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!
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
8/15 Keszthely, the adventure ends...
We took a drive around the lake yesterday. Seems like an easy thing to say, but this is a several hour undertaking. By the time you add the stops in, it takes all day. So again, with Dave at the wheel, off we go.
First stop was "Beautiful Lookout," which sounds much better in Hungarian (Szep Kilato (Szhape kill-AH-toe), in case you were wondering). A panoramic view of the western end of the lake that was beautiful. Isn’t it nice when the name matches up with the reality?
Several miles down the road was the treat in our drive. Tihany announces its presence from the road with a glimpse of the twin towers of the church, seen just barely over the hill. A drive up a hill and you are treated with the view of the Baroque wonder, needless to say our first stop.
A small fee (naturally) gets you in. The tour starts in the sanctuary of the church. It is very ornate, without being rococo. Lots of fancy statuary and ceiling painting - look, you know exactly what I am talking about if your high school history class covered the Baroque, and if not, go look it up right now. Words are not going to describe the splendor of this. It’s pretty cool.
From there the tour leads into the catacombs below. There you find the grave of the only political figure to survive the historical "reconstruction" of the communist rule. King Andrew the First was the fourth king of Hungary (1047-1060), and was a direct descendant of Arpad, the guy who founded the country. From there the tour continues through several lower rooms covering the turbulent history of the church, monastery, and region. Balaton was on the border for a lot of the wars with the Turkish Empire, and as a result the history of this region is pretty bloody. Combine that with the period of Communist rule, where the Catholic religion was "discouraged," and you find it a pretty interesting read (and the plaques are in English, so you can!). From there you move into an art museum, with works by famous local artists. As always, some of these are things that leave you wondering "what were they on?" and some of these are so moving that you find it difficult to tear yourself away.
Moving behind the church you find a stunning view of the eastern portion of the lake. It is very Mediterranean looking, with a couple of ferry boats, and lots of sail boats. On our lightly cloudy day the water was a brilliant blue. It was a nice place to "just be" for a minute and reflect on the church and art.
Tihany is famous for a blue type of enamel for pottery. Needless to say that tourists have ample opportunity to obtain some of this pottery for a small fee as you travel back to your car (if you don’t mind spots of white or a really weird cartoon cow on the side. We took a pass. I am sure that there is an artisan in the area that doesn’t manufacture for tourists, but we did not have time to find them).
From Tihany, we moved down the hill to Balatonfured for lunch. We ate at a nice Ettrem on the side of the pier, so you could watch the idiots in the sail boats come in and leave. It is the kind of place that are McMineman’s on the Columbia aspires to be, but will never pull off. Zia had a bean soup that is famous in the region. Beans, smoked ham hock, and smoked Hungarian kolbas. She says it was to die for. I had a zucchini, stuffed with freshly chopped and sautéed vegetables. I don’t know that I would die for it, but it was pretty darned good. We hung out there for a bit and enjoyed the view, then onward.
The rest of the trip was by car, without stops - well, we did stop and buy Zia a new dirndl. The weather turned on us in the afternoon, and our pretty sunny day turned to rain, only a quick shower, but, as it was late, on to home we went.
It is a very pretty drive. If you get here, I highly recommend it.
*****
Today was another trip to Hevis to show the new house guests the spa, so that they could take the tour. Vera went with us, which was fun as she is pretty hard to get out of the house. Zia and Vera had a good time shopping, and I had a good time razzing them. A nice lunch, and then home for a nap. Hey, I gotta save up, vacation ends soon. ( Dave was bought the Tourist Vest , he forgot to mention !!!! )
*****
In reviewing the journal entries of this trip, I find myself thinking that we should probably change the name to "A Cynics Guide to Hungary and Serbia." I assure you, however, that you are really missing something by not coming to visit this beautiful place. The scenery is fantastic, the people amazingly nice, it is a great place to vacation. My cynicism, I think, comes from my frustration and anger with myself for not being better able to communicate, and for not being better prepared for culture and customs. Obviously, I have my homework set out for me.
My thanks to Lali and Adrianna, Feri and Ani, Lajos and Bori, Emese, Joe and Adam, Beethoven-Basci and Mozart-Neni, Kazi-Basci and Zsuzsa-Neni, Kiskazi, Zsuzsa, Klaudia, Gabie and Csbi, Gabor and Rita, the guests from Germany, Mega-Magdi, the nice folks at the news stand who provide me with my English newspaper fix, the many "ice" vendors in Serbia and Hungary who provided us with the all-important gelato fix, and all the people I am probably forgetting, for sharing your country, and more importantly your culture with me. Most importantly, thanks to Peter and Vera, my Inlaws, for opening your home to this wacky American guy, and producing a Zia that I could marry. And thanks to my lovely bride for showing me "home."
*****
And so the adventure ends. Tomorrow we load up. As I understand it, I am expected to take the wheel one more time at 2:00 a.m. (!) and drive us to Figgy Airport (or what ever it’s called). There for the expected "security vetting." We leave Budapest at 6:30 a.m., and, through the magic of television, arrive in Portland the same morning around 11:30ish. Not bad.
Thanks for reading my humble rantings. Hopefully they were more entertaining than a slide show. (Hey Dad, Zia hasn’t seen the Navy show yet. I’ll send her by.) Which, of course, doesn’t get you off the hook. You still get to look at pictures. Find us in the fall. Oktoberfest celebrations start soon!
See ya’ in the flesh sometime soon...
Uncle Dave
*****
"Add on by Zia"
Wow it’s time to go back to the other place I call home . I suppose I too should reflect .
I had a wonderful time showing Dave where I am from , introducing him to my Parents , family members and friends. I enjoyed my time with my parents and I am very sad the time is running out as I type these words.
A message to everyone : Spend time with your Parents , if you had a fight make up , if you haven’t spoken in a week call them , don’t let weeks or months go by without talking to them . Time is not forever and you only have so much time with them . Your parents created you and helped shape you , don’t blame them for your flaws . You control your own destiny after you leave the nest. Sorry if I am being sentimental .
The trip was a combination of happy and sad events , I was lucky and got to spend time with Kyra and Jaden . I helped celebrate a very dear old friends 75 th Birthday . I got to see Family and friends that mean a lot to me and I miss very much. I got to show Dave the Place I still call Home , unfortunately I also watched the home I was born in be torn down , that was painful . I have fond memories of that place especially the Horse barn . Times are changing , the town that used to swarm with people and lived day and night now seems abandoned . The youth has left to find employment all over the world and the elderly keep to themselves. I have hopes that in the future changes will happen so people can return .
The time spent here in Keszthely at the Bed and Breakfast was fun too . My parents make all guests feel at home and show them the culture of Hungary . I had the opportunity to observe this since we had guests the entire time we were here. I learned an important lesson , should I ever want to own and run this place ... Breakfast needs to have a time limit !!!!! Our first set of guests chose what ever time they wanted to eat . It interfered with our plans on some days , they also didn’t get that some people go to bed early ... They came home at 11 pm and were very noisy . I think I’ll make up some polite house rules and translate them into several languages. I stayed up late too but did not run up and down the stairs and yell at my kids... OK enough complaining . I also had a few nice conversations with said guests and it kept me practicing my German.
I will go home and learn another language ... which one I am note sure yet . One that doesn’t relate to the ones I already know . Even if I only learn the basics it will help me some day .
Well this is it for me , I am not going to be able to write more , the next 24 hours will be spent packing and spending last minutes saying everything I have not said already. It is very painful to leave , though I miss our Family and Friends in the US too. I wish the world were smaller so I could be close to every one.
I hope everyone enjoyed this blog
Zia
First stop was "Beautiful Lookout," which sounds much better in Hungarian (Szep Kilato (Szhape kill-AH-toe), in case you were wondering). A panoramic view of the western end of the lake that was beautiful. Isn’t it nice when the name matches up with the reality?
Several miles down the road was the treat in our drive. Tihany announces its presence from the road with a glimpse of the twin towers of the church, seen just barely over the hill. A drive up a hill and you are treated with the view of the Baroque wonder, needless to say our first stop.
A small fee (naturally) gets you in. The tour starts in the sanctuary of the church. It is very ornate, without being rococo. Lots of fancy statuary and ceiling painting - look, you know exactly what I am talking about if your high school history class covered the Baroque, and if not, go look it up right now. Words are not going to describe the splendor of this. It’s pretty cool.
From there the tour leads into the catacombs below. There you find the grave of the only political figure to survive the historical "reconstruction" of the communist rule. King Andrew the First was the fourth king of Hungary (1047-1060), and was a direct descendant of Arpad, the guy who founded the country. From there the tour continues through several lower rooms covering the turbulent history of the church, monastery, and region. Balaton was on the border for a lot of the wars with the Turkish Empire, and as a result the history of this region is pretty bloody. Combine that with the period of Communist rule, where the Catholic religion was "discouraged," and you find it a pretty interesting read (and the plaques are in English, so you can!). From there you move into an art museum, with works by famous local artists. As always, some of these are things that leave you wondering "what were they on?" and some of these are so moving that you find it difficult to tear yourself away.
Moving behind the church you find a stunning view of the eastern portion of the lake. It is very Mediterranean looking, with a couple of ferry boats, and lots of sail boats. On our lightly cloudy day the water was a brilliant blue. It was a nice place to "just be" for a minute and reflect on the church and art.
Tihany is famous for a blue type of enamel for pottery. Needless to say that tourists have ample opportunity to obtain some of this pottery for a small fee as you travel back to your car (if you don’t mind spots of white or a really weird cartoon cow on the side. We took a pass. I am sure that there is an artisan in the area that doesn’t manufacture for tourists, but we did not have time to find them).
From Tihany, we moved down the hill to Balatonfured for lunch. We ate at a nice Ettrem on the side of the pier, so you could watch the idiots in the sail boats come in and leave. It is the kind of place that are McMineman’s on the Columbia aspires to be, but will never pull off. Zia had a bean soup that is famous in the region. Beans, smoked ham hock, and smoked Hungarian kolbas. She says it was to die for. I had a zucchini, stuffed with freshly chopped and sautéed vegetables. I don’t know that I would die for it, but it was pretty darned good. We hung out there for a bit and enjoyed the view, then onward.
The rest of the trip was by car, without stops - well, we did stop and buy Zia a new dirndl. The weather turned on us in the afternoon, and our pretty sunny day turned to rain, only a quick shower, but, as it was late, on to home we went.
It is a very pretty drive. If you get here, I highly recommend it.
*****
Today was another trip to Hevis to show the new house guests the spa, so that they could take the tour. Vera went with us, which was fun as she is pretty hard to get out of the house. Zia and Vera had a good time shopping, and I had a good time razzing them. A nice lunch, and then home for a nap. Hey, I gotta save up, vacation ends soon. ( Dave was bought the Tourist Vest , he forgot to mention !!!! )
*****
In reviewing the journal entries of this trip, I find myself thinking that we should probably change the name to "A Cynics Guide to Hungary and Serbia." I assure you, however, that you are really missing something by not coming to visit this beautiful place. The scenery is fantastic, the people amazingly nice, it is a great place to vacation. My cynicism, I think, comes from my frustration and anger with myself for not being better able to communicate, and for not being better prepared for culture and customs. Obviously, I have my homework set out for me.
My thanks to Lali and Adrianna, Feri and Ani, Lajos and Bori, Emese, Joe and Adam, Beethoven-Basci and Mozart-Neni, Kazi-Basci and Zsuzsa-Neni, Kiskazi, Zsuzsa, Klaudia, Gabie and Csbi, Gabor and Rita, the guests from Germany, Mega-Magdi, the nice folks at the news stand who provide me with my English newspaper fix, the many "ice" vendors in Serbia and Hungary who provided us with the all-important gelato fix, and all the people I am probably forgetting, for sharing your country, and more importantly your culture with me. Most importantly, thanks to Peter and Vera, my Inlaws, for opening your home to this wacky American guy, and producing a Zia that I could marry. And thanks to my lovely bride for showing me "home."
*****
And so the adventure ends. Tomorrow we load up. As I understand it, I am expected to take the wheel one more time at 2:00 a.m. (!) and drive us to Figgy Airport (or what ever it’s called). There for the expected "security vetting." We leave Budapest at 6:30 a.m., and, through the magic of television, arrive in Portland the same morning around 11:30ish. Not bad.
Thanks for reading my humble rantings. Hopefully they were more entertaining than a slide show. (Hey Dad, Zia hasn’t seen the Navy show yet. I’ll send her by.) Which, of course, doesn’t get you off the hook. You still get to look at pictures. Find us in the fall. Oktoberfest celebrations start soon!
See ya’ in the flesh sometime soon...
Uncle Dave
*****
"Add on by Zia"
Wow it’s time to go back to the other place I call home . I suppose I too should reflect .
I had a wonderful time showing Dave where I am from , introducing him to my Parents , family members and friends. I enjoyed my time with my parents and I am very sad the time is running out as I type these words.
A message to everyone : Spend time with your Parents , if you had a fight make up , if you haven’t spoken in a week call them , don’t let weeks or months go by without talking to them . Time is not forever and you only have so much time with them . Your parents created you and helped shape you , don’t blame them for your flaws . You control your own destiny after you leave the nest. Sorry if I am being sentimental .
The trip was a combination of happy and sad events , I was lucky and got to spend time with Kyra and Jaden . I helped celebrate a very dear old friends 75 th Birthday . I got to see Family and friends that mean a lot to me and I miss very much. I got to show Dave the Place I still call Home , unfortunately I also watched the home I was born in be torn down , that was painful . I have fond memories of that place especially the Horse barn . Times are changing , the town that used to swarm with people and lived day and night now seems abandoned . The youth has left to find employment all over the world and the elderly keep to themselves. I have hopes that in the future changes will happen so people can return .
The time spent here in Keszthely at the Bed and Breakfast was fun too . My parents make all guests feel at home and show them the culture of Hungary . I had the opportunity to observe this since we had guests the entire time we were here. I learned an important lesson , should I ever want to own and run this place ... Breakfast needs to have a time limit !!!!! Our first set of guests chose what ever time they wanted to eat . It interfered with our plans on some days , they also didn’t get that some people go to bed early ... They came home at 11 pm and were very noisy . I think I’ll make up some polite house rules and translate them into several languages. I stayed up late too but did not run up and down the stairs and yell at my kids... OK enough complaining . I also had a few nice conversations with said guests and it kept me practicing my German.
I will go home and learn another language ... which one I am note sure yet . One that doesn’t relate to the ones I already know . Even if I only learn the basics it will help me some day .
Well this is it for me , I am not going to be able to write more , the next 24 hours will be spent packing and spending last minutes saying everything I have not said already. It is very painful to leave , though I miss our Family and Friends in the US too. I wish the world were smaller so I could be close to every one.
I hope everyone enjoyed this blog
Zia
Sunday, August 13, 2006
8/14 Keszthely
Should you find yourself in Hungary and your language skills are not up to snuff, here is a "top ten" list to help you survive a conversation.
1) Smile a lot: it makes people think you are interested and involved.
2) Listen for key words: you can have fun trying to put them into some kind of context that will inevitably be incorrect.
3) Nod knowingly: so that people know you are following the conversation, even though you have absolutely no idea what is being said.
4) If everyone else is laughing, laugh too: you don’t want to be left out. Needless to say you should also gasp, smile, shake your head, cry, etc. with everyone else.
5) Learn a couple of local words: and pepper your conversation with them, it amuses the natives. Should you find yourself in Hungary, here is a starter list; "nem" (pronounced "nam," meaning no), "igen" (EE-gen, "yes"), "koszonom" (kuz-zo-nom, "thank you) and the all important "egeszsegedre" (ag-a-shayg-a-dra, meaning "to your health," then toss back the schnapps! Speaking of which...).
6) Alcohol is your friend: all that lowering your inhibitions and stuff. Hey, three schnapps and you will be able to speak Hungarian too!
7) Have a helpful translator: like Zia, who, after fifteen minutes or so of incomprehensible conversation, brings you right up to speed by saying something like, "driving..." - or - "England..." - and you’re right back in there.
8) Don’t loose focus: someone may check in with you in English to see if you are paying attention. Even though no one has said anything comprehensible for 15 minutes, you will be expected to have followed it all, and have formulated opinions.
9) Butcher a few local words: it is a million laughs for everyone. For example, the two local towns, with completely unpronounceable names, will now forever be called "Buenos Dias" and "Via con Dios" by my inlaws.
10) Keep a sense of humor: else you’ll pull your hair out (and besides, enjoy it, they talk funny here).
Come to think of it, I can remember a few Non-English speakers in my classes that were pretty good at this (guess that’s why that "check for understanding" piece is so important)...
*****
We spent a couple of days with Gabor and Rita, dinner last evening and lunch today. It was nice to have them around. They both speak some English, and were gracious enough to include me in the conversation.
A note to Gabor. I know that you don’t read the blog. That said, I would grab Rita in a heartbeat. She seems to be a great fit for you, smart, attractive, shares your interests. Don’t let her get away.
*****
I took a long walk today through Buenos Dias and Via con Dios to Balatongyorok (I am told about 15 kilometers one way, 30 round trip). On the way back I saw a little used trail going up a hill. Taking the "road less traveled," I found a beautiful Pilgrimage Church dating back to the 1620’s, and some amazing views of Balaton and the surrounding hillsides. One of the prettiest views I have seen on this trip.
*****
We are starting to prepare for the journey home. For right now that means monitoring the security situation so that we know how to pack. Only two bits of information so far. The "no liquids/no electronics" rule means no beer in the carry on, therefore, no beer at all (sorry fellas). The other bit, from the Budapest Airport, is that passengers to the US can expect increased "security vetting." Now the only time I have heard the term "vetting" used is in British spy novels, so of course I am completely prepared for this. We bought a new suitcase to handle the lack of carry on stuff and are trying to keep the pack down to a couple of magazines (pity the folks on British Airways who can’t even take that!). The airport folks and I may have a few "discussions" about the trumpet though. I am not checking it, sorry.
Dave
1) Smile a lot: it makes people think you are interested and involved.
2) Listen for key words: you can have fun trying to put them into some kind of context that will inevitably be incorrect.
3) Nod knowingly: so that people know you are following the conversation, even though you have absolutely no idea what is being said.
4) If everyone else is laughing, laugh too: you don’t want to be left out. Needless to say you should also gasp, smile, shake your head, cry, etc. with everyone else.
5) Learn a couple of local words: and pepper your conversation with them, it amuses the natives. Should you find yourself in Hungary, here is a starter list; "nem" (pronounced "nam," meaning no), "igen" (EE-gen, "yes"), "koszonom" (kuz-zo-nom, "thank you) and the all important "egeszsegedre" (ag-a-shayg-a-dra, meaning "to your health," then toss back the schnapps! Speaking of which...).
6) Alcohol is your friend: all that lowering your inhibitions and stuff. Hey, three schnapps and you will be able to speak Hungarian too!
7) Have a helpful translator: like Zia, who, after fifteen minutes or so of incomprehensible conversation, brings you right up to speed by saying something like, "driving..." - or - "England..." - and you’re right back in there.
8) Don’t loose focus: someone may check in with you in English to see if you are paying attention. Even though no one has said anything comprehensible for 15 minutes, you will be expected to have followed it all, and have formulated opinions.
9) Butcher a few local words: it is a million laughs for everyone. For example, the two local towns, with completely unpronounceable names, will now forever be called "Buenos Dias" and "Via con Dios" by my inlaws.
10) Keep a sense of humor: else you’ll pull your hair out (and besides, enjoy it, they talk funny here).
Come to think of it, I can remember a few Non-English speakers in my classes that were pretty good at this (guess that’s why that "check for understanding" piece is so important)...
*****
We spent a couple of days with Gabor and Rita, dinner last evening and lunch today. It was nice to have them around. They both speak some English, and were gracious enough to include me in the conversation.
A note to Gabor. I know that you don’t read the blog. That said, I would grab Rita in a heartbeat. She seems to be a great fit for you, smart, attractive, shares your interests. Don’t let her get away.
*****
I took a long walk today through Buenos Dias and Via con Dios to Balatongyorok (I am told about 15 kilometers one way, 30 round trip). On the way back I saw a little used trail going up a hill. Taking the "road less traveled," I found a beautiful Pilgrimage Church dating back to the 1620’s, and some amazing views of Balaton and the surrounding hillsides. One of the prettiest views I have seen on this trip.
*****
We are starting to prepare for the journey home. For right now that means monitoring the security situation so that we know how to pack. Only two bits of information so far. The "no liquids/no electronics" rule means no beer in the carry on, therefore, no beer at all (sorry fellas). The other bit, from the Budapest Airport, is that passengers to the US can expect increased "security vetting." Now the only time I have heard the term "vetting" used is in British spy novels, so of course I am completely prepared for this. We bought a new suitcase to handle the lack of carry on stuff and are trying to keep the pack down to a couple of magazines (pity the folks on British Airways who can’t even take that!). The airport folks and I may have a few "discussions" about the trumpet though. I am not checking it, sorry.
Dave
Thursday, August 10, 2006
8/10 Keszthely
So it seems the "Your Travel Place" curse is continuing to affect our journey, and we will not be able to get to Germany this trip, due to the airplane mixup thingy. We are still hoping to get to Budapest, but that remains to be seen. In the mean time, there is still lots to do around here. Needless to say I am a little disappointed, but they say you should always save some adventures for your next trip. Now if I could just figure out who "they" are...
*****
Earlier in this diatribe I mentioned how folk music affects Z on occasion. And, of course, we covered Mr. Kodaly (of Orff-Kodaly fame). Proof that music connects with us in a powerful and personal way.
I mention this as we caught the Mardi Gras Jazz Band at the Wine Fest the other night, a pretty good Dixieland group from Budapest. Their second tune was "Indiana." You are probably familiar with the tune if you ever listen to me warm up, as that is the little jazz ditty that I frequently play. It’s funny, they were about half a chorus in, and I found myself tearing up. Last night we caught the Union Brass Quintet. About half way through "That’s A Plenty," same experience. I guess I never really noticed until that moment how closely connected to that music I am (both Dixie and brass quintets). That, and, it is getting to be time to come home.
Dave
*****
Earlier in this diatribe I mentioned how folk music affects Z on occasion. And, of course, we covered Mr. Kodaly (of Orff-Kodaly fame). Proof that music connects with us in a powerful and personal way.
I mention this as we caught the Mardi Gras Jazz Band at the Wine Fest the other night, a pretty good Dixieland group from Budapest. Their second tune was "Indiana." You are probably familiar with the tune if you ever listen to me warm up, as that is the little jazz ditty that I frequently play. It’s funny, they were about half a chorus in, and I found myself tearing up. Last night we caught the Union Brass Quintet. About half way through "That’s A Plenty," same experience. I guess I never really noticed until that moment how closely connected to that music I am (both Dixie and brass quintets). That, and, it is getting to be time to come home.
Dave
Monday, August 07, 2006
8/4 - 6, Language Issues, Hevis, Keszthely
Life is interesting if your only language is English and you are staying is a house where you can trade understandings with your wife, misunderstandings with your mother-in-law, and (mostly) complete lack of understandings with your father-in-law.
First of all, you are not always saying what you think you are. My In-law’s are both fluent in German and Hungarian, and my Mother-in-law speaks some English. But words in English often have bazar meanings in Hungarian or German. For example, "Bye" in Hungarian means "Trouble," so if you say "Bye Bye" as you leave, what they hear is "Trouble Trouble," which, in my case is probably pretty true. Another example, this is a beach town, and I often get a small stone in my Birks. Like most of my generation in college, I refer to this as a "rock in my ‘stock." In German, a "rock" is a skirt and a "stock" is a stick, so what I am really saying here is that I have a "skirt in my stick." Not quite the same thing. Another example. The word "Kek" (with the little line on the "e") is pronounced "cake" in Hungarian, but means the color blue. Of course, Germans hear it is "poop," so you can’t win regardless.
My wife, who has been going back and forth between German and Hungarian, and then switching to English to translate for me is developing a very cute little accent. If we ever do another production of "Fiddler" this accent is perfect for Yenta.
More language fun. Peter, Zia and I went to a flea market in Tapolca. As Peter has been having back trouble, I was again in the pilots chair. On our way home, Peter took us via the scenic route. I was given the instruction to follow the signs to Balaton - and then a sound slightly likes sneezing and snoring. No prob - I’ll just follow the signs to the town that says "Balaton" on the front of it, and I’ll be OK. And it worked remarkably well, four about 15 miles. At this point I was confronted with a sign that proudly proclaimed "Balatonszeped" and an arrow left and "Balatonreneds" and an arrow right. Needless to say I had to come to a complete stop before we got to a direction that I could understand. Turns out both directions get us there, so it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.
Which brings us to my main point, that I made to several of you before we left. Hungarian is not a real language. Hungarian is a language made up by Hungarians to mess up tourists for the amusement of Hungarians. When we leave, they go back to speaking something normal. My proof of this is that periodically, in the nature of kids playing chicken, they slip in a normal word. If you catch them at it, they deny it and make up a new word that sounds a lot like it, but of course is not really what they said.
For example, my wife regularly says "hoo ha" (as in "can I have a hoo ha, two times Tuesday"). OK, look. It was all over the TV before we left, like I am going to miss that. Or, and this was the tip off, my wife slipping "forty-two" into a sentence. Like I am not going to catch that. Oh, she denied it, but it doesn’t change the fact that she said it! In addition to the above, I have heard people say "yak yak," "car part," "Ester Short," and, this is the topper, my mother-in-law slipping "William Shatner" into a conversation. The part I am amazed by is how they can keep this joke going and keep a straight face. Oh well...
*****
We went to the spa at Hevis to take the cure. You have to rent an intertube (or bring your own), and then you pay for a period of time in the lake. The day we went it was raining slightly and the lake was slightly warmer than the air. Not hot-tub-hot, but pleasantly warm. We soaked for two hours. It was really very nice. We got out of the lake about the same time the announcement came over the PA, in three languages, that you should "under no circumstances spend more than an hour in the pool without coming out for a break." Nice of them to tell us. Anyway, we left the water pleasantly soaked and radioactive.
*****
We celebrated our first Wedding Anniversary on the sixth. Vera and Peter took us out to a local Csarda for a fabulous dinner (with a great folk band and show). The restaurant (ettrem) is an old hang out for a Hungarian Robin Hood type band, that, as they do, took from the rich and gave to the poor. There is a memorial where the leaders are buried, where people still leave flowers. From there, back to Keszthely, where we walked down to the wine fest, and then took the champagne cruise on the lake.
So, at the end of year one, thanks to all of you, near and far, for your friendship and support.
Dave
First of all, you are not always saying what you think you are. My In-law’s are both fluent in German and Hungarian, and my Mother-in-law speaks some English. But words in English often have bazar meanings in Hungarian or German. For example, "Bye" in Hungarian means "Trouble," so if you say "Bye Bye" as you leave, what they hear is "Trouble Trouble," which, in my case is probably pretty true. Another example, this is a beach town, and I often get a small stone in my Birks. Like most of my generation in college, I refer to this as a "rock in my ‘stock." In German, a "rock" is a skirt and a "stock" is a stick, so what I am really saying here is that I have a "skirt in my stick." Not quite the same thing. Another example. The word "Kek" (with the little line on the "e") is pronounced "cake" in Hungarian, but means the color blue. Of course, Germans hear it is "poop," so you can’t win regardless.
My wife, who has been going back and forth between German and Hungarian, and then switching to English to translate for me is developing a very cute little accent. If we ever do another production of "Fiddler" this accent is perfect for Yenta.
More language fun. Peter, Zia and I went to a flea market in Tapolca. As Peter has been having back trouble, I was again in the pilots chair. On our way home, Peter took us via the scenic route. I was given the instruction to follow the signs to Balaton - and then a sound slightly likes sneezing and snoring. No prob - I’ll just follow the signs to the town that says "Balaton" on the front of it, and I’ll be OK. And it worked remarkably well, four about 15 miles. At this point I was confronted with a sign that proudly proclaimed "Balatonszeped" and an arrow left and "Balatonreneds" and an arrow right. Needless to say I had to come to a complete stop before we got to a direction that I could understand. Turns out both directions get us there, so it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.
Which brings us to my main point, that I made to several of you before we left. Hungarian is not a real language. Hungarian is a language made up by Hungarians to mess up tourists for the amusement of Hungarians. When we leave, they go back to speaking something normal. My proof of this is that periodically, in the nature of kids playing chicken, they slip in a normal word. If you catch them at it, they deny it and make up a new word that sounds a lot like it, but of course is not really what they said.
For example, my wife regularly says "hoo ha" (as in "can I have a hoo ha, two times Tuesday"). OK, look. It was all over the TV before we left, like I am going to miss that. Or, and this was the tip off, my wife slipping "forty-two" into a sentence. Like I am not going to catch that. Oh, she denied it, but it doesn’t change the fact that she said it! In addition to the above, I have heard people say "yak yak," "car part," "Ester Short," and, this is the topper, my mother-in-law slipping "William Shatner" into a conversation. The part I am amazed by is how they can keep this joke going and keep a straight face. Oh well...
*****
We went to the spa at Hevis to take the cure. You have to rent an intertube (or bring your own), and then you pay for a period of time in the lake. The day we went it was raining slightly and the lake was slightly warmer than the air. Not hot-tub-hot, but pleasantly warm. We soaked for two hours. It was really very nice. We got out of the lake about the same time the announcement came over the PA, in three languages, that you should "under no circumstances spend more than an hour in the pool without coming out for a break." Nice of them to tell us. Anyway, we left the water pleasantly soaked and radioactive.
*****
We celebrated our first Wedding Anniversary on the sixth. Vera and Peter took us out to a local Csarda for a fabulous dinner (with a great folk band and show). The restaurant (ettrem) is an old hang out for a Hungarian Robin Hood type band, that, as they do, took from the rich and gave to the poor. There is a memorial where the leaders are buried, where people still leave flowers. From there, back to Keszthely, where we walked down to the wine fest, and then took the champagne cruise on the lake.
So, at the end of year one, thanks to all of you, near and far, for your friendship and support.
Dave
Friday, August 04, 2006
8/3 Keszthely
To all of our friends in Portland and the ‘Couv. We hope that the recent earthquake didn’t damage anything valuable and that you (and your stuff) are all OK.
*****
It rained.
It stopped raining long enough for Zia and I to go down to Kossuth Utca and take a walk along with the 3,254,128 other tourist, so we didn’t stay long.
We went down to the Bor Utca (Wine Street) to listen to the latin jazz band last night. The rain started as we walked out the door and continued to increase in intensity to the point that it felt like someone had turned a faucet on by the bands second tune. So all I will say about them is they sounded like the best pop group we have heard here. Good players, good charts, but more info on them will have to wait for other places online (that said, the arrangement of the other bands arrangement of arrangements of funk tunes from the late ‘70’s is kinda dicey fellas).
So down to tourist row on the Boardwalk for beer, pommes (French Fries come with cute little plastic forks), and cover. It was raining so hard at this point that my synthetic fiber anorak was dripping water. We got home and wrung ourselves out. I went to bed, while Zia stayed up to hear the adventures of the Germans, who went out to the Puszta, about which she will have to fill you in, 'cuz she ain't told me yet.
Dave
*****
It rained.
It stopped raining long enough for Zia and I to go down to Kossuth Utca and take a walk along with the 3,254,128 other tourist, so we didn’t stay long.
We went down to the Bor Utca (Wine Street) to listen to the latin jazz band last night. The rain started as we walked out the door and continued to increase in intensity to the point that it felt like someone had turned a faucet on by the bands second tune. So all I will say about them is they sounded like the best pop group we have heard here. Good players, good charts, but more info on them will have to wait for other places online (that said, the arrangement of the other bands arrangement of arrangements of funk tunes from the late ‘70’s is kinda dicey fellas).
So down to tourist row on the Boardwalk for beer, pommes (French Fries come with cute little plastic forks), and cover. It was raining so hard at this point that my synthetic fiber anorak was dripping water. We got home and wrung ourselves out. I went to bed, while Zia stayed up to hear the adventures of the Germans, who went out to the Puszta, about which she will have to fill you in, 'cuz she ain't told me yet.
Dave
Thursday, August 03, 2006
8/1 & 2, Keszthely
We had a genuine Central Oregon-type thunderstorm this afternoon - complete with thunder, lightning, torrential down pours - but alas, no hail and no drop in temperature. Gradually things began to cool off as the day wore on, but it was a good afternoon to be inside...
Which is not really a great thing, as we are barbecuing again this evening. Kis-Kazi, Zsuzsa, Klaudia, Gabie and Csabi are down using Kazi-Basci’s condo, and are coming by for a visit.
*****
A break in the weather, and the grill is fired up. Peter is making chicken, steak, cevaps (many of you will remember these from the wedding) and potatoes, Vera has made a salad bowl featuring a green salad, a cucumber salad and a blanched cabbage salad. My contribution is tofu, lightly browned, and, as it turns out, heavily spiced.
We may have told some of you the story my first use of hot paprika. If you haven’t heard it yet, the short version: Paprika in Hungary comes in a variety of levels of "heat." Zia kindly provided me with some of the "extra fiery" variety after her last visit. She just neglected to tell me what it was. Now most of us don’t think of paprika as a flavor as much as a coloring agent. So, being nice, I threw a bunch of this stuff on a bunch of grilled vegetables I was preparing. A bunch. This stuff is pretty great, in that it lets you get a mouth full down and enjoy it before the heat starts, and then "whoa, baby." We ate the vegetables, but I think we went through a roll of paper towels wiping sweat from our brows. Mostly around here it is used as a condiment, right next to the salt shaker.
So, flash to Dave, browning the tofu on the stove. Things are browning nicely, a little salt, just like the cooking shows, pick up the paprika shaker - you know that prank you used to play on your friends in high school - OK, well not you, but people you know - where you loosen the cap on the shaker and it all comes out. OK, accidents happen. Anyway, let’s just say the final product was very hot.
Dinner was great. Peter, Kis-Kazi, the boys and I enjoyed the rest of the evening sitting around chewing the fat (vegetarian based, I assure you), while the ladies watched the Mega-Magdi DVD.
*****
Wednesday, the wine festival in Keszthely began this evening. As you all know, I am more of a beer guy, but, you know, when in Rome.
The festival begins with a parade. We moseyed down to the Centrum to catch the beginning of the parade, and got there just in time to bump elbows with the band getting off the bus. They quickly formed up and started entertaining the crowd with European marches. Next to arrive were two horse-drawn carriages, one for the Hungarian folk band, and one just because. Zia is in awe of one of these horses. It is a small horse, but very muscular, and very spirited. Next is a choir from Poland and their accordion accompaniment. Yes, they march and perform in the parade (all you choir teachers take note). Last to arrive are the representatives of all of the wineries at the festival. They are dressed up in the regalia of their region (think cap and gown, like graduation).
They quickly formed up and, with the band playing Stars and Stripes (enough to make you homesick), started down the street - only to stop about the time the end had reached us. So we walked to the front of the parade and watched it again. And again they stopped. We still are not really sure why. At this point, having seen the parade twice, we went ahead to the festival. We figured they would catch up eventually.
The wine festival is a lot like a small beer festival. Booths from all over the country, not just this region, will serve you a taste, or a full glass of wine. There are food booths all over selling goulash, stir-fried vegetable and meat dishes, shish kabobs, pommes frittes, and a Transylvanian Bread thing that is like a cinnamon roll, but less sticky (and one of Zia's favorite food groups). We met Peter and Vera, and had dinner - and some wine, two whites, local specialties, one sweet and one dry.
We then wandered down to the stage, where the choir was just finishing up their set. They were doing a call and response thing with the audience where they sang the call in four parts, and the audience sang the response - IN FOUR PARTS! It was pretty cool. They didn’t even teach it, just spontaneous four parts from the crowd.
They were followed by a Hungarian Dance group. A live band of musicians provided the tunes. Different than the gypsy group we saw earlier, this was the true Hungarian folk ensemble. The "lead guitarist" of this type of ensemble is the violinist. Very good Hungarian violinist are very popular, and can make bundles of money. There is a contest here every so often to crown the king of all violinists, who then is shown regularly on TV, etc. The "rhythm guitarist" is the viola player. When I say viola, I am not talking about the one you see in the orchestra. The viola used in this type of music only has three strings and a slightly flatter bridge, so that the player can play triple stops all the time. There is a wash of sound that comes from this that is an awful lot like an electric guitar, and a good viola player can add huge amounts of energy to a performance, especially when they lock up with the bass player. The bass is a traditional orchestral bass, and is almost always played bowed, not pizzicato. In slower tunes, the player will use a lot of portamendo, which gives the tunes a kind of "sea-sick" feeling that is kind of slick. The last member of the band is the cymbalom player, kind of the equivalent of the piano player in our mythical rock band. Almost never a solo voice, and always a surprising color when it is, the cymbalom player mostly improvises accompaniment figures to counterpoint the melody. Good players add another rhythmic element to complement the melody.
The dance group was very good. A variety of ages performed a variety of traditional dances on a stage that was really too small for them. (And, low and behold, there in the adult group is our Vaida from the other night.) Standing for an hour and a half was hard on the back, but the show was really good.
On the way out we passed one of those Peruvian folk groups that you see at malls and stuff all over the States. Same little set up, same generator, except these guys are obviously faking it - and they are wearing Native American Indian outfits, with full headdress and everything. Kind of wacky...
Dave
Which is not really a great thing, as we are barbecuing again this evening. Kis-Kazi, Zsuzsa, Klaudia, Gabie and Csabi are down using Kazi-Basci’s condo, and are coming by for a visit.
*****
A break in the weather, and the grill is fired up. Peter is making chicken, steak, cevaps (many of you will remember these from the wedding) and potatoes, Vera has made a salad bowl featuring a green salad, a cucumber salad and a blanched cabbage salad. My contribution is tofu, lightly browned, and, as it turns out, heavily spiced.
We may have told some of you the story my first use of hot paprika. If you haven’t heard it yet, the short version: Paprika in Hungary comes in a variety of levels of "heat." Zia kindly provided me with some of the "extra fiery" variety after her last visit. She just neglected to tell me what it was. Now most of us don’t think of paprika as a flavor as much as a coloring agent. So, being nice, I threw a bunch of this stuff on a bunch of grilled vegetables I was preparing. A bunch. This stuff is pretty great, in that it lets you get a mouth full down and enjoy it before the heat starts, and then "whoa, baby." We ate the vegetables, but I think we went through a roll of paper towels wiping sweat from our brows. Mostly around here it is used as a condiment, right next to the salt shaker.
So, flash to Dave, browning the tofu on the stove. Things are browning nicely, a little salt, just like the cooking shows, pick up the paprika shaker - you know that prank you used to play on your friends in high school - OK, well not you, but people you know - where you loosen the cap on the shaker and it all comes out. OK, accidents happen. Anyway, let’s just say the final product was very hot.
Dinner was great. Peter, Kis-Kazi, the boys and I enjoyed the rest of the evening sitting around chewing the fat (vegetarian based, I assure you), while the ladies watched the Mega-Magdi DVD.
*****
Wednesday, the wine festival in Keszthely began this evening. As you all know, I am more of a beer guy, but, you know, when in Rome.
The festival begins with a parade. We moseyed down to the Centrum to catch the beginning of the parade, and got there just in time to bump elbows with the band getting off the bus. They quickly formed up and started entertaining the crowd with European marches. Next to arrive were two horse-drawn carriages, one for the Hungarian folk band, and one just because. Zia is in awe of one of these horses. It is a small horse, but very muscular, and very spirited. Next is a choir from Poland and their accordion accompaniment. Yes, they march and perform in the parade (all you choir teachers take note). Last to arrive are the representatives of all of the wineries at the festival. They are dressed up in the regalia of their region (think cap and gown, like graduation).
They quickly formed up and, with the band playing Stars and Stripes (enough to make you homesick), started down the street - only to stop about the time the end had reached us. So we walked to the front of the parade and watched it again. And again they stopped. We still are not really sure why. At this point, having seen the parade twice, we went ahead to the festival. We figured they would catch up eventually.
The wine festival is a lot like a small beer festival. Booths from all over the country, not just this region, will serve you a taste, or a full glass of wine. There are food booths all over selling goulash, stir-fried vegetable and meat dishes, shish kabobs, pommes frittes, and a Transylvanian Bread thing that is like a cinnamon roll, but less sticky (and one of Zia's favorite food groups). We met Peter and Vera, and had dinner - and some wine, two whites, local specialties, one sweet and one dry.
We then wandered down to the stage, where the choir was just finishing up their set. They were doing a call and response thing with the audience where they sang the call in four parts, and the audience sang the response - IN FOUR PARTS! It was pretty cool. They didn’t even teach it, just spontaneous four parts from the crowd.
They were followed by a Hungarian Dance group. A live band of musicians provided the tunes. Different than the gypsy group we saw earlier, this was the true Hungarian folk ensemble. The "lead guitarist" of this type of ensemble is the violinist. Very good Hungarian violinist are very popular, and can make bundles of money. There is a contest here every so often to crown the king of all violinists, who then is shown regularly on TV, etc. The "rhythm guitarist" is the viola player. When I say viola, I am not talking about the one you see in the orchestra. The viola used in this type of music only has three strings and a slightly flatter bridge, so that the player can play triple stops all the time. There is a wash of sound that comes from this that is an awful lot like an electric guitar, and a good viola player can add huge amounts of energy to a performance, especially when they lock up with the bass player. The bass is a traditional orchestral bass, and is almost always played bowed, not pizzicato. In slower tunes, the player will use a lot of portamendo, which gives the tunes a kind of "sea-sick" feeling that is kind of slick. The last member of the band is the cymbalom player, kind of the equivalent of the piano player in our mythical rock band. Almost never a solo voice, and always a surprising color when it is, the cymbalom player mostly improvises accompaniment figures to counterpoint the melody. Good players add another rhythmic element to complement the melody.
The dance group was very good. A variety of ages performed a variety of traditional dances on a stage that was really too small for them. (And, low and behold, there in the adult group is our Vaida from the other night.) Standing for an hour and a half was hard on the back, but the show was really good.
On the way out we passed one of those Peruvian folk groups that you see at malls and stuff all over the States. Same little set up, same generator, except these guys are obviously faking it - and they are wearing Native American Indian outfits, with full headdress and everything. Kind of wacky...
Dave
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
7/31 Hevis
For all of you gardeners out there. Vera just passed on through Zia the story of a friend of hers who uses birth control pills as plant food for vegetable plants with great results. Now if you can just get your doctor to write your plants a prescription...
*****
Today we took a bus trip to the spa town of Hevis (the "e" has a long, horizontal line over it, HAY - vees). We will not visit the spa today - too hot! No, today we sight see.
Hevis, according to Peter, renovated all of the spa buildings last winter. When the town council inspected the buildings following construction they found shoddy workmanship and sub-standard materials (hmm, on a government project? Can you do that?). They ordered the whole thing torn down and rebuild before payment.
The spa at Hevis, according to our guide book, is slightly radioactive (!!!). I am, however, at peace with visiting the baths later in the week. In the first place, people have been coming here for over 200 years to "take the cure." So there must be something to it. In the second place, I don’t plan on having any more children.
Our visit to Hevis was very rewarding. As previously mentioned, this is a spa town (read "tourist"). So our sight seeing expedition was mostly of shops. We were wandering down a side street, when Zia excitedly grabbed my hand and exclaiming, "we have to go in here," drug me into a shop. Great, more footwear, I was thinking. Instead I found a bookstore. With Hungarian books. In Hungarian. Zia wandered off to look, and amused myself by doing what I have been doing this whole trip when walking into a Hungarian bookstore with Hungarian books in Hungarian. I looked at pre-1910 maps of Hungary, always a good bet. Then I stared at CD’s for a while. Nice classical selection, at least I think it is. I can read the composer names, even though they are backward. But orchestras? Soloists? Your guess is as good as mine. And then! We discovered the music shelf. And on it there is a fabulous and very scholarly book of ethnomusicology on the folk music of this region, with examples...in Hungarian. And the examples, very well organized, are only excerpts. And so, once again we slink towards the door in abject failure. Zia and the clerk exchanged a few words on the way out. The clerk reaches into a stack of newly arrived books that have not been shelved, and thrusts into my hand three books of Hungarian Folk Music. The Holy Grail! The end of the quest! I was giddy, I laughed, I cried, I think I even danced a cszardas (you can’t do a jig in Hungary). Even as I write this, Peter and Vera are sorting through the tunes, helping me to find the ones they hear played a lot.
*****
Hevis also has a pretty great German Folk Clothing store. The work is all done locally and is pretty inexpensive. They get a lot of German tourists here. Zia snagged me a new shirt for this year.
Our trip home was on the milk run bus, so we got to see the "garden district" of Keszthely. Some very beautiful houses, and the big bus stops all have some fabulous statuary. Even with the heat, things are very green and pretty.
Dave
*****
Today we took a bus trip to the spa town of Hevis (the "e" has a long, horizontal line over it, HAY - vees). We will not visit the spa today - too hot! No, today we sight see.
Hevis, according to Peter, renovated all of the spa buildings last winter. When the town council inspected the buildings following construction they found shoddy workmanship and sub-standard materials (hmm, on a government project? Can you do that?). They ordered the whole thing torn down and rebuild before payment.
The spa at Hevis, according to our guide book, is slightly radioactive (!!!). I am, however, at peace with visiting the baths later in the week. In the first place, people have been coming here for over 200 years to "take the cure." So there must be something to it. In the second place, I don’t plan on having any more children.
Our visit to Hevis was very rewarding. As previously mentioned, this is a spa town (read "tourist"). So our sight seeing expedition was mostly of shops. We were wandering down a side street, when Zia excitedly grabbed my hand and exclaiming, "we have to go in here," drug me into a shop. Great, more footwear, I was thinking. Instead I found a bookstore. With Hungarian books. In Hungarian. Zia wandered off to look, and amused myself by doing what I have been doing this whole trip when walking into a Hungarian bookstore with Hungarian books in Hungarian. I looked at pre-1910 maps of Hungary, always a good bet. Then I stared at CD’s for a while. Nice classical selection, at least I think it is. I can read the composer names, even though they are backward. But orchestras? Soloists? Your guess is as good as mine. And then! We discovered the music shelf. And on it there is a fabulous and very scholarly book of ethnomusicology on the folk music of this region, with examples...in Hungarian. And the examples, very well organized, are only excerpts. And so, once again we slink towards the door in abject failure. Zia and the clerk exchanged a few words on the way out. The clerk reaches into a stack of newly arrived books that have not been shelved, and thrusts into my hand three books of Hungarian Folk Music. The Holy Grail! The end of the quest! I was giddy, I laughed, I cried, I think I even danced a cszardas (you can’t do a jig in Hungary). Even as I write this, Peter and Vera are sorting through the tunes, helping me to find the ones they hear played a lot.
*****
Hevis also has a pretty great German Folk Clothing store. The work is all done locally and is pretty inexpensive. They get a lot of German tourists here. Zia snagged me a new shirt for this year.
Our trip home was on the milk run bus, so we got to see the "garden district" of Keszthely. Some very beautiful houses, and the big bus stops all have some fabulous statuary. Even with the heat, things are very green and pretty.
Dave
Monday, July 31, 2006
7/29 & 30, Keszthely
Hey look! I'm almost up to date!
We went down to the Boardwalk this evening to listen to the rock concert. The band is led by the bass player, whose claim to fame is that he is the host of Hungary’s "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire." Needless to say, these are great credentials to be a bass player in a rock band, and his skills are about what you would expect of a TV host fronting a rock band. The lead guitarist is unassuming - (!!!). The rhythm guitarist and the keyboard player are pretty competent. And then there is the trumpet/harmonica appendage. Trumpet is not really his ax - kind of a very weak Herb Alpert - and on harmonica, well, when he is in the right key and on the right chord - he’s OK! Their vocals are their strength, and they use them very effectively. Of course the trumpet appendage is the arranger. The rhythm guitarist writes the lyrics, and the songs are all originals. You’ll spend a lot of time going, "hey, that tune sounds a lot like..." But if you going to steal, steal from the best!
*****
After the show, we wandered home to meet the new house pests, relatives of the owner of the vineyard that Peter takes care of. Grandma, Mom, two boys and their new Au Pair (19), that arrived just a week ago. I was treated to watching the Au Pair survive her first schnapps (nice to watch somebody else do it for a change). I find I know just enough German to barely follow the conversation, so hurrah for me. Am I adding to the conversation? Well, not so much. In fact, not at all. But it nice to at least have some clue what is going on for a change.
The boys don’t speak any English, and are pushing me to the limit to respond in German. But they are pretty easy going about it. I thought I might teach them a word or two in English. Can you say, "Swordfish?" I know some of you have Swordfished over quite a long distance, but I like the idea of the long term payoff of this.
(Zia adds at this point that she completely doesn’t get the whole "Swordfish" thing. If ya gotta ask, you’ll never know. Besides, it is kind of beyond explanation anymore, anyway. As I am becomming an expert at this summer, just smile and nod, smile and nod...)
The boys are bundles of energy, and are immediately attracted to Peter. He is kind of a kid magnet. He seems to be having the time of his life.
The best part of this evening is - IT STARTED TO RAIN! The temperature is dropping enough that I may actually get to sleep. It feels really great after a month of heat, even though I know eventually it will push up the humidity (it ain’t the heat...).
Dave
We went down to the Boardwalk this evening to listen to the rock concert. The band is led by the bass player, whose claim to fame is that he is the host of Hungary’s "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire." Needless to say, these are great credentials to be a bass player in a rock band, and his skills are about what you would expect of a TV host fronting a rock band. The lead guitarist is unassuming - (!!!). The rhythm guitarist and the keyboard player are pretty competent. And then there is the trumpet/harmonica appendage. Trumpet is not really his ax - kind of a very weak Herb Alpert - and on harmonica, well, when he is in the right key and on the right chord - he’s OK! Their vocals are their strength, and they use them very effectively. Of course the trumpet appendage is the arranger. The rhythm guitarist writes the lyrics, and the songs are all originals. You’ll spend a lot of time going, "hey, that tune sounds a lot like..." But if you going to steal, steal from the best!
*****
After the show, we wandered home to meet the new house pests, relatives of the owner of the vineyard that Peter takes care of. Grandma, Mom, two boys and their new Au Pair (19), that arrived just a week ago. I was treated to watching the Au Pair survive her first schnapps (nice to watch somebody else do it for a change). I find I know just enough German to barely follow the conversation, so hurrah for me. Am I adding to the conversation? Well, not so much. In fact, not at all. But it nice to at least have some clue what is going on for a change.
The boys don’t speak any English, and are pushing me to the limit to respond in German. But they are pretty easy going about it. I thought I might teach them a word or two in English. Can you say, "Swordfish?" I know some of you have Swordfished over quite a long distance, but I like the idea of the long term payoff of this.
(Zia adds at this point that she completely doesn’t get the whole "Swordfish" thing. If ya gotta ask, you’ll never know. Besides, it is kind of beyond explanation anymore, anyway. As I am becomming an expert at this summer, just smile and nod, smile and nod...)
The boys are bundles of energy, and are immediately attracted to Peter. He is kind of a kid magnet. He seems to be having the time of his life.
The best part of this evening is - IT STARTED TO RAIN! The temperature is dropping enough that I may actually get to sleep. It feels really great after a month of heat, even though I know eventually it will push up the humidity (it ain’t the heat...).
Dave
Ok so who is the Vegetarian ????
I decided to add my own post again so you don't think Dave is vacationing alone . My days are spent visiting with my parents and helping out around the house as much as I am permitted ( NOT MUCH) napping every now and then , not really my thing . When Dave naps I take in some quality time with either my Mom or Dad depending which one is around . Dad likes to stay busy , he is the Goofer ... Bread Newspaper a power walk in between... he has lost 40 pounds this last year by walking 4 - 6 hours every day .... GO DAD. My Mom is the chef , she thinks up new and exciting meals to feed Dave and us ... which brings me to the title of my post ... I am ready for some goulash a great Steak ... I love vegetables but GIVE ME MEAT !!!! I finally said you know just because Dave doesn't eat meat I DO ... My Dad is beginning to wonder if she took to this vegetarian cooking so much that she'll forget to make him meat ? Just kidding , she throws us a scrap of dead animal flesh as Dave calls it every now and again. I get some fabulous aged ( 2 years ) Prosiutto Ham and home made sausages ( smoked ) for breakfast with several different kind of cheeses , fresh tomatoes and Hungarian Wax peppers . Homemade Apricot marmalade , joghurt great fresh Bread ( I am going to miss that the most ) . Oh and coffee of course ... Lunch gets creative at times , usually a soup , and then a vegetarian entree for Dave .... Potatoe Pancakes with homemade applesauce ... stuffed Kohlrabi .... its a really tasty vegetable. Spagetti with freah made sauce .... my Mom does not like anything canned or out of a Jar ... today she made Fries and a salad for Dave and added Liver fried with Garlic for us .... fresh fruit is available at all times what ever is in season . Apricots , plums nectarines , peaches watermelon cantaloupe........ I am bringing recipes with me ....
So this is how it goes ...
Dave and I spend time walking to town , the beach .... or just hanging out around the house . I think he is getting the much deserved rest . He sleeps a lot walks a lot and even practices the Trumpet.
Well I am of for another visit with Mom... its close to dinner time ... wonder whats on the menu for tonight...
Z
So this is how it goes ...
Dave and I spend time walking to town , the beach .... or just hanging out around the house . I think he is getting the much deserved rest . He sleeps a lot walks a lot and even practices the Trumpet.
Well I am of for another visit with Mom... its close to dinner time ... wonder whats on the menu for tonight...
Z
Sunday, July 30, 2006
7/24 thru 28, Keszthely & Zalacsany
A couple of days loafing around Keszthely. It is a town that is well set up for it. I get my morning walk in and come back and practice for a while. We grab some lunch and then Zia and I take a walk to people watch. Home to practice a little more, maybe update the blog, perhaps a nap, perhaps a swim in the warm lake, gab with Peter and Vera, a light dinner, and then back to the Boardwalk for the evening program and a gelato or a beer and some more people watching. If we are feeling enthusiastic, we will bring suits and go swimming again. Do I really have to come home?
On the first of our home visits, Kazi-Basci and Zsuzsa-Neni, with Klaudia, made it by this week. We had a barbecue, and I made Mediterranean Tofu Tias. Klaudia says she enjoyed them, and I believe her. Vera enjoyed them a lot, and then came up with an even better version later in the week using mushrooms instead of tofu. Everyone else ate dead animal flesh. Again, Zia will need to describe that part for you. Not part of my culinary experience this trip, sorry.
The next evening we visited Kazi and Zsusza’s vacation condo in Zalacsany, just down the road from Keszthely. The condos are built next to a castle. The condo is owned by an architect, who as a child dreamed of owning a castle. When this one became available, she hocked everything to buy it. She financed the effort by selling off the side yard. The person who bought it sat on it for a while, meanwhile she turned her castle into a resort hotel. The person who bought the side yard decided not to use it, so, putting herself into debt again, the architect bought the side yard back. She built a bunch of duplex condos, which she is now selling (a two bedroom one will set you back $50,000). Meanwhile, a championship golf course is going in across the street, with a major championship match scheduled there next year. I think property values will be going up soon, better act fast!
And so, we enjoyed the pool behind the castle. A beautiful day, maybe my farmer tan will disappear before the end of the trip. It could happen!
The next day I woke up not feeling very well due to dehydration. It has been unusually hot in Europe this summer, a continent that does not believe in air conditioning. This has lead to several deaths here this summer, over 25 in France as of last week and more than 14 in Spain. Balaton, a spring fed lake with no outlet has dropped more than 10 cm. in a week. So, lots of water, and better by evening.
*****
This evening we are the guests of Kazi-Basci and Zsuzsa-Neni at a "Gypsy Wedding" show put on by a pro group in Zalacsany. Needless to say the show is proceeded with schnapps (you knew that had to happen). They meet you at the gate with it, with a traditional dry biscuit chaser. There is a photographer there to memorialize your shudders for posterity (that they will be happy to sell you after the show for $59.99, or something...). Then into the performance hall.
They perform in a permanent structure in a meadow on the edge of town. A huge wooden stage is covered with an elaborate wooden scaffolding, with a canvas roof. The audience is in arena seating, with bench seats and a plank table in front of you. Two pitchers of very good, home-grown wine, one red, one white await your drinking pleasure. A recording is playing the last tune in the Hungarian Folk Suite that was the recessional for our wedding last year and is now entrusted to Z-Musikmakers - at least I got that tune right! Meanwhile the band is setting up and quickly checking mics. The band is two guitars, a mandolin, a female vocalist (who is the dancer when the band performs separate from this show), and a percussionist who plays milk jug. Really! You have to hear it to believe it, it is pretty incredible.
One of the actors is floating around behind the audience, posing for pictures with the audience (available following the show for $59.99). Zia explains that gypsy women traditionally wear clothing that doesn’t match, and is as bright as possible to attract attention. Somewhat like what I wear to school every day, only more tasteful, I guess.
The head gypsy of the band is called "Vaida." Our Vaida is the MC of this evening’s festivities. He evidently is an insult comic, according to Zia. He begins the show by introducing his wife ("once she was pretty, now she is my wife"). Zia at this point warns me that the script contains a certain amount of profanity. I pass the warning on to you, be fore warned that I am including comments from our Vaida, and they include a certain amount of profanity. You have been warned. On with the show...
The script is a horse opera, literally. Our hero is stealing a horse to impress a girl and win her as his wife. Unfortunately, he kills his future father-in-law in the process. ("I’ve never seen such a f*^&#%g ugly dead man.") Regrettably, he doesn’t stay dead. ("Never mind, I don’t have luck in life.") The wealthy horse owner and two side kicks return, and there are several of the tricks from our Puszta show of the other evening. At one point several of these tricks are done by a mule, ridden by the father-in-law, which, according to Zia, is incredibly difficult. ("He’s a poor cowboy, his horse is as big as a dog.") I hope, at this point, that you are catching on that the plot is pretty irrelevant here. The band is pretty hip, in a very subtle way. For example, at the end of this whole mule schtick, Vaida says, "get outta here," the band plays a real short instrumental version of "Hit The Road Jack." If you don’t know the tune, you probably missed it, but several folks in the crowd got a chuckle out of it.
So, on with the "plot." The wealthy guy wants to buy the girl, which leads into a scene where he is tricked into getting drunk on sacramental wine at the ceremony, and his bride is stolen away. Much dancing ensues. The dancing is a highly skilled cross between break dancing and the slappy dance. The percussionist is adding some pretty cool mouth percussion to the music at this point, in addition to anchoring the group with bass lines played by controlling how he slaps his hand on the end of the milk jug. It is pretty amazing.
There is a mistaken belief that Hungarian Folk Music and Gypsy Folk Music are the same thing. Although there is considerable overlap, instrumental differences, and melodic shapes and modalities are different. Having heard a lot of Hungarian Folk Music lately, the differences in this show are pretty evident, although hard to describe without playing you some examples.
Anyway, onward. Half-time brings the main course. We are dining on Paprikas this evening, beef for the carnivores and mushroom for the vegetarians. The side dishes include a regional specialty. It is a pasta, made by grating a hard dough into small discs, and then cooking with lentils. This is accompanied by white bread (and yes, it is way better in Europe than in the US). The Mushroom Paprikas was a little oily, but the pasta was very flavorful. Not my best meal here, but not too shabby either. Desert is a brownie like thing, not too sweet, more nutty. Fill up the wine glasses, and on with the show.
The opening number by the band includes some strictly non-traditional blue notes which had me laughing pretty hard. The police arrive, and search the audience for "horse thieves." The selected individual ends up on stage being used for target practice for a guy with the a Hungarian horse whip, which he is able to crack at the guys side and then wrap around his waist, making it look like he is hitting the guy.
The wedding party makes their appearance, carrying the wagon tongue (you can’t steal a wagon without the wagon tongue). The dance music for the wedding is sung, primarily on "La’s." The cops are back, and being corrupt (they speak German), are bribed off. ("We were broke, but we were happy.") A large finale dance thing ensues. Vaida thanks everyone, the dancers, the band ("Does the band have a CD? You bet! But it’s f*^&#$g expensive. It looks like a coaster. What are you thinking, charging so much?") The cast dances one last tune, bringing people from the audience up (bodily carrying them if necessary). We kill the wine, and clap along. The end of a great, and very funny show. Thanks to Kazi and Zsuzsa, and Peter and Vera for taking us!
Dave
On the first of our home visits, Kazi-Basci and Zsuzsa-Neni, with Klaudia, made it by this week. We had a barbecue, and I made Mediterranean Tofu Tias. Klaudia says she enjoyed them, and I believe her. Vera enjoyed them a lot, and then came up with an even better version later in the week using mushrooms instead of tofu. Everyone else ate dead animal flesh. Again, Zia will need to describe that part for you. Not part of my culinary experience this trip, sorry.
The next evening we visited Kazi and Zsusza’s vacation condo in Zalacsany, just down the road from Keszthely. The condos are built next to a castle. The condo is owned by an architect, who as a child dreamed of owning a castle. When this one became available, she hocked everything to buy it. She financed the effort by selling off the side yard. The person who bought it sat on it for a while, meanwhile she turned her castle into a resort hotel. The person who bought the side yard decided not to use it, so, putting herself into debt again, the architect bought the side yard back. She built a bunch of duplex condos, which she is now selling (a two bedroom one will set you back $50,000). Meanwhile, a championship golf course is going in across the street, with a major championship match scheduled there next year. I think property values will be going up soon, better act fast!
And so, we enjoyed the pool behind the castle. A beautiful day, maybe my farmer tan will disappear before the end of the trip. It could happen!
The next day I woke up not feeling very well due to dehydration. It has been unusually hot in Europe this summer, a continent that does not believe in air conditioning. This has lead to several deaths here this summer, over 25 in France as of last week and more than 14 in Spain. Balaton, a spring fed lake with no outlet has dropped more than 10 cm. in a week. So, lots of water, and better by evening.
*****
This evening we are the guests of Kazi-Basci and Zsuzsa-Neni at a "Gypsy Wedding" show put on by a pro group in Zalacsany. Needless to say the show is proceeded with schnapps (you knew that had to happen). They meet you at the gate with it, with a traditional dry biscuit chaser. There is a photographer there to memorialize your shudders for posterity (that they will be happy to sell you after the show for $59.99, or something...). Then into the performance hall.
They perform in a permanent structure in a meadow on the edge of town. A huge wooden stage is covered with an elaborate wooden scaffolding, with a canvas roof. The audience is in arena seating, with bench seats and a plank table in front of you. Two pitchers of very good, home-grown wine, one red, one white await your drinking pleasure. A recording is playing the last tune in the Hungarian Folk Suite that was the recessional for our wedding last year and is now entrusted to Z-Musikmakers - at least I got that tune right! Meanwhile the band is setting up and quickly checking mics. The band is two guitars, a mandolin, a female vocalist (who is the dancer when the band performs separate from this show), and a percussionist who plays milk jug. Really! You have to hear it to believe it, it is pretty incredible.
One of the actors is floating around behind the audience, posing for pictures with the audience (available following the show for $59.99). Zia explains that gypsy women traditionally wear clothing that doesn’t match, and is as bright as possible to attract attention. Somewhat like what I wear to school every day, only more tasteful, I guess.
The head gypsy of the band is called "Vaida." Our Vaida is the MC of this evening’s festivities. He evidently is an insult comic, according to Zia. He begins the show by introducing his wife ("once she was pretty, now she is my wife"). Zia at this point warns me that the script contains a certain amount of profanity. I pass the warning on to you, be fore warned that I am including comments from our Vaida, and they include a certain amount of profanity. You have been warned. On with the show...
The script is a horse opera, literally. Our hero is stealing a horse to impress a girl and win her as his wife. Unfortunately, he kills his future father-in-law in the process. ("I’ve never seen such a f*^&#%g ugly dead man.") Regrettably, he doesn’t stay dead. ("Never mind, I don’t have luck in life.") The wealthy horse owner and two side kicks return, and there are several of the tricks from our Puszta show of the other evening. At one point several of these tricks are done by a mule, ridden by the father-in-law, which, according to Zia, is incredibly difficult. ("He’s a poor cowboy, his horse is as big as a dog.") I hope, at this point, that you are catching on that the plot is pretty irrelevant here. The band is pretty hip, in a very subtle way. For example, at the end of this whole mule schtick, Vaida says, "get outta here," the band plays a real short instrumental version of "Hit The Road Jack." If you don’t know the tune, you probably missed it, but several folks in the crowd got a chuckle out of it.
So, on with the "plot." The wealthy guy wants to buy the girl, which leads into a scene where he is tricked into getting drunk on sacramental wine at the ceremony, and his bride is stolen away. Much dancing ensues. The dancing is a highly skilled cross between break dancing and the slappy dance. The percussionist is adding some pretty cool mouth percussion to the music at this point, in addition to anchoring the group with bass lines played by controlling how he slaps his hand on the end of the milk jug. It is pretty amazing.
There is a mistaken belief that Hungarian Folk Music and Gypsy Folk Music are the same thing. Although there is considerable overlap, instrumental differences, and melodic shapes and modalities are different. Having heard a lot of Hungarian Folk Music lately, the differences in this show are pretty evident, although hard to describe without playing you some examples.
Anyway, onward. Half-time brings the main course. We are dining on Paprikas this evening, beef for the carnivores and mushroom for the vegetarians. The side dishes include a regional specialty. It is a pasta, made by grating a hard dough into small discs, and then cooking with lentils. This is accompanied by white bread (and yes, it is way better in Europe than in the US). The Mushroom Paprikas was a little oily, but the pasta was very flavorful. Not my best meal here, but not too shabby either. Desert is a brownie like thing, not too sweet, more nutty. Fill up the wine glasses, and on with the show.
The opening number by the band includes some strictly non-traditional blue notes which had me laughing pretty hard. The police arrive, and search the audience for "horse thieves." The selected individual ends up on stage being used for target practice for a guy with the a Hungarian horse whip, which he is able to crack at the guys side and then wrap around his waist, making it look like he is hitting the guy.
The wedding party makes their appearance, carrying the wagon tongue (you can’t steal a wagon without the wagon tongue). The dance music for the wedding is sung, primarily on "La’s." The cops are back, and being corrupt (they speak German), are bribed off. ("We were broke, but we were happy.") A large finale dance thing ensues. Vaida thanks everyone, the dancers, the band ("Does the band have a CD? You bet! But it’s f*^&#$g expensive. It looks like a coaster. What are you thinking, charging so much?") The cast dances one last tune, bringing people from the audience up (bodily carrying them if necessary). We kill the wine, and clap along. The end of a great, and very funny show. Thanks to Kazi and Zsuzsa, and Peter and Vera for taking us!
Dave
7/23 Kecskemet to Keszthely
The Hungarian people are very proud of their culture, history and industriousness. To really get this, you have to understand that every true Hungarian has a pre-1910 map of Hungary and dreams of the day when the Hungarian Nation is reunified. Kazi-Basci is showing me yet another one of these maps this morning and giving me the percentages of Hungarian people in Austria, Slovakia, Serbia, Transylvania, etc. While realistic about a timetable, Kazi, like many others that I have met, knows that someday all will be reunified.
Another example you ask? Hungarians don’t toast with beer. Why? When the Hungarian Army was defeated by the Austrian Army in the 1800’s the Austrian commanders called for beer to toast their victory. The Hungarians have never forgotten.
*****
Woke up at Gabor’s this morning. He has a beautiful house that has recently been restored. The layout is great and the detail work is very nice. Gabor, a late riser, got up about 9:00 and took us on a short walk over to his parents place (about a block away).
This morning, after breakfast, a pleasant morning in conversation unless you are Dave, who opts for a nap. Lunch of the famous fish soup, and then back to Keszthely we go. The slow way.
Back in Keszthely this evening we took a walk to people watch and enjoy an evening gelato. There is a band at the hotel deck on the boardwalk playing "Dream a Little Dream of Me." I haven’t heard that tune since my trad days. It was kind of fun to hear it here. So we settled into a bench, enjoyed the music, and fed the swans. Nice end to a beautiful day.
By the way, the hotel on the other side of this is for sale, and you can pick it up for a song. So for any of you looking for an investment property...
Dave
Another example you ask? Hungarians don’t toast with beer. Why? When the Hungarian Army was defeated by the Austrian Army in the 1800’s the Austrian commanders called for beer to toast their victory. The Hungarians have never forgotten.
*****
Woke up at Gabor’s this morning. He has a beautiful house that has recently been restored. The layout is great and the detail work is very nice. Gabor, a late riser, got up about 9:00 and took us on a short walk over to his parents place (about a block away).
This morning, after breakfast, a pleasant morning in conversation unless you are Dave, who opts for a nap. Lunch of the famous fish soup, and then back to Keszthely we go. The slow way.
Back in Keszthely this evening we took a walk to people watch and enjoy an evening gelato. There is a band at the hotel deck on the boardwalk playing "Dream a Little Dream of Me." I haven’t heard that tune since my trad days. It was kind of fun to hear it here. So we settled into a bench, enjoyed the music, and fed the swans. Nice end to a beautiful day.
By the way, the hotel on the other side of this is for sale, and you can pick it up for a song. So for any of you looking for an investment property...
Dave
Saturday, July 29, 2006
7/22 Keszthely to Kecskemet
Nearing the end of our "home and away" family visits, at least the away parts, today we travel to Kecskemet. The road is pretty straight, and the country would remind you of driving back roads down the Willamette Valley. Great, I-5 has turned into a back road. Pretty country, though. Again I am driving, and am greatly relieved that we are not headed towards the lake. The traffic is backed up for miles, on account o’ the weather bein’ so hot. We found out later there were several fatalities related to daredevil passing. I am glad I did not know about it right then.
We cheated and used the Autobahn by-pass. It is a toll road, but I missed the last gas station on the way out, so we broke the law! Fortunately, there were no police patrols, so we escaped unscathed. Yes, I did drive very fast (around 85-90ish at a couple of points), and yes, even at that speed, luxury German sedans were blowing by me like I was standing still. The bypass takes at least an hour off the drive time around the lake. It is a shame it is a toll road and that the toll is so expensive. On weekends, you can count on paying 10 euros (about 15 bucks) to use it. So more often than not on our journeys, it is the slow way.
We arrived in Kecskemet around noon, and, even though Vera has been here before, found our way to our destination only through a lot of guess work. Street plans are not necessarily obvious in a lot of cities, Kecskemet being one of them. "Street signs?" you ask. Ha. If you look carefully, you sometimes see one on the side of a building, otherwise, you are on your own.
Our destination is the home of Zia’s Uncle Kazi-Basci and Aunt Zsuzsa-Neni, where we are greeted with enthusiasm. Once again I am surrounded by people speaking Hungarian with no clue what is going on. It’s pretty funny. Hungarian is one of those "theatrical" languages, with lots of dramatic volume changes and hand gestures. As always, I enjoyed the show immensely.
After a quick snack of Campari and Juice and some very excellent savory rolls, we continued the quest for a folk music collection. Kazi-Basci took the wheel and drove us downtown to the music store that, we had been told, excelled at folk music. He had called earlier and found they were open until 1:00. I was excited. We raced downtown. Of course you know that they closed early. So, the quest continues.
The reason we could be pretty confident that the music store here would have folk music, is that Kesckemet is the home turf of Zoltan Kodaly. Kodaly, is addition to being a major composer of the 20th Century, also was responsible for a music pedagogical movement, still in use around the world, based upon folk music. Since it was right next door, we stopped by the Kodaly Institute to pay our respects.
The Institute has a small visitors section that you can check out for a small fee. You can see more of the School if you get there at the right time, but, it being a school and all, they don’t want distractions while classes and lessons are going on. The visitors section is a hallway that has some pictures of the man and his life, some original manuscripts of his compositions, and stuff like that. Not having seen very many pictures of Kodaly, I must say he has quite the mullet on him.
A couple o’ thoughts from da man...
"I do not in the least consider what has been done in recent years in the field of physical culture to be too much. Indeed, I find it too little...but do not let us forget the soul either."
Hmm, balance time for PE and Art? Seems pretty radical to me.
"Nobody is too great to write for the little ones; indeed, he must do his best to be great enough for them."
That one is going up over my computer when I get home.
"Our age of mechanization leads along a road ending with man himself as a machine; only the spirit of singing can save us from this fate."
President Bush take note.
"We decided to make use of our people’s tunes. And if we have something to say to the world it can only be expressed in the language used by the people."
Again, President Bush take note.
*****
From there, Kazi-Basci took us to see the central square. All of the local faiths have large churches in the square of the very large and ornate variety. We did a quick 360 in the middle of the courtyard and then headed for home. Along the way, Kazi pointed out the school that one of his grandchildren attends. It looks a lot like one of the big churches we have just been gawking at. Nice to see a classic school for a change.
From there, home for lunch and to meet Kazi and Zsusza’a children. First to arrive is the guest of honor for the evening, Kis-Kazi (or Kazi Jr.), with his wife Zsuzsa (yes, I know, they have the same name, too. Confused yet?), their daughter, Klaudia, and her boys Gabie and Csabi. Kis-Kazi just finished working on a college degree that will earn him a promotion in the Hungarian Army to Lieutenant Colonel as of next Monday.
Shortly there after came the arrival of Gabor, sporting a pair of plastic fake teeth and some amazingly long fake nose hair to make a good impression on his cousin’s new husband. And good impression he did make!
Kis-Kazi and Gabor are obviously good friends as well as being brothers. They have outrageous senses of humor that I can catch a lot of time, even with the language issues. There is a whole family lore about their travels abroad, which they did frequently when they were younger, and still whenever they can now.
We are celebrating Kis-Kazi’s graduation at one of the local Puszta’s. The dictionary I have defines Puszta as being barren wilderness, but it is more romantically used to describe a ranch. There is quite the tourist industry in Hungary taking you out to the Puszta for dinner, to see the old farm buildings, and the centerpiece, an amazing horse show.
We arrived a little early and were walking around the yard, looking at the bread ovens and things, when we were accosted by a gentleman complimenting us on our English. "I’ve been speaking it all my life," was the reply. "Me, too." he said. Turns out that Stew and his wife Sue are from Prineville. What a small world. So, Zia translated for all of us, and I got to speak some English and be understood by someone other than Zia and Vera for the first time in a couple weeks. A win-win.
After the obligatory schnapps course, we went out to the yard for the horse show. The horse show is a demonstration of riding skills and horse control. The riders can do some pretty incredible stuff, even though one of the riders got accidentally kicked in the shin and was out for the rest of the show. (He was back later and seemed to be walking OK, but I bet it is a great bruise). The grand finale of this show is 10 horses, harnessed together, with a guy standing on the back pair holding the reins and riding them around the yard at a pretty good clip without killing himself. Very impressive!
From there we boarded horse-drawn wagons and were taken out, via very dusty roads, to visit the old farm buildings and to see the organic farm. As I am really allergic to a lot of this, my trip was made much more pleasant through the use of copious sinus pills (thanks, Jerry!).
The farm has been in existence for 100 years. The family that were the original owners are buying it back from the state a section at a time (ain’t Communism wonderful?). The house has thick clay walls and a straw roof that is about a meter deep, very good for regulating temperature. Inside you find the old classic bread oven, built in such a way that you can heat the house with it also. There is a pantry full of stuff, preserves, sausages, etc., all homemade. On the way out Zsuzsa-Neni calls my attention to a painting on the wall. It is a page of Hungarian history, depicting one of the Turkish invasions, where a man had just killed his wife to keep her from ending up in a harem, prior to killing himself.
Outside, the lady of the ranch showed us the stock, rare cattle and chickens only bred in Hungary, and then poured us a taste of the homegrown wine. Needless to say, some of the local stuff was available for sale. Kazi-Basci bought me a jar of the hot pepper preserve, that is used as a condiment for soups and things. With his comment that "You will remember me twice every time I use it," caution will of course be the rule.
Back to the restaurant (ettrem) for dinner, salads and a splendid selection of fried cheeses and fried vegetables for me, dead animal fresh and goulash for everyone else, a couple of beers and a great band. The violinist came by, taking requests, and soon the whole table was singing along. The nice thing about folk song is that it is pretty easy to pick up. I can "La La" with the best of them!
As we are staying with Gabor this evening, we left with him and his current girlfriend, Rita. But first, a stop by Kis-Kazi’s for a (large) glass of brandy. One sip in and the phone rings. Stepping back for a moment, Gabor and Rita missed the show part of this evening because, as soon as we arrived at the Puszta, Kazi-Basci’s home alarm system went off, and so Gabor and Rita went back to discover that Kazi had left on a fan that was blowing the curtains around. Needless to say, the phone call was to let Gabor know that he had neglected to return the keys. So, gulp and go. Back to Kazi and Szusza’s to drop off the keys and consume a few more of the great rolls from earlier.
Gabor and Kis-Kazi and entourage (including us) then proceeded downtown to Futyulos (with bunches of extra stuff that this computer will not allow me to add. Speaking of additions, a "Futyulos" is a schnapps glass that, when empty, allows you to whistle for another by blowing across the top) for more beer. Beck’s this time. Kazi and Gabor had a great time relating their legend for Rita, who had not heard it yet, and, presumably, for me, although the delivery was way to fast for Zia to translate for me. Besides, she has told me some of these stories already. That said, Kazi and Gabor, I am looking forward to hearing the stories you don’t tell in mixed company.
They then took Zia and I for a more leisurely tour of downtown, but honestly, I was too tired to remember. The old folks waved the white flag and got them to take us home and put us to bed.
*****
For those of you who have been wanting to post to our blog, my humblest apologies. I am new to this whole blogging thing and had the settings wrong. You should be able to post now, if you wish, so drop us a line. We really would love to hear from you!
Dave
We cheated and used the Autobahn by-pass. It is a toll road, but I missed the last gas station on the way out, so we broke the law! Fortunately, there were no police patrols, so we escaped unscathed. Yes, I did drive very fast (around 85-90ish at a couple of points), and yes, even at that speed, luxury German sedans were blowing by me like I was standing still. The bypass takes at least an hour off the drive time around the lake. It is a shame it is a toll road and that the toll is so expensive. On weekends, you can count on paying 10 euros (about 15 bucks) to use it. So more often than not on our journeys, it is the slow way.
We arrived in Kecskemet around noon, and, even though Vera has been here before, found our way to our destination only through a lot of guess work. Street plans are not necessarily obvious in a lot of cities, Kecskemet being one of them. "Street signs?" you ask. Ha. If you look carefully, you sometimes see one on the side of a building, otherwise, you are on your own.
Our destination is the home of Zia’s Uncle Kazi-Basci and Aunt Zsuzsa-Neni, where we are greeted with enthusiasm. Once again I am surrounded by people speaking Hungarian with no clue what is going on. It’s pretty funny. Hungarian is one of those "theatrical" languages, with lots of dramatic volume changes and hand gestures. As always, I enjoyed the show immensely.
After a quick snack of Campari and Juice and some very excellent savory rolls, we continued the quest for a folk music collection. Kazi-Basci took the wheel and drove us downtown to the music store that, we had been told, excelled at folk music. He had called earlier and found they were open until 1:00. I was excited. We raced downtown. Of course you know that they closed early. So, the quest continues.
The reason we could be pretty confident that the music store here would have folk music, is that Kesckemet is the home turf of Zoltan Kodaly. Kodaly, is addition to being a major composer of the 20th Century, also was responsible for a music pedagogical movement, still in use around the world, based upon folk music. Since it was right next door, we stopped by the Kodaly Institute to pay our respects.
The Institute has a small visitors section that you can check out for a small fee. You can see more of the School if you get there at the right time, but, it being a school and all, they don’t want distractions while classes and lessons are going on. The visitors section is a hallway that has some pictures of the man and his life, some original manuscripts of his compositions, and stuff like that. Not having seen very many pictures of Kodaly, I must say he has quite the mullet on him.
A couple o’ thoughts from da man...
"I do not in the least consider what has been done in recent years in the field of physical culture to be too much. Indeed, I find it too little...but do not let us forget the soul either."
Hmm, balance time for PE and Art? Seems pretty radical to me.
"Nobody is too great to write for the little ones; indeed, he must do his best to be great enough for them."
That one is going up over my computer when I get home.
"Our age of mechanization leads along a road ending with man himself as a machine; only the spirit of singing can save us from this fate."
President Bush take note.
"We decided to make use of our people’s tunes. And if we have something to say to the world it can only be expressed in the language used by the people."
Again, President Bush take note.
*****
From there, Kazi-Basci took us to see the central square. All of the local faiths have large churches in the square of the very large and ornate variety. We did a quick 360 in the middle of the courtyard and then headed for home. Along the way, Kazi pointed out the school that one of his grandchildren attends. It looks a lot like one of the big churches we have just been gawking at. Nice to see a classic school for a change.
From there, home for lunch and to meet Kazi and Zsusza’a children. First to arrive is the guest of honor for the evening, Kis-Kazi (or Kazi Jr.), with his wife Zsuzsa (yes, I know, they have the same name, too. Confused yet?), their daughter, Klaudia, and her boys Gabie and Csabi. Kis-Kazi just finished working on a college degree that will earn him a promotion in the Hungarian Army to Lieutenant Colonel as of next Monday.
Shortly there after came the arrival of Gabor, sporting a pair of plastic fake teeth and some amazingly long fake nose hair to make a good impression on his cousin’s new husband. And good impression he did make!
Kis-Kazi and Gabor are obviously good friends as well as being brothers. They have outrageous senses of humor that I can catch a lot of time, even with the language issues. There is a whole family lore about their travels abroad, which they did frequently when they were younger, and still whenever they can now.
We are celebrating Kis-Kazi’s graduation at one of the local Puszta’s. The dictionary I have defines Puszta as being barren wilderness, but it is more romantically used to describe a ranch. There is quite the tourist industry in Hungary taking you out to the Puszta for dinner, to see the old farm buildings, and the centerpiece, an amazing horse show.
We arrived a little early and were walking around the yard, looking at the bread ovens and things, when we were accosted by a gentleman complimenting us on our English. "I’ve been speaking it all my life," was the reply. "Me, too." he said. Turns out that Stew and his wife Sue are from Prineville. What a small world. So, Zia translated for all of us, and I got to speak some English and be understood by someone other than Zia and Vera for the first time in a couple weeks. A win-win.
After the obligatory schnapps course, we went out to the yard for the horse show. The horse show is a demonstration of riding skills and horse control. The riders can do some pretty incredible stuff, even though one of the riders got accidentally kicked in the shin and was out for the rest of the show. (He was back later and seemed to be walking OK, but I bet it is a great bruise). The grand finale of this show is 10 horses, harnessed together, with a guy standing on the back pair holding the reins and riding them around the yard at a pretty good clip without killing himself. Very impressive!
From there we boarded horse-drawn wagons and were taken out, via very dusty roads, to visit the old farm buildings and to see the organic farm. As I am really allergic to a lot of this, my trip was made much more pleasant through the use of copious sinus pills (thanks, Jerry!).
The farm has been in existence for 100 years. The family that were the original owners are buying it back from the state a section at a time (ain’t Communism wonderful?). The house has thick clay walls and a straw roof that is about a meter deep, very good for regulating temperature. Inside you find the old classic bread oven, built in such a way that you can heat the house with it also. There is a pantry full of stuff, preserves, sausages, etc., all homemade. On the way out Zsuzsa-Neni calls my attention to a painting on the wall. It is a page of Hungarian history, depicting one of the Turkish invasions, where a man had just killed his wife to keep her from ending up in a harem, prior to killing himself.
Outside, the lady of the ranch showed us the stock, rare cattle and chickens only bred in Hungary, and then poured us a taste of the homegrown wine. Needless to say, some of the local stuff was available for sale. Kazi-Basci bought me a jar of the hot pepper preserve, that is used as a condiment for soups and things. With his comment that "You will remember me twice every time I use it," caution will of course be the rule.
Back to the restaurant (ettrem) for dinner, salads and a splendid selection of fried cheeses and fried vegetables for me, dead animal fresh and goulash for everyone else, a couple of beers and a great band. The violinist came by, taking requests, and soon the whole table was singing along. The nice thing about folk song is that it is pretty easy to pick up. I can "La La" with the best of them!
As we are staying with Gabor this evening, we left with him and his current girlfriend, Rita. But first, a stop by Kis-Kazi’s for a (large) glass of brandy. One sip in and the phone rings. Stepping back for a moment, Gabor and Rita missed the show part of this evening because, as soon as we arrived at the Puszta, Kazi-Basci’s home alarm system went off, and so Gabor and Rita went back to discover that Kazi had left on a fan that was blowing the curtains around. Needless to say, the phone call was to let Gabor know that he had neglected to return the keys. So, gulp and go. Back to Kazi and Szusza’s to drop off the keys and consume a few more of the great rolls from earlier.
Gabor and Kis-Kazi and entourage (including us) then proceeded downtown to Futyulos (with bunches of extra stuff that this computer will not allow me to add. Speaking of additions, a "Futyulos" is a schnapps glass that, when empty, allows you to whistle for another by blowing across the top) for more beer. Beck’s this time. Kazi and Gabor had a great time relating their legend for Rita, who had not heard it yet, and, presumably, for me, although the delivery was way to fast for Zia to translate for me. Besides, she has told me some of these stories already. That said, Kazi and Gabor, I am looking forward to hearing the stories you don’t tell in mixed company.
They then took Zia and I for a more leisurely tour of downtown, but honestly, I was too tired to remember. The old folks waved the white flag and got them to take us home and put us to bed.
*****
For those of you who have been wanting to post to our blog, my humblest apologies. I am new to this whole blogging thing and had the settings wrong. You should be able to post now, if you wish, so drop us a line. We really would love to hear from you!
Dave
Friday, July 28, 2006
7/20 & 21, Keszthely
Back in Keszthely. This is the place we come between adventures to rest up. Keszthely is a resort town, pretty much interchangeable with any other resort town. You could take Keszthely and drop it on the Oregon Coast and nothing would look amiss except the narrow streets and the funky old buildings.
After breakfast every morning, I get to take a great walk. I usually start by walking past the train station, with the little major triad chimes that go off every time a train arrives or leaves. If I am there early enough I can see the guys on the steam engine preparing for the day trip to whatever tourist attraction they go to every day.
Turn the corner, and you are on the "Boardwalk" heading for the paid beach. It is fun to walk past the stores in the morning. It is a lot like watching a festival come to life, people in adjoining booths catching up as they place their displays out. The "Ettrem" or restaurants here serve the culinary delight, "Ketchup Pizza." Anything with a red sauce is done using German-style Ketchup. A little more spicy than what you are used to, but still Ketchup. (Since my family will inevitably at this point bring up that I should be right at home, having eaten ketchup sandwiches as a kid, I will point out that Zia used to eat mustard sandwiches. See, we were made for each other.)
At the end of the Boardwalk is the booth to enter the paid beach. Balaton is very shallow, an excellent place to swim with children. You can go out hundreds of meters and still only be standing on a fine sandy bottom in water to your waist. There is a dock that goes out to deeper water for swimmers. The early arrivers are just getting here to claim the choice spots on the sandy beach.
Because several letters came inquiring, I hate to break this to you guys, but every guy wears a speedo on the beach. So if you don’t want to stick our like a sore thumb, you acquire a speedo. As the Admiral said, "If the natives are rubbing blue mud in their navels, I rub blue mud in mine." Zia seems to be enjoying it immensely.
From there, if the mosquito population has abated for the day, I’ll walk out the other dock to where the Balaton Cruises leave. You have your choice of three different boats taking different kind of sightseeing adventures around the lake. There is a restroom here if you need it, but make sure you have a 100 ft coin with you. Most public restrooms are pay toilets.
From the lake on most days I will drift towards the "Centrum," the center square. This takes me past the restaurant that advertises the quality of the cooking based upon the head cooks weight (165 kilos today, must be good...), and up a narrow street to the center square.
To your left is a great old church that is now part of the Agricultural College. The right is Kossuth Lajos Utca (Koh-shoot Loy-osh Oo-tza), a blocked off pedestrian plaza. Kossuth was the chief spokesman for the revolution in 1848, and is, dubiously, a national hero. Most towns in Hungary have a street named after him. The pedestrian plaza is a great place to people watch. A wide, tree lined, marble and brick street, the break from cars is welcome. The stores offer a wide variety of stuff to the shopper, like women’s clothes, lingerie, money changers, women’s clothes, lingerie, swim suits, women’s clothes, lingerie, tourist trinkets, women’s clothes, lingerie, folk clothing, women’s clothes, lingerie, coffee and gelatto, women’s clothes, and lingerie. One afternoon, we were enjoying an iced coffee here when a familiar tune came over the muzak. "Jingle Bell Rock" did nothing to cool us off, but it did elicit a chuckle from us both.
From here it is short, two block walk to the Festetics Castle. Through a big wrought-iron gate is a big courtyard with the standard flowers and fountain. The castle is about a block long, with a tall "onion dome" on the top, the most recognizable landmark in the city. The left side is blocky, with lots of ornate detail around the windows. The right side is more rounded and simpler. There is a courtyard on the other side, that we have not checked out yet, where they put on Shakespeare productions al-fresco, and Johann Strauss gets his due in the ballroom upstairs once a week or so.
From here, I usually turn around and head for home. Sometimes I get enthusiastic and go farther, but, hey, I’m on vacation.
*****
I’ll probably get in trouble for this, but, what is it with women and shoes? I have visited six different shoe stores today with Zia and Vera because the shoes that Zia has for the stuff this weekend don’t look right, and the ones she does have are comfortable. I don’t get it...
Dave
After breakfast every morning, I get to take a great walk. I usually start by walking past the train station, with the little major triad chimes that go off every time a train arrives or leaves. If I am there early enough I can see the guys on the steam engine preparing for the day trip to whatever tourist attraction they go to every day.
Turn the corner, and you are on the "Boardwalk" heading for the paid beach. It is fun to walk past the stores in the morning. It is a lot like watching a festival come to life, people in adjoining booths catching up as they place their displays out. The "Ettrem" or restaurants here serve the culinary delight, "Ketchup Pizza." Anything with a red sauce is done using German-style Ketchup. A little more spicy than what you are used to, but still Ketchup. (Since my family will inevitably at this point bring up that I should be right at home, having eaten ketchup sandwiches as a kid, I will point out that Zia used to eat mustard sandwiches. See, we were made for each other.)
At the end of the Boardwalk is the booth to enter the paid beach. Balaton is very shallow, an excellent place to swim with children. You can go out hundreds of meters and still only be standing on a fine sandy bottom in water to your waist. There is a dock that goes out to deeper water for swimmers. The early arrivers are just getting here to claim the choice spots on the sandy beach.
Because several letters came inquiring, I hate to break this to you guys, but every guy wears a speedo on the beach. So if you don’t want to stick our like a sore thumb, you acquire a speedo. As the Admiral said, "If the natives are rubbing blue mud in their navels, I rub blue mud in mine." Zia seems to be enjoying it immensely.
From there, if the mosquito population has abated for the day, I’ll walk out the other dock to where the Balaton Cruises leave. You have your choice of three different boats taking different kind of sightseeing adventures around the lake. There is a restroom here if you need it, but make sure you have a 100 ft coin with you. Most public restrooms are pay toilets.
From the lake on most days I will drift towards the "Centrum," the center square. This takes me past the restaurant that advertises the quality of the cooking based upon the head cooks weight (165 kilos today, must be good...), and up a narrow street to the center square.
To your left is a great old church that is now part of the Agricultural College. The right is Kossuth Lajos Utca (Koh-shoot Loy-osh Oo-tza), a blocked off pedestrian plaza. Kossuth was the chief spokesman for the revolution in 1848, and is, dubiously, a national hero. Most towns in Hungary have a street named after him. The pedestrian plaza is a great place to people watch. A wide, tree lined, marble and brick street, the break from cars is welcome. The stores offer a wide variety of stuff to the shopper, like women’s clothes, lingerie, money changers, women’s clothes, lingerie, swim suits, women’s clothes, lingerie, tourist trinkets, women’s clothes, lingerie, folk clothing, women’s clothes, lingerie, coffee and gelatto, women’s clothes, and lingerie. One afternoon, we were enjoying an iced coffee here when a familiar tune came over the muzak. "Jingle Bell Rock" did nothing to cool us off, but it did elicit a chuckle from us both.
From here it is short, two block walk to the Festetics Castle. Through a big wrought-iron gate is a big courtyard with the standard flowers and fountain. The castle is about a block long, with a tall "onion dome" on the top, the most recognizable landmark in the city. The left side is blocky, with lots of ornate detail around the windows. The right side is more rounded and simpler. There is a courtyard on the other side, that we have not checked out yet, where they put on Shakespeare productions al-fresco, and Johann Strauss gets his due in the ballroom upstairs once a week or so.
From here, I usually turn around and head for home. Sometimes I get enthusiastic and go farther, but, hey, I’m on vacation.
*****
I’ll probably get in trouble for this, but, what is it with women and shoes? I have visited six different shoe stores today with Zia and Vera because the shoes that Zia has for the stuff this weekend don’t look right, and the ones she does have are comfortable. I don’t get it...
Dave
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Contest Reminder
A reminder of our contest. Come on all you theatre folks, where are your entries? Post an answer here or send it to us e-mail.
There are several Shakespeare productions presented in Hungarian in the grounds around the Castle, needless to say in Hungarian. This has lead to some very interesting translations of the titles of the plays. Below are the English translations of the Hungarian translations of the original English titles. First person to get all the titles right gets some trinket that we will snag for you at the local black market. The titles are:
Errors happy games
Grumpy chick
Water Cross or Cross in Water
A lot of wind for not much
Have fun!
Zia and Dave
There are several Shakespeare productions presented in Hungarian in the grounds around the Castle, needless to say in Hungarian. This has lead to some very interesting translations of the titles of the plays. Below are the English translations of the Hungarian translations of the original English titles. First person to get all the titles right gets some trinket that we will snag for you at the local black market. The titles are:
Errors happy games
Grumpy chick
Water Cross or Cross in Water
A lot of wind for not much
Have fun!
Zia and Dave
7/19 Kishegyes to Keszthely
We will leave Kishegyes today to return to Keszthely. Jaden’s continued illness and Kyra’s anxiousness to get home seem to be the reasons. Peter is not coming with us, but will join us on Saturday in Kecskemet. He still has a few things to do to get ready for winter and needs to collect a few rents on property concerns here.
Some Serbian odds and ends:
Jelen Pivo (Don’t be "gellin,’" you should be "yellin,’" cuz’ that would be Yellin’ PEE-vo); you see signs for this stuff everywhere. At 6% it is a pretty big beer, relatively speaking. Unfortunately, it is also the Budwiser of the region, thin in flavor completely lacking any flavor. The stuff of teen keg parties, it exists solely to get you drunk. This is the worst beer we have had here so far. The size of the ad budget confirms something that I have felt all along, most people don’t drink beer to enjoy it, they are looking for the buzz. Well for them, "Are you yellin’?"
While we are talking beer (and can you think of a better thing to talk about?), a nasty trend has arrived here, according to Peter, that has been around for a while in the States. Most of the beer you are drinking now a days, unless it is from a micro or from Germany, has more resemblance to the production of soda pop than it does to the science of brewing. Many of the formerly world class beers are now made with extracts and flavor additives. At least it is not as chemical-ly as it used to be. The worst possible news, again from Peter, is that even the great Urqeull is now brewed this way. I was hoping to taste one of the great pilsners, and it appears I got here too late.
More on Serbian driving: When you take your car in for the required yearly inspection to renew the tags, they ask you two questions; 1) Do the brakes work? and 2) does the horn work? Answer yes to both and you pass.
So, on our way... We passed through the community of Kiskunhalas on the way to Keszthely. According to Vera, this community is famous for its lace. It is a rare house that does not have at least some of it on a table somewhere.
We made a rest stop at TESCO, the large supermarket to use the facilities and pick up some "snacks." My new find, "Turo Rudi." Chocolate covered cheese, you gotta love this. As we left the market I happened to glance at the night club sign. The club is called "New Tuning Disco." So, for those of you who have heard this joke too many times, "Tu-ning" may not be a village in China, but it is a disco in Hungary.
Dave
Some Serbian odds and ends:
Jelen Pivo (Don’t be "gellin,’" you should be "yellin,’" cuz’ that would be Yellin’ PEE-vo); you see signs for this stuff everywhere. At 6% it is a pretty big beer, relatively speaking. Unfortunately, it is also the Budwiser of the region, thin in flavor completely lacking any flavor. The stuff of teen keg parties, it exists solely to get you drunk. This is the worst beer we have had here so far. The size of the ad budget confirms something that I have felt all along, most people don’t drink beer to enjoy it, they are looking for the buzz. Well for them, "Are you yellin’?"
While we are talking beer (and can you think of a better thing to talk about?), a nasty trend has arrived here, according to Peter, that has been around for a while in the States. Most of the beer you are drinking now a days, unless it is from a micro or from Germany, has more resemblance to the production of soda pop than it does to the science of brewing. Many of the formerly world class beers are now made with extracts and flavor additives. At least it is not as chemical-ly as it used to be. The worst possible news, again from Peter, is that even the great Urqeull is now brewed this way. I was hoping to taste one of the great pilsners, and it appears I got here too late.
More on Serbian driving: When you take your car in for the required yearly inspection to renew the tags, they ask you two questions; 1) Do the brakes work? and 2) does the horn work? Answer yes to both and you pass.
So, on our way... We passed through the community of Kiskunhalas on the way to Keszthely. According to Vera, this community is famous for its lace. It is a rare house that does not have at least some of it on a table somewhere.
We made a rest stop at TESCO, the large supermarket to use the facilities and pick up some "snacks." My new find, "Turo Rudi." Chocolate covered cheese, you gotta love this. As we left the market I happened to glance at the night club sign. The club is called "New Tuning Disco." So, for those of you who have heard this joke too many times, "Tu-ning" may not be a village in China, but it is a disco in Hungary.
Dave
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
7/18, Kishegyes
We spent the morning getting groceries for the barbecue. First a trip to the local market, and then down to Topolya. Zia got her annual pair of clogs and Vera picked up produce. A little less fuss was made over us this week, so I had a little more time to look around.
You hear the word "mournful" used a lot to describe market sellers. But the guy at the front of the market, doing the sellers' Gregorian chant, did sound that way. I suppose people buy from him because they feel sorry for him. I saw a guy walking around with a "New Seasons Grocery" shirt today, but he wandered off before I got a chance to try and talk with him. I also saw an "Oregon" T-shirt that I am informed is the trade name of a popular brand of jeans. There are lots of weird brand names for jeans around here, "Fox Sports Jeans," "Cowboy Jeans," etc.
*****
Went by Lojos and Bori’s to invite them to the Barbecue and enjoy a glass of "K-ha-3 Mnnow" water. Zia says it is called "Knaz Milos" (knawz mee-losh), but I know what the label says, and it isn’t that. Bori, who has her younger grandchildren helping around the farm this summer is troubled by the death of the child in Kishegyes. Her grandkids play the same kinds of games.
*****
By the way, if you are looking for Kishegyes on the map, you won’t find it. That is the Hungarian name for town, meaning "small hill." The Serbian name is on the map. It is "Mali Idos" (molly ee-dosh). In a perfect world there is a little horizontal line across the vertical line of the "D."
*****
Lojos and Bori, Emese’s husband, Joe, and son Adam (Emese is at a teacher workshop), her parents Katie and Imre, and Beethoven-Basci and Mozart-Neni are here for dinner. Because you may be wondering; Beethoven-Basci was breeding two Saint Bernard dogs at the same time the movie came out. His real name, Laci, roughly the equivalent of Joe. Since there were lot’s of Laci’s, and the kids were having a hard time keeping them straight, he got to be Beethoven-Basci. He was, on the other hand, a fine gypsy fiddler. I will not get to hear him play this trip, however, as he is having medical problems that may cause him to have to stop all together.)
My Father-in-law is showing an astonishing repertoire of naughty stories and songs. Adam is getting quite a "History Lesson." (Every time Peter finishes a story or song, Joe, through his laughter says, "History lesson, son, history lesson.") I played a little trumpet for everyone, using the score for the new Hungarian thing I wrote for Z-Musicmakers and gave as a gift to Beethoven-Basci. Seems the book I found the tunes in has some minor flaws in the melodies of a couple of tunes. Beethoven-Basci promises to send me corrected versions (but I am not changing the chart, it is the way I like it, and it was written for Zia for a wedding present).
Dave
You hear the word "mournful" used a lot to describe market sellers. But the guy at the front of the market, doing the sellers' Gregorian chant, did sound that way. I suppose people buy from him because they feel sorry for him. I saw a guy walking around with a "New Seasons Grocery" shirt today, but he wandered off before I got a chance to try and talk with him. I also saw an "Oregon" T-shirt that I am informed is the trade name of a popular brand of jeans. There are lots of weird brand names for jeans around here, "Fox Sports Jeans," "Cowboy Jeans," etc.
*****
Went by Lojos and Bori’s to invite them to the Barbecue and enjoy a glass of "K-ha-3 Mnnow" water. Zia says it is called "Knaz Milos" (knawz mee-losh), but I know what the label says, and it isn’t that. Bori, who has her younger grandchildren helping around the farm this summer is troubled by the death of the child in Kishegyes. Her grandkids play the same kinds of games.
*****
By the way, if you are looking for Kishegyes on the map, you won’t find it. That is the Hungarian name for town, meaning "small hill." The Serbian name is on the map. It is "Mali Idos" (molly ee-dosh). In a perfect world there is a little horizontal line across the vertical line of the "D."
*****
Lojos and Bori, Emese’s husband, Joe, and son Adam (Emese is at a teacher workshop), her parents Katie and Imre, and Beethoven-Basci and Mozart-Neni are here for dinner. Because you may be wondering; Beethoven-Basci was breeding two Saint Bernard dogs at the same time the movie came out. His real name, Laci, roughly the equivalent of Joe. Since there were lot’s of Laci’s, and the kids were having a hard time keeping them straight, he got to be Beethoven-Basci. He was, on the other hand, a fine gypsy fiddler. I will not get to hear him play this trip, however, as he is having medical problems that may cause him to have to stop all together.)
My Father-in-law is showing an astonishing repertoire of naughty stories and songs. Adam is getting quite a "History Lesson." (Every time Peter finishes a story or song, Joe, through his laughter says, "History lesson, son, history lesson.") I played a little trumpet for everyone, using the score for the new Hungarian thing I wrote for Z-Musicmakers and gave as a gift to Beethoven-Basci. Seems the book I found the tunes in has some minor flaws in the melodies of a couple of tunes. Beethoven-Basci promises to send me corrected versions (but I am not changing the chart, it is the way I like it, and it was written for Zia for a wedding present).
Dave
7/17, Kishegyes
We are all moving a little slow today. Jaden, who was out late and didn’t eat well last night, was sick again, so we will probably cut short our visit to Kisheyges and go back to Kestzthely. We are planning a barbecue for family and friends for tomorrow evening, as a big send-off.
*****
Vera made Apful Strudel for lunch today. You gotta love this!
*****
Little by little I am beginning to make some sense of language things; words, labels, etc. So I was a bit surprised, as we were moving a table from the basement to the back porch for the barbecue, to see a label that I was pretty sure I was not getting wrong. "Sweetie," I asked, "correct me if I am wrong, but isn’t that nitroglycerin on the shelf?" It is, it is! Peter uses it to kill mice!
*****
Like many family trips, the plans for this adventure are changing daily. I am learning to make no plans and go with the flow.
*****
While it is difficult not being able to understand the language with everyone - and trust me, many are very good about trying to find a way to communicate - some of the "meet and greets" feel a bit like being a prized nic-nac, to be produced and admired for a few minutes before the conversation drifts to items of more consequence. I’ve got to start those German classes again when I get back.
*****
Vera made Apful Strudel for lunch today. You gotta love this!
*****
Little by little I am beginning to make some sense of language things; words, labels, etc. So I was a bit surprised, as we were moving a table from the basement to the back porch for the barbecue, to see a label that I was pretty sure I was not getting wrong. "Sweetie," I asked, "correct me if I am wrong, but isn’t that nitroglycerin on the shelf?" It is, it is! Peter uses it to kill mice!
*****
Like many family trips, the plans for this adventure are changing daily. I am learning to make no plans and go with the flow.
*****
While it is difficult not being able to understand the language with everyone - and trust me, many are very good about trying to find a way to communicate - some of the "meet and greets" feel a bit like being a prized nic-nac, to be produced and admired for a few minutes before the conversation drifts to items of more consequence. I’ve got to start those German classes again when I get back.
7/16 Palic and Kishyeges
We went to Palic (PAULich) today, slightly to the east of Subotica, to visit the zoo. This is a way different animal than the Oregon Zoo (pun intended). Cages are often very small and you can often get a lot closer to cages and pens than you would think is safe.
According to Zia, during the war the government abandoned the zoo. After several days the local populace broke in and started feeding the animals scraps (keep in mind that during the war food was scarce, so this was quite a hardship). Most of the animals were kept alive these donations. Now that things have settled down there are plans for renovations and improvements.
From there we walked over to the lake. The hotel where Vera and Peter first met is there, a great big 100 year old building from a more gilded age, when the wealthy would take "the cure" by the lake. From there we headed for home, via the downtown square in Subotica so that Jaden could have "Kitchen" Nuggets. You know, McDonald’s are a lot better if you can sit outside and look at a great historic square while you eat there (and they have beer in Europe!).
*****
This evening we went to the 75th birthday party of Pityu-Basci, an old friend of Peter and Vera. The schnapps course included the afore mentioned "Quince Schnapps." As a warning to you, dear readers, this is what it taste like. The nose is rubbing alcohol, with hints of paint thinner. At this point you find yourself thinking "Oh, this is not going to be good." If only you had listened, but, courtesy calls, so... On the front of the mouth one gets hints of fruit, mostly cherry - not so bad. Rolling it across the tongue you swallow and feel the huge alcohol thing. Whew, not so bad...
You remember those cartoons, where the guy drinks the stuff and sighs contentedly - then a beat - then smoke clouds come out the ears, face changes several shades of red, fire on the tongue, etc. That is kid stuff compared to this stuff. First your tongue and throat start burning. Then you feel the hair on your sinuses catch on fire, your stomach is churning, and O the alcohol... I am not sure what the percent alcohol this stuff it, but the scale probably needs to run into the millions. They should give you a shirt after you have it, "I survived the Quince." Of course manners - honored guest from America and all - required that I drink 3 shots of this death potion within a half an hour of arriving. Wrecked before the evening even began...
Dinner, a variety of salads and meats, followed by dancing to a live band. The classic bar band, a Cassio Keyboard (first time I have ever seen anyone use the one finger left hand chord feature on a gig), accordion and violin.
Zia, as she sometimes does when folk music from Hungary is played, was overcome with homesickness. After being here for a couple of weeks and being fortunate enough to see what life is like in her hometown, I can still only imagine how hard it must have been on her to give this all up, her life, her people, her culture, her home, and move to America. I don’t know that I would have been strong enough to do it.
*****
I suppose that this would be the place to talk about smoking in Europe. At least where we are at the moment, there is no such thing as a "smoke-free" area. Trust me when I say that your bar gig days did not prepare you for this. I can remember some pretty smoky places, but things were so dense with smoke at one point in the evening I literally could not see the other side of the room. As a result, I did not get to enjoy as much of the evening as I might have liked.
Pityu-Basci - a vibrant and energetic 75 - was sincerely touched by our visit, and honored that we had come. It was a magical evening.
We left around 1:00 to bring Jaden home for bed. Peter and Vera walked home sometime after 3:30 - now we know who the party animals are.
Dave
According to Zia, during the war the government abandoned the zoo. After several days the local populace broke in and started feeding the animals scraps (keep in mind that during the war food was scarce, so this was quite a hardship). Most of the animals were kept alive these donations. Now that things have settled down there are plans for renovations and improvements.
From there we walked over to the lake. The hotel where Vera and Peter first met is there, a great big 100 year old building from a more gilded age, when the wealthy would take "the cure" by the lake. From there we headed for home, via the downtown square in Subotica so that Jaden could have "Kitchen" Nuggets. You know, McDonald’s are a lot better if you can sit outside and look at a great historic square while you eat there (and they have beer in Europe!).
*****
This evening we went to the 75th birthday party of Pityu-Basci, an old friend of Peter and Vera. The schnapps course included the afore mentioned "Quince Schnapps." As a warning to you, dear readers, this is what it taste like. The nose is rubbing alcohol, with hints of paint thinner. At this point you find yourself thinking "Oh, this is not going to be good." If only you had listened, but, courtesy calls, so... On the front of the mouth one gets hints of fruit, mostly cherry - not so bad. Rolling it across the tongue you swallow and feel the huge alcohol thing. Whew, not so bad...
You remember those cartoons, where the guy drinks the stuff and sighs contentedly - then a beat - then smoke clouds come out the ears, face changes several shades of red, fire on the tongue, etc. That is kid stuff compared to this stuff. First your tongue and throat start burning. Then you feel the hair on your sinuses catch on fire, your stomach is churning, and O the alcohol... I am not sure what the percent alcohol this stuff it, but the scale probably needs to run into the millions. They should give you a shirt after you have it, "I survived the Quince." Of course manners - honored guest from America and all - required that I drink 3 shots of this death potion within a half an hour of arriving. Wrecked before the evening even began...
Dinner, a variety of salads and meats, followed by dancing to a live band. The classic bar band, a Cassio Keyboard (first time I have ever seen anyone use the one finger left hand chord feature on a gig), accordion and violin.
Zia, as she sometimes does when folk music from Hungary is played, was overcome with homesickness. After being here for a couple of weeks and being fortunate enough to see what life is like in her hometown, I can still only imagine how hard it must have been on her to give this all up, her life, her people, her culture, her home, and move to America. I don’t know that I would have been strong enough to do it.
*****
I suppose that this would be the place to talk about smoking in Europe. At least where we are at the moment, there is no such thing as a "smoke-free" area. Trust me when I say that your bar gig days did not prepare you for this. I can remember some pretty smoky places, but things were so dense with smoke at one point in the evening I literally could not see the other side of the room. As a result, I did not get to enjoy as much of the evening as I might have liked.
Pityu-Basci - a vibrant and energetic 75 - was sincerely touched by our visit, and honored that we had come. It was a magical evening.
We left around 1:00 to bring Jaden home for bed. Peter and Vera walked home sometime after 3:30 - now we know who the party animals are.
Dave
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
7/15, Kishegyes
Seems the folks in the house across the street aren’t talking to us. They evidently like to use the front yard as a parking lot during harvest season and we came back at the wrong time for them to use it. Just when you thought you were on vacation from High School...
There is a tragedy in town today. A three year old boy has been killed by hitting his head on a trailer. As mentioned before, the hay trailers here ‘bouts are stacked very high. A tractor was pulling two of these over full trailers and the boy tried to jump on the back one - the one farthest from the driver. He evidently hit his head falling off the back. His six year old brother was watching him and evidently egged him on to do it, and the driver couldn’t see them because they were on the other side of all the hay.
*****
On the other end of the spectrum, Zia and I were on our daily walk to the gelato stand and ran into a wedding procession. Hungarian weddings are quite the event. The entire wedding party, the band, and the grooms guests all meet at the grooms house. From there, to the accompaniment of the band, they process to the bride’s house to collect her and her guests. They then process to the court house for the civil ceremony. Along the way the men in the wedding party will pass out wine to spectators to toast the happy couple, and the women in the wedding party will pass out "Fonott Kalacs (Fo-NOTT Ka-lash)," a sweet bread shaped like a pretzel. After the civil ceremony the party, again accompanied by the band, process to the church for the religious part of the ceremony. They then process to the reception, where things look a lot like our wedding reception did.
*****
You have to admire Jaden. If there is another kid around, she wants to play, and finds a way to make it happen, with verve!
*****
Tonight’s band at Dombosfest is a quintet playing a cross between traditional Hungarian folk music and Gypsy Jazz ala the Paris Quintet with Grapelli and Reinhardt, with a major Balkan overtone. The whole thing comes off sounding kind of like the Mahavishnu Orchestra. This probably the most frustrating thing I have heard in a while. The guitarist and violinist are monsters, but everything sounds the same. The keys are almost always G and D without any key changes. The tunes mostly always accelerando at the end. The whole band play pretty much all the time. After three or four tunes you find your self thinking, "yeah, I’ve heard that."
Jaden, on the other hand, was completely digging it. She was having a grand old time doing the hippie dance in front of the crowd. Her great-grandmother promised her chocolate for dancing so enthusiastically, but had to renege and give clothing instead after she got sick. The local music teacher, who was sitting in front of us, asked which family she was with. When we explained that she was our granddaughter, and that her father was in the military, he was completely disbelieving. Seems Americans in general, and daughters of military personnel in particular, can’t dance that enthusiastically. You go, Jaden! Needless to say, Peter is taking full credit.
On TV this evening after the concert is a Folk Dance and Music Contest. The group on while we watch has dresses that were worn in this festival by the great-grandparents of the female participants. The dresses are highly ornate, and Zia says by custom they must wear 16 petticoats underneath. Sounds pretty hot to me. Again I am amazed by a folk culture that has been around for centuries longer than we have had a country.
Dave
There is a tragedy in town today. A three year old boy has been killed by hitting his head on a trailer. As mentioned before, the hay trailers here ‘bouts are stacked very high. A tractor was pulling two of these over full trailers and the boy tried to jump on the back one - the one farthest from the driver. He evidently hit his head falling off the back. His six year old brother was watching him and evidently egged him on to do it, and the driver couldn’t see them because they were on the other side of all the hay.
*****
On the other end of the spectrum, Zia and I were on our daily walk to the gelato stand and ran into a wedding procession. Hungarian weddings are quite the event. The entire wedding party, the band, and the grooms guests all meet at the grooms house. From there, to the accompaniment of the band, they process to the bride’s house to collect her and her guests. They then process to the court house for the civil ceremony. Along the way the men in the wedding party will pass out wine to spectators to toast the happy couple, and the women in the wedding party will pass out "Fonott Kalacs (Fo-NOTT Ka-lash)," a sweet bread shaped like a pretzel. After the civil ceremony the party, again accompanied by the band, process to the church for the religious part of the ceremony. They then process to the reception, where things look a lot like our wedding reception did.
*****
You have to admire Jaden. If there is another kid around, she wants to play, and finds a way to make it happen, with verve!
*****
Tonight’s band at Dombosfest is a quintet playing a cross between traditional Hungarian folk music and Gypsy Jazz ala the Paris Quintet with Grapelli and Reinhardt, with a major Balkan overtone. The whole thing comes off sounding kind of like the Mahavishnu Orchestra. This probably the most frustrating thing I have heard in a while. The guitarist and violinist are monsters, but everything sounds the same. The keys are almost always G and D without any key changes. The tunes mostly always accelerando at the end. The whole band play pretty much all the time. After three or four tunes you find your self thinking, "yeah, I’ve heard that."
Jaden, on the other hand, was completely digging it. She was having a grand old time doing the hippie dance in front of the crowd. Her great-grandmother promised her chocolate for dancing so enthusiastically, but had to renege and give clothing instead after she got sick. The local music teacher, who was sitting in front of us, asked which family she was with. When we explained that she was our granddaughter, and that her father was in the military, he was completely disbelieving. Seems Americans in general, and daughters of military personnel in particular, can’t dance that enthusiastically. You go, Jaden! Needless to say, Peter is taking full credit.
On TV this evening after the concert is a Folk Dance and Music Contest. The group on while we watch has dresses that were worn in this festival by the great-grandparents of the female participants. The dresses are highly ornate, and Zia says by custom they must wear 16 petticoats underneath. Sounds pretty hot to me. Again I am amazed by a folk culture that has been around for centuries longer than we have had a country.
Dave
Monday, July 24, 2006
A few words from Zia
Seems the true name of this Blog should have been Dave's adventures , its just a family visit for me and a coming home. I feel very strongly about home , my family has lived here for many generations during Hungarian times and now Serbia as after world war 2 this area was given to serbia ( then Yugoslavia ) Hungary was torn into bits and given to the surrounding country's only one third of OLD HUNGARY is this Hungary. but enough history .
I watched our old family home get torn down , many generations of Keckes were born there , I was the last . The house was given to my parents by my great grandparents as a wedding present and then to my grandparents when my parents moved to Germany . I spent a many summer there , the horse barn was my favorite spot , seeing it for the last time made me cry. The house was bought by my cousin and he is building a grocery store in its place. I guess I'll always have the memories.
Its great to see every one family and old friends , I am enjoying all my favorite foods , everyone is trying to spoil us , me with meat. Roasted goat , fried chicken with creamed squash is dill sauce. Pasta with cream of wheat served with apricot marmelade.The great salads and fruits....
Sorry I'm not the creative writer I'm having a fabulous time , my family adores Dave its fun to see them interacting with him and of course the creative vegetarian dishes.... sometimes its easier to say why don't you go eat at the Beach.... My Dad is worried that my Mom will make a habbit of this vegetarian cooking even after we leave... " you know its not healthy for a man not to eat meat".....
Till next time Zia
I watched our old family home get torn down , many generations of Keckes were born there , I was the last . The house was given to my parents by my great grandparents as a wedding present and then to my grandparents when my parents moved to Germany . I spent a many summer there , the horse barn was my favorite spot , seeing it for the last time made me cry. The house was bought by my cousin and he is building a grocery store in its place. I guess I'll always have the memories.
Its great to see every one family and old friends , I am enjoying all my favorite foods , everyone is trying to spoil us , me with meat. Roasted goat , fried chicken with creamed squash is dill sauce. Pasta with cream of wheat served with apricot marmelade.The great salads and fruits....
Sorry I'm not the creative writer I'm having a fabulous time , my family adores Dave its fun to see them interacting with him and of course the creative vegetarian dishes.... sometimes its easier to say why don't you go eat at the Beach.... My Dad is worried that my Mom will make a habbit of this vegetarian cooking even after we leave... " you know its not healthy for a man not to eat meat".....
Till next time Zia
7/14 Kishegyes
Peter badly cut his finger this morning. No stitches here - squeeze some blood out to cleanse the wound, rinse in schnapps, and slap on a bandage. Schnapps, what it doesn’t cure will kill you. Must be the Hungarian version of Windex!
Lunch today is as guests of Emese and family. We had two different casseroles, a cheese and cauliflower thing and a stuffed pepper thing that was almost Spanish in character, fried cheese, fried bread, and some dead animal-flesh thing that I didn’t notice. (Sorry, Zia is going to have to tell you about meat dishes, the vegetarian cannot be expected to notice!) All this was tossed down with the obligatory schnapps and Pivo Pils. I really can’t tell you anything about the Pivo because of the two schnapps that completely obliterated my palate before it, but it was one of the afore mentioned "lawn mower" beers. Good, but not memorable. Dessert is cream puffs (entirely homemade!) and raspberry cream (for each cup of raspberries, one cup of sugar and one egg white and blend like crazy).
Before the meal Adam, Emese’s son, is told that we are eating all of the casseroles because I am a vegetarian. He wanted to know if I was going to be eating in the kitchen. It seems the family used to sneak into the kitchen to eat stuff Adam, who has food allergies, couldn’t eat on his diet. Seems he knew that.
Tonight’s at Domosfest (that would be dom-bowsh-fest) we get a study in contrasts. The first group is a duet, a female vocalist and a wind player (soprano sax, Hungarian bagpipe and a folk flute) doing traditional gypsy tunes. They are an amazing ensemble that held an entire audience spellbound for a 90 minute set, part formalized, part improvised and all hauntingly beautiful. Their web site, which we regrettably can’t get to on this computer (too slow), is www.palyabea.hu. They were followed by a band that had grown to 15 by the time we left (the lightning was getting a little ominous). I don’t know if they got bigger or not, but I know there were still open mics on stage. It was all very well organized and tres slick. Everything sounded the same, there was no strong lead voice - it was as boring as the other group was interesting.
At home Peter is watching a documentary about the church in Topolya. It is 100 years old as of the filming of this show (a couple of years old). They are showing a grade school age choir singing in 4 parts - a cappella - lovely!
Dave
Lunch today is as guests of Emese and family. We had two different casseroles, a cheese and cauliflower thing and a stuffed pepper thing that was almost Spanish in character, fried cheese, fried bread, and some dead animal-flesh thing that I didn’t notice. (Sorry, Zia is going to have to tell you about meat dishes, the vegetarian cannot be expected to notice!) All this was tossed down with the obligatory schnapps and Pivo Pils. I really can’t tell you anything about the Pivo because of the two schnapps that completely obliterated my palate before it, but it was one of the afore mentioned "lawn mower" beers. Good, but not memorable. Dessert is cream puffs (entirely homemade!) and raspberry cream (for each cup of raspberries, one cup of sugar and one egg white and blend like crazy).
Before the meal Adam, Emese’s son, is told that we are eating all of the casseroles because I am a vegetarian. He wanted to know if I was going to be eating in the kitchen. It seems the family used to sneak into the kitchen to eat stuff Adam, who has food allergies, couldn’t eat on his diet. Seems he knew that.
Tonight’s at Domosfest (that would be dom-bowsh-fest) we get a study in contrasts. The first group is a duet, a female vocalist and a wind player (soprano sax, Hungarian bagpipe and a folk flute) doing traditional gypsy tunes. They are an amazing ensemble that held an entire audience spellbound for a 90 minute set, part formalized, part improvised and all hauntingly beautiful. Their web site, which we regrettably can’t get to on this computer (too slow), is www.palyabea.hu. They were followed by a band that had grown to 15 by the time we left (the lightning was getting a little ominous). I don’t know if they got bigger or not, but I know there were still open mics on stage. It was all very well organized and tres slick. Everything sounded the same, there was no strong lead voice - it was as boring as the other group was interesting.
At home Peter is watching a documentary about the church in Topolya. It is 100 years old as of the filming of this show (a couple of years old). They are showing a grade school age choir singing in 4 parts - a cappella - lovely!
Dave
7/13 Subotica and Serbia Driving Rules
Jaden is very ill today. Our friend Emese has contacted her doctor and arranged for her to come by, even though she is still on vacation (that’s right, a house call!). In the meantime, she brought by some anti-vomiting medication to give her. Getting her to lay down and rest is not a problem.
Peter needs to visit a bank and pick up some plumbing supplies, so Zia and I get to accompany him to Subotica (SUBot-ka if you are Hungarian, Serbian is SU-bo-ti-sa, you will hear both). Lucky me, I get to drive!
Dear readers, I don’t know how many of you will ever have the privilege of driving in Serbia. If, however, you should ever find yourself in such a fortunate circumstance, I have compiled a list of driving rules for your edification:
SERBIAN DRIVING RULES:
1) 50 kph in town and 80 kph in the country
2) You may pass anywhere and at any time. In fact you are encouraged to do so.
3) Always check the rear view mirrors before passing as the guy behind you in the Mercedes may be blowing past you at the same time.
4) Pedestrians are worth 500 points, bicycles 700, and motor scooters 1000, and they mean it - really!
5) Busses and trucks are required to be driven by psychopaths. Stay away from them, even if you have to drive on somebody’s front yard.
5a) If you have a bigger car than the one coming the other direction, the smaller car will move to the shoulder for you - or else!
6) If someone should dare to get in front of you or, move more slowly than you would wish, or, heaven forbid, act in such a fashion that requires you to slow down or stop, you are required, by law, to honk the horn non-stop until you are three blocks past the offender or until you feel better, which ever comes last!
7) (This one from Peter) If you hit a retired person on a bike, the government will pay you a cash bonus because they don’t have to pay retirement anymore.
From this you gather that the roads here are pretty narrow, and you would be right to a point. This is farm country and mostly back roads. There is an Autobahn near by, but no one is trusting me to drive on it - yet.
Being farm country, there is also a lot of farm equipment on the roads (which Peter tells me I may pass anywhere, anytime - no surprise!). Farm equipment is a broad term that encompasses combines, tractors, horse-drawn wagons, hay trailers stacks about 90 bales high (No really, the first one of these beauties we saw was just barely clearing power lines!), and etc., etc. Needless to say dodging these moving targets makes driving an adventure.
As we go, Peter fills us in on the history of Subotica. The city was founded in the 1300’s and given as a birthday present to Maria Theresa. Like most cities, Subotica was originally quite small, but gradually absorbed the local ‘burbs, growing in size. There is still a little friction in the ‘burbs about being part of the city, but mostly they have joined willingly. City hall is a beautifully ornate, 100 year old building. Peter tells us it was designed by an English architect. No one bothered to tell him that the city was built on sand, and when the building sank - a uniform foot on all sides - he assumed it was his fault. He then climbed to the highest tower and three himself off.
Subotica is the first place we have visited that makes me feel like we are in Europe instead of a small town in the U.S. with weird signs and people who talk funny. At the center of town is a large open area that could be from central casting...
Great old buildings - check
Central fountain - check
Tree lined boulevard - check
Really cool statues and architectural features - check
The obligatory Mc Donald’s - check
Peter made his visit to the bank and sends us to the music store on the first of several futile attempts to buy folk music collections. On the plus side, they were well stocked with guitar music, so I was able to grab a collection of classical pieces by Yugoslavian composers and a beginning guitar method, that should add a regional flair to my classes in the fall. How global is the marketplace? You could move this store to Vancouver and never notice a difference. They had all the major brands, Yamaha, Bach, Takamine, etc., and nothing by local artisans.
We met Peter, and then a brief visit to the WC for Zia, where she was chastised by the attendant for daring to take more than three squares of toilet paper. From there to the farmers market, much like the ones in Topolya and Kishegyes, only much bigger. From there we went to the "Black Market." Needless to say, with the end of the oppressive dictatorship in the region, there is no reason for a Black Market (I’ll pause for your laughter here). The Black Market is much like a mall, except all the stores are really small and entirely portable. We will be coming back on Monday theoretically, so a quick trip through for plumbing supplies and a present for Greg (Zia’s son-in-law), and then back home.
The doctor visited in the afternoon to see Jaden. Medical care is free for children in Serbia - however the doctor will accept a small "gift" for her house call. Jaden is dehydrated from vomiting, but otherwise OK. Bed rest and electrolytes are the prescription.
We are guests of Lajos and Bori this evening for dinner (Kyra and Jaden staying home to sleep). Dinner is a famous Hungarian fish stew - very spicy - served over pasta with bread and pommes frittes on the side. The obligatory schnapps course is six-year-old cherry (aging it smoothes it out - some). Lojos has just received the license from the state that will allow him to start commercially producing this rocket fuel for public consumption. He took delivery of his first two semi-truck loads of cherries this week and goes into production next week. He promises pictures of the whole process.
You, fair reader, are probably assuming that Zia and I are drinking a lot of beer on this trip - and you would be correct - but mostly we aren’t mentioning it unless it is something really good or particularly awful. The rest are what homebrewers affectionately refer to as "lawn mower beers," low in alcohol, refreshing but thin on the palate.
Dave
Peter needs to visit a bank and pick up some plumbing supplies, so Zia and I get to accompany him to Subotica (SUBot-ka if you are Hungarian, Serbian is SU-bo-ti-sa, you will hear both). Lucky me, I get to drive!
Dear readers, I don’t know how many of you will ever have the privilege of driving in Serbia. If, however, you should ever find yourself in such a fortunate circumstance, I have compiled a list of driving rules for your edification:
SERBIAN DRIVING RULES:
1) 50 kph in town and 80 kph in the country
2) You may pass anywhere and at any time. In fact you are encouraged to do so.
3) Always check the rear view mirrors before passing as the guy behind you in the Mercedes may be blowing past you at the same time.
4) Pedestrians are worth 500 points, bicycles 700, and motor scooters 1000, and they mean it - really!
5) Busses and trucks are required to be driven by psychopaths. Stay away from them, even if you have to drive on somebody’s front yard.
5a) If you have a bigger car than the one coming the other direction, the smaller car will move to the shoulder for you - or else!
6) If someone should dare to get in front of you or, move more slowly than you would wish, or, heaven forbid, act in such a fashion that requires you to slow down or stop, you are required, by law, to honk the horn non-stop until you are three blocks past the offender or until you feel better, which ever comes last!
7) (This one from Peter) If you hit a retired person on a bike, the government will pay you a cash bonus because they don’t have to pay retirement anymore.
From this you gather that the roads here are pretty narrow, and you would be right to a point. This is farm country and mostly back roads. There is an Autobahn near by, but no one is trusting me to drive on it - yet.
Being farm country, there is also a lot of farm equipment on the roads (which Peter tells me I may pass anywhere, anytime - no surprise!). Farm equipment is a broad term that encompasses combines, tractors, horse-drawn wagons, hay trailers stacks about 90 bales high (No really, the first one of these beauties we saw was just barely clearing power lines!), and etc., etc. Needless to say dodging these moving targets makes driving an adventure.
As we go, Peter fills us in on the history of Subotica. The city was founded in the 1300’s and given as a birthday present to Maria Theresa. Like most cities, Subotica was originally quite small, but gradually absorbed the local ‘burbs, growing in size. There is still a little friction in the ‘burbs about being part of the city, but mostly they have joined willingly. City hall is a beautifully ornate, 100 year old building. Peter tells us it was designed by an English architect. No one bothered to tell him that the city was built on sand, and when the building sank - a uniform foot on all sides - he assumed it was his fault. He then climbed to the highest tower and three himself off.
Subotica is the first place we have visited that makes me feel like we are in Europe instead of a small town in the U.S. with weird signs and people who talk funny. At the center of town is a large open area that could be from central casting...
Great old buildings - check
Central fountain - check
Tree lined boulevard - check
Really cool statues and architectural features - check
The obligatory Mc Donald’s - check
Peter made his visit to the bank and sends us to the music store on the first of several futile attempts to buy folk music collections. On the plus side, they were well stocked with guitar music, so I was able to grab a collection of classical pieces by Yugoslavian composers and a beginning guitar method, that should add a regional flair to my classes in the fall. How global is the marketplace? You could move this store to Vancouver and never notice a difference. They had all the major brands, Yamaha, Bach, Takamine, etc., and nothing by local artisans.
We met Peter, and then a brief visit to the WC for Zia, where she was chastised by the attendant for daring to take more than three squares of toilet paper. From there to the farmers market, much like the ones in Topolya and Kishegyes, only much bigger. From there we went to the "Black Market." Needless to say, with the end of the oppressive dictatorship in the region, there is no reason for a Black Market (I’ll pause for your laughter here). The Black Market is much like a mall, except all the stores are really small and entirely portable. We will be coming back on Monday theoretically, so a quick trip through for plumbing supplies and a present for Greg (Zia’s son-in-law), and then back home.
The doctor visited in the afternoon to see Jaden. Medical care is free for children in Serbia - however the doctor will accept a small "gift" for her house call. Jaden is dehydrated from vomiting, but otherwise OK. Bed rest and electrolytes are the prescription.
We are guests of Lajos and Bori this evening for dinner (Kyra and Jaden staying home to sleep). Dinner is a famous Hungarian fish stew - very spicy - served over pasta with bread and pommes frittes on the side. The obligatory schnapps course is six-year-old cherry (aging it smoothes it out - some). Lojos has just received the license from the state that will allow him to start commercially producing this rocket fuel for public consumption. He took delivery of his first two semi-truck loads of cherries this week and goes into production next week. He promises pictures of the whole process.
You, fair reader, are probably assuming that Zia and I are drinking a lot of beer on this trip - and you would be correct - but mostly we aren’t mentioning it unless it is something really good or particularly awful. The rest are what homebrewers affectionately refer to as "lawn mower beers," low in alcohol, refreshing but thin on the palate.
Dave
Friday, July 21, 2006
7/11 & 12, Kishegyes and Vrvas
7/11
We went to the "Big" Farmer’s Market today in both Kishegyes and up the road in Topolya. Zia (and I upon introduction) were greeted by about 30 people. A "greeting" is defined thus: a high, shrill scream, followed by cheek kissing (two, maybe three times, you never know), a few phrases in Hungarian directed at me, a big stupid grin in return, and then my part of the greeting is over and Zia takes over.
A Farmer’s Market in this part of the world is much like a grocery store. You get your produce here, but you can buy washing detergent, cookware, clothing, shoes, toys, canned goods - just about anything. But the market is as much a social activity as it is a market. The market in Kishegyes is held on a temporarily closed street with permanent concrete stalls for the vendors. In Topolya there is a more permanent set-up.
From there we went to the CBA Market in Topolya, the store owned by Feri and Ani. Upon meeting them on the way to the car we were invited up to their very Euro-chic office for espresso. Great art work on the wall and more detail by the genius woodworker guy.
From there we went home for lunch, and then the 2 hour afternoon folk music show on TV. Then out to the deck to practice - a typical afternoon in Kishegyes.
Dinner this evening with a visit from Lajos and Bori. The schnapps course this evening is Quince, about which more in a later entry. Dinner is a casserole made of potato, hard boiled eggs, cheese, sour cream, salt and pepper. A little weird but pretty good. Right after dinner we were joined by Zia’s friend, Emese, a seventh grade school teacher, and her husband, Joe (a nick name given to him because he listened to the Hendrix tune "Hey Joe" a lot).
7/12
Emese gave us a tour of her school this morning. It is in the center of town, and used to be a bar (many of us would feel right at home), with a central courtyard that is now a play space, but in the day was where you parked your horse when you dropped in for a drink.
See if this sounds familiar; Europe just conducted a test of 58 countries. In one area, Serbian schools came in 56th of 58. You guessed it, now every area of instruction must find a way to tie into this area. The area? Not math and language, in which areas they scored very high. No, we are talking about life skills here, vacuuming, doing laundry, balancing a check book, ironing, budgeting for groceries, etc. OK, doubt we would do very well there, either.
The tour starts in the gym. I have heard numerous complaints from PE teachers over the years over the conditions of the floors. Trust me, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet folks. The wood is unfinished and made of small tiles. Can you say splinters?
Next we see a first grade classroom, interchangeable with one in the States except for all those extra letters in the alphabet over the black board. A quick trip to the office to meet the Principal and her secretary, and then out into the hall to look at the student art. Pretty good stuff.
Upstairs, we look in on a physics classroom. The special science tools - 3 sinks and some plants.
Next we see Emese’s class room. She teaches 5th through 8th grade history and seventh grade homeroom. You are greeted by the expected bulletin board of Niccolai Tesla, the patron saint of Serbian science, and then the typical history set up, maps, maps, and more maps. The 5th grade year, Emese teaches from early times to the Greek and Roman periods. 6th graders cover the middle ages to the renaissance and a healthy dose of early Hungarian and Serbian history. 7th graders cover the "Age of Exploration," the Turkish empire, Balkan history, the Hapsburg Empire, American Independence (to which she adds a little bit of the Civil War (?!)), the French Revolution, back to Hungarian History (which is not included in Serbian text books), and up to the 1848 Revolution. 8th graders work to the present. Emese says she doesn’t teach about the current war, that is politics, but does teach about the factors that contributed to it happening.
From Emese’s room we go back downstairs and across the courtyard to the music room. The music instruction here, like most Hungarian schools, is based upon the Kodaly method. There are stacks of folk music on the piano that I am drooling to get my hands on (the Kodaly method is entirely based on folk music), and, ominously, ten accordion cases in the corner.
Instruction in Europe is based on an 8 year primary school system. At the end of 8 years, students are directed to "magnet school" to begin learning career skills (yes, there are students who start medical school after 8 years of school). According to Emese, 80% of Kishegyes is out of work or a seasonal employee. This severely limits their options for future employment.
This evening we went to Verbas (Vrvas) to get a painting for Peter’s friend’s 75th Birthday. Peter, Vera and Zia are looking for a store that Ani told them about with great art work, which leaves me free to people-watch. The main drag is a wide tree-lined boulevard that is perfect for strolling, and many folks are taking advantage of it this evening. The blatant displays of flirting by the local teens, the guys being all macho and the ladies with the "just right" clothes and make up, have me laughing out loud and make me homesick for work (well, maybe just a little).
Peter and the ladies are clearly in a hurry to get this done and get outta here! On the way home, Vera explains that local dances often devolve into knock-down-drag-out fights between the Serbian-Serbs and the Montenegrian-Serbs (both local to that town), and the smart Hungarian (the minority there) bales long before trouble brews. Zia says that the clerks understood Hungarian, but would not speak it, and that she felt uncomfortable the whole time we were there. All this a mere few miles from Kishegyes. Clearly there is a long way to go before things calm down around here.
For all you beer lovers, a lot of lawn-mower-beers lately. But one that is pretty OK is MB Pils. The local hooch is made by Braueri MB (naturally), about 5%, starts like a pretty good, classic pils, but disappears on the palate quickly. On the whole, not bad though.
Dave
We went to the "Big" Farmer’s Market today in both Kishegyes and up the road in Topolya. Zia (and I upon introduction) were greeted by about 30 people. A "greeting" is defined thus: a high, shrill scream, followed by cheek kissing (two, maybe three times, you never know), a few phrases in Hungarian directed at me, a big stupid grin in return, and then my part of the greeting is over and Zia takes over.
A Farmer’s Market in this part of the world is much like a grocery store. You get your produce here, but you can buy washing detergent, cookware, clothing, shoes, toys, canned goods - just about anything. But the market is as much a social activity as it is a market. The market in Kishegyes is held on a temporarily closed street with permanent concrete stalls for the vendors. In Topolya there is a more permanent set-up.
From there we went to the CBA Market in Topolya, the store owned by Feri and Ani. Upon meeting them on the way to the car we were invited up to their very Euro-chic office for espresso. Great art work on the wall and more detail by the genius woodworker guy.
From there we went home for lunch, and then the 2 hour afternoon folk music show on TV. Then out to the deck to practice - a typical afternoon in Kishegyes.
Dinner this evening with a visit from Lajos and Bori. The schnapps course this evening is Quince, about which more in a later entry. Dinner is a casserole made of potato, hard boiled eggs, cheese, sour cream, salt and pepper. A little weird but pretty good. Right after dinner we were joined by Zia’s friend, Emese, a seventh grade school teacher, and her husband, Joe (a nick name given to him because he listened to the Hendrix tune "Hey Joe" a lot).
7/12
Emese gave us a tour of her school this morning. It is in the center of town, and used to be a bar (many of us would feel right at home), with a central courtyard that is now a play space, but in the day was where you parked your horse when you dropped in for a drink.
See if this sounds familiar; Europe just conducted a test of 58 countries. In one area, Serbian schools came in 56th of 58. You guessed it, now every area of instruction must find a way to tie into this area. The area? Not math and language, in which areas they scored very high. No, we are talking about life skills here, vacuuming, doing laundry, balancing a check book, ironing, budgeting for groceries, etc. OK, doubt we would do very well there, either.
The tour starts in the gym. I have heard numerous complaints from PE teachers over the years over the conditions of the floors. Trust me, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet folks. The wood is unfinished and made of small tiles. Can you say splinters?
Next we see a first grade classroom, interchangeable with one in the States except for all those extra letters in the alphabet over the black board. A quick trip to the office to meet the Principal and her secretary, and then out into the hall to look at the student art. Pretty good stuff.
Upstairs, we look in on a physics classroom. The special science tools - 3 sinks and some plants.
Next we see Emese’s class room. She teaches 5th through 8th grade history and seventh grade homeroom. You are greeted by the expected bulletin board of Niccolai Tesla, the patron saint of Serbian science, and then the typical history set up, maps, maps, and more maps. The 5th grade year, Emese teaches from early times to the Greek and Roman periods. 6th graders cover the middle ages to the renaissance and a healthy dose of early Hungarian and Serbian history. 7th graders cover the "Age of Exploration," the Turkish empire, Balkan history, the Hapsburg Empire, American Independence (to which she adds a little bit of the Civil War (?!)), the French Revolution, back to Hungarian History (which is not included in Serbian text books), and up to the 1848 Revolution. 8th graders work to the present. Emese says she doesn’t teach about the current war, that is politics, but does teach about the factors that contributed to it happening.
From Emese’s room we go back downstairs and across the courtyard to the music room. The music instruction here, like most Hungarian schools, is based upon the Kodaly method. There are stacks of folk music on the piano that I am drooling to get my hands on (the Kodaly method is entirely based on folk music), and, ominously, ten accordion cases in the corner.
Instruction in Europe is based on an 8 year primary school system. At the end of 8 years, students are directed to "magnet school" to begin learning career skills (yes, there are students who start medical school after 8 years of school). According to Emese, 80% of Kishegyes is out of work or a seasonal employee. This severely limits their options for future employment.
This evening we went to Verbas (Vrvas) to get a painting for Peter’s friend’s 75th Birthday. Peter, Vera and Zia are looking for a store that Ani told them about with great art work, which leaves me free to people-watch. The main drag is a wide tree-lined boulevard that is perfect for strolling, and many folks are taking advantage of it this evening. The blatant displays of flirting by the local teens, the guys being all macho and the ladies with the "just right" clothes and make up, have me laughing out loud and make me homesick for work (well, maybe just a little).
Peter and the ladies are clearly in a hurry to get this done and get outta here! On the way home, Vera explains that local dances often devolve into knock-down-drag-out fights between the Serbian-Serbs and the Montenegrian-Serbs (both local to that town), and the smart Hungarian (the minority there) bales long before trouble brews. Zia says that the clerks understood Hungarian, but would not speak it, and that she felt uncomfortable the whole time we were there. All this a mere few miles from Kishegyes. Clearly there is a long way to go before things calm down around here.
For all you beer lovers, a lot of lawn-mower-beers lately. But one that is pretty OK is MB Pils. The local hooch is made by Braueri MB (naturally), about 5%, starts like a pretty good, classic pils, but disappears on the palate quickly. On the whole, not bad though.
Dave
7/10 Kishegyes
Hi all,
After being woken by the 6 a.m. construction crew across the street, I went for a walk this morning. Lots of bicycles and pedestrians this morning, very few cars. Fresh milk in the big tin cylinders seemed to be the hottest item.
It is only after I got all the way through downtown and was on my way back that I realized that people are staring at me while trying hard not to. Kind of eerie.
In another of those "Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore" moments, we had to register with the local police today. If we were not to do this Peter could be charged a hefty fine. Registering is very simple. You collect your passports and, along with your host, go to the local police department. Here you will be informed that the form you need to register is not in today, come back tomorrow. If you inquire at this point about the fine, you will be informed that you need to register today or you will be fined. When asked if there are any other registration forms in town, you will be sent to the local Farm Supply, who will then send you to the local Print Shop, who will be happy to sell you a form (10 Dinar each). So, left with no choice, you pay the money and go back to the police department, only to find that the secretary you need to see is at the dentist. From there you go to your friend the local school teacher’s house because the forms are in Serbian and unreadable by any of our plucky crew. Fill out the forms and back to the police department, where you are treated to watching the "over worked" (he’ll tell you!) office clerk talk to the police officer to ten minutes. You will need the help of a friendly local patron to translate for you at this point, for, of course, the local clerk only speaks Serbian. Then, easy as that, you get your registration certificate. See, that wasn’t so hard. Oh, and keep that with the passport or face a big fine...
Dave
After being woken by the 6 a.m. construction crew across the street, I went for a walk this morning. Lots of bicycles and pedestrians this morning, very few cars. Fresh milk in the big tin cylinders seemed to be the hottest item.
It is only after I got all the way through downtown and was on my way back that I realized that people are staring at me while trying hard not to. Kind of eerie.
In another of those "Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore" moments, we had to register with the local police today. If we were not to do this Peter could be charged a hefty fine. Registering is very simple. You collect your passports and, along with your host, go to the local police department. Here you will be informed that the form you need to register is not in today, come back tomorrow. If you inquire at this point about the fine, you will be informed that you need to register today or you will be fined. When asked if there are any other registration forms in town, you will be sent to the local Farm Supply, who will then send you to the local Print Shop, who will be happy to sell you a form (10 Dinar each). So, left with no choice, you pay the money and go back to the police department, only to find that the secretary you need to see is at the dentist. From there you go to your friend the local school teacher’s house because the forms are in Serbian and unreadable by any of our plucky crew. Fill out the forms and back to the police department, where you are treated to watching the "over worked" (he’ll tell you!) office clerk talk to the police officer to ten minutes. You will need the help of a friendly local patron to translate for you at this point, for, of course, the local clerk only speaks Serbian. Then, easy as that, you get your registration certificate. See, that wasn’t so hard. Oh, and keep that with the passport or face a big fine...
Dave
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