7-2 Kishyges and Topolya

7-2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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