7/14/2011 - Kishegyes

We visited Pityu-Basci this afternoon. Avid readers of our blog will remember his 75^th birthday from the beginning of the blog (worth a revisit if you haven't read it, this would be the dread "Quince Extract Palinka Affair"). His 80^th birthday was scheduled for Sunday, but they were forced to cancel. He is going to the hospital tomorrow for an indefinite stay. He looks awful, but, as always, is a generous host. None the less, I can't shake the feeling as we leave that we probably won't be visiting with him next year.

*****

Evening in Kishegyes, and we are sitting at Laci-Basci and Erzsi-Neni's house, around a table made from the lid of a baby grand piano, sampling the fruits of our labor from yesterday. The palinka has sat in an open 26-ish gallon bucket overnight to breathe. The sugar and alcohol are then adjusted using a hydrometer and distilled water. Then it is ready for bottles. The final yield was around 70 liters.

As we were sitting there, sampling the product, there was this exchange between Vera and Peter that I found humorous:

Vera: "Doesn't it say 'for external use only.'"

Peter: "No, it stings when I use it that way."

We also met Sandor this evening. He is the third partner in the palinka empire. He and Z went to elementary school together. He is a very funny guy – at one point dialing up an old classmate that he and Z had in common and handing the phone to her. They only went to school together through kindergarten.

This is one of those evenings where I have had enough palinka that I actually think I speak Hungarian. As a result, further notes in my journal a more than a little illegible – so we'll leave it here for today.

7/13/2011 Kishegyes

We received sad news this morning. The mother of the cleaning lady we met at the police station died of diabetic related causes yesterday. We are keeping our new friend and her family in our thoughts and prayers.

It appears that I will be earning my Moonshining Merit Badge today. Someone has to run the still while Laci is at the funeral. Peter, Z and I have been elected.

I'm sure you're wondering (and if you're not, why not?) how it's all done. Like this – after the fruit has been cut, peeled and pitted, it is put in a big blue, food-grade barrel. It is left uncovered for several days to cook down through natural fermentation. The speed of the fermentation is controlled through the use of sugar. Like beer, it will foam up while this is going on. You will need to leave some space in your barrel for this. The foam is scraped off periodically.

You will be left with a liquid sludge of fermented fruit. After one last "pick through" by hand to clean up the last of the peels and pits, into the still it goes. The still is about 240 liters. It is a large copper tank, with an open fire made of hard wood and corn stalks underneath. There is a crank on the side that rotates paddles inside that stir the sludge. The steam is collected through a pipe and sent to the nearby condenser, a large metal tank with a garden hose rotating inside connected to a small outlet pipe. There you will find a small, match-stick sized stream of "product." The goal is to keep the heat under this still at just the right temperature to keep this flow constant. The final reading on the hydrometer should be in the vicinity of 30.

Peter is reducing 450 pounds of fruit. He'll end up with about 20 liters of palinka. Of course, this is just the apricot stuff.

Apples and pears are in the future. Those need to be coarsely ground before adding to the barrel. Cherries have already run. They only need be pitted before they are ready. The guys are not doing any berry palinka this year, it takes too much fruit. Next up for them will be plums.

My part of the process is to turn the crank on the still every so often, read the numbers on the thermometer (scarily, I seem to have the best eye sight of the crew at the moment), and to suck back a few Jelen Pivos. Yes, on a day like this, I'm prepared to even give Jelen a second chance. Good news! It's (barely) better out of the bottle. Which isn't saying much.

We visited with Emese this evening before going to dinner at Imre and Kati's next door. She told us about the involvement of eight of her school kids in the Hungarian National History Contest. They have 8 months to prepare for the contest. They are given a new task every month based around a central theme. This year, that was the military hero Rákoczy. During the day of competition they will present authentic period costumes, research papers and poster boards, a 5 minute movie, a period dance, compete in a whipping competition, present a gift to the judges – with appropriate speech, and create an authentic Rákoczy Salad. Emese had the only two teams from outside of Hungary.

As an aside – we frequently compare school systems while we are here. Talking shop, if you will. We were explaining that the schools in The 'Couve will shut down for the lightest dusting of snow. Emese informed us the only time they shut schools down around here is when they are bombed by NATO. Yeah – that's a topper.

Dinner is with the wine crew this evening. Kati has outdone herself finding swell vittles for the veg. An appetizer of yoghurt, mayo, gelatin, thinly sliced carrot and cucumber formed into little bars, is followed by an entree of fried cauliflower heads and sun-dried peppers, stuffed with sharp cheese, and then breaded and fried. As has been mentioned before, they fry foods very lightly here, so it is refreshing but not too oily. Good stuff.

7/11/2011 Kishegeyes

Monday - time to get our ID cards so they know where to pick up when they come after the foreigners while we are in Serbia. Unlike previous years, the cards are now in English (Serbia is working hard to get into the EU), and we were able to get them in advance. Of course, like previous years, it's not as simple as that.

We picked up our friend Emese, who speaks Serbo-Croation, and headed to the police station - let the fun begin!

The lobby of the police station is already full of people. It is also full of police officers in various uniforms actively involved with - well, actually not much. Unless you count making sure the counters and desks don't suddenly fly up in the air.

We are second in line at the window, watching Officer Incompetent deal with a lady at the window. He "hunt and pecked" at his computer keyboard for a couple of strokes, taking, and I am not kidding here, a full three minutes, and then wandered off to find someone who had mastered the alphabet. This gave us 20 minutes to catch up with Emese, write in the journal, and admire the, as many as 8, police offiers sitting in the office working on something that involved holding the furniture down.

A cleaning lady (and friend of Emese's) came by and regaled us with tales of working in the place. Evidently, she has finally trained the police officers that putting out their cigarettes in their coffee cups is a bad idea. After several years, she has also convinced them that cleaning products might be a little more effective than just plain water. She has to be careful about cleaning the second floor window. It is only held in lace with a wooden wedge - if she pushes too hard on it, from either side, it will fall out. Best I can tell, she is the only person working in the whole place. When last seen, she was berating the door stops in the police office about putting chewing gum in the track for the window. They helpfully presented her with a ruler to scrape it out.

While all of this was going on, Vera pulled me over to show me a shredded desk chair in the office we were waiting for, and said I should address it in the blog. I assume it was shredded in frustraition from these people at the counter wanting things and interrupting the importnat work of holding the furniture down.

Finally, Officer NahΘτ* (my guess - Fackelmann), showed up and demonstrated some competence. Taking our cards and passports, he was gone for about 10 minutes, and we were checked in.

From there we went to city hall to get birth certificates to start Z's passport adventure for this year, only to find that they had risked having their furniture float away for their midmorning snack break. We gave up and went to Emese's to sit on the deck and enjoy coffee and a "car" conversation.

*****

Pista and Rozsa, Peter's cousin and wife, came by to visit this afternoon. They are active farmers in town. Pista shared with us that if it doesn't start raining in the next few days, the corn won't come this year. They made several thousand Euros on this crop last year, and are a little worried. The river levels in town are too low to allow for irrigation, so the crop may be a write-off. There are no farm subsidies here, so this will be a financial loss for them. So remember kids, there is no such thing as global warming.

*****

Dinner this evening is at Laci-Bacsi and Erzsi-Neni's house (known to long time readers of the blog as "Beethoven-Bacsi" and "Mozart-Neni." Laci had a large St. Bernard dogs when Z's kids were young and the "Beethoven" dog movies were out). In attendance are Imre and Kati, Lajos and Bori, Lacika and Dora and their son, Benedek. Lacika is the manager for this really hot Serbian brass band, the Boban Markovic Orkestra, that I have been infatuated with lately. Laci, Erzsi, Imre, Kati, Lajos and Bori are the harvest crew for the wine grapes in the vineyard that Peter is managing in Hungary, and they have all become good friends.

Lajos and Bori are a little late this evening. The trees on their farm had grown a little too close to the power lines, and had caught on fire. Had they not been home to put the fire out, the entire place likely would have burnt to the ground.

*****

The evening proceeded, as they often do here, with me enjoying the melodious sounds of Hungarian flowing around me, without a clue to what it actually all means. Fortunately, Z will help me keep up with the flow of things by occasionally throwing me a "car." A "car" is a quick translation, so that I have some clue as to what is happening in the conversation, and can make some sense of it. The first year we came over here, they were concise little tidbits of the conversation. I was surprisingly, able to follow a lot of what was going on at that point. By the second trip, the tidbits had gotten shorter - usually consisting of one word. We talked about cars a lot that year.

After an hour, then, this is the "car" Z just threw at me - "it doesn't translate, it's like a pun." And I'm right back in there...

* His real name is spelled "Nah backward 'N' and a weird cross between a 'T' and an 'h.'" I used to be able to cut and paste from Word into Blogger. I can't do that any more. Thanks, Blogger.

7/10/2011 Topolya

It is hot today. The kind of hot that brings the color of roasted ham (or carrots, if your a veg) to your skin, cooks every drop of moisture from your body, and then slaps you about the head and shoulders, making every step an effort - you know the type? So, of course, I started the day with an hour walk. The smoke is already (still?) coming from the neighbors still. He is running a commercial operation from his garage. To pay us back for "smoking us out" last night, he swung by with a bottle of cherry, fresh off the still, for Z and I. Around town, I am frequently greeted with a cheerful "Jö naput." It was a nice way to start the day.

I was hurried through the shower (mostly by the fact that the hot water tank was busted, not that we knew this at the time), and then we went to the semi-annual "Big Market" in Topolya. As has been mentioned before, this market turns the entire south end of town into a flea market/mall. You can buy anything here; toilet paper, furniture, tractor gears, gasoline, etc. Peter outfitted himself with a new "cowboy" style hat and belt, Vera some candy and a Kürtös Kalács, and Z added a new whip to the collection she has been working on since she was a kid. A quick stop at the GoMex store for water, and then out to Lajos and Bori's for roast lamb with the family. Family, in this case, are, in addition to Lajos and Bori, their business tycoon sons Lali, with wife Adrianna, daughter Léna, and son Lajos IV, and Feri, with wife Ani, as well as Marko and Mario. Mario is a former tennis pro, who has coached some of the name Serbia players (I even recognized some of the names - a shame alchohol was involved in the discussion. I couldn't remember now to save my life. Let this be a lesson to you, kids.), before becomming a vintner for some Serbia rock god neither you or I have ever heard of. Marko is an OB-GYN who practices three days in Hungary, drives to the Croatian coast and practices there for a day. Then he kicks it a day and drinks wine with the fishermen before returning to Hungary.

*****

The joy of seeing the world as a local instead of a tourist, is that you get to see things as they are, rather than all prettied up for the outsiders. For example, Lajos is the Game Warden for this part of Serbia. As such, he gets invited to go on safari all over the world. He invited us into his study to check out his trophy collection. The Keckes side of the family was suitably impressed - I was a little grossed out. And let's not even talk about the lamb that's staring at me with the roasted white eye ball on the spit.

*****

A little before two, everyone is here, and the party is in full swing. I've been handed a swell Düsseldorfer Alt, all tan and malty, and then promptly ignored. Such is the life of an American tourist. Smile and enjoy the show.

As, at this point, it has been more than an hour since someone has put more than a sentence together in English, let's talk about the beer:

Unknown Brewery, Alt, probably around 5%. This is a beautiful tanish-brown beer, with a thick, creamy white head and a strong aroma of sweet malt, with just a hint of hops peeking through in the background. This is also true as you tase it. On the front of the palate you get the sweet of the malt and the bitter of the hopes in almost equal balance, with the malt just winning out. As thebeer slides to the back of your throat, the hops show up in the finish in a hige wallop. A nice little alt - wish I knew what it was.

Lunch is served. Like usual in these cases, the lamb did not cooperate by finishing in time. The side dishes are enjoyed by all along with a little left over lamb brought by a guest to a party last night, while the assmbled wait for the one on the spit to finish. This finally occured about a half-hour later, to the applause of the assmbled guests. In case you were wondering, the tradition is that the head of the lamb goes to the chef. No one else may have it. Lajos, here's looking at you!

*****

Later in the afternoon we shifted out to the deck and to drinking wime. The wine in question, a 2007 Chateau de Lussac, is significantly more complex than the house wines we have been drinking this week. I'm told the stuff sells for about 100 Euroes a bottle (about $150 USD). It's really, really swell stuff, and probably completely wasted on my beer palate. Like the best beers, there are a huge number of flavors here that complement each other to make a better whole. Certainly nothing to whine (or wine, for that matter) about.

*****

We ended today's festivities witha guys-only trip out to visit Loli and Feri's new business venture. They have bought a grain elevator at the edge of town. After a hot, sticky climb, I was rewarded with a hazy view of the surrounding area. Why, on a clear day, I am told, you can see all the way to - well, you know...

7/9/2011 Kishegyes

It has been over 100° for the last few days here - hell on the walks and practice, but at least it helps keep the mosquitoes down. It is palinka making season in Kishegyes. We have seen the fruit cooking down in several places and are on the clock today making sure to add water to Peter's barrels to tighten the seams. Apricots are in season right now, followed by plum, pear, quince and the like. Cherries are already finished.

In another "Greek Wedding" moment, Z informed me today that we will be dining with sevreal folks over the next couple of days. They are all preparing lamb.

Imre and Kati came by this evening to visit. Discussion centered around the adventures of Kati's class reunion, mole removal (The friend in Sarmalek seems to have the best solution. He has a Guiney Hen that likes to hunt and eat them.), and "what the hell do vegetarians eat, anyway?" We'll be lunching with them later in the week.

Our palinka this evening is "mixed fruit." The fruit in question came from the garden right outside the door. We dodged a bullet. Vera brought out more of the "Swiss Herb," but decided it wasn't the right choice this evening. Whew, that was close.

*****

Hungarian Customs No. 2: Operating a Seltzer Bottle.

Most palinka drinkers wisely follow the potent potable with a chaser of bubbly water from a seltzer bottle. Should you be called upon to pour, here is what you do. Hold the glass to be filled in your weak hand under the spout, and the handle of the bottle in your strong hand. GENTLY squeeze the handle on the bottle. Don't be embarrassed if you end up taking a shower. You will. Even seasoned pros do it every so often.

7/8/2011 Keszthely - Kishegyes

Our annual trip to Serbia to visit Z's hometown and get her Serbian papers begins today in unbearably hot weather. I took my turn at driving the back roads of Hungary, always an adventure. Driving here is not for the timid. You will be passing places you never would have dreamed of at home. We lived to tell the tale (!), so I must have down OK.

We stopped by Lajos and Bori's house in Topolya for lunch. Lajos, you will recall, makes palinka commercially. Lunch, then, began with two extra-large sized apricot palinkas, fresh off the still - followed by potato soup, sun-dried red peppers with garlic, fried zuchinni and potatoes for me, accompanied by grey-long-horn cow steak for the carnivores. The Grey-Long-Horn Cow, by the way, is a Hungarian region specific animal. Lajos has the only license in the area to grow them. Desert was palascinta with cinnamon and sugar or home-made marmalade. All this was washed down with Savignon Blanc and Chardonnay house wines. Their sons have sold the grocery chain and moved into the wine biz, among other things.

From there, once again, home to pour ourselves into bed.

*****

Hungarian Customs No. 1: The Ritual Greeting

The Hungarian Ritual Greeting starts with a lot of excited cries of pleasure about renewing an acquaintance, friendship, family association - or being in the same bowling league for all I know - that you haven't run into for a while. You then embrace, and kiss them warmly on each cheek. Except, sometimes you only kiss one cheek. And then, if you really care for someone, sometimes you kiss them three times. It is all rather confusing.

Should you be called upon to perform this ritual, be forewarned that you start on your right, their left. You greet both the opposite and the same sex this way - so get over it, guys.

7/2 & 6/2011 Kesthely and environs

7/2

We had breakfast and then made a trip out to the "Russian" market out on the edge of town. This hangover from the "Black Market" days is a kind of flea market for clothing, genuine authentic Rolex's, and the like. Today it was mostly cooking gadgets and clothing - no real finds.

From there we went out to Sarmalek to get some wine and gather all the fruit that Z and Kyra could eat and shove into their pockets. And then, from there, home for lunch and a beer.

Lest you think everything we are drinking over here is swell, I give you:

Gösser Natur Zitrone (mit natüruchem Zitronenshaft), contract brewed by Sopron Brewing Company, in Sopron, Hungary (naturally). About 2% by volume, it looks kind of like urine with a thin head that lasts less than a minute before disappearing completely in disgust. It has the strong aroma of synthetic lemon (or possibly urine). There is no malt flavor in the bill, but rather the taste of bitter lemon soda. By the time it has reached the back of the palate, there is nothing left at all. All flash - no follow through. Ick. To be avoided at all costs. Mine ended up in the sink - life is too short to drink bad beer.

6/30 & 7/1/2011 Niedernhall - Kesthely

An 11 hour car ride is our fate today - from Niedernhall to Kesthely, Z's folks home base. As it is raining and there is lots of construction going on, even my stint behind the wheel on the Autobahn wasn't much fun. I only made 120 MPH twice, dang it!

We rolled in around 9:00, or 21:00 as the locals tell time. I had five palinkas, "my palinka," Vera's palinka (Peter had pulled out the wrong bottle, and she needed her glass empty for the correct one), the correct palinka - twice, and then one more to keep Peter company while he snuck one in while Vera was in the bathroom. All of this washed down, of course, by the beer chaser that Vera put in my hand shortly after "the correct" palinka, volume one. As the calorie count was low today, shortly thereafter I poured myself into bed. A draining experience indeed.

*****

7/1

In "there goes the neighborhood" news - according to the local newspaper, Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt have bought a house in nearby Tihany. Angelina just finished a film project there and liked the town.

*****

Today was spent getting ready for the arrival of Z's daughter and her family - Kyra's husband, Greg, our granddaughters Jaden and Sophie, and Greg's parental units, Janet and Wayne.

The morning involved visits to several local stores. The competition is getting fierce, and the quality at some of them is falling off. Hardest hit is our beloved Lidl - with the quirky middle isle with all the weird stuff on it. The quality of goods has fallen off, and the middle isle is pretty bare.

The afternoon was spent cleaning, cooking, and, in my case, reacquainting the trumpet with my face. Peter is making goulash in the kettle on the fire. Vera is making dumplings on the stove, and they are taking turns making palacsinta (crêpes) = Jaden's favorite food group.

*****

After dinner, we put together there was a "Wine Thing" downtown. It's a kind of traveling circus of the local vineyards, moving from town to town around the lake all sumer (Balaton is one of the major wine producing regions in Hungary). You buy a glass for 300 Ft. (about $1.50), and then float from booth to booth buying "tastes." A "taste" is about half a glass, and will set you back between 120-800 Ft. ($1.00 - $4.00 USD). There are street musicians every block or so. The hottest ticket, crowd wise, is a group playing Hungarian Renaissance music on period instruments - a hurdy-gurdy, wood flute, a dumbek or two, and a bass drum anointed with various percussion "toys." Of course, their popularity could have something to do with the belly dancer fronting the group.

6/29/2011 Niedernhall - Neuenstein - Waldenburg - Schwabisch Hall - Kunzelsau

Morning in Niedernhall starts with breakfast - bread, meats and cheeses (stinky cheese that will blow your sinuses off, which happens every time we open the fridge), tomatoes, "California" peppers (red bell peppers), scrambled eggs (suprisingly), and palinka (not surprisingly). This mornings entry is apple palinka with "Swiss Herb" tea added. More strongly flavored than most of the breed, after two days I'm finding it schnapps too bad (pun inteded).

My morning constitutional took me around town and then down the bike path along the Kocher River. Niedernhall was founded in the 1300's as one of the many salt mining outpost for the Roman Legions. It is a rediculously cute village - half timbered houses and antique city walls and watch towers and all. An amazing place.

Leaving town, I walked by the local schools, just starting for the day (it feels deliciously subversive to watch others work at my main occupation and not have to do it myself). The view along the river is stunning. The quaint houses are lined up down along the river. Farther up the sides of the narrow valley are rows and rows of grapes (great terroir). All of this is capped by a dense forest along the top of the ridge. It goes on like this for miles.

*****

Today is a pilgrimage of sorts. Z grew up in this neck of the woods and has lots of memories of things and places nearby. As Peter and Vera will be giving up this apartment later this year, after they complete their Hungarian citizenship, this will likely be our last visit back for a while. Between all of this and the area around us being "castle central," we have us a fine day o' sightseeing ahead - so let's get with it!

We started with the castle at Neuenstein (I'm not quite sure why they named their town after a new mug, but...). We can't see much, as "The Dude is home," Z informs me. "The Dude," in this case, is a Duke I gather. There is a pretty English garden in the back, along with some great statuary. As we are coming back through the center of the keep, the grounds keeper/tour guide invites us to check out the old kitchen.

The medieval kitchen is in pristine condition. Our friendly tour guide informs us this is because for around 30 years this building functioned as a retirement home before "The Dude took it back." The retirees never used the room, hence its great condition. "The Dude" and family bust out the room for special events.

It is a dank, bottom floor stone room, as you would expect in a castle (duh.). There is poor ventilation, which explains the black, sooty walls. The first thing you see is a big stone trench for butchering, followed by a swell little fireplace with lots of hooks and platforms for pots and pand and such. There is no chimney as such; the entire roof above the fireplace rises gently to the only opening in the roof line. You can imagine how well this works. (Or just look at the black sooty walls and don't guess!) Near the back is an oevn for bread and the like, as well as a peep hole for the servants to see if dinner was ready. They were not allowed in the room until it was. A cool look at history, and a bargain at 1 Euro a head!

From there we drove up the hill to Waldenburg. The flag is flying over the castle to let us know - you guessed it - "The Dude" is home. This "Dude," also a Duke, has a really great location, but a pretty small castle. It is located on the top of a largish hill. On a clear day, you can see all the way to - well you know.

I am amazed at how small these castles we are seeing really are. I can only imagine it must have been hell during a siege.

Down the hill we go, past Peter's former employer, Stahl. Peter was involved with the construction of this building from the beginning, and functioned as the union head for as long as he worked therte. He is well loved by his former bosses and fellow employees, and gets invited back frequently for big events.

Next up is Schwabisch Hall. It is a rediculously cute village - half timbered houses and antique city walls and watch towers and all. If you were looking for a place to film fairy tales, look no further than here.

There is a beautiful, centrally located church on the square. They use the enormous front steps to stage outdoor theatre productions in the summer - a pretty clever idea. There were rehearsals for some '60's thing going on as we walked through. Most of the shows seem to be musicals - "My Fair Lady" is on deck this summer - and mapping out choreography on the steps for dance numbers seemed to be challenging.

We had lunch in an outdoor cafe by the river. Z had a noodle and cheese thing (think high rent mac and cheese). I had a salad and a baked dish with carrots, potatoes, zuchini and red pepper in a very light tomato/onion sauce. Very nice. It was all washed down with the local suds - Haller Lowenbrau (The first part is pronounced "Heller," the second "Low-ven-btoi"), and no, it's not that one. Lowenbrau means "lions beer." As "The Dude" up the hill used to be responsible for the town, and he has a lion on his crest - Lowenbrau. They also have a pretty good time with the "Haller" part of their name in their advertising campaign, involving a nun yelling (go read the pronunciation again), until a few complained. I enjoyed a glass of their pils, Z, their wheat. Mine was light and refreshing, with a wonderful floral nose, and that great German pils bitter/sweet thing on the palate. At around 5%, it is a great session beer, pretty swell.

After lunch, we moved up the valley to Kunzelsau. It is a ridiculously cute village - half timbered houses and antique city walls and watch tower and... - look, you could use this description for most of the town in Germany. I've even started abbreviating it that way in my journal. You want fancy description, you should be reading the blog of an English teacher, not a musician (and the spelling is probably better, too!). This all said, there is less of a "Ye Old-ee" feel here, but more meaning. This is where Z went to school and grew up. Every other building elicits cries of "Oh!" or "that's where..." It was fun to watch all the memories come back for her.

The afternoon ended with cappuccinos at her favorite local coffee shop from her college days. From there we hurried home to drink another Haller Lowenbrau and watch the World Cup.

*****

The "Afternoon Coffee Ritual" and Why You Will Never Get It at Starbucks.

This is one of my favorite things about all of my trips to Europe so far. Mid-afternoon, everything stops, and you sit down for a chat and an espresso - or cappuccino or whatever. Every house, in addition to the coffee pot, has a small espresso pot to make the stuff. It is amazing what that little break in the day does for you.

You should not get the impression that what we are talking about is the Starbucks-Over-Roasted-Swill here. This is a proper cup of espresso - a tiny bit bitter, with sweet notes on top. Served in a nice little porcelain cup - it is an exquisite custom.

And it moves up a whole eighty or ninety levels when you do it while you are out. No paper cups here. You don't even go to the counter - they come to you, while you sit at the table - often in an atractive outdoor setting. Your coffee comes on an attractive little tray, in an ornate little cup. On the side is creamer and sugar in cute little packaging. A small, clear glass of bubbly water on the side, along with a sweet of some type - chocolate or espresso beans in attractive packaging.

You couldn't do this at a Starbucks = in fact they don't at the one down the street. The Americans just walk off with the stuff. Sad really.

6/28/2011 Portland - Chicago - Niedernhall

Once again we are picked up by Hailey and whisked away to the airport. This year, the flight time was late enough that we could swing by and enjoy breakfast at our favorite hole-in-the-wall in Portland, the Cameo Cafe. If you have never been to this place, try and go on a Saturday or Sunday morning. There is a cast of characters here worthy of a movie musical (that will probably get written some day). We had time to hang with Sue Gee, the owner, a bit, and enjoy the morning special. It was, as always, a wonderful way to start a trip.

We had an interesting moment this year going through our security vetting at PDX. I breezed through (uncommon, I usually have too much stuff in my pockets and forget something), and Z did not (also uncommon - she has a purse!). They held her on the other side of the scanner and asked me if it would be OK if they scanned her carry-on again. Weird, but sure, why not? They turned it sideways, ran it again, and then let Z through. The nice TSA lady, Dorian, asked us, as she opened the bag to look for the urn, if we "were carrying the ashes of an ex or someone?" We had a nice laugh, as we discovered that spices look the same as ashes in a carry-on. Yes, we travel with spices - don't you?

Continuing our, now long standing, tradition of running into folks at the airport as we leave town, we ran into an old acquaintance from college days in Eugene while waiting for the plane. Ken is also in the ed-biz, and filled us in with horror stories of budget cuts and layoffs in 4-J. As always, the good stewarts of the Eugene school system seem to be trying to outdo everyone in the state of Oregon for the madness of their proceedings.

Forgive me while I rant for a minute. 4-J is cutting some of thier most veteran and successful music teachers, shoving as many as 65 people into an auditorium and asking some poor sod to teach algebra to them (without assistance, of course) - what are they thinking? 4-J is supposed to be one of the most competitive school systems in the state, and it has come to this? Why do the kids even bother to show up? I'm sure they would find things better at their local charter school - oh, wait...

*****

Our seat row numbers from Chicago to Frankfurt - 42 - allowed me endless opportunities to run the old saw into the ground:

Z: "The old guy sitting next to me on the flight from Portland said I was the nicest, cutest thing."

Me, pointing at the row number sign: "That's 'cuz this trip is the answer."

And so on...

We also learned on this leg (not that we didn't know this already), that it really pays to have an attractive, single female row mate on the window side if you have a male Stew (What else do you call them? They're not stewardesses.). For example, Z and the shy single girl both want pasta for dinner. The Stew says, "we're out, but wait a moment. I'll see what I can do." A minute later, suprise! - two pasta dinners. Actually, if nothing else, watching the flirting was good harmless entertainment.

*****

Many of you who know us, know that Z and I consider marriage to have a lot of similarities to the movie "Big, Fat Greek Wedding" - just substitute palinka for Windex. You, then, would understand how hard I laughed to walk into Peter and Vera's apartment in Niedernhall to find a Bundt cake with a flower in it sitting on the table. Opa!

7-22-2011 Kesthely

Hi All.

I know that you are awaiting new posts from this trip. Unfortunately, we are at the mercy of an antique computer and slow Hungarian internet. We are writing entries, and we will post them all starting on Monday, when we get to Germany and better equipment. More soon...

Dave and Zia

6/26/2011 Pictures

OK, so Blogger is really stupid. Or my computer is really stupid. Possibly I am really stupid, but that is unlikely. More likely is that all three are true. That said...

I had hoped to add some pictures to previous posts, but it seems I am not allowed to do so. So here are a few, along with commentary. This year, I'll put them up more promptly - really!

Here is my Granddaughter, Jaden, at the Volksfest in Vilsek. This really swell event is a fundraiser for the local community music school and town band. And they serve you the local beer - in mugs the size of your head!

The local suds are made by the Winkler Brewery, who also make a really weird Cola/Orange mix thing that Z really likes. The beer is light and refreshing - lawnmower beer.

Bamberg - an amazingly beautiful place. And home to 8 breweries! This is where Rauchbeir comes from. Dark and smokey, it's really swell with smoked cheese or a smoked brot (hey, I wasn't always a veg!).

Hofbrau! Disneyland for beer drinkers! The party never stops. And if you've had a little much, look carefully in the tree for the local Starbucks (they're everywhere!).

I was taken with this fence in Munich. It's in the right clef and everything.

Marienplatz - one of the most beautiful places on earth. Go vists this amazing place. Listen to Uncle Dave. You won't be sorry.

Bor-fest!

As proof that we do - occasionally - drift away from the grain, here are some pictures from the Winefest (Bor-Fest) in Vaya Con Dios. As my sister's husband, Jerry, is quick to point out, Hungarian wines are lighter than their American counterparts. But I found them refreshing on a hot day. The festival also included a pretty swell rock band, some really great, homegrown, woodwork for sale (we bought a couple of hand carved platters for the Holidays), vendors selling the usual trinkets, and lots and lots of really great food.

Go to the folk festivals when ever you can, that's where the real people are.

7/26 Munich

7/26

After a leisurely breakfast and a quick walk with Lola down to get pretzels, we left for Munich. Our intrepid band is joined today by our friend Chrystal and her husband Jared – great company and swell people. This drive is so much like driving to Mt. Angel it could make you homesick (if you weren’t excited about tasting the ingredients all put together). This is the Bavarian hop region, and there were row after row of Hallertauer and Saaz hops. The harvest looks pretty good this year.

We pulled into Munich around 1:30, and, after the quest to find a parking space, went to lunch – at the Hofbrauhaus. OK, I get that this is kind of a big tourist thing now, and the locals all go somewhere else, but it’s kind of like Disneyland for beer drinkers. If you do, you must.

It’s big and crowded and finding a table took time. Then we had to track down our Foam Dude and get our maβ (a maβ is a one liter beer stein). Then the party started. Look, I am a performer. I am fortunate enough to work in some pretty large venues and to see a lot of crowds. This place was like a bomb waiting for a match. You drop a band like, say, Z Musikmakers in here and we could have this place going absolutely bonkers in 5 seconds. People know what they want when they walk in the door, and if they don’t get it, they’ll make it themselves. Three different tables near us were singing German folksongs, accapella. There is a brass band in the middle of the place, with the greatest gig I have ever seen. They play one tune. Then wait 5 minutes or so, and then play another one. They are very good, and when they play there are people dancing in the aisles. But then, another 5 minutes? Come on folks, let’s do this. The best part, though, is the obligatory “ein prosit.” There have got to be hundreds of people in this place, and they are all singing, holding up steins as big as their heads and toasting each other.

Lunch was fabulous. I had a potato frittata thing that was great, and Z had a roasted pig on a spit thing with a huge salad that she said was fab. The service was a little erratic, but probably to be expected in a place this busy. The beer was great session stuff – why I could have had another couple of those steins. Ahh, but there is more beer to drink, so onward.

A short walk down the street took us to the Spatenhaus, the downtown pub for the Spaten and Franziscaner breweries. A short diversion… Bavaria is one of the greatest beer producing regions in the world, and Bavarians drink more, per capita, than anyone else. Every town has a little regional producer of something, and almost all of it is swell. Munich is home to the big breweries, and there are traditionally five. The oldest is Augustiner Brauerei, and then there are Hacker-Pschorr, Löwen-Bräu (that’s “Low-ven-broy” kids, not “Low-en-brow”), Paulaner Brauerei , and Spaten-Franziskaner-Bräu and then there is Staatliches Hofbräuhaus, which is a brew pub, but is trying hard to grow the empire, plus various other swell brew pubs.

As long as we are diverging – many of you, my friends, are like me, Hopheads. We like big beers full of those wonderful green flowers. 100 BU’s, oh, come one, bring it! The beers we are talking about here are more subtle than that. They are in balance, and not big in the Northwest sense, so you can sit around knocking them back all day in mugs the size of your head. That said, some of them have more of the little green flower, and those, of course, are my faves. For this reason, I was looking forward to trying Spaten on their own turf. They seem to be unafraid of hops.

A nice clean place with what looks to be a pretty good restaurant, we just settled in for beer this trip. Hoppy within the breed, pleasant – a nice session beer, much like the Hofbrau suds, but hoppier. We sat and enjoyed a beer and watched the protest gather in front of the restaurant. They didn’t like something in Iran, I gather.

We left Spaten to do a little shopping and check out the sights. We found the factory store for Manner Cookies, the greatest cookies on the planet, not that I am biased. We enjoyed the view of a couple more amazing churches, had a cup of Starbucks (supporting both my stock and my bladder at the same time, what a deal!), and endured a torrential downpour in the doorway of one of those amazing churches and then bought really, frightfully expensive umbrellas to make sure that the rain thing didn’t happen again.

When traveling, sometimes you get lucky. There is often a best way to see the sights – a correct order, if you will. We had just bought our umbrellas, and the clouds were beginning to thin a bit, and I heard the sound of the Glockenspiel. Munich is supposed to have a killer one of these, so I wandered down the street to investigate. I have been in Europe long enough to have seen some amazing churches and buildings, and like to think that I am somewhat immune. But, alas this is another one of those spots where words are going to fail me. As you enter Marienplatz, at least from the direction I did, you get an amazing view of an incredible church steeple. And then another one. And then another one. And then a remarkable statue, and they just keep piling this stuff on and on. I have never seen anything like it, it was beautiful. And then I turned around to see the Glockenspiel on the front of the Neues Rathaus (New City Hall). This is the most amazing thing I have ever seen. I kind of stood there and walked around in circles with my face to the sky and tears running down my cheeks. You must go to this beautiful place. Don’t miss it. Really, you’ll be glad you listened to Uncle Dave. (The glockenspiel is kind of cool, too, but doesn’t have Christiana playing violin on it, so it’s my second favorite.)

We caught a few more sights and then moved onto the Augustiner pub downtown to try beer from the oldest brewery in Munich. Unfortunately, we got lost and had to settle for the pub next to the Hofbrau, rather than their old pub building. As my Father-In-Law says, “if you do it all on the first trip, you’ll have nothing left to do next time.” Augustiner is another great Bavarian session beer, not that I have had a bad one yet. Look, some of them have water that is a little soft, which doesn’t work for me (example, the dread Jelen Pivo – stay away), some of them could have more hops (most of the local stuff), but at least they are in balance with themselves, are tasty and refreshing, and are served in great big huge mugs. I’ve not had a bad one yet. But it’s like pumpkin pie, the worst slice you ever had wasn’t that much worse than the best one you’ve ever had. Augustiner is pretty good. I’ll drink it again.

7/19 Keszthely, Melk, Vilseck

7/19

We left Kezsthely this morning after breakfast, amid the usual tears. It is hard when your parents live in a country half way around the world to say good-bye. Z and her folks take it particularly hard this year.

We traveled across Hungary, stopping so that Greg could take a look at a German Tiger tank that they are giving rides in for a fee. I guess they are pretty rare, and were quite something in the war. Other than a half hearted attempt at the “City-Name-Game,” the rest of Hungary was uneventful.

We crossed the border into Austria. The alpine vistas are beautiful, rolling hills, small woods surrounded by green pastures, fields of corn, wheat and barley. Every so often there are cute little villages, each with its fortress or onion domed church. Probably the most famous of these (mostly due to its proximity to the freeway) is Melk. We stopped to stretch our legs.

This church is a huge presence on the side of the freeway. It is still a Benedictine Monastery, so parts are off limits. We choose to just walk the outside. There are many baroque paintings and statues to look at, and the view of the city and the church is amazing. This is probably why so many tour groups stop here (that, and the proximity to the freeway). Yet another reason not to take the tour and move on.

More hills and scenic views surround our journey. We turned and moved down into the flat lands, into Germany, and onto Vilseck without any further muss or fuss.

**********

Veldensteiner (www.veldensteiner.de), Neuhaus/Pegnitz Brewery

Nice foamy, white head, with a cloudy yellow beer below. A little bit of yeast, a lot of hops, a little bit of malt. A nicely balanced beer, but not too big, a swell session wheat, without really tasting like one. We had a Zwick’l Kellerbier from Bayreuth Brewery that was a lot like this, just a tiny bit darker.

7-13 and 14, Keszthely and the dentist (part 2)

7-13

Today is a red letter day. I get my teeth back! Z is spending the morning with her genius hairdresser lady. It is sunny. The mosquitos are in hiding. All is right in our world.

**********

So after all of the build up, I'm afraid getting the crown was anticlimactic. A quick check to make sure it fit, dry and swab the tooth it was covering, and glue the crown in. The whole thing took less than 20 minutes. Both visits and all the work, the new crown and all, cost less than 275 bucks, no insurance.

**********

7-14

It's getting hot (over 100 degrees), so it's a good time to hang by the lake. But first, or typical morning - breakfast, trumpet practice, a power walk, watching Z shop for shoes - then lunch.
We went down to the "public beach." It costs 900 forint (about 4 dollars, 50 cent), but gives you the run of the basic facilities in exchange. No paid bathrooms, a couple of water slides, deck chairs (if you get there early enough), a heated pool, various playground toys, and occasional special events. It is quite the zoo of humanity, and the people watching is choice.

**********

Forgive me while I rant...

So somebody please explain the shoe fetish thing to me. My wife, Z, who agonizes over spending two bucks for a loaf of good bread, turned loose in a shoe store becomes a lady on a mission. We cannot, under any circumstances, without exception, miss ANY opportunity to shop for shoes. We could see the exact same brand name store we just searched to death 15 miles ago, we could be passing a place we shopped for hours yesterday, and we MUST stop and shop. Because they may have something different - or something. I just don't get it. Now if it was something important like trumpets or sound equiptment, maybe...

7-12, Pécs

7-12 (Pictures soon)

After a bumpy two-hour drive we reached Pécs and immedeatly headed for the market (Peter's favorite pastime). This one, however, is a big surprise, literaly. The thing is huge. In addition to all the usual stuff - antiques, clothing, kettles, cookware, etc., - they have cornered the market on underwear. Thong anyone?

We bought a small kettle to make vegetarian goulash in and a Kurtős cooker - a stick thing that is used to make Z's favorite dessert over here. And it even comes with a recipe! In essence, it is a large wooden cylinder on a big metal stick (that should be really easy to pack). You wrap a slightly sweet dough around the cylinder and then roll in sugar, cinamon, vanilla sugar, etc., and then toast over an open flame (or open heating element) until the dough is cooked through and the outside is toasty brown. They are pretty swell. Ask Z nice and maybe she'll make you one. She has the "thing" now!

**********

From the market we moved downtown. I'm really not quite sure what to make of it. On the one hand, there are these beautiful buildings everywhere. Just when you say "they'll never top THAT view" you turn the corner - and they do! The German name for Pécs is Funf Kirche or Five Churches. They are all here, along with mosques, an ornate City Hall, the Hungarina National Theater, street art, fountains... it's almost overwhelming. Very, very beautiful.
But on the other hand, occasionally you have to look and see where you are going. When you bring your eyes to street level, there is graffitti everywhere. While the city is free of garbage, it looks like it could use a good dusting. There are several public works projects going on, as Pécs won the right to be the European Union's "Cultural Centre" next year, hence all the construction. I'm sure it will look better next year. On the whole, right now looking up is better.

We had lunch at the István Pince Borozo, a Wine Keller down a side street. They have a small, simple menu for lunch. When you ask for it, the waitress takes it off the wall and brings it over to the table for your perusal. I had a nice veg plate, Z had a hearty bean soup. It was very good.
We walked up the pedestrian mall and enjoyed an espresso and slice of cake. Mine was a ginger cake with a chocolate - cherry topping that was more than a little fab. it is called goose foot... We enjoyed it on the deck, surrounded by swell views. I am getting hopelessly spoiled.

**********

We spent the afternoon as the guests of the Matisa Family, Angi, Laci-bacsi, Ocsi (Zoltan), Otti and her husband, and little tiny Vanda, who fed us - another lunch, hurray! Actually, this lunch is hitting me about the same time as the wonderful poppy seed bread from yesterday, so the bathroom and I were friends for about an hour or so. You know, these guys have a phone in their shower? Between visits to the plumbing, we had a nice, but short visit. I am looking forward to getting to spend more time with these wonderful and charming people on our next visit.

7-10 Keszthely

7-10

Today it rained buckets and buckets of rain. Z and I took a long walk and got chewed out for getting so wet. Felt nice, though.

**********

Dreher Black (Bock)
Really a doppelbock, it had a deep black color and a nice brown frothy head. The nose is carmel and a bit of alcohol. Lots of carmel malt in the front and a nice, chewy texture. There are some hops that hang on at the end for the smooth glide down the throat. Probably a 5.5%, maybe a little bigger. This is a surprisingly good Hungarian dark.

7-9, Hungarian Driving Rules, Eszterhazá, Eisenstadt, Széchény, and Franz Joseph Haydn

7-9

We are going to visit the summer digs of the Eszterhazy family today - patrons of one Franz Joseph "Papa" Haydn, the greatest composer of the classical period. More than Beethoven, you ask? Sorry, Beethoven is a Romantic. Better than Mozart, you ask? Why, yes. How many Trumpet Concertos did Mozart write, huh? In fact, Haydn said that his Trumpet Concerto was his "most perfect" concerto (in truth of advertising, the actual quote is "It is a shame that I have written my most perfect concerto for such an imperfect instrument." But let's not quibble).

**********

Hungarian Driving Rules

1) 50 KPH in the city, 90 KPH in the country.

2) You have to wait for the light to change before you can turn - then move!

3) You get a yellow light before the green light. This is so you can rev the engine and set up the kids in the next lane for the speed trap up ahead.

4) The trucks are really, really big - really. On the small, two lane back roads, they like to drive right down the middle. You would be best advised to get over. They win.

5) You will see all kinds of cartoon-like signs by the side of the road - numbers with red circles around them, empty yellow diamonds with red slashes through them, and, my personal favorite, a red bordered triangle with an exclamation point in it (what does it mean?). Feel free to ignore all of these signs, everyone else does.

A few words about passing...

Passing is the national sport in Hungary. Hungarians will pass you anywhere, anytime. Busy two lane street in a small town, you're toast. Blind corner at 90 KPH, look out - here I come. No passing stripe, not a problem.

A hypothetical situation: you are driving down a narrow two-lane street. There is barely enough room for two cars to squeek by each other in opposite directions. The car coming toward you has an obsticle in their lane that will necessitate the driver of that car merging into your lane. You will arrive at the obsticle at the same time. You can depend upon the fact that the other driver will not slow down, and will soon be driving right at you. In a game of Chicken the Hungarians win. They have more practice.

The lesson here, of course, is check your mirrors early and often - so you can live in constant fear of what you see there!

**********

We left the house early, which meant that we arrived at Eszterhazá an hour before they opened. This gave us time to relax at the Ettrem accross the street and enjoy an espresso and a sandwich, while admiring the ornate front gate. ( sandwich - thick creamy mushroom soup with big chunks of mushrooms on a baguette with cheese melted on top )

Once inside, we started with the tour. We are only able to take half of the tour today, as they are filming on the other side. Regrettably, this is the side with most of the Haydn exhibits in it.
So you are on a tour. It is of course in Hungarian, not your language. What does it look like? Like this...

Tour Dude: (in a total monotone) "Batabatabatabatabata..." (2 minutes and 12 seconds pass) "...batabatabata."

Not a problem, you have your trusty translator along, who will help you figure out what was just said and bring you right up to speed.

Z (translation): "car."

To be fair, she did buy me a nice book on Haydn at the bookstore. She said there was too much to translate. About half way through the tour I noticed a couple of folks referring to a piece of paper. This was the Italian translation of the Tour Dude speach. Turns out they had one in English, too. Oh well.

On the plus side, we got to hear a Haydn piece or two, snapped a couple (illegal) shots of some music and music stands, watched a weird movie about a fireworks presentation that made no sense until later, and kicked in a couple of Forint for the new Haydn memorial statue.

We then crossed the border into Austria and went to the Eszterhazy's home base in Eisenstadt. There was a mention or two of them in the two hours of exhibits we looked at, but it seems the good folks of Eisentadt have decided that there is more money in Haydn. And the best part is that the tour and exhibits are in English! No cars!

There are all kinds of cool things for the music guy here. There are original documents and manuscripts in Haydn's own hand, original documents from Mozart and Beethoven, too, and, for the trumpet player, some pictures and information of Johann Nepomuck Hummel. (As an aside, the way I see it, the Eszterhazy's were respnsible, at least througth patronage, for two of the three trumpet concertos in the standard rep. We owe them a big vote of thanks.) A well organized and presented tour - well worth the time. Oh, and the fireworks - the Eszterhazy's liked to put on big exhibitions for guests. Marie Antoinette (that one) got the biggest, and evidently what we were watching a recreation of at Eszterhazá.

They also have a pretty swell wine cellar here. The Eszterhazy's, like many of the nobility, were into lots of stuff. The wine cellars still produce several award-winning wines, that you can sample here or buy for later enjoyment.

We wandered downtown to explore, after our tour finished, and found a café for coffee and pastries on the central square. We had no more than sat down outside, under the umbrella, when we had the stereotypical Hollywood rain storm - you know, a clap of thunder and then rain that looks like someone turned on a shower directly above you. I didn't know those really existed. If you have been mocking them in the movies for years like I have, sorry, it's for real. The folks in the café abandoned us with our coffee and pastry.

We finished our castle tour with a looksie at the digs of Count Istvan Széchény. Of course, we had to find it first. We saw all kinds of back country roads before we realized we had the map upside down. After figuring that out, finding the castle was a cinch!

So Széchény, the man national hero Kossuth (and my Father-In-Law Peter) call "The Greatest Hungarian." He was responsible for the dredging of the Danube so that it was suitable for freighting. He paid for and built the first Chain Bridge in Budapest (it has been bombed a few times, but always rebuilt) and followed it up by building the tunnel at the end of it. His biggest claim to fame is as a champion of the Hungarian language. At a time when German and Latin were the offical languages of government, he had the courage to speak his native language in the Lower House, starting a language revolution. Paul Lendvai, in his book "The Hungarians" (page 191-205) discusses all of this much better than I do, if you are curious.

Anyway, the castle. Well, we couldn't see the inside because, you guessed it, they were making a movie. The outside was large. And white. (As they often are.)

7-6 Keszthely, the dentist, and more language issues

7-6

We started the day off, as we always do, with breakfast and the paper on the deck. The paper is the local rag, BORS. Compared to the other Hungarian language papers I have seen, it is only mildly pornographic. It does, however, have a resonably reliable weather forcast - 85 degrees and hot today. Sounds like a nice day to visit the dentist...

...who doesn't open until one. To stall, we wandered down to the Centrum for a cord to connect the camera to the computer. We forgot ours at home, and it seems, won't be able to get a replacement downtown. The nice guy at the computer store burnt us a disc of what we have, though.

After a quick lunch, and a thorough brushing (you do it too, come on, admit it), we made our way back to the dentist. There is good dentistry in Hungary, but it is all no-frills stuff. Z has filled my head with stories about lack of novocain and other fun things like that - just do the job and get out. To say that I am a bit apprehensive would be an understatement. Oh, and of course, we don!t share a language. Z, thoughtfully, has taught me the word "ouch" in Hungarian on the way over. Should you ever happen to need it, the word is "Faj" and pronounced "Fie."

We were admitted after a short break and the dentist had us in to explain the problem. I got to try out the chair and look at the tray of little sharp, pointy, whirly thingies that would soon be attacking my mouth. The dentist found it all to be no problem, and told us to come back that afternoon at 3:30. A same day appointment at the dentist? Boy, we really aren't in Kansas any more.

Z told me on the way home the first thing he said to the dental assistaint when I sat down in the chair was "hand me a diaper." It wasn't for concern about me completely loosing it. That's what they use for drool rags in Hungary - nice.

So, 3:30. There I am, sitting in the chair, agonizing over the novicain shots they kindly gave me, and the drilling starts. The tooth dust is everywhere, as it will do, and that sickening smell of ground tooth is in the air. At this point, when you are feeling most vulnerable, the dentist and aid, who, mind, have been nothing but cooly professional all day, exchange a quick sentence and begin cackling evilly over the top of me. This went on for about 10 minutes, with me having fantasies the whole time of all my teeth being ground to dust. Then came three attempts at getting an impression of my teeth - evidently the compound used wasn't setting correctly. Then he shoved some weird light device into my teeth, followed by muted cursing - of course raising my confidence level. After that we were allowed to leave. I don't think I ran.

Z filled me in afterward. The laughing had to do with the detist's daily trip to the beach to go swimming - the reason he doesn't open until after 1. The light thing is a color matching device for the enamel on my teeth so they can make a replacement the same color. The nurse evidently told him that he never can get that thing to work, and he should just use the color pallet-stick things, that he ended up using anyway. He told Z I don't get a temporary - I shouldn't need it. Oh, and the best part. I get to go back next week and have him set the crown - Joy!

**********

More language issues... How do you explain the difference between "brake light" and "breaking news?" Vera would like to know.

7-5 Kesthely

7-5

I haven't done many beer entries this trip, as we haven't had many new ones. You may, of course, assume that I am enjoying them, though. Several in fact. A new discovery this trip is Szalon White. It is a nice little amber to yellow colored beer with a bright white head that disappears quickly leaving a foamy ring of tiny bubbles around the glass that hang on for the whole thing. Faint hints of banannas in the nose, as expected in a wheat beer. It is pleasently citrusy, at least owing partially the the obligitory lemon. Some hops toward the end, but not out of balance with the malt. Not a big beer, but very refreshing on this hot day. It certainly is not a Fransiscaner or Erdinger, but not bad for Hunary.

**********

Vera, Z and I went shopping at the "Russian Market" this morning. The down economy has affected little road side markets like this. It is easily half as big as last year. The Indians are still here with their pan pipes, though.

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We are having a lot of fun with language this trip. I am becoming something of a trained monkey with my 16 or so words of Hungarian. This evening Z and Vera are reading an English language cookbook we brought - or rather Vera is, while they both disolve into histerics over her "phonetic" misreads. Slicing becomes "Schlitzing" (exposing vegetables to bad beer?), and whipping becomes wiping (not quite the same thing). But they certainly are enjoying themselves.

7-4, Kishyges, Kecskemet

7-4

And a Happy Fourth of July to you all! No fireworks for us this year. We did drive by a sunflower field this morning. Acres of sunflowers point right at us. I swear you have never seen yellows that bright before. I guess fireworks are where you look for them.

We leave Kishegyes today for Kesthely, via Keckesmet. Leaving here is something that I do with a bit of remorse. I love the sincerity and work ethic of these people. I admire the simplicity and serinity with which they live their lives. That said, I couldn't live here. I don't have the required skill set. It is a beautiful place though. I'm glad, as always, that Z shares it with me.

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I've had this recurring fantasy of a K-Ha-3 commercial. Beaming female model-type proudly displaying bottle. Voice over: "K-Ha-3. Now with three times the Ha!." Reality is, it would never work. They don't use voice overs in commercials in Serbia. Sad. I could have made a mint!

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The amusing part of driving in a foreign country is you get to see the new and amusing signs. This mornings entry: the tire stores in Serbia are called "Vulcanizer." It fills the head with wonderful visions of a big machine that turns you into Mr. Spock or something.

We also went by the Tuning Disco again. Just a reminder, kids. Tuning is not a village in China, but it is a Disco in Hungary. Make sure you use the little box to be safe...

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We flew through the Serbian border, but the crossing into Hungary is taking a little longer. You get to open both the trunk and the hood this time - if you are lucky. The lady in the car in front of us is having a hard time of it. I'm guessing she just had her nails done and it is hard to open those latches...

I am glad we are not on the other side. The Northern German provences just went on Summer Break and everyone is going to the Baltic. The line is really long. And that's right kids, that means the rest of Germany is still in school!

**********


Up to Keckesmet to see Kazi, Zsuzsa, Kis-Kazi and Claudia. I blew most of my travel budget in the Kodaly store, which, after three trips, was finally open. Between the music and the Traditional Hungarion Cowboy outfit, I dropped mare than I should have. But come on. How many people can say they have a Traditional Hungarin Cowboy outfit? Still need to get the hat, but Peter promises to pick one up for me at the market in the fall when they sell such things. I'll need to get the boots at home. Should make a nice school outfit one day!

Kis-Kazi and I lead everyone and their cars out to Zsuzsa and Kazi house - always an adventure in towns without street signs.

Conversation around the table is enthusiastic, as always. As always, Greg and I are expected to participate. As always, the Metaxa makes it possible to understand more Hungarian than you even thought you know! As is the beer...and the wine... (Dinner was a Catfish Paprikas with mushrooms and the traditional pasta with curds.)
I love these people more than all of Z's relatives that I have met so far. They are very good at making you feel comfortable, and keep you involved in things. It was a very enjoyable visit.

7-3 Kishyges and Dombos Fest

7-3

We had guests early this morning. The breakfast dishes were barely cleared when Pisti and Rozsa dropped by to say goodbye. The conversation is spirited. The weather is destroying the local wheat fields and the price is going up. If you can salvage what you have, you can make a killing, but few can. Dombos comes up in the conversation, and then other topics. Z has been leaving me hanging a lot this trip, leaving me free to watch the flies cavort about the table. The reality is that Z says she is having a harder time tracking conversations this trip than on any previous one. Evidently everyone is talking more quickly and all at the same time. By the time she has processed it, they have moved on to a new topic. The things they are talking about are leading her to believe that they are feeling their own mortality. I would hypothesize, however, that it goes a bit deeper than that. Everyone can feel the changes coming here, from the news paper to the people on the street. I think they are trying to hold onto as much of "home" as they can before the changes overwhelm them.

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After my morning power walk to Cuban jazz, we made a quick trip down the street to see Pityu-Basci. Faithful readers of our blog will remember him as the host of the 75th birthday party with the quince schnaps (if you missed it, it's the entry on 7-16-06). Z and this couple go way back, as they used to live in the same village in Germany and used to look after her when she was a kid. Pityu-Basci is looking really bad. The smoking is catching up, I fear.

From there we went by to say goodbye to Imre, Kati and Emese. Our conversation took us through a comparison of teaching salaries. Emese makes 400 Euroes a month, no benefits. She has a masters degree and 17 years experience. She is considered well paid in this society. (By comparison, my monthly take home is several multiples higher, and I get health insurance and a retirement.) Tearful hugs all around, and it is time to leave. Later in the afternoon we will repeat this experience with Beethoven-Bacsi and Mozart-Neni.

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Some random notes:

Word has gotten around that Jaden likes Palacsinta, which are crepes to you and me. We have had them plain, with jelly, sweetened cream cheese and fruit, homemade preserves, etc., etc. The masterpiece was the desert at Capriolo, an amazing masterpiece involving a hazel nut pureé filling and a chocolate ganosh. Jaden still prefers hers with cinammon and sugar.

Peter has given me a bottle of Palinka from Lajos' cellar. I figure it is about 1.5 liters, and is sealed with a bottle cap, so it can't be resealed. So we'll be looking for a big event to consume this - you've been warned.

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Speaking of Palinka, Beethoven-Bacsi proudly showed off the works to me today. In case you've wondered, here is how the stuff is made.

Schnaps is made from fruit, so you have to get that first. Hungarians make palinka from plums, cherries, pears, quince fruits, apples, katata berries, elderberries and apricots (apricot, in Hungarian, is "barack" - so you cam immagine how popular apricot palinka was after the last electon). The fruit must be eatable, no mild or black spots. 100 kilos of fruit is put into a barrel with 2 kilos of sugar to help start it all working, and it is left to "cefre" or, as would say, mash. It is stirred once a day, but otherwise left uncovered until the liquid at the top is clear. The liquid is then poured into the still and heated until it comes out in a stream on the other side about the size of a match stick. The remaining seperated solids and liquids are discarded, and the distilation process is repeated. The target alcohol level is 55% by volume. Age as is appropriate. Enjoy.

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Dombos fest this evening started with a duet performance by a "performer" and a "musician." The musician played the bandoleon and is pretty good. The performer was a "vocalist." Their set lasted about one-half hour, which I will never get back.

The second group was, dig this, a klezmer band! A really great one too. This is still a pretty courageous thing to do around here, so my hats are off to them. They covered the best bands (Klezmer Concervatory Band, etc.) and their originals were pretty ok. The strongest musicians seemed to be the clarinet and guitar players. The pianist and drummer were god enough to support without getting in anyones way, I almost felt like they were being under utilized. The bass player, a leggy model-type, would not be picked by anyone as a musician, but had excellent chops. The violinist, a pretty crucial instrument in a klezmer band was smart enough to not over ornament past her abilities. She played cleanly and simply, always a good call if you are in over your head. Then there was the trombone player. Musically, when things were written out for him, he mostly got the style. His improv, though, was seriously stiff and scaler. Actually, I didn't need to hear him play to know it was going to be like this. You are always tipped off that a performer is not feeling confident in their abilities when they walk on stage wearing a mask. All of the performers seemed comfortable on stage and with each other. The only negative was the moron sound guy who thought he could "help" the energy by turning it up much too loud. A pretty hot show!

7-2 Kishyges and Topolya

7-2

As further proof that things are not happy here in Serbia yet are recent articles in the Hungarian language Magyar Sző detailing attacks on people speaking Hungarian in the larger cities. Peter reinforced this a few days ago when he suggested we take the car up to Topolya to walk around, but to "be careful not to speak Hungarian" because there has been some violence there (Z and I, of course, hold lengthy conversations in Hungarian all the time). I am always a bit amazed by all of this. Here is a country that is currently doing everything it can to get into the Europen Union. They are rebuilding their infrastructure, getting all the modern conviences and stuff. Yet they still feel that they must snuff out the "foreigners." If they can't live peacably with each other in their own backyard, who is going to trust them in the international community.

Today is the beginning of Dombos (that's doam-bosh) Fest, the local music festival. It is held in an open field west of town. There is some talk that this will be the last year of the festival. It is heavily subsidized by the Serbian government and they are finding it "too Hungarian." The opening act this evening is a violinist who has made his debut in Carnegie Hall, but only gets 15 minutes of time on stage because he is crazy (read: drug addict). The rest of the evening is filled with a folk dance group and a disco for the kids.

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I haven't really started on the beers yet this trip. Suffice it to say I am "enjoying" a few, or as much as I can in Serbia. Most of them have been covered earlier in the blog. They are generic pilners, around 4.5%, and are yellow fizzy water. My description of them so far can best be somed up with this entry for Master Pils (a Heineken product): "It's a pils. Eh."

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Afternoon kavé this afternoon is spent in the company of Imre and Kati. Another afternoon for me of being a walking knick-knack. It goes with the turf sometimes of being the husband of a Hungarion wife. It's worth it.

The afternoon rains are brewing and the skies are getting that dark blue that foretells our daily afternoon storm is arriving, always an adventure if not at least for a break in the humidity. This afternoon features a huge electrical storm pretty much right on top of us. It didn't seem an opportune time to be holding a metal object, so I put away the horn and dug the show with my grandaughter. Pretty cool!

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Speaking of incongruouities, dinner this evening is as guests of Lajos and Bori at their Capriolo Restaurant (home of the greatest pizza on the planet, but we won't be having any this evening). The first incongruouity, the house sound system is playing flamenco music in Spanish. Then the chord changes start to sound familiar. Then - hey, isn't that? It is! It is! Hotel California, the flamenco version.
Dinner is guinnea hen soup, which I am told is fab, followed by a Greek salad and a mega-huge, Dan Ralph-sized house platter of grilled meat. You could hear the thump of Greg's jaw hitting the table. On the plus side, the chef is a vegetarian. I had the best veg plate I have had this trip, sautéd mushrooms, home-made soft cheese, stir-fried vegies and wild rice pilaf. No one can figure out how he cooks meat so well, but I'm not complaining.

Also dining with us this evening is Lajos III (Lali) with his wife Adrianna, daughter Lena, and Loijos IV, a cute little tyke about a year old. Lali is the head of the Capriolo bicycle empire (search "capriolo" online for their web site), about which you can find more information earlier in the blog. As a result of his buisness interests, Lali speaks excellent English, and so we were able to converse about business (slow, the economy), Greg's tattoos (finom), etc. It was a swell evening that stretched on long enough that we missed Dombos tonight. Maybe tomorrow...

7-1 Subotica and Kishyges

7-1

Back to Subotica we go today to do some more work on Z's Serbian passport. I am again at the wheel of the mighty Opel, with Vera and Z helpfuly giving me a maze of direction in Hungarian, German and English. We arrived at the courthouse and marched up to the door, only to find that Z will not be allowed in. She is wearing sandals and "this is a place of buisness, not the beach." Keep in mind that these are 100 dollar sandals, not unlike the ones that Vera was wearing under her slacks. Maybe the Serbs are offended by toe nails, who knows? So Vera takes the documents and goes in to meet the judge, while we wait out front. It is only footware, by the way, that keeps you out. Some of the clothing we saw walking though the door was, ummm, really something.

Vera dropped off the papers, and the judge promised that this time they would be processed or he would call the issuing judge in America and get it sorted out. So with that all squared away, we left for home. We may still have to fly to DC just to get it squared away, as it is unlikely that the paper work will be finished before we leave and the only Serbian embassy is in DC. I hear it's pretty in December.

We arrived back at the Keckes homestead just in time to help put away the winter woodpile. It turns out our timing was perfect, we got it all stored away just before the daily thunderstorm.
After lunch I had one of the Mentos that Z bought me at the store, causing an interesting development. The filling on my back tooth broke off. I blame Z. More on this to come, I'm sure.

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I spent the afternoon working on the Cuba project for VSAA for next year, which is kind of incongruous in Serbia. But I can now tell you where the Son comes from, what a Son Montuno is, and all kinds of other cool stuff!

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Dinner this evening is at Z's first cousin's (Anni her husband Pityu and daughter Evelin) house. Steak on the grill, lots of pigeons and other critters for Jaden (and Z) to play with - and enough flies at the table for an Off commercial. Dinner starts with Palinka, bubbly water, and turkish coffee. Z's first cousin is of the "glass is never empty" school of entertaining. So after three palinkas, my glass sits, full, awaiting dinner. Our host brought us fly swatters, and the we entertained ourselves while coversing before dinner by playing the "how many did you get with that swing?" game. Dinner is the house platter, a fine assortment of fine barbecued meats, a Greek salad, pommes - and a fine assortment of fried vegetables for the veg. Seems zuchini are in and that's pretty much all anyone can think of to do with it. On the plus side, they fry better than anyone on this side of the world, never oily or greasy. A pretty fabulous meal and great company.