Epilogue

OK, we couldn’t really leave it at that. Following is our last day in Keszthely and our journey home…

We spent Wednesday morning involved with our last trip to market. It being a bright, sunny late summer day after several days of rain, there were lots of folks there. Therefore, lots of good shopping; good for Zia and Vera, not so much for me.

On our way back to the car, we needed to cross at the “zebra crossing.” Halfway across, a car came barreling down the street, stopping just barely in time to avoid sending the several of us in the intersection to a better place. I muttered, under my breath, “What are you going to do buddy, mow us down?” and the gentleman next to me replied, “yeah, they don’t stop for much here in Keszthely” – in English. The gentleman, as it turns out, lived in Vancouver, Canada (eh?). His first wife died, and he returned home – which it turns out is the same village that Vera was born and raised in – where he married his second wife and moved to Keszthely. It is indeed a small world sometimes.

1:30 a.m. The alarm on my watch is signaling that it is time to get out of bed and go shower for the journey home. I managed to grab about 3 hours of sleep, and was feeling pretty good. After all, the trip to Budapest involved driving on the Autobahn. And I was driving. Insert large grin here. An hour later found us barreling down the Autobahn, with really bad headlights, at 180 kph (that’s 110 mph, for you slow pokes at home). Peter would occasionally look over at the speedometer and nod his head, so I must have been doing ok. I would like to have gone faster, but the tires were only rated to 190, so I couldn’t push it – dang!

Budapest is referred to as the “Imperial City,” although you couldn’t prove it to me as I drove around town looking for a sign that lead to “Figgy” Airport. They put just enough of them up to get you completely lost. So, fair reader, here is the picture; it is dark, I am driving, with Peter navigating, through some pretty seedy neighborhoods. Peter is pointing directions for me to turn, which I can’t see because it is dark in the car. At this point, we have established that I can take direction in English, German and Hungarian, but I am "in a Budapest" ("you can’t have" directions or signs, sir) and we are relying on Peter's memory, as his night vision is bad and he can't really see where we are going in the dark. After a long, roundabout drive, we finally made it to the airport about 45 minutes after we had planned on being there.

After standing in line for way too long to check our bags, we went down to the cafeteria for a melancholy cup of coffee with Peter and Vera, and then made our tearful goodbyes. I hope their drive home was less eventful than our drive there. I miss them, and am looking forward to the next trip.

Anyway, into the line for the “security vetting.” This involves some Hungarian guy yelling at you in Hungarian, until you figure out that he wants you to take off you belt, and put your change in the little basket. Then you can pass. You know I felt better about security at this point. I needn’t have worried.

We ended up spending an extra half hour in Budapest, as there was something wrong with the plane(!). Turns out it was just an air conditioning issue, but still… We used the extra time to blow the last of our Forint on a “very splendid and worthwhile” shot glass. And off to Frankfurt…

… where total chaos reigns. International flights are directed to cues, where you wait for the security vetting they didn’t do in Budapest. We had an hour and a half to make our connecting flight. It looked pretty grim. Adding insult to injury, the line passed directly by the Duty Free Shop where I had planned on buying a bottle of 18-year-old single malt scotch on the way out. But, noooooo. No liquid on the plane, sir.

So you make it to the front of the line, and you get one of the most thorough searches that I have ever received. Wand and pat down, involving some touching that, in another context, would probably get you slapped (and evidently has, according to some of the video from London we watched on CNN). We lost all of my highlighters from my pack (liquid ink). We were carrying sinus pills and aspirin with us that needed to be checked by another security person (who warned us that if we were to do this again, we should plan on bringing a Doctor’s note for the medication. I’ll remember that the next time I am leaving for Europe and expecting a terrorist attack). From there to one last security check of our passports (where Zia was propositioned by the female security guard), and off to the plane.

We were met at the airport by my Mom and Dad. It was great to see them. They took us home, where, I believe, we made it a whole 2 hours before we fell asleep.

*****

And so, here we are, home, safe and sound and gearing up for Oktoberfest. If you are bored, come check out the band. We are in Sandy, Oregon September. 9th, the Mt. Angel Oktoberfest September 14th through the 19th, and in Bend on September 30th. Hopefully we will see you there!