6/19/2015 - Keszthely

Dave enjoys a Jetlag Recovery Wine
at the Downtown Fest in Kesztheky.

Today is a jet-lag recovery day.  I don’t know how you do it, but I do it by driving the Mighty Opel so the ladies can go shopping.  This is followed by one of Vera’s swell meals, a nap, a little blogging, and a trip to the Downtown Keszthely Wine Fest.  This is not to be confused with the Keszthely-Days Wine Fest, or the Keszthely Beach Wine Fest – both of which come later.



Z enjoys a Chardonnay at the Keszthely Fest

Lake Balaton is one of the major wine regions in Hungary.  Rather than producing Tokai or Bull’s Blood, they produce the more traditional Pinot, “Shiraz,” Cabernet, and especially Chardonnay.  We took a leisurely walk downtown and enjoyed several of the really excellent jazz combos performing in the Centrum, followed by some excellent wine produced by our friend Gabor at the Bezerics vineyard.  Z enjoyed a Chardonnay – oaky with a nice fruit flavor, and I had the Shiraz – again a nice balance of oak with the grapes, but very light for a dark red wine.  Most Hungarian wines would fit into the “light” description.  A heavy red, like an Oregon Pinot would be too much for the warmer climates that you get in this region.



Everything is better on a
stick.  That would include
the fish roasted by these folks
over hot coals at the Keszthely
Wine Fest!

As alluded to above, this wine fest is a traveling road show.  There is a fest every weekend throughout the summer somewhere on the north end of Balaton.  The vineyards all have very nice “Food Cart” style trucks, which they move from festival to festival throughout the summer.  If you like to sample wine, this is a great way to make yourself aquatinted with several different local wines – while enjoying some great traditional local food and some really quite excellent music.  The musical theme of this fest is traditionally jazz combos, but the others have large selections of classical and folk music.

Which would be another travel tip – look for the local festivals.  I’ve enjoyed wine and music around the lake now, as well as local beer fests in Germany.  I’ve enjoyed great local food and alcohol.  I’ve heard great local pop bands like the Cimbaliband from Budapest, great classical music from the likes of the principal brass quintet of the Budapest Philharmonic, traditional gypsy bands, and Feurerwehr Bands (“Firehouse band” – or the German Community Band.  They rehearse in their local Firehouse, hence…).  This is a great way to “live like the locals,” and an opportunity to enjoy the local food and culture.  Seeking them out will reward tour efforts.  
 

June 26 – July 2, 2014, Keszthely and

I see it is not just Vancouver where the auto drivers are homicidal maniacs around bicycle riders.  In the parking lot in front of Vonyarcvashegy (or “Vaya Con Dios” if your Hungarian is as lame as mine) I was almost run down four times in today’s outing.  That doesn’t count the pedestrians who ran in front of me and my fellow bike riders who tried to blow me off the path.  It’s a dog-eat-dog world out here folks, and you can’t afford to be timid.

You have to be careful riding or walking on the bike paths in Hungary.  It is legal here for “mopeds” to ride on the path.  Of course, some of these “mopeds” have 500 c.c. engines and the name “Harley Davidson” in large friendly letters on the side.

*****



It's America Month at Aldi!

It is “America” month at the local Aldi store – the sales flyer came today.  This document says that interested Hungarian shoppers may delight in American delicacies like Peanut Butter (smooth and crunchy), frozen “Wraps” and “Chicken Nuggets,” Hamburger and Hot Dog Buns as well as Hot Dogs in a glass jar (You can’t buy white bread “buns” in Hungary at the store, but they have them at McDonald’s), “Frozen Milk Shakes,” and Miller Genuine Draft.  Seems about right to me – except they forgot the “Wings” and the “Pizza” (the latter readily available already).

 

*****

My chores as “chauffeur” this year frequently involve driving the ladies to the local “China” store to shop for “Shoes” and “Clothes.”  In the US, out clothes are made in China and sold to us through corporate middlemen.  In Hungary, they cut the middlemen by having the Chinese sell directly to you, saving you some sheckles.  As a result, the locals all wear the same badly fitting clothing with strange English sayings on the front.  Some examples:

·        U.S. Mershall (sic), Dept. 1976, Miamt, Flarida (sic) – I’m not sure “Miamt, Flarida” is, but I would be careful of the “Mershalls” there.

·        This is my Little Black T-Shirt – on a pink t-shirt

·        If You Want Me I Tell You My Phone Number – ‘nuff said

·        Some Things Never Happen – not a lie, I guess

·        Flick A Man Open of Lonesome – what was that?

·        Atlantic Sanfrancisco – it’s just north of Miamt Flarida, you can’t miss it

Of course, you can make anything more hip at the “China” store by adding the phrase “Of Athletics” or “University” to the front, so:

·        YUES New York of Athletics – Umm, seems a little blatant

·        University of Special Girls – somehow I don’t think I would enjoy this college

·        Athieltcdpt (sic) University Athletic Dept – Huh?

·        Meow University – I don’t think that means what you think it means, fellows

And then, by sheer number, they occasionally get it right:

·        Your Wings Already Exist, All You Have To Do Is Fly – Isn’t that sweet?

·        More Respect Less Attack – words to live by

*****

7/2/14 Pécs

It's "baby" season.
 Z has lots of pictures of blurs like this. 
I think it is supposed to be a stork,
but no promises

We went to the pretty city of Pécs today, but not to sight see.  Peter needs to have some important medical tests performed that they can only do there.  So, once again at the wheel of the Mighty Opel, off we go on the 2 and ½ journey.

I have a challenge for the guys on the BBC TV show “Top Gear.”  I double dog dare you to start at a town in Hungary that is on an Autobahn – say Györ (just because it is going to be the name of my heavy metal band someday).  You get two cars.  One of you only gets to travel on the most direct route to Pécs.  The other only gets to travel the Autobahn.  Who wins?

You need to have this factoid first.  Years ago when they started building Hungary’s modern road system, they decided that “all roads lead to Budapest.”  So to get from Gyor to Pécs, you have to travel several hundred miles out of your way to Budapest first.  And yet, you probably still will win.

The back roads we took from Keszthely to Pécs were easily the best ride I have been on since doing the roller coasters at Knotts Berry Farm.  At 100 KPH I only hit my head on the roof of the car once – and that was wearing a seat belt!

*****

It is what you think it is - yikes!

The hospital in Pécs is in the middle of one of the largest Soviet era “Complexes,” or perhaps “Projects,” I have seen in Europe.  This, of course, makes it a natural as a teaching hospital, and so it is.  While Peter gets his test (“Your radioactivity rate will be very high for the next two days.  Don’t be around any young children.”  Yikes!), he sent us away to have lunch with Angi (whom you met earlier in the blog).

Restaurants in “the Projects” are geared to the large student population nearby.  Prices are low and the quality is acceptable for the simple bar-type fare they sell.  My lunch started with a pretty good vegetarian mushroom soup (it could have used a little more pepper), followed by the Mains of a cabbage salad and a traditional Hungarian dish of, in this case grilled (it is more often breaded and fried), camembert cheese with rice and cranberry preserves.  Z had a traditional bean and sausage soup, followed by the cabbage salad and what she thought would be mac & cheese, but ended up being noodles with scrambled eggs.  She said the soup was good, but the noodle thing needed catchup or something.  Price for the meal was 1150 Ft – about five bucks.  I bet this is a happening place on Friday and Saturday night.

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.

*****

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!

*****

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.

7/8/2011 Keszthely - Kishegyes

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

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

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

*****

Hungarian Customs No. 1: The Ritual Greeting

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

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

7-22-2011 Kesthely

Hi All.

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

Dave and Zia

7/19 Keszthely, Melk, Vilseck

7/19

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

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

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

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

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

**********

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

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

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

7-13

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

**********

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

**********

7-14

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

**********

Forgive me while I rant...

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

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

7-6

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**********

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

7/14/2öö8, Keszthely, Gyenasdias, Hevís

It's been either really hot or very stormy the last few days. As it's just the four of us now, we are staying pretty close to home.

Saturday evening found us at the Bor-fest in Gyenasdias (otherwise known to the Cynics amongst us as Buenos Dias). Peter has been dealing with some medical issuses, so most of these trips are Vera, Z and I. There is a traveling winefest (wine is bor in Hungarian) that visits most of the communities on the north side of the lake during the summer (the wine region of Hungary). This is one of the first for the year. A wine fest is a flock of people around these really cool wooden trailer/booth things that the local wine makers use to hock their product. There are several food vendors selling traditional fare, and a central stage with live music. When we arrived the music onstage was a very hip marimba ensemble (three percussionists, bass and drums), that really enjoyed playing tunes in 7. They were followed by the community concert band playing traditional march favorites on equiptment that would draw howles of protest from the folks that play in my bands. The last group of the evening (that we caught anyway) was a Hungarian-Folk-Metal-Hair-Band (really- the locks were quite impressive). If you have been indoctrinated, think the Hungarian Höven Dröven. Fun stuff! We feasted on Longos and kürtöskalacs and dug the tunes-and the wines. The highlight was a rare wine made from a "blue armed grape" - literally a grape with a blue stem. Evidently this is quite rare, and only a few bottles are made a year to be sold at festivals like this. A white wine with a smooth, buttery flavor. It was very nice and trés drinkable (sorry folks, I'm a beer guy - as this blog should be making clear by now. You want good wine descriptions, talk to my brother-in-law, Jerry).

Sunday evening we went into Hevís for a festival that wasn't there (guess we were looking at last year's program. We enjoyed a walk around the radioactive lake, and then did a little shopping in the shops still open on Sunday evening. We followed this by taking a train ride around the city (Hevís has one of those tourist trains that it uses as a bus line). Vera commented that she would probably end up seeing sections of Hevís she had never seen before, and likely she was right. This thing went everywhere. Some great views and some stunning architecture. It was a nice way to become familiar with the area. We finished with a beer at the local ettrem, and then a gelatto, and then home. Who needs a festival?

Monday brought a huge storm - thunder, lightning, rain - the works. I left for my morning walk under ominous skys, made it to the lake, and then caught the down pour. It was raining so hard I couldn't see three feet infront of me. I made my way back home, and the rain gradually died down, so that it had mostly stopped by the time I reached the front door. "What the heck," I thought and headed back out, only to have the rain start to pick up again. Defeated, I gave up, went back in a crawled back into bed.

Z and I went shopping in the afternoon. We took the Chineese walk. There are several Chineese markets in town that sell quality clothing at bargain prices - some of which are carrying labels you may have heard of before - assuming you don't look too closely. Z was looking for shoes, but ended up buying underwear. I guess it was a productive trip. I'm not quite sure how to tell anymore.

1/1ö/2öö8, Keszthely

The last few days have involved hanging around beautiful Keszthely and the environs. I have started my morning power walks again and getting some practice time in on the deck in the speedo (yes, you are required to have a speedo in Europe. I know, deal with it.). Zia went down to her genuis hair cutter person this morning and got her hair colored and cut. I am hoping that we will be able to get a picture off of Kyra's digital camera later to post.

Peter took Z and I to Szigliget on Tuesday. On the hill above the town are the ruins of a castle/fortress that have existied since the early 12öö's. Peter is still having some difficulties with his diabetes, and was not able to make the climb with us. From the top there are some awsome views of Balaton and the surrounding vineyards. (Longtime readers will remember that this region of Hungary is the wine belt, much as the Willamette Valley is in Oregon.) An enjoyable afternoon.

The rest of our time is spent loafing by the lake, working on our sunburns. Jaden has turned part fish, and is learning to swim a little better every day. Today we opted to loaf by the pool. The pool is shaped to look just like the lake, with the deep end on the Keszthely side. The pool bullies worked on Jaden a little bit, but, due to the language, she had no idea. Grandma had a few words for them, though.

Peter, Vera, Z and I are to travel to Budapest some time in the next week or so on a bus tour. More on that when ( and if, you know) that happens.

7\8\ö8 Vilseck to Keszthely

So no promises on this entry. I am typing today on Vera´s keyboard which is in Hungarian. It has about a million more keys than I am used to, the "Z" and "Y" key have been switched, and most of the punctuation marks don´t work - as you can see from the title of this post.

Sunday, and the trip from Vilseck to Keszthely...

Kyra drove the first section of the trip, and I took over just before the Austrian border. What fun! The autobahn is pretty cool. Before we crossed the border into Austria I touched on 11ö a couple of times. Austria has a speed limit, so I had to content myself with crusing along at 13ö KMH (that between 85 and 9ö MPH for you slowpokes at home!).

The autobahn system is set up so that you don't travel into any towns, just skirt the edges. As a result you get to see a lot of wooded hillsides and, over in the distance, many little quaint villages, huge castles, towering chuch towers, etc. Since you don't get to see any of them up close and personal, you have a lot of time to sit and question. I drove through three countries in a day. Why three countries? Germany and Austria share a language, the architecture is similar in all three countries, the social customs are similar. What makes it all so different? Which leads on to introspection about culture. I am fortunate enough to get to play in a band with several great friends who perform the folk music of Germany. Why Germany? What draws people to hear the folk music of a culture that is not their own? What is folk music? Dang it, I almost missed that turn.

We reached Peter and Vera's in the late afternoon, just in time for dinner. First the obligatory palinka - no make that two. Apricot, and very good stuff too. And then dinner - chicken parprikas for the carnivores, and "chicken" paprikas with tofu for the vegetarian. Vera has been playing around with tofu and should publish a cookbook. She is doing some amazing things with the stuff.

After a couple of glasses of Peter's remarkably tasty home grown wine, we wandered down to listen two a couple of tunes from the band playing downtown. Classic garage band, bass player working hard at being serious, rhythm guitarist that is just a little too old and a little too bald to pull off the low guitar, preening for the ladies at the edge of the stage thing, lead guitarist that has the look but not quite the licks, drummer that was pretty OK, female lead vocalist dressed in the current hip fassion and placed front stage to be the center of attention. And - and this is what made it for me - the keyboard player who is a dead ringer for Steve Martin, look manerisms and everything. I was rolling the whole time. We finally gave up, grabed a gelatto and headed home for bed.

Monday.

A nice relaxing day by the lake. You pay 8öö forint and that gives you the run of the place for the day. Get there early enough and you can even have on of those cool deck chair things. We all relaxed in the sun, taking turns getting in to swim with Jaden, who stays in the water pretty much all day. I remember when I used to be able to do that. I spent my time not swiming reading the work at the center for the arts school next year (yes, I did do some work this summer!). It's called "The Creative Habit" by Twyla Tharp, and I highly recomend it to those of you with a creative bent. A facinating read about the process of creating and the work involved in doing so. Lunch was langos - basically an elephant ear with garlic instead of sugar. Pretty tasty.

Dinner, and another of Vera's tofu experiments. Tonight was Tofu Schnitzel: thinly sliced tofu with blue cheese in the middle, breaded and deep fried. I have mentioned before that Vera is the queen of cooking, but she excells at frying. This was pretty amazing stuff.

More beer notes:

Aktien Pilsner, Bayreuther Bierbrauerei AG, 4.9% by volume.

A beautiful light tawny brown with a slightly hoppy nose. Sweet and hops are well balanced in the front of the mouth, slight hop flavor in the back of the mouth that disappears a little too quickly. Not too big - another good session beer.

7/02/08 Round Two!

And so the adventure continues again…

This trip we are scheduled to travel to Munich (you can hear the little bubbles calling my name, can’t you?), where Kyra will pick us up and take us to her home in Vilseck. From there Peter (Z’s father, if you are a bit behind), will pick us up and, with me at the wheel (can you say “autobahn?”) travel to Keszthely. We’ll hang out there for a couple of weeks with the family and see some stuff, maybe catch a play in Hungarian at the castle, possibly run up to Budapest and very likely Kecskemet, and then back to Kyra’s for some quality time in the land of beer and polkas (and so I am told culture and food and stuff like that).

Of course you notice that there are a lot of “possiblies” and “maybes” in the above list. If you have been following along so far, you know that the plan kind of exists in a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants way. So here is the wish list:

*I hope to see the castle in Keszthely this trip
*I would love to see the big ruin on the hill north of Keszthely
*I want to lay on the beach by what my granddaughter is now referring to as the “ocean” (Lake Balaton) and catch some sun and some z’s
*I would love to stop on one of the trips through and live out a lifelong dream of reading a paper and having a kaffee mit schlag in a little café in Vienna
*One word, Hofbrauhaus
*Oh yeah, and Kulmbach
*Oh and all those Klosters
*And the source of all that is good, Pilsn Czechoslovakia (you know, the place that “pilsner” comes from…)

I know that I will eat great, so I am really looking forward to that (my mother-in-law is one of the greatest cooks on the planet). I hear that some side trips to Neuschwandstein and stuff like that are being talked about, and that would be awesome. And I know that I am going to spend some quality time with Kyra and my favorite granddaughter, Jaden (OK, she is my only granddaughter, don’t wreck the moment). I also hear that there is a party planned where I will get to meet the wives and families of Greg’s unit, and that is going to be really cool.

But mostly, I’m going to relax and go with the flow. Like usual. No really.

Let round two begin…

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

July 7, Keszthely... and a contest

Hi all,

We have arrived in Keszthely, were we are convalescing for a few days before moving on to Serbia to meet family and catch the gig of the winner of the "Hungarian Idol" TV show. Thanks to our friend Bethoven-bacsi, we have front row seats for this gig. I am going out to buy my lighter tomorrow!

We have spent our day here checking out Peter’s friends vineyard (OK, raiding his wine barrels) and walking about downtown Keszthely. The vineyard is on the hill out of Sarmellek. You travel down some really scary, narrow back roads, with kamikaze drivers barreling towards you only to veer out of the way at the last minute, and there you are. The vineyard is 4 rows of grapes, a small building with some really great oak barrels and a couple of rooms to store equipment or hang out (there is a small kitchenette). Peter siphoned out 10 liters of wine while Zia and I picked black currants out of the neighboring tree. The wine was killed that evening by Peter, Vera and Zia, while I enjoyed the greatest pilsner I have had in my life (on which more in a minute).

The vineyard next door is for sale. It produced about 1,000 liters of wine last year. For budding entrepreneurs, it is 8 rows of grapes, a guest house in need of a "little work," and all the barrels and equipment you need to start turning grapes into wine. You can own it all for $9.000 dollars. There is a caretaker working the next field who will work this one too if you wish for a little less than $300 a year. Your only problem is to find a friendly wine importer to get your hooch home and you could be an absentee landlord with a great vacation home!

Downtown Keszthely is a great place. It is an intriguing mix of old classic architecture, communist period block apartments, and new remodels and updates. Every tour book would have you believe that there are only three things here, the waterfront, the museum, and the Castle/Mansion (depending upon which version you read). We have not ventured into the museums yet, but have visited the waterfront and the Castle. Lake Balaton is a shallow, naturally-fed lake. As a result it is very warm, and perfect for swimming. We have not done this yet as I need to get a new swim suit. Seems mine is too conservative for local taste. I am afraid to find out what that means, but Zia seems to be looking forward to it.

The Castle is outfitted with great frescos and a really cool bit of statuary/fountain stuff. Peter told us a great story of the Count that owned it promising Empresses Maria Theresa of Austria that he would pick her up one winter in a horse drawn sleigh. It did not snow that winter, so he had laborers lay down salt from here to Vienna so that he could keep his promise. We will be visiting the Castle a lot this summer, as there are many cultural events held there.

Which leads us to our first contest. 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
Happy attempt

Have fun!

For our beer loving friends. I have tried 4 different beers in the last couple of days. Here is what’s good and what is not-so-much. Starting with "Kozel," a Slovakian beer contract brewed in Budapest. This rather disappointing entry is 4% according to the can (most beer around here comes in a can, a situation that is supposed to improve in Germany). The nose is the "wet cat" smell of commercial, mass-produced pils. There is a pretty well balanced fore taste that completely and strangely disappears on the back of your tongue. Think Budwiser without the chemicals and you wouldn’t be too far off. Entry number two is "Edelweiss Weissenbeir." Brewed in Germany by the Hofbrau Kaltenhausen, this is a pretty typical wheat beer. The nose is a nice blend of hops and bananas, the taste is malty and bubble-gummy, with just a hint of yeast tang on the back of the tongue. You could drink a lot of these, a great session beer. Entry number three I can tell you nothing about. Seems my notes are a bit unreadable, but I can tell you it was a pretty average pils. The real find so far is Firstenberger. WOW! You are greeted at the glass with the pleasant fragrance of Saaz, you get drawn in and take a sip, only to get sucker punched with a really big pils, perfectly balanced, that just rolls across the tongue, leaving you looking for more. And yes, there is more (which of course explains why I remember nothing of entry number three). Possibly the best Pils I have ever had! (But the trip is still young.)

All of this great bier is complemented by Vera’s culinary delights. Who knew there was so much great vegetarian food in Hungary? Last night was Mushroom Paprikas. For all of you culinary folks, according to Peter, the five fingers of classic Paprikas are Meat (or substitute), water, onion, paprika, and salt. Regional or culinary alterations (sauerkraut, spices, etc.) are then added to "make it your own." When asked what the proportions of the main five ingredients were, and evasive answer was given in reply. I was informed that the mushrooms were steamed in wine before they were added to the mix. I am not sure what the dish this evening was called, but in the classic version it starts with onions and Hungarian light green peppers sautéed in a mix of equal parts olive and sunflower oil. Diced tomatoes are then added and cooked on low heat until the fluid is released. Water can be added if there is not moist enough. Like the Paprikas, it is served over rice. The version that Vera made this evening was augmented by the addition of Eggplant and Zucchini, salted to help release water, just before the tomatoes were added. Very tasty!

More later...

Dave

*****

Hi all this is the very tired Zia ... Dave was smart and was taking naps but stubborn me well NOT. So here I sit waiting for Kyra ( our Daughter and grand daughter Jaden ) to arrive.
She drove all day to get here and had her Grandpa worried sick... she is in final stretch as we speak.
I am having a great time my parents love Dave , hell what’s not to Love . More from me tomorrow or something like that the letters are running together and the GIANT mosquitoes.
Kisses to ya all ( cause that’s the custom here )