1956. Sit down for the creepy film, The Life of an Agent—a loop of four training films (10-15 minutes each) that were actually used to teach novice spies about secret-police methods and policies.
• Our tour is over. Now, inspired by the bold propaganda of your Hungarian comrades, march proudly into the dawn of a new day.
