The Last Day in the Land of Paprika & Sunflowers: the Magyar Memoir Part 15

When I awoke from another night of comma-like sleep as a result of our busy, non-stop tourism of the past few days; I remember thinking, "this is my last day, yet there was so much more I want to experience, so I didn't have even a moment to lament". On that note, we were up and running until the heavy rain stopped us in our tracks. This weakened our resolve to get out and explore with the initial urgency we had just shared previous to this discovery. We eased into the morning by stepping into the quick-order counter next to the hostel. The cafe offered cheap internet so we ordered up a round of coffee, some toasted bagels and re-connected with the world, for the first time in a couple weeks. When I checked my Myspace account I noticed that a handful of my Hungarian high school students had added me. While this seemed a bit inappropriate, being in my 30s and having a bunch of 15-years-olds on my page, how could I say no?

After we finished our morning snack and exhausted our internet time, the rain had not ceased, but the day was slipping away, so we covered up, and set out on an adventure. I don't think we necessarily had a destination, we just found a direction we hadn't been and off we slushed. One of the places we stumbled upon was this second rate mall, the stores included a used bookstore, a travel agency, a briefcase store, and a few other nameless boutiques that were closed anyway, that was about it. We browsed in the book shop for a few minutes then realized there was nothing exciting about this place and headed back into the main corridor that lead to the exit when we looked up and realized how extraordinary it truly really was.


There are so many wonderful treasures in the most unexpected places in Europe. We ventured on, doing a little more shopping, I picked up the token tourist memorabilia for my family; the baseball caps, lighters, magnates, etc, all things that you can expect as a stocking stuffer from me. The rain was still unrelenting, but we pushed on, a finding historic looking building which we attempted to enter, but it was locked up tight. This was getting silly, we were soaked, that was when I saw a beacon of luminescent loveliness, otherwise known as "the perfect cafe". Ashlee was less thrilled than I at the prospect of claiming that window table for three overlooking the main thoroughfare, I guess she wasn't in a cafe mood. Actually Ashlee was a bit angsty that whole day, I think the rain was damping her mood (excuse the pun, my father must have suddenly possessed my body temporarily). It was true there was no patio seating, but it was raining, so the point was moot. As I pulled the glass door open, an overwhelming smell of pastries, presumably made on the premises, ensconced me. The furniture was pristine eggshell white...everywhere, from the comfortable Ikea armchairs to the velvet loveseats, each partnered with an classic marble top round cafe table or coffee table. Attractive, fashionable people were sprawled about comfortably, involved spirited conversation, the occasional cosy embrace, and few with stoic visages starring out the window clearly with their thoughts elsewhere. Was this my version of Heaven?! Was I dead and gone, if so, this seemed a suitable place to spend all eternity! When I think I have found a candidate for the perfect cafe designation, it best to order something truly indulgent, as this is the most accurate measure of it's perfection. "Are you ready to order?" "One cream brullet, a single espresso, and a cup if hot water on the side, please". (I can't trust Europeans to make a proper Americano, who cares that they bloody invented it!) Even in the grandest cafe on the planet, I couldn't risk there being ignorant barrista having power to sully the perfect cafe's reputation in my eyes.

I had procured a fashion magazine at some point during the day, and I gleefully sipped my Man.D-made Americano and cracked into my cream brullet and snapped of a square of dark chocolate which accompanies my beverage with the sheer contentment as the rain continued to coat streets outside and tickle the plate glass window at my side. I lazed in my perfectly proportioned armchair with my friends, my magazine and my treats, thinking that life doesn't get any better than this.

I was in no hurry to to go, after spending an hour in the greatest cafe on the planet, but Ashlee and Mylo were eager to do and see more. We continued in search of something exciting, a museum maybe or other weather friendly activities. We looked at some more buildings, bought a few more things, but ultimately we gave-up and decided to just find a pub and throw back a few pints. We found a nice spot and actually sat in an interesting window cubbie, it was open to the outside, but was covered and enclosed by an awning and plastic tarp. So it was sort of enclosed only offered a severely obstructed view of the walking street out front. Our waitress was friendly, as there were few customers she joined in our conversation intermittently, focusing most of her attention on Mylo. After a few rounds, we ordered the special, soup and a sandwich of some kind, and called it dinner. Ashlee and I were taking a late flight to Brussels in a few hours, while Mylo would spend another day in Budapest before flying back to the United States. We tried to enjoy the remainder of our time together, laughing, and reminiscing, talking about the future, bitching about relationships, knowing that we would most likely never all be together again. Knowing that it seemed fairly accurate to say that our paths would not cross again without considerable effort, we didn't make any promises to reunite. It wasn't sad, it was life, and we each had one to get back to, which was a nice feeling. Ashlee had her sweet job and new flat in France, Janie had already taken the train back to Italy, Lana and Fedelio were still sleeping under the stars at the rock festival before heading back to Spain, Mylo had job lined up in South Carolina and a girl he had meet just before he left that he seemed increasing more motivated to get back to, and I was in love, a word that hasn't been in my vocabulary in a very long time. It was destined to fall apart on the basis of my inability to stay in one place for a convenient length of time, but for that moment, I still had faith in the prospects of having it all. That might be what I have missed most in the nearly two years that have passed since that day. Making the most of everyday and sucking every nanosecond of excitement out of each daily discovery, and trusting that he would be there when I was done gallivanting around Europe.

Later that night we returned to the hostel for the last time, I felt a wee bit tipsy but completely satisfied with the time in the land of the natural hot spring water fountains, killer Carpathian valley allergies, the fabulous fudlare, the menicing mosquitos and spiders, the two Arizonias, the Octagon, the dictators, the random squators, the Turkish bathhouses, the silly students, the cabbies and their smoking breaks, the cold cherry soup, the disappearing hostel, the Beaver, the goulash, the slow sticky train rides, the chained cow, the old fashion school bell, the bicycle traffic, the gypsy market, and the endless expanse of paprika and sunflowers stretching as far as the eye can see. I can't imagine the summer of 2007 without all of those elements.

-Fin-

The City by Night: The Magyar Memoir part 14

Following our exhilarating, yet exhausting, day at the baths, somehow we managed to get back to our "hostel neighborhood". We got cleaned up and headed back out for dinner, to the same wonderful spot where we had had the gelato the day prior. This time I had the Magyarian delicacy, Goulash. It was full of sausage and sweet paprika, even on a warm summer night, it is unbeatable! It was sort of muggy and warm out, we were seated on the patio facing the promenade and a view of the Dona. After swallowing a bottle of Egerian red wine,(Eger is a well known wine-growing area east of Budapest)too stuffed for dessert, an after dinner walk was in order to clear our alcohol hazed heads and calm our bulging bellies. So we headed back across the bridge where the afternoon market was held, toward the waterfront bellow the museums on the opposite side of the river.

As we approached the winding hill we had descended from the day before, we heard a commotion of happy drunken voices, but we didn't see anyone, just some work men silently setting up some tables and chairs in a beer garden that didn't appear to be open yet. We continued towards the hill, walking along the road, the noise seemed to be coming from the vaulted tunnel cut into the hill to allow cars to pass under. We looked up as the voices became more pronounced, sure enough, there were about 15 teenagers on top of cement edge of the tunnel entrance; laughing and carrying on from their precarious perch. It took only second for us to engage in a unspoken agreement to try to get up there. We analyzed their location and set up the stone path part way up the hill, then diverted off road through the trees and dirty in the directions of the voices. I might add this was a moonless night, and we had only our mobile phones to act as a makeshift flashlights. I trailed behind as I had flip-flops of some other non-hiking friendly shoes. I manged to navigate my way over tree roots, around, between and over boulders, and through small sharp thickets to a small clearing where Ashlee and Mylo were lingering, waiting on me. As I came into the clearing I let my guard down, safe at last, another successful night hike in improper footwear in a less than sober state of mind...uff!! At that moment I tripped over a stone retaining wall of some kind that's purpose is still unbeknownst to me. I fell face first into the concrete top of the tunnel for an audience of 15-20 Czech teens to see- these teens as a matter of fact!



I was bleeding in several places, but thank god I was wearing jeans, since my legs took the brunt of the skidding impact. After Ashlee and Mylo had composed their chortling over my collision with concrete, we gawked at the view (the way Clark W. Griswold does when they go to the Grand Canyon in the first National Lampoons Vacation) It was not as spectacular a view as my foreshadowing may have implied. We got back on the stone path and went headed towards the trolley that had taken us up the hill, where we found a footbridge that offered us a more civilized platform from which to take-in the city lights, there I took some of my favorite pictures of my trip. The first one is of Ashlee and I in the foreground, my finger bandaged with some random tissues someone had, and a few leaves still adhered to my hair; the lovely lit up city in the background. For the second shot, I managed to pull myself together and hide my wounds, that is the picture I choose to remember.

The Magyar Memoir- Part 13 Bath or Bust!

As I alluded to in the prior entry; Mylo had himself an interesting night previous to this lovely morning. After the rest of us had tucked ourselves in to the hostel. Mylo found another bar nearby, he started talking to one girl, who called a another girlfriend over, many rounds of pricey specialty cocktails were ordered and much conversation and laughs were had. The festive mood continued as thoughts of three-somes danced in young Mylo's head, until the girls invited another pit boss-esk man to join them, it was around this time that Mylo recalled an article he had read in one of his travel books, or perhaps in the English newspaper about how there was a "dine and ditch" sort of a scheme carried out by the Russians. He eyed the divine Russian vixens as they bated their heavily mascaraed lashes at him, then sized up the new Rusky at the table, and promptly excused himself somehow and and took off before he was stuck with a massive bar tab. Whether or not he paid for his own drink, I forgot to ask, as I was so entranced by the other details, which at this point I may have confused, but that's the story as I remember it.

The second day in Budapest was a big day- lots of tourism, but most of it at a snails pace, as Ashlee and I discovered on this trip that we shared a common passion. We were both on a personal quest to locate and hold court in "the quintessential European cafe". Thus, when ever we saw those familiar rattan folding chairs and round wrought iron tables in the distance, we had to divert the course of our tour to have a look, to confirm whether or not it was worthy of our patronage once we became overrun with hunger, thirst, or need of a restroom. With each cafe that peaked our interest we paused for a quick evaluation. Was there a patio? Was the interior design minimalist- yet with a distinctly cosmopolitan flair while maintaining the unique identity of the local culture? Were the biscottis made on the premises? Did they serve all their coffee drinks with a cocktail napkin on a saucer, cubed sugar and a dark chocolate square or wafer of some kind? Were the tables spaced out enough so that you wouldn't hit your knee on the table every time you crossed your legs, yet close enough together to listen in on other people's conversations? Were there any eye sores, such as ass backwards Americans wearing crocs, a fanny pack and a visor while asking the waitress embarrassingly idiotic questions loudly? I'll bet you haven't ever considered these factors when selecting a cafe to have a sit,a sip and a cig...well Ashlee and I spent the better part of the day developing our criterion and conducting a careful analysis. We did eventually select a suitable cafe that met our refined prerequisites, but it was not open yet so we had to get our morning espresso at some all-American truck-stop of a cafe...it was pure kitsch...disgusting I tell you! Although, the service was impeccable, I think, or maybe our waiter was just super hot, I forget. I think the coffee was good though the biscottis were probably pre-packaged.

Then I was almost hit but a bus...I bet those of you that were irritated about my snobbish description of the sub-par cafe are now intrigued by what's to come. Well, clearly I survived, but there is a video that captures the moment perfectly.( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YXagFzdIOtM ) Yeah, that was me. On the video you can't really tell that I took two steps back to avoid the bus, my fear sounds rather fake too, but that was not staged I assure you.

All this action and it was barely noon! We continued past embassy row, where I flipped off the Korean Embassy for no real reason other that to remind it that I would no longer tolerate Kimchi in my spaghetti and people driving around with a magaphone blasting loud sales pitches for used scrap metal for sale at 7am on a Sunday. (I lived in Korea for a year). When we reached Hero's Square...which is actually a circle, we met up with Janie, but she and her mates were on their way somewhere else.

We continued on to this castle thingie, it was pretty touristy, but there was some great architecture to check out, and there was a mot complete with row boats that you could rent. Naturally, we could not resist! Mylo rowed first, but I was giddy with excitement waiting for my turn to row. It turns out that, considering the many hours as I have spent on the rowing machine at the gym, I am not proficient oarsmen. I rowed us in circles mostly, and almost lost an oar, but I'm sure the couples in the other boats had a good chuckle.


Finally, it was time for the grandest of our day's adventures...the TURKISH BATH, we had walked a long way to find it, over the river and through the wooded park...and finally we were sufficiently sweaty and ready. We were unimpressed with the first indoor pool, it was kind of slimy, so we continued to the outdoor pool, the first shallow pool was like a beef stew; a generous helping delicious meat both male and female, but there were way too many leeks, greasy geezers, which made our entry point into the pool tricky. Objective: bypass retiree central and get to the sexy side. Once we were in, we discovered this pool was really salty and about the temperature of urine, so we decided to try the next pool, it was full of children with inadequate supervision and therefore discipline, so this one was no good either,so we ventured on. Finally we had our Goldie Locks moment, and settled into a lazy river type pool, not too hot nor too cold. Ashlee, the sun goddess, decided to prematurely age her skin for a while on a deck chair, while Mylo and I explored the other offerings at the bathhouse. We found a crazy center-of-the-earth temperature sauna. What was interesting, beside the fact there there were toddlers in there kicking it with their parents, was there was a pile of snow outside the door for people to take in with them. After sampling the women only saunas, I went back outside to find Ashlee sound asleep on her towel with a killer sunburn smoldering on her back, I tried to wake her but she was out, so I let her be, and went to the snack bar...but never got there was I discovered a meditation room, where I communed with my inner chi, then feel asleep on my towel on a balcony overlooking the pool. What a great afternoon it twas.

MAGYAR MEMOIR Part 12 - Budapest Encore!

I just tuned-up the Cranberries to remind me of that fateful weekend many moons ago. (We listened to 3 bands that summer: a Hungarian Beatles's cover band record we found at the "Sik Sandor", Groove Armada and the Cranberries, we were just too lazy to change the music). Our time in Hungary was swiftly coming to a close. It was the last week of class, the finale being lots of pictures, hugs, and autographs in memory books. Followed by a thorough cleaning of 'the perfect flat', and by cleaning, I mean the disguising of any damage we inflicted. Our guilt dissolved while moving furniture around when we discovered tons of holes in the walls and other previous damage. After it was confirmed that we had done a passable job cleaning and were all packed, we arranged a taxi to take us to the train station, since the bosses seemed irritated at us. I think Norma left early in the morning, we left late morning. I believe we said goodbye to Lana and Fidelio the night before; who were headed for The Zigit Music festival for a few days. Janie had arranged to stay with an ex-boyfriend and his family for a couple days, and would meet up with us in Budapest. That left Mylo, Ashlee and I (the original trio). We caught that old familiar train from Cegled station for the last time to Budapest, this time we were not delayed. The weather began to change as we arrived in Budapest, it was cooler, a bit breezy and cloudy, but pleasant. We found our way through the nice area of Budapest, making our way to our hostel. It was really blue, and very big as I recall, sort of as if it were a giant's house. From the tall door frames to the big steps and high ceilings. We had a triple room for the three of us. We must have been on the third or fourth floor, the view out our window looked directly into an office building across the way, I sat fixated on the business going on in this office for longer than was probably comfortable for the workers inside. It wasn't just them that had captured my imagination; it was just the majesty of the whole city; we'd been in sleepy Cegled...it had been a while since I'd seen much hustle and bustle. It was invigorating. We decided to audition the hostel's showers and head out to see some sights. Sorry, no HOSTEL horror tales to report, it was a nice shower- nothing more.

Overwhelmed by the energy of the city we decided to take it all in right in the center of everything. In a main square, near a lovely fountain, we found a sidewalk cafe, and had extremely overpriced drinks and a bite to eat. Then we ventured across "the Duna" (Danube) and up towards the expanse of sprawling elegant museums. We took this queer little funicular up the hill. The line was not short, and there was a fair amount of pushing to get the best seat, and yes, we totally won that battle, sorry Hungarian kids, foreign tourists first! The sun was back as was the sweat attack once up at the top of the hill. We took some great pictures, bought some nice trinkets, Mylo dunked his head in a drinking fountain which disgusted some onlookers, even the carriage jockey had to squirt off his team of horses with a hose trying to alleviate the unbearable heat. That made me happy, I worry about horses, their line of work seem at bit slavish and depressing.




There was a wedding party followed by a parade of guest that we watched filter past, on their way to a decadent party no doubt. We were not jealous of those poor sweaty people in their frilly dresses and heavy suits. We made our way to the Castle, and cruised the surrounding cobbled square, perhaps one of the most picturesque places in Europe. A spectacular view of the city, the Dona, and the "birthday cake" parliament building. (I didn't make that up, the Hungarians authored that insult for their most well-known piece of architecture).


We decided to walk down the hill this time, we wound through cobbled switchbacks and meandered through the surrounding neighborhoods, which were surprisingly silent compared to hustle and bustle near the museums. We paused only to use a public toilet that cost two Euro! It was much like an outhouse, yet with a bathroom attendant. (yes, we were perplexed by this also). We eventually made it down the hill where we looked at the birthday cake from across the river before heading back towards our hostel. We decided that there was no need to see the building close up as half of it was covered with scaffolding. Apparently it needs constant renovation...like the Golden Gate Bridge, I was glad to know it wasn't just America that was filled with shotty tourist attractions. We made another stop at a cheerful little music and craft fair that was just starting up. There looked to be some delicious smelling grilled treats, which we considered making our dinner, but ultimately decided to eat gelato and drink wine at a cafe along side the river. You never know with me; sometimes I prefer the plastic cup and paper plate dinner to the the crystal glasses and linen menus, especially when I sweaty and tired, but this day had been such a wonderful day- it needed to be toasted with the proper glassware. We each got a delicate ornamented ice cream sundae, which has yet to be surpassed both in flavor and presentation. The "fudlare" in Hungary is about the best their is in my mind. It was the perfect end to a perfect day of sight seeing!

On our way back towards the hostel we encountered a bit of rain, so Ashlee and I ducked into Zara to do a little shopping until the rain passed. Mylo went to look in another shop next door. I was amused that there was a man at the doors whose express orders seemed to be to bag people umbrellas. (Since then I have discover this to be a universal practice in many rainy cities, but this is the first time I had encountered it and it made me feel quite fancy.)(I bought a white dress that I was pretty excited about at the time, now when I see pictures of me in that dress, I wonder what I was thinking). By the time we had had a look at every garment in the store the rain had ceased enough to continue back to the hostel.

That night we had plans to meet up with Janie, her X, and one of his friends. We found them at an Irish pub just around the corner. We sat at metal tables outside where we had lovely view of the whitewash buildings and a impressive church in the middle of the square that sparkled intermittently as the moonlit night sky was interrupted sporadically by fast moving clouds. Our round of beers hadn't even arrived when we heard the thunder, we expeditiously gathered our things at once, as buckets of rain started to fall upon us. As the night progressed inside the typical Irish pub; complete with dark wood, darts, sticky floors and a stale basement smell, the beers continued to arrive one tray at a time. We talked European politics, and exchanged heated opinions (The Hungarian national pastime I gather, i.e drink and debate). I, however, was beat and could barely stay awake- we all were, well, except for Mylo and the boys.

Ashlee and I decided to head back and call it a night. Janie and her friends ended up heading back to their place across town, and Mylo had an adventure of his own which will be recounted in Part 13.