Nine Things I Learned (or Had Reinforced) On Our Day Trip to Graz, Austria

1. Hungarians are Homicidal Maniacs

With me at the wheel of the mighty Opal again, Z, Vera and I made an early get away to Graz. Graz is about an hour-and-a-half to two hours, depending upon the traffic, road construction, etc. Along the way, I had opportunity, once again to admire the superb driving habits of my wife’s people. I had people pass me on blind corners, swerve into my lane directly in front of me to avoid a scooter in their lane, heck, swerve directly into my lane directly in front of me to get around a truck going the speed limit in their lane. I had pedestrians lunge directly in front of me without warning. I had cars pull directly in front of me without warning. And on and on.

Particularly worthy of a Darwin Award were the two individuals riding bicycles down a back road two abreast and not moving for anyone – even though the roads were very busy on this day. Most of us would figure out that this would be a swell time to make ourselves as small a target as possible. But not this brain trust.

The sad part of all of this is that I am somewhat used to it by now.

For your information, all this craziness stopped the minute we got into orderly Austria.

Welcome to Fürstenfeld!

2. Fürstenfeld is probably not worth longing for that much.

Our friends from Germany, die Original Donaumusikanten, cover this catchy little tune about longing to go home to the burg of Fürstenfeld. We drove though this little hamlet on our way. You enter town through these lovely fields, around one of the most attractive round-a-bouts I have seen in Europe – only to find that the rest of the town is basically a big outlet mall. With an Adult “Bookstore”on one end (those wacky Austrians!). I think strip malls are pretty universal, so if you miss Fürstenfeld, go to Woodburn, guys.

3. The closer you park to the tourist stuff, the more it will cost you

We parked in a garage near the inner ring in Graz – close to the Centrum, as the locals call it. It was a nicely short walk to all the nice views of the pretty downtown area. Our visit lasted 5 hours, and set us back 25 Euros (about 32 USD).

4. Graz is a happenin’ town for music

Of all the places we have visited, Graz has the most happenin’ musical culture. We got out of the car to the sound of a couple of people in the apartment building across the way practicing a violin sonata. We listened to several really excellent groups and individuals playing street music. The music was pop, classical, jazz, and, what can only be described as “other.”

I liked them just fine - until they started playing
Andrew Lloyd Webber.

This is all explained by the fact that Graz has a several superb schools of music, as well as numerous local and international music festivals. There is an American opera festival going on while we are in town. I have been told a couple of times that if you want to study jazz in Europe, you go to Graz.

The best of the street musicians was a trio of flute, violin and cello. The arrangements were creative, often making it sound like there were more of them than were actually playing. They moved through the downtown with us, following us through the day. I thought they were the greatest thing ever, up until the end of the day. Don’t you know they had to blow it and play Andrew Lloyd Webber. He, by the way, fits in the "Other" category.

5. Catch the Schlossberg

The Uhrturm - Clock Tower

Like all European cities, Graz has a beautiful, scenic downtown area/pedestrian mall. But you are fool in Graz if you don’t climb the 282 steps to the top of the Berg (or take the elevator or funicular for 1.7 Euros, if you must). Looking down on all of the cool old buildings is breathtaking. In addition to the great view of the rest of valley (check out the berg to the northwest on the side of the hill), you get to admire up close the Medieval Clock Tower (Uhrturm). For two Euros you can visit the inner workings, including the oldest bell in Europe. It was constructed in 1560, and still works great. Why doesn’t my wrist watch work as well? Cool factoid – the bell used to be only rung to announce executions, moving on to a much better life announcing the closing hours of bars.

If you are so inclined, there are many restaurants up here. Enjoy a beer and rest up from your climb! They have great views – nice places to contemplate the pretty architecture of the city, and to marvel why the fair citizens of Graz would want to screw it up by placing a huge snail in the middle of the river and a huge frog hulking on the banks.

Downtown Graz - complete with "Snail" and "Frog"

Look, I am a musician, composer, and fancy myself an artist (whatever that means – but we can go into that one later). I completely get that sometimes the objective of art is to “shock.” Contrast with surrounding materials is often the best way to do this. But the thing that makes it all work is that there is some thematic choices that tie it all together, Surely there must be a way to drop these new weird buildings into classic towns in such a way that they enhance the surrounding buildings – they borrow from what is going on around them – rather than just plopping a frog on the bank. It’s kind of like replacing the “B” section of the exposition of Beethoven 5 with “Walk This Way;” or even Beethoven 4. There is no motivic connection to the surrounding work – it doesn’t fit.

I also get that there is a section of the art community that feels like this is the point. It is not supposed to fit – contrast and all that. You are wrong. This is intellectual laziness on the part of the artist. Drop these weird buildings somewhere where they fit. Like Seattle.

All of this said, maybe there are a lot of snails and frogs in the Mur and, thematically, these are just the Mothership for them. Maybe I’m all wrong here. Nah…

6. Don’t Reform This Tort!

Sacher Tort and Viennese Milange -
A sugar high in the making!

If you like Sacher Tort – and what’s not to like – the best can be found at the Sacher Café, right off the central pedestrian walk. They invented the thing, so one assumes they know what they are doing. Moist chocolate cake covered in a rich chocolate ganache, with an avalanche of freshly made whip cream on the side. It is about 5.30 Euros (about $7.50 USD) for this little bit of decadence, but my is it worth it. We had ours with a Viennese Milange – half whipped crea, half espresso – and spent the rest of the day on a sugar high.

Enjoying a Puntigamer

7. Puntigamer Bier

For the beer bloggers, here is Graz’s entry – Puntigamer Pils. Z describes this is “Austria’s Hofbräu.” I think that is pretty generous. They say it is 5%, but I find this a little hard to believe. Pale golden brown, and a little thin in color, it is covered with a nice, foamy white head that hangs on through the whole glass and smiles at you when it is gone. It is a nice summer beer, a great balance of hops to malt, but not too big, and a nice, refreshing hop finish – a little kiss of bitter on the tongue. A lawnmower beer. This is not going to win any awards (although maybe it has), but it was just the thing on this hot day. I bet this stuff is great from mugs that are the size of your head. I know it was great with my lunch of grilled polenta cakes, topped with fresh tomato and goats cheese, accompanied by a green salad topped with pumpkin seed oil and herb vinaigrette.

Statue and fountain

8. Walk to the Front

The fountain and statue at the head of the pedestrian mall are particularly attractive. And I’m not just saying this because I was able to enjoy it for 45 minutes while Vera and Z were shopping at H&M. Kick your shoes off and cool your feet with the locals/tourists!

Actually, I’m surprised that it was only 45 minutes. There is lots of great shopping to be done in Graz. All of the big European chains have storefronts here, of course, but there are lots of really great specialty shops. The sheet music store, though small, was especially complete.

9. The Demise of C&A

I guess C&A is no longer the place to buy trachten. The quality of their folk clothing, and clothing in general, has fallen off extremely. Peter and Vera have both noticed that there are fewer things in their stores, and it is of lesser quality. Good thing Vögel of Switzerland is nearby! The new place to go for all you trachten needs!

7/3-8/2012 Kishegyes, Topolya, Subotica

7/3

Yet another thing to like about Lojos and Bori’s house – they have a professional coffee maker hard wired and plumbed into their house.  Beans go in one side; tasty beverages come out the other.  Nice.

*****



The Church in "Downtown" Kishegyes

We wandered to “downtown” Kishegyes today to look in the stores, snap a picture or two, and have a gelato.  Sad to say, the activity I refer to as “Fast-Fooding” has made it to Serbia.  “Fast-Fooding” is a verb I invented in my music classes to describe my students inability to follow even mildly complex instruction.  They are so convinced that they “multitask” well that they haven’t put together that – well, yes they can multitask, but only if both activities are very simple and linear in nature.  They have practiced this extensively, and do it pretty well now.

Here is how it works; you go to a fast food place and order a burger, fries, and an orange juice.  The person behind the counter is inevitably surprised when, a few moments later, you are explaining “no, I don’t want a coke, I ordered an orange juice.”  Extreme Fast-Fooding has you walking to your table a few moments later with a tray containing both a coke and an orange juice, and the person behind the counter, with the cogs of their brain slipping, trying to figure out what just happened.  You, on the other hand, are shaking your head in wonder of how they managed to get dressed in the morning.

So anyway – we ordered four scoops of gelato, two of which were correct.  On the plus side, it cost us 40 dinar – about 80 cents – a scoop and it is “hand made by local artisans” on premise every morning.

*****

7/4

Lunch today is at Pista and Rosza’s house.  It is family lore that Rosza makes the best palinka in the area, and I must admit, it is much less like hitting yourself in the face with a hammer than some I’ve had this trip.  There is, hard to believe, some complexity to the flavor.  Today we are enjoying apricot – and pretty swell it is, too.

The conversation centers on farming and tractors.  So not only can I not follow it, I have no understanding of the subject anyway – with the exception that I like vegetables!

The carnivores are having liver dumpling soup (one of Z’s favorite things), followed by the traditional tray of various fried meats and sausages.  Z tells me that it is all fabulous.  The veg is enjoying fried squash, zucchini, and cheese!  I am not sure what they do differently with the frying thing here, but this is not at all greasy like you would expect, but light and refreshing – true almost everywhere.  Rosza is an expert at it!  We are all sharing the tomato/pepper/onion salad, the fried potatoes (fresh-from-the-ground Yukon Golds) and the freshly baked bread.  The alcohol fest continues with Champaign after lunch, followed by wine from Rosza’s trip to Italy.  Fortunately, I am driving, and Serbia is a zero tolerance state, so no more alcohol for me.  It’s too hot!

*****

7/5

Today we made our annual trip to Subotica, on what will eventually be a 100+ degree day.  Because of this we reversed our usual order of things and visited the “Black Market” first.  This place, as has been mentioned before, is a large mall/flea market.  Like all malls lately, increasingly what you find are clothes, clothes, and more clothes.  Today’s find, amongst the Chinese knock-offs of Puma, Adidas, and Nike sportswear was a cheap t-shirt.  The collar was bunching up and the fabric was transparent.  It was clearly not something that the above mentioned sportswear companies would never in a million years put on sale – even in their factory stores as seconds.  Emblazoned on the front, in a recognizable and I’m sure under copyright font, was “Oregon Basketball” – just like the ones on sale in the Nike Store in downtown Portland.  Hey, the Ducks are even getting knocked-off by the Chinese now. 

It does make you wonder, what does the Chinese version of the Chip Kelly offense look like?  And can Oregon State afford one?

*****

From the market, we moved downtown to visit the beautiful central square for coffee, sight-seeing, shopping and to visit the music store we found last trip.  I bought Book one of a Serbian sight-singing text on that trip that was sequenced beautifully, so this year we had to get Book Two.

The Synagogue in Subotica

I was delighted to see that the ruins of the synagogue in town are getting a makeover by the community.  The Jewish community has moved to new digs, but the town has dedicated the renovation as a memorial to WW II – and after – atrocities.  It is to be made over into a community performing arts center, but as much of the architecture as can be maintained is being done so.  You can now tour the building, with a guide that explains the history of the Jewish community in Subotica. The price was one Euro, but we were unable to go today.  I am looking forward to it on my next trip.

We had lunch at a Hungarian Cabaret in town.  The club has existed since the late 1800’s, and has been doing Hungarian entertainment and floor shows since it opened.  Strangely, it is now run by SAB Miller (I know – weird, right?).  Those guys are everywhere!

The banquet room was clearly visible from our table.  While we were dining, the lunch banquet arrived; about 100 third grade-ish girls.  I could see no adults, but they must have been there.  The girls sat down and had quiet conversations while eating, politely, with a knife and fork, a salad and an entree of potatoes and some meat thing.  Everyone was eating everything on their plate, and no one seemed to be complaining of it, even though this is the age of that stuff.  They had obviously been out in the heat before this, so they kept sending emissaries over to the bar to refill the table water pitcher – the only “weird” thing about the whole scene.  It was something to see – and something I would, sadly, be shocked to see back home.

*****

The dread Jelen Pivo -
possibly the worst beer on the planet

It is Emese’s Name’s Day, so by for a visit we go.  It was nice to talk to Emese and Joe – they are nice folks, and longtime friends of Z.  This evening, the topics of discussion included; an infomercial for the virtues of hyper-oxygenated water, opera, the perks awarded to 10 year and 20 year tenured teachers in Serbia (one month and two months of your base salary respectively), Emese and family’s trip to Rome, and how to make a local soft cheese that Z really enjoys.

To be polite – and so that Joe could have one – I sucked down a bottle of the dread Jelen Pivo (seems Joe can only have beer when there is company and they are drinking – happy to help out a friend!).  Reading the bottle, it seems they have been brewing this swill since 1756 – 20 years before the revolution.  I have to imagine it was better once – I wonder how long ago.  I’m sure the extreme metallic taste of preservatives, “hoppy drops,” and chemicals used to speed up and stop fermentation were not part of the original suds.

*****

Fresh Stew from the pot...

7/8

Capriolo Pizza - the best 'Za on the planet!!!!

Lajos and Bori are having us over for lunch today after the “big” market in Topolya.  The carnivores are having a stew made with some freshly killed game animal of some type and prepared in a big earthen-ware pot in the bread oven on the new porch.  My diner arrived shortly after the pot was removed from the oven in the form of a delivery from Capriolo from down the lane!  Folks, I don’t know how to say this more emphatically – this is the best pizza on the planet!  Today, I am having the classic Quattro Formaggio.  Salt and garlic are predominant in the flavor, but there is a smoked cheese in there, as well as garlic and oregano.  At about five bucks a ‘za, these things are amazing.  You must go!

*****

For the people who read this for the beer reviews, because I love you guys, and I want to spare you from the pain of bad beer, and I am willing to make the sacrifice for you, and this was a big one, so you owe me…

Lord help us – Jelen Strong, Jelen Brewing Company, Novi Sad, Serbia.  7.3% alcohol.  7.3%!  You can see where this is going, I’m sure.  Hard to believe, but the bright white head hangs around for a while.  The color of the beer is approximately the same color of my Oregon “Lightning” colored t-shirt.  The nose is the “wet hop” smell of badly produced pilsner, with maybe a tiny bit of hops.  How does it taste, you ask?  Well – thin and watery on the front of the mouth, changing to bitter and metallic on the back.  Strangely, you can’t taste the alcohol in it.  So what do we have – a nice looking beer that tastes like crap!  Obviously the purpose of this swill is to get you wrecked, as quickly as possible.  Stay away!  Ick!

6/29-30/2012 Kishegyes – The Party!

6/29

Today is Peter’s Name’s Day – a huge holiday in the Catholic countries, even more so than birthdays.  Traditionally, this calls for Palinka for breakfast, but with all the hubbub about the party, it gets lost in the shuffle.  Trust me – it is more than made up for later in the day.

Lunch this afternoon is at Lajos and Bori’s house.  The first of the day’s Palinkas comes here.  Lajos has won several awards for his stuff, which he sells commercially.  It is a little smoother than the stuff we usually bring home.  Of course, we indulge in a couple.

This is followed by the meal.  The carnivores are having a stew made of wild game and stuff.  Z tells me it is pretty good.  Hey, whatever floats your boat.  The veg is honored to be delivered a Capriolo world-class “pizzak” (as they say here ‘bouts).   The Vegetable Pizzak is topped with tomatoes, mushrooms, peppers, green olives, and strangely zucchini and corn.  Must be a regional thing.  Whatever – it was, as always, pretty swell.  As mentioned before, they sent their chef down to Italy to train to make the stuff.  The crust is thin and chewy, not crisp like a cracker.  It is brushed with garlic before it is topped, so it has that warm, garlicky thing going on.  The sauce is mostly tomato, very light, with just a few spices.  You should make a trip out here just for the pizza.

Of course, the real reason for coming out here (besides swilling Lajos’ high-class hooch) is to pick up the eggs and meat for Peter and Vera’s 50^th Wedding Anniversary party tomorrow.  We are picking up 70 eggs, as well as two butchered pigs and a lamb.  (The pigs were promptly named by me, through long standing tradition, as “Market” and “Home." The lamb, of course, was “Roast Beef.”  You can’t carry dead things around in the car with heads still attached without naming them.)  I should mention Market, Home and Roast Beef were walking around the farm yesterday.

In fact, we should step back a bit at this point.  Catering works a little bit differently in Serbia and Hungary.  You pick up the raw ingredients and then deliver them to the caterer to be assembled.  We have been to the local Farmer’s Markets several times picking up various fruit and vegetables, and then delivering them to various folk as necessary.  The eggs and various other ingredients get delivered to the cake baker, who is baking two largish torts – a lemon tort and a dobos tort.  The pigs and lamb go to another butcher in town who will prep them for cooking.  The pigs go this evening to the local bread baker, that Peter has been frequenting for years, to be baked.  One is stuffed with seasoned sausage; the other is roasted as is.  The lamb is reduced to small cubes that will be cooked tomorrow in the kettle, along with other stuff we have picked up, into goulash.

6/30

Today is the celebration of Peter and Vera’s 50^th Wedding Anniversary, and things are already a bustle of activity at 5:30 a.m. when I go for my walk.  “Market” and “Home” have been picked up from the baker, and “Roast Beef” is now a pile of cubes ready for the goulash kettle.

The day also began with bad news.  Close family friend, Angi, who you met earlier in the entry about Pécs, lost her mother last evening.  Her mother, a local, was age 92.  The stress of the extreme heat was likely a contributing factor.  They are ringing the bells on the church for her down the hill.  Dinner will be postponed by an hour so that guests can attend the graveside ceremony.

Our day begins, after a quick breakfast, with another trip to Topolya to buy more veggies for lunch for “The Hungarians.”  These would be Andras-Bacsi and Ari, the neighbors from the house on the left of Peter and Vera’s place in Keszthely.  They are coming here for lunch before going to Lajos and Bori’s to spend the night.

*****

“Impatience” seems to be the word of the day.  While waiting to park on the street in front of the market, and waiting for four cars – two on each side of the street – to pull out of spaces, the idiot behind me leans on his horn and races around – only to wait right in front of me for the four cars.  At least the little red lights on the back of our car didn’t make him angry anymore.

My favorite “impatience” moment, however, came a little later as we were leaving.  I was waiting for Peter and Z to finish their transaction and was literally elbowed out of the way by a “little old lady on a mission.”  I’ve seen basketball players do lamer jobs of throwing an elbow that this lady.  The bruise didn’t last too long.  She did, however, convince me to lumber out of her way.

*****

I always appreciate the kindness of strangers on these trips.  Especially those who have learned to speak my language and are willing to do so (far rarer).  Fear of saying the wrong thing in the wrong way often keep people that I would love to get to know better silent.  I mean come on – they get to hear my Hungarian!

We are kept company this afternoon by Andras (son of Andras-Basci) and his girlfriend, Anna.  They took great care of me while everyone else was busy speaking Hungarian.  They were great conversationalists, and threw me the occasional “car!”  My thanks!

*****

Things are coming together this afternoon, and we are beginning to calm down a bit, when Z discovers that not all of “Roast Beef” has made it to the event site to get in the kettle.  An emergency trip down and he is all back together again.

I, however, am not going to go too near to check – and not just because I am a vegetarian.  They are keeping the small fire going under the pot with what amounts to a small, controlled flame-thrower.  These jury-rigged “barbecue” apparatuses are everywhere in this neck of the world.  I am amazed that I don’t hear a bomb going off with regularity.

*****

“It’s Turkish,” is Z’s code that she is not going to give me milk for my afternoon coffee.

*****

The party is great fun.  It is well attended by about 70 friends and family.  It is also miserably hot, but this is keeping the alcohol consumption down.  The food is great and it is fun to hang with some unorthodox groups and chat.

Gabor and Kis-Kazi are here.  Both are competitive dancers and very light on their feet.  Which is more than Z can say when Kazi drags her on the floor to dance.  She spends the rest of the evening running away whenever he comes near.

Peter and Vera requested that I play something, and the band was nice enough to let me sit in for a couple of tunes.  It is always fun to spackle Dixieland over the top of someone else’s’ hard work, and it was really appreciated that the fellows would allow me to do so.  FYI, “Summertime” is a universal – I’ve played it in a couple of countries now – but don’t ever count on getting a blues if you ask for one.  For these guys “blues” meant the vamp from “The Ballad of Irving.”  (Don’t know it – go look it up!  It’s a Dr Demento Classic!)

6/21-28/2012: Travels, Keszthely, and Kishegyes

6/21-28/2012: Travels, Keszthely, and Kishegyes

PDX:

I usually take notes for this thing in a hard-bound Moleskine® brand notebook, like wanna-be travel writers everywhere.  I don’t like the soft cover ones, as they get bent and mangled in your pocket.  When we went to Powell’s to buy this year’s edition of “the book,” we found that the only hard-bound version available was the “Star Wars^©” edition.  The first page of this bares the following famous, comforting quote: “I have a bad feeling about this.”  A bad omen indeed for travelers; would that we had listened.  Of course, I discovered this just before they took my trumpet case away for the puddle jumper to Vancouver, B.C.  (Not to worry, no problems occurred in the handling of my trumpet case – read between the lines whatever you wish here!)

*****

Dear American Traveler,

I know you will find this hard to believe, but “last time I checked, Canada is not part of America.”  (It’s true – the Stew told us over the intercom, pretty much just like that, only more rudely!)  As such, yes, you do have to go through customs and fill out their forms – even if you are continuing on to another country from there.  It’s their country; they get to make the rules.  Isn’t that astounding?

Thanks Awfully

And while we are on the topic…

Dear Air Canada Stew-dude,

I know this is not your fist choice of career and that you can hardly wait to retire soon.  I’m sure everyone about four rows back knows this now, too.  This does not, however, excuse you from doing your job, which “last time I checked,” was customer service.  If you can’t suck it up and at least behave in some semblance of politeness, maybe now would be a good time to quit and move to China and get started on that ice hockey school.  I’m sure the kids there will respond as well as your passengers (or current students – I shudder at the thought) to your warmth and charm.  Maybe if you try being a little patient with people who are nervous traveling and in new circumstances and unsure about what they are doing, you might be surprised to find that they treat you nicely and with respect.  The fact you have heard the question a million times on this flight alone does not make it easier for the rooky travelers you are supposed to be helping out through your “competence” and “calm demeanor.”  I know, who knew?

Thanks Awfully.

*****

Several hours, two airports and a couple of bad airplane meals later, and we were in Wien, awaiting our baggage.  Actually, my airplane meals were pretty OK.  It was Z who had problems with them.  We had ordered her “gluten free” meals, as she was eliminating gluten when we were confirming tickets.  She said they were somewhat less than appetizing.  Those were not the words she actually used.  Anyway, baggage…

I had a “bad feeling” about our bags in Vancouver, B.C.  They did not have a confirmation of us continuing on, and had to look us up.  I made the mistake of mentioning a slight concern at this point about our bags arriving with us.  Z says that making the statement at all makes it my fault that, needless to say, the bags did not arrive with us in Wien.  The more likely problem was that our flight from Vancouver to Frankfurt arrived with just enough time for us to make the connecting flight, and the airline folks had to rush us through customs.  I guess our bags don’t run as fast as we do.  The end result is that we left Wien without our bags, but with promises that they would be delivered to Keszthely “by 8:00 tomorrow evening.”

*****

Travel Tip: always pack a change of clothes and a toothbrush in one of your carry-on bags.  I had a back up outfit in Z’s bag, and a shirt and underwear keeping my cornet from sliding around in the travel case, so I was OK for a couple of days.  Z, who had only packed one outfit in her carry-on was a bit pressed when, no surprises here, our luggage did not arrive at the promised “8:00 tomorrow evening.”  Fortunately for us, they did arrive the evening before we left for Kishegyes.  Bonus – we didn’t have to repack.  (Well, yes we did.  We needed to downsize to get everything in the car.)

*****

Sign, seen in a night club window while driving through the Hungarian town of Sopron, halfway between Wien and Keszthely: “Jacuzzi, Spa, Hot Tub, Wellness, Table Dance.”  This is obviously a version of “wellness” that is probably not covered by your health insurance.

*****

Vacation always begins for me in Hungary when Peter throws out the inaugural Palinka when we arrive at their place in Keszthely.  After about 24 hours of traveling in cars and planes and severely dehydrated, it is, as always, a great time to slide into straight shots of my Father-In-Laws’ moonshine.  Three Palinka later and I was feeling no pain.  I had dragged out my Sunday-best Hungarian, and was doing my best to keep up as we were joined by the neighbors from the houses on either side of Peter and Vera.  The doctor from the house on the right, who speaks four languages fluently, tells me that “I must learn to speak Hungarian.”  So much for “Sunday-best.”  I don’t know what he is talking about, though.  Give me a few more Palinka and I’ll be fluent!

*****

The next morning, while eating breakfast on the deck, the following came up in conversation on the deck – it seems that a kindergarten student in Kishegyes had figured out that his substitute teacher was ethnically Hungarian.  He confronts the teacher on the playground and informs her that “someday, when I grow up, I’m going to kill you.  My dad says the only good Hungarian is a dead Hungarian.” 

I am learning that a certain amount of this is hyperbole.  Like all exaggeration, a certain amount of it is based in fact.  That said, as I meet more Serbians, I am less inclined to believe it all at face value.  They want into the EU too badly to allow it to be screwed up by hot-heads.

*****

A couple of days of recovering-from-jet-lag later, and we are in the car on our way to Kishegyes – Z’s hometown.  It is a pretty drive through the plains of Hungary.  This is farm country, and about every mile or so we pass a “Dinnye” (cantaloupe) stand.  After a while, I start to notice that they are all the same.  They have exactly two watermelons and two cantaloupes.  I am sure there is a hidden meaning here somewhere.  I’m probably missing it.

You know how successful your town is in Hungary by the length, in meters, of your town sign.  We pass some real whoppers on the way south-east.  Examples would include: Balatonszentgyörgy, Balatonmáriafürdő, Balatonföldvár, Mezőszilas, Simontornya (where we always stop for coffee and bubbly water) and Kiskunhalas.  You have to imagine seeing all of this strung out on a sign as you fly by at 60 miles per hour.  It is always an adventure.  Of course the losers in the length derby are: Fonyód, Enying, Cece (the locals say this is pronounced “tseh-tseh.”  I still maintain it is “kee-kee”), Solt, and Tompa (or “Tampa” to the smart-aleck American).  These folks are clearly underachievers.

I also enjoyed the radio reporter’s glee while announcing that gas prices in Hungary were going to be lowered to less than $8.00 a gallon (!) for the first time in 6 months.

*****

Regular readers of this blog know that one of the highlights of any trip to Serbia for me is always the trip to the police station to get “registered” so they know where to pick us up if they start pogroms against the outsiders again – I mean, where to find us in case of emergency.  This year, Z, bereft of reason or common sense, decided we were going to march down there without cash or translator, and “make them see the light!”  In her view, if they were planning on joining the EU, they were going to have to learn English (it is the “common language” of the EU).  In her magic universe, this all happened in the last year.  She was not amused when I started laughing at this point.

Needless to say, Officer Incompetent (see the "Registration" entry from last summer) was quick to put her back in her place.  It seems that there was “no one here today that could do this duty.  Oh, and swing by the bookstore and buy the cards you need – surely you know you must do this.”  (Well, no, not last year.  But the arbitrary rules are what make this game so much fun.)  “Come back tomorrow,” he says.  We know all of this through the good services of a nice gentleman who was kind enough to translate for us.  It seems Officer Incompetent has not learned English or Hungarian in the last year – go figure!  I think the bruises on my arm from laughing as we left the police station went away with a couple of days.

Sad to say, the rest went easy.  Peter picked us up the cards at the bookstore and went with us the next day.  It took us 10 minutes to get checked in.

Z has asked me to point out that she did address Officer Incompetent in three languages, English, German and Hungarian, before we had to resort to the nice gentleman translator.  In her view, he was “almost embarrassed” by this point.  I think it is more likely that he had no clue she changed languages but rather had cabbage for lunch.

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We had a visit from Kazi-Basci and Sandor-Basci that afternoon – the eighth Palinka of the day sitting in front of me like a time bomb.

The Palinka game in Hungary works like this.  Whenever a new person arrives, a new round is poured.  If the ladies are cooking in the kitchen and miss the initial round, another round is poured.  If you sit at the table for longer than ½ hour, another round is poured.  If someone says the secret work, another round is poured.  You get the idea.

There are two secrets to playing this game and surviving.  The good Hungarian will spot you a bubbly water chaser with every shot.  You will want to drink these.  As swell as the flavor of this stuff is, it will catch up with you very quickly.  So enjoy – then chase!  It is also good to know the magic word.  If it looking like the game is going to go on for a while (say 8 rounds!), if you use the work “kicsi,” they will fill your glass only half way – and no penalty points!  Score!

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A new series…

New Inventions in Beer!  Coming soon to a bottle or can near you…

Found on a bottle of Tuborg I enjoyed a couple of days later – a pull-top bottle cap!  No need for a bottle opener!  What will they think of next?

The Tuborg was followed by a new one for me: Sixtus Wheat beer.  Although the label is in German, it proudly brewed by the Sixtus Brewing Company, Warsaw, Poland.  I know what you are thinking, and yes, I guess they do brew beer in Poland – after a fashion.  It looks pils-ish in the glass, light and closer to yellow than gold.  There is no nose to speak of, a little strange for the Wheat’s of this neck of the woods.  The flavor is thin and watery; a little malt followed by an exposure to a hop cone on the front, completely disappearing by the time it gets to the back.  They say it is 4.2 percent, but I would guess less.  A true lawn mower beer.  I’m sure they have lots of lawns in Warsaw.  The can says “best if served between 8°and 10°.”  Maybe that’s it…

*****

We just found out Z’s car got broken into back home (another “bad feeling” moment); continuing a longstanding tradition of car problems while we are over here.  Perhaps we should just start leaving the deductable on the fridge when we leave.  Although there is nothing we can do until we get a phone in Hungary, Z is on her way down to Emmese’s to use “The Facebook” and find out what happened.