- In fifteen years, the number of traditional Hungarian pubs (“kocsma”) has halved. This is much more than a sectorial decline: this is devastation. What is behind this? Where is the problem? What does the story of traditional Hungarian pubs tell us about Hungary?
- We sought answers nationwide, and it quickly became clear: the problem is complex. It is as much linked to larger social changes (emigration, the transformation of our social lives) as to the economic difficulties characteristic of the sector, such as the traditionally low wages in hospitality. Additionally, every pub owner we spoke to said the COVID pandemic changed something in people.
- Some even predict that the days of pubs in small settlements are numbered.
- Some believe there’s a systemic transformation happening in the world of pubs, and it’s not such a bad thing if low-quality places close down. The world is changing, and so are people’s needs. What is happening now is essentially the decline of the not-so-glorious socialist pub culture.
- We also looked for answers to whether it’s a good thing for a settlement to have a pub and if there are more alcoholics because of pubs.
- From our pub keeper portraits, it becomes clear what the profession gives and what must be sacrificed for it. And despite the grim picture painted by official numbers, the situation is not at all hopeless.
This place has been my dream since I was a teenager. I took it over from my uncle in 2020, and just a week ago, we had the farewell party. I closed shop. I couldn’t do it anymore; I was exhausted, burnt out.
We’re sitting in Pannonhalma, in the town centre — where better to start our report on pub closures than in front of a closed pub?
The story of Balázs Gémes is just one among thousands of Hungarian pub owners who have recently shuttered. At this point, there are so many failed venues that closed pubs could become a new symbol of the Hungarian countryside, as their numbers have halved over the past decade and a half.
Saying there’s a crisis in the sector doesn’t say enough. The end of the closure wave is still nowhere in sight – and on this, all our sources agree.
Balázs Gémes speaks in front of his closed pub. During our conversation, a few people still try to enter the pub, only to realise it’s closed. The garbage collector comes to take the trash, but Balázs signals him that it’s not necessary.
It’s chilly, and it has been raining all day. The weather reflects the past four years of our first pub keeper.
“There was a time I worked 32 days straight.”
“Recently, my vodka distributor told me I was the twentieth pub in the county to close in a short time. My cash register guy told me I was the fourth pub in the area to shut down in a matter of weeks” – begins Balázs Gémes. “In Pannonhalma, there were still 22 pubs in the 2000s, with only a few of us left, and now, I’ve closed mine too. I don’t understand. I’m in a good location, right in the centre, worked myself to the bone, poured my heart and soul into it, organised parties, and this is a good town even by Transdanubian standards, there’s even some tourist traffic here. And still.”
He lists the reasons: soaring prices and utility costs, the COVID-19 pandemic, the eternal bartender problem, low profit margins, and the constant bureaucratic burdens.
Prices were changing so much that I had to update the price list weekly. Meanwhile, people only saw that I kept raising prices. Many switched to buying beer at tobacco shops, drinking and chatting in front of the shop. I sold beer for 650 forints, while there it costs around 400 — a noticeable difference, especially if you don’t have much money. COVID was a turning point; it changed many habits. People since then come less often, have less money, and prefer to save.
In four and a half years, I couldn’t find a single reliable, permanent bartender, despite constantly looking, as I didn’t want to be here all the time. I have a small child and a wife. Some applicants couldn’t even write their name, and in one case, I had to look up the applicant’s phone number myself because they couldn’t even write that down properly. Once, a girl lost 100,000 forints in a single evening: not even she could understand how; she didn’t steal. Completely unsuitable people want to work as bartenders. Then there was a bartender of mine who decided they’d rather go to Austria to wash dishes for three times the pay. So, it was mostly me here, from 7 a.m. to 10 or 11 p.m., on weekdays and weekends. At one point I worked 32 days straight, 12 to 14 hours a day. Is it any wonder I developed blood pressure problems? Not to mention that 150 people a day want to talk to you, or use you as an emotional dumping ground. By closing time, I was so stressed that I had to have a few beers to calm down, and by the time I got home, my child was already asleep. In the morning, I’d leave before they woke up. It’s a miracle I lasted this long. I’m exhausted, completely drained. Without a reliable bartender, you can’t run a pub alone.”
The final straw was the brutally high utility bills. As a small business owner, Balázs Gémes also received retroactive bills totalling several hundred thousand forints. “In the spring, I got a 600,000 forint bill, which two weeks later stood already at 1.2 million. Now we’re nearing two million because I didn’t fill out the paperwork properly.” We have written more about how this is affecting many others: energy supplier E.ON – which was taken over by state-owned MVM in the summer – announced that it would retroactively adjust electricity prices for the period between August 1, 2022, and March 31, 2024. Two years ago, the energy provider asked small businesses to submit a declaration clarifying whether they wanted to remain eligible for certain benefits, but many didn’t understand the declaration’s importance or simply ignored the request. Several of Balázs’s acquaintances in Pannonhalma found themselves in the same situation.
“This is not the only reason I’m closing shop, it just sped up something I would have had to do sooner or later anyway. In fact, I’m relieved; I already have my next job, which will be much calmer and more predictable. I won’t have to worry about whether we’ll have guests or whether we’ll end up in the red at the end of the month. And I won’t see my one-and-a-half-year-old child only when they’re asleep. In the past four years, my wife and I have gone on vacation only once — three days in Dömös.”
At the end, we ask Balázs if there have been things he still enjoyed in running a pub.
“I liked when people came. There were always new faces. I enjoyed listening to their stories. I was my own boss, and I was close to home. I loved this place. Still, I would say that anyone with even a little sense wouldn’t open a pub today.”
Alcohol consumption plummets heavily in hospitality
According to the Hungarian Central Statistical Office (KSH), in 2010, there were more than 21,500 liquor stores, but by 2023, that number had fallen to 11,500. For comparison, the drop in restaurants was much less dramatic during this period: from 25,000 in 2010 to 22,000 by 2023. This 10 per cent “loss” in the restaurant sector doesn’t even come close to the nearly halved number of pubs.
And the deeper data for the sector show that the hospitality industry in Hungary — not just pubs, but also restaurants, pastry shops, and cafes — did indeed experience a significant decline starting with the COVID pandemic. According to the 2023 report of the Hungarian Hospitality Industry Association (MVI), the total revenue of hospitality businesses was almost 10 per cent lower than in 2019.
