June 27 & 28, 2013

We had a bit we did back in college – I won’t claim credit for it, I think it came from Charles Dowd.  When things were a little off kilter, we would talk about this being on “The Oregon Plan.”  What is The Oregon Plan, you ask?  The punch line was “There isn’t one.”  I have long ago applied The Oregon Plan to these little excursions to the east.

The original plan for this summer had me researching places to go and things to see in and around Venice, Italy.  My short list for all such research for such excursions being two questions: “Who wrote music nearby?” and “Where can I get a good and unique beer here?”  This is all you really need to know about any location, my friends.  The rest, as they say, is just scenery.  I knew Venice had the Gabrielis and St. Mark’s (about which more later), so I could pass on the beer – always a little sketchy in Italy anyway.

Hey look!  They have Starbucks in Germany!

City Hall in Heilbronn.  You miss this if you never come
out of the stores!

Then Peter developed some serious medical issues that required a change of plans and the scuttling of the Venice trip for this year.  My new research assignment was to find places to visit near and around Peter and Vera’s German Apartment.  My short list for this was simple: Heidelberg for the bier and Stuttgart for the Mozart.  Being well acquainted with the Oregon Plan, of course it was no surprise to me when our one day of German sightseeing (due to our plane mishaps – see previous post) would involve going to Heilbronn to go shopping.  My skeptical “How many shoe stores are there?” was greeted with howls of laughter from Peter.

Heilbronn reminds me a lot of Amberg.  There are some very pretty buildings there, but an authentic postcard of the place really should be of a bunch of stores, as no one really goes there to do anything but shop.  Our shopping excursion begins at C&A for more fest clothes.  I then took a quick trip around town to look at pretty buildings while the ladies shopped for shoes.

Nordsee - would there were one near me!

My guilty pleasure in Germany is the Fish ‘n’ Chips at Nordsee, and I’m always happy when we can find one in our adventures.  Just our luck, there was one right outside the garage where we parked!  (I know – I am a vegetarian, but my Doctor is on me all the time to eat more fish for health reasons.  We compromise on about a couple servings a month.)

I admit to being greatly excited about our mystery visit this evening.  Z told me we were going to visit Michael Jordan.  “The basketball player?” I asked.  Turns out M.J. is 70+ years old, is fluent in Croatian, Hungarian and German (but not English), and is broader than he is tall.  Oh – and he’s Anglo.  Let me explain.  When Kyra was younger, she got frustrated when she kept being introduced to all these strange people with long names she couldn’t remember.  So Z would assign them names based upon their occupations or avocations. Many of the names stuck over the years.  All this is by way of explaining that M.J used to play for the Yugoslavian National Basketball Team.  Hence…

June 28,



Downtown Öhringen -
Pretty, isn't it?

The church in Öhringen.

This morning we took Peter to a medical visit, and then I was treated to a visit to, as Z put it, “another old town.”  Behind the wheel of the mighty Opel, I followed directions and drove out through the German countryside, past beautiful fields and half-timbered farm buildings, through to a new town for me – and into a parking lot.  Of a shopping mall.  To be fair, it was an older shopping mall.  And it only had two shoe stores, so there was that.  We “enjoyed” a couple of hours here and then had lunch from the counter at the Rewe.  Mine was a wrap of tomato, mozzarella, lettuce and “tomato pesto” (any resemblance to store-bought marinara was clearly coincidental) – it was, well, let’s leave it at that.  It was.

Z and I actually do take these
trips together - although the photos
sometimes make it appear otherwise!

After lunch I was directed to a lot in downtown Öhringen.  This visit easily made my trip (so far!).  It would be easy to see this place as a model for a theme park.  There are lots of old half-timbered buildings, dating back to the 1500’s, weird narrow pathways between buildings, a huge beautiful church, and on.  You have seen pictures of these kinds of places before – you know what I am talking about.  But after several years of visiting new versions of this stuff, I still get excited about exploring a new one – or visiting an old friend, for that matter.  I spent an enjoyable afternoon running around taking in the sights (even through the quick thunderstorm), while the ladies went shopping.

*****

This being Germany, of course many good biers were quaffed…

Altenmünster, brewed by Allgaüer Brauhaus A.G., Postfach 1109, D-87401 Kempten.  According to the label, it’s 4.9%.  Pale yellow in color with a creamy white head and a nice green aroma of Hallertauer hops – a classic German Pilsner.  I found it lightly hoppy in flavor with a hint of malt poking through, all well in balance.  It was a tasy pils, well worth a repeat – and so I did!  And it comes in one of those cool, old-style flip-top bottles!!

Halleröder by Hasseröder Brauerei Gmbh, 38855 Wernigerode.  According to the label, it is 4.9%  According to the publicity department, the label describes this as “The Beer of Soccer.”  Nice pils color, although the head disappears a little quickly for my liking (it could have been the glass – unlikely, Vera washed her glasses by hand).  Abundant Hallertauer hops in the nose and in the flavor, but not overpowering the malt.  It would make a refreshing summer beer.  Alas, according to the bottle cap I’m “leider kein gewinn” (not a winner), but I still get to drink the beer, so I’m good.

Budweiser Budvar, brewed by Budweiser Budvar NC, Karoliny Světlé 4, České Budéjovice, Czech Republic.  The label says it’s 5%, so who am I to quibble.  This is the original Budweiser, kids, accept no substitute – Budweiser meaning originally “Beer from Budéjovice” (Bidweis to the Germans).  Anheuser-Bush has an ongoing trademark dispute going with the two breweries in this little Czech burg using the name.  Best I can tell, AB is losing.  A few years ago, as a result of this legal wrangling, this beer became available in the states.  You can find in the beer isle near you, labeled as “Czechvar.”  Czech pilsners are bigger than their German cousins, and this one is no exception.  A lot of saaz hops in the nose and flavor, well balanced with the malt.  A very enjoyable beer – you should go find one, you’ll like it!

Unterländer Volksfestbeir by Haller Löwenbrau, brewed by Löwenbrauerei Hall Fr. Ethard GmbH & Co. KG, Schwabisch Hall.  The bottle says 5.4%.  I say wow!  Let me start by saying once again that this is not that Löwenbrau, this “Lion Beer” is brewed by a microbrewery in Schwabisch Hall.  It is crisp, refreshing – I.E. everything you expect in a good German Pils.  And this is one.  Very well in balance and quite tasty – a very good pils.  One you could easily see drinking at a fest from mugs the size of your head.  Hey – Mt. Angel O-fest board?

Binding Adler, brewed by the Binding Brauerei AG 60598 Frankfurt am Main.  The bottle says 6%, and after drinking a couple with few calories consumed before, I ain’t arguing.  It is a beautiful golden yellow beer with pillows of white head floating on top.  It is more malty than the traditional German Pils, and there appear to be more than just Hallertauer hops in here.  Very complex flavor, and is easily the best beer of the summer so far.  The hops hang around in your mouth after you swallow.  This is a particularly tasty beer.  I am told that it is a seasonal, and pretty rare.  So if you find one, bring me a six, ok?

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!

6/21-28/2012: 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.

7-5 Kesthely

7-5

I haven't done many beer entries this trip, as we haven't had many new ones. You may, of course, assume that I am enjoying them, though. Several in fact. A new discovery this trip is Szalon White. It is a nice little amber to yellow colored beer with a bright white head that disappears quickly leaving a foamy ring of tiny bubbles around the glass that hang on for the whole thing. Faint hints of banannas in the nose, as expected in a wheat beer. It is pleasently citrusy, at least owing partially the the obligitory lemon. Some hops toward the end, but not out of balance with the malt. Not a big beer, but very refreshing on this hot day. It certainly is not a Fransiscaner or Erdinger, but not bad for Hunary.

**********

Vera, Z and I went shopping at the "Russian Market" this morning. The down economy has affected little road side markets like this. It is easily half as big as last year. The Indians are still here with their pan pipes, though.

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We are having a lot of fun with language this trip. I am becoming something of a trained monkey with my 16 or so words of Hungarian. This evening Z and Vera are reading an English language cookbook we brought - or rather Vera is, while they both disolve into histerics over her "phonetic" misreads. Slicing becomes "Schlitzing" (exposing vegetables to bad beer?), and whipping becomes wiping (not quite the same thing). But they certainly are enjoying themselves.

8/3/2008, Vilseck

Z cleaned house today, and I took Jaden for another walk to keep her out of the way (and trying to create a habit that we hope she will stick with). In downtown Viseck we discovered that there is a folkfest going on here, too. So this afternoon, we all wandered down to catch the entertainment. Unfortunately, the bands don’t play until later. Seems the whole thing is a fundraiser for the local community band program. We did get a chance to enjoy the local suds from the brewery down the street, Winkler Bräu. A nice session lager, the nose has some floral notes, but is mostly malt. There is a nice balance of bittering hops with the sweetness of the malt, and a bitter-sweet kiss off in the back of your throat as it slides on by. Most enjoyable, especially by the Maβ!

7/31 - 8/2, Frankfurt am Main

Z’s daughter, Kyra received a surgery date out of the blue during our vacation time together. The bad news is that cancels the trip to Munich (for this trip). The good news is that we will now be spending a little time in Frankfurt. Up early again (it pays to get an early start to beat the farm machinery onto the roads), and onto the Autobahn. Well I had to hurry, it’s a three hour drive and we had to be there by eight.

Frankfurt is a different kind of city than any of the others we have visited in Europe. The bridges are more modern, and there is a huge shopping district. They are more proud of their skyscrapers and world banking prowess (with good reason) than their history. That said, there are still a lot of spectacular old buildings and churches mixed in. The hospital is, unexpectedly, located a half a block from the Main and city central. From the glass elevator you can see St Bartholomeu’s, a spectacular old church where all of the emperors from the 1500’s to the 1700’s were crowned. My quick introductory walk across the river has shown the promising signs of a folk festival (the Main Festival) being set up. Needless to say, Jaden has already seen the rides.

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Kyra finally passed the breathing test on the third try (Hey! You can breathe!). The second test given to her was the “cleansing” medication. With no aroma, Kyra has described the taste variously as; “terrible,” “horrible,” “awful,” and “like ass, not that I have ever tasted it, but that’s what it taste like.” (Rubbing a finger through the remnants on the bottom of the bottle and tasting it, all I get is bitter lemons, for what it’s worth.) I guess the fun starts when she takes the four follow up pills in three hours.

In the meantime, elevated levels of gall were found in her blood tests. As she has already had her gall bladder removed, this points to kidney concerns, possibly kidney stones, and an MRI is ordered. If discovered, they will be removed endoscopicly this evening.

Jaden, after her early wake-up call this morning, has fallen blissfully asleep throughout all of this after appropriating her mom’s bed. Poor kid – at Grandpa’s mercy for the next five days.

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Kyra went in for surgery sometime around 12:30. I say “sometime” as Jaden and I had left for a walk by then. See, Kyra is in a German hospital. Things are a little different. Other than the occasional language problems, there are a host of other new experiences in store for you. No air conditioning, just one fan for the two people in the room. Pain meds are not given out much, they want you up and moving as soon as possible. And, most vexing for us, family care is not a strong point. We still had no idea when the surgery would be, what the results of the MRI were last night, or pretty much anything else – regardless of the fact that Z is fluent in every language spoken here. So around 12:00, Jaden, who was going bonkers by this point, and I went for a walk.

We traveled down to the shopping district. Our first stop was a little stein shop I had discovered the day before. Well off the beaten track and run by three sweet older ladies, this was the place for all your stein needs. The prices were great, and they had everything – including the new additions to my collection. A little farther down and we hit shopping central, a nice place to visit when you have a worried five-year old along with you, because that’s where you find the “Donald’s.” After a scrumptious repast at Mickey D’s, we wandered over to look at the C & A. Think J.C. Penney with one crucial difference. This place sells, and therefore has end of the season sales on, lederhosen and dirndls. A nice place to visit when you do the Oktoberfest and folk thing. After a little window shopping we moved along to Conrad, the big electronics store in Germany to get Kyra an adapter so she could plug her I-pod into the 220 outlets in the hospital, and then by Woolworth’s (yes, they still have them here) to get a needle and thread. Then back to check on Kyra.

Kyra, if I haven’t already explained this somewhere else, is in for a gastric bypass. I am not sure where the bypass part comes from, ‘cuz all they are doing is stapling her stomach – or perhaps hitting her with a bus, because she looks like hell when I get in to see her later that day. Although performed laparoscopicly, this is far from “minimally invasive” surgery. She really wants to get out of here, though, and is going after every exercise she has been given as hard as she can, even though it hurts pretty bad. I admire her strength and courage. We also assume that she is doing pretty OK, if the exchange over the oxygen tube in her nose is any indication (“Get the damn thing out of my nose, I can breathe better without it.”).

While Kyra was convalescing, Z was able to walk with us. We retraced out steps from earlier. At the C & A, she tried on several dirndls, but didn’t find anything that knocked her out. She did like a pair of lederhosen she made me try on, so I have another new set. (I’ll be the fashion plate of the Oktoberfest set!) And then we went to the Main Fest. Situated in the Römerberg, this is the most famous view in Frankfurt. Some very pretty buildings that house city government, and look like they have been here for years (but mostly exist since 2005 when the façade was restored), and provide a beautiful backdrop for a Volksfest. The Roemer (city hall) was mostly destroyed in bombing in WWII, and quickly restored after the war. It was rededicated in 1955. So, Jaden got her rides, Z got her Currywurst, and I got to try a new beer. Schöffelhofer Weiβe is a nice refreshing little wheat thing – not too aggressive with the natural yeasts, not too aggressive on the palate. Basically it is a not too aggressive, not too offensive, not too… well you get the idea. It was the perfect beer to enjoy with everything else going on. We were good, we only enjoyed a couple.

A quick check on Kyra and back to the hotel.

**********

Saturday, and the streets are a mess (more than usual). Every other street we need to use is closed for a large city rummage sale or the folk fest or construction. What should be a ten minute drive becomes something significantly longer.

My first order of business for the day is to buy Jaden a new pair of shoes. The shoes she has with her are too small and she has developed a fine set of scrapes on her toes. Back to the other end of the shopping district and – let the quest begin. The first challenge is to find a place that actually sells kids shoes. Several show stores later, and not even a shoe found – hey look, kids shoes! How much? I don’t care; I’ll take ‘em. Needless to say, the fifteen stores I walked into had shoes at way more realistic prices. They also had socks, so there was that, anyway.

New shoes on, and Jaden and I took a walk while Z spent some time with Kyra. She is really not doing well – is in some serious pain. Kyra, like her mom, has a pretty high pain tolerance (Z once removed a broken tooth ( wisdom tooth to be exact.. ) from her own mouth using nothing more than brute force and a Leatherman), so if she is complaining about pain, you know it has to be pretty bad. She is making herself keep at the exercises, though. Jaden and I ate lunch and took a roundabout way back to look at churches and skyscrapers. Z joined us and we took one last crack at the festival. Jaden got a last ride, Z and I enjoyed a last beer and listened to the very fine brass band (you could get the tunes up a little faster, though, fellas).

Due to the high price of hotel rooms and the low price of the dollar (thanks W!) we had to leave. Kyra will continue to recuperate, and we will come back to pick her up on Wednesday. Please keep her in your thoughts; the next few days won’t be easy for her.

7/29/2008, Pilsner Urquell (!)

I generally agree with travel writer Chuck Thompson’s description of brewery tours (Wow! They brew beer in big vats! Who knew?). But today’s journey was less a brewery tour and more a pilgrimage. Today we go to visit the mighty Pilsner Urquell. I know that Pilsň is one of the great cites in Europe, and has a lot of stuff that would probably be really cool to see, but today we are just paying our respects to the beer.

So what are we talking about here? What makes this stuff so special? Indulge me for a moment while I rant. Pilsň was founded by King Wenceslas II (not that “good king” one) in 1295. He awarded the first patents to brew beer in the city. The reputation of that beer was – well, not so good. Cloudy, and pretty inconsistent tasting to be exact. So, after the city brewers cranked out a particularly undrinkable batch in 1838, the local citizens, taking matters in their own hands, grabbed the 36 or so barrels of the stuff and marched it to city hall, where it was unceremoniously dumped in the square. The town leaders, no dummies they, decided it would be a good time to build a new brewery and to hire the best and the brightest to put it together. Somewhere in Bavaria they unearthed the new Brewmaster, Josef Groll, a man so rude and bad-tempered that his own father called him the “coarsest man in all Bavaria.” He came in and changed the entire brewing process. The beer was now brewed using a triple decoction method of extracting the sugar from the grain (ask me sometime, I’ll explain it). The special yeast was smuggled out of a nearby abbey as payment of a debt. The beer was then cold lagered in hand carved caves for five weeks. The result was consistent in flavor and beautifully clear brown in color. And so pilsner style beer was born. The name “Pilsner Urquell,” in case you were curious, means “from the original source, Pilsň” in German.

We met our “Tour Dude” at the Visitors Centre (English spelling, you know), decked out in his Urquell T-Shirt (Urquell was bought out by SAB Miller several years ago. Of course they have shirts – and hats and glassware and cards and…), casual slacks, tevos, a slender build and a three day growth that seems to be de rigueur these days. Z promptly dubs him “the good looking one,” as in “at least we got the…”

Tour Dude took us upstairs to watch a film, and then to the bottling plant (state of the art). We discovered there that Bob and Doug (Strange Brew, beauty, eh?) would be out of a job because they watch for mice – and broken or imperfect bottles on the line by computer and robotics now. From there to another film, in 360° whelm-O-vision this time, and then to… see that beer is made in big vats, I know, I know…

But, my friends, that is not, of course why we are here. Oh no. Our Tour Dude now takes us to the ancient, hand carved cellars, where it all began. This is also where, to this very day, test batches of Urquell are still brewed using the original methods according to the original recipe, to be used for comparison for quality control with the commercial suds. (Note: according to their web site and Tour Dude, no taster has ever to this day been able to tell the difference.) They still use open vats and everything. And they share! Unfiltered, unpasteurized, pure Urquell, just the way they drank it in 1838-ish (minus three of the five strains of yeast, about which more in a bit). This is the only place in the world where you can get the stuff. And they are handing a sample – to me! It doesn’t get any better than this!

What does it taste like? Oh, my friends… This stuff could make the blind see and the lame walk. Given to the right people this stuff would be the cause of world peace. It is the true fountain of youth! Duck Dunn wasn’t referring to “the Band” but to Urquell when he said, “this stuff is powerful enough to turn goat piss into gasoline.” Sorry. The aroma is like beautiful flowers on a sunny spring day. The flowery hops join with the caramel-ly sweet malt and do a little dance of joy down your tongue, leaving you with a surprisingly huge wallop of hops, a really big grin, and a quest for more. It is, as expected, a huge hop-head beer – bigger than you can possibly imagine. You’ve had the stuff they sell in stores (and if you haven’t, are you crazy?). This is that stuff on steroids. Lots of them!

Look, don’t take my word for it. Michael Jackson (the beer god, not the “king of pop”) calls it one of the true world class beers (but not as complex as it used to be when there were a complete five strains of yeast in the recipe – I told you I would get back to that). The Beverage Tasting Institute (the industry group that hires independent adjudicators to rate their drinks, mostly wine) gave Urquell 93 out of a possible 100 points. This is the highest score ever given to any pilsner rated. Amazing, remarkable stuff.

Go if you can – it’s worth the trip. And I’ll tell that to your Great-Great-Grandchildren.

7/24/2008, Keszthely

Lest you think we are basking in the glow of a loving sun sucking back swell suds everyday, yesterday we got to experience "viharos szél" accross the lake (that's "stormy winds" for those of you not in focus winds). The winds got up to 100 kph (around 60 mph), the rain came down sideways, quite a day. Vera ammused herself by making one of my favorite Hungarian foods, these little savory biscuit thigs that are really swell. You can eat them by the hundreds, and we did. Somewhere in the middle of this she advised me, "you. drink. beer." And so I did. Maybe it wasn't such a bad day after all.

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After watching the trees blow sideways for a while and my mom saying gee i bet the lake is really wavey , i asked Dave if he wanted to come on a walk with me.. ( he walks miles and miles every day , me not so much) he was game , we put on our rain jackets and grabbed the camera and off we went... all was well till we walked out to the pier .. there the wind nearly knocked me over as I tried to pose for the obligatory picture ... Dave got to pose as well... hardly a soul was out and about and those that were gave us funny looks .. Stupid tourists .. if they only knew.
Z

7/16/2öö8, Keszthely, Kis-Balaton

A planned trip to Sűmeg was cancelled on acount of rain, and so Peter took us on a car tour around the vicinity of Kis-Balaton. Kis-Balaton (Kish-Balaton, or Little Balaton) is a wet land, and a protected wildlife refuge. It works as a cleaning system for the Zala River, filtering out the icky stuff before the water moves on to the big lake.

Our journey began, as usual, when leaving Keszthely in this direction, with a long pause at the round-a-bout at the edge of town. Peter pointed out a large open field and told us that they had found the remains of a largish Roman city in that field. They carefuly undug the entire city, listed and catelogued everything, and then buried it up again. They do that a lot here. I am glad someone is keeping record of what's there though.

From there to Sámelléck to buy gas. Sámelléck is where the comercial airport is located. It started life as a Soviet era Nuclear Missile site. Little by little it is being cleaned up and expended so that, at some point, large regional flights will be able to come here. Recycling at it's best. And if you are in a hurry, they can fly you out on a rocket!

Kis-Balaton is pretty and peaceful and possibly poisonous (not really - but it sounded good). Peter took us to a couple of places around the lake. The first, at first glance, is a really large stack of fire wood. As you get closer you find that, while, yes, it is fire wood, it is also a shelter that can be used as a bird blind. It seems some Swiss Boy Scouts got creative several years ago and started stacking their firewood to make this structure. It is completely sound, and does not have a nail in it. Pretty cool. The other spot was the ruin of an old church. This is (theoretically) the spot where Method and Ciril got together and knocked out all the differences between the Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholics back in the 800's or so. They also did some other cool stuff regarding teaching (anyone ever use a teaching method?) and things like that. There was a small chapel near by that we managed to sneak into before they closed. There was some amazing artwork and some columns dating back to at least the 1200's (sorry, my Hungarian is not that good).

We returned home for some German hazing from my in-laws. Peter and I "enjoyed" a refreshing Underberg. You can find this stuff at German markets in the States. It is supposed to help your health and digestion and all those other claims they make when they are trying to convince you that something you are not going to enjoy is really good for you. Well, suprise, it's not too bad. Lots of cloves and other herby things. I wouldn't go out of my way to get it, but it wasn't too bad.

For our beer drinking friends, here are a couple of more selections:

Paulaner Hefeweißbeir, Paulaner Brauerei (http://www.paulaner.de/), 5.5% by volume. Light cloudy brown color with a thick, cloudy white head. The nose is bananas and bubble gum (really). Nice effervecent bubbly taste, with lots of malt and yeast (that1s the bananas you were smelling) with just a hint of hops blending everything together, and then hanging around on the back of your throat. A world class Hef. Accept no substitutes - like the Widmer one you get down the street. They aren't the same. Really.

And less you think we are doing nothing but sitting around drinking world class suds, may I offer:

Zlatý Bažant (quickly dubbed "Slarty Barfast" by the Hitchikers Guide fan), brewed by contract by the Heinecken Brewery, but really a Slovokian beer, 5.0% by volume. Color is right for a pils, but the head dissapears quickly. I get a little hops in the aroma, but not much. There are malt and hops in the flavor profile, but they are not going broke on the ingredients. Think of it as water with a little bit of flavoring added for fun. Not our best beer here. Not even close.

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On a more serious note. We just found out that the National Guard unit that Z's son, Nico is assigned to has been called up for assignment to Iraq. Please keep him (as well as all the other men and women in the millitary) in your thoughts and prayers as he reports for this duty.

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.

7/3 & 4/08 Not in a Philadelphia

And we’re off.

Hailey picked us up at 6:00 a.m. after a very short night. We had a huge electrical storm with lots of thunder and lightning that made sleep somewhat unlikely. Alright, waiting to the last minute to pack probably didn’t help a whole lot either. On the plus side, we both got a whole lot more sleep than usual on the plane!

We did a play several years ago at VSAA that had a short piece called “Philadelphia” in it. According to author David Ives, to “be in a Philadelphia” meant that you could order anything you want; a burger, a chicken sandwich, and they will bring you a cheese steak. By these standards, you can’t be in a Philadelphia in Philadelphia, as there is no cheese steak to be had in the airport. We toyed with using our four hour layover to grab a cab and go downtown for one of the famous sandwiches. Needless to say, as a vegetarian, I wasn’t that into it. But Z would be, and that’s reason enough. We took a pass this time, but maybe on the way back.

You begin to notice on international trips that you are going through the looking glass as you catch the last leg of your flight. Increasingly the people around you speak in a language that is not yours. At this point, your attention is increasingly drawn to the way people behave, the cultural similarities and differences. A mother, with a tired but beautiful smile on her face trying to keep her daughter awake before the flight. A father and son, both with a laptop out, the former a PC the latter a Mac (I wonder if they argue over the commercials).

I was lucky enough to draw one of those people on the international leg of the flight that sits down in front of you and instantly drops the seat all the way back and then leaves it there for the remainder of the flight. It gets to be a little claustrophobic and hard to read and stuff. No I didn’t smack her or bounce the back of the chair around. But I thought about it.

The nice mom from the airport ended up sitting right next to us. Needless to say you start to worry a little on a flight where you are hoping to sleep a bit and you see a kid right next to you. The poor lady was obviously exhausted, but was completely devoted to her daughter. I took mom about two hours to get daughter to drop off, and then she slept for the rest of the flight. So did mom.

We were met in Munich by Kyra and Jaden. Jaden insisted that I sit in the back so we could talk on the hour-and-a-half ride to Vilseck, their home. Jaden has reached the age where she can explain anything, so the conversation was pretty humorous (“…a car is made by putting for wheels, and then you add the sides, and then you add the top, and then…”).

We celebrated the fourth with dinner and conversation with several of Kyra’s friends in Vilseck. Kim and Nick hosted a barbecue, with Katie and Russell and Z and I as guests, as well as a few drop-ins. The gentlemen needed to drop out for a bit after one of the guests left and had an accident on the way home (no one hurt). A pleasant evening of conversation.

Several of you commented on our last trip that you enjoyed the beer notes. There should be several this trip so I’ll try and keep you posted.

Meister Pils, Schwarben Bräu Breweri, Stuttgart, 4.9% by Volume

To be fair, this beer is past its pull date. That said; the beer is more malty than hoppy. The nose is supposed to be Tettnanger according to the label (yes, they sell themselves on their aromatics). Very flavorful taste on the front of the mouth, with a nice chewy flavor that is all malt. Disappears on the back of the palette quickly, with little contribution to the overall flavor. A nice session beer. And yes, I enjoyed my session. (www.schwabenbraeu.de)

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…

7/24 thru 28, Keszthely & Zalacsany

A couple of days loafing around Keszthely. It is a town that is well set up for it. I get my morning walk in and come back and practice for a while. We grab some lunch and then Zia and I take a walk to people watch. Home to practice a little more, maybe update the blog, perhaps a nap, perhaps a swim in the warm lake, gab with Peter and Vera, a light dinner, and then back to the Boardwalk for the evening program and a gelato or a beer and some more people watching. If we are feeling enthusiastic, we will bring suits and go swimming again. Do I really have to come home?

On the first of our home visits, Kazi-Basci and Zsuzsa-Neni, with Klaudia, made it by this week. We had a barbecue, and I made Mediterranean Tofu Tias. Klaudia says she enjoyed them, and I believe her. Vera enjoyed them a lot, and then came up with an even better version later in the week using mushrooms instead of tofu. Everyone else ate dead animal flesh. Again, Zia will need to describe that part for you. Not part of my culinary experience this trip, sorry.

The next evening we visited Kazi and Zsusza’s vacation condo in Zalacsany, just down the road from Keszthely. The condos are built next to a castle. The condo is owned by an architect, who as a child dreamed of owning a castle. When this one became available, she hocked everything to buy it. She financed the effort by selling off the side yard. The person who bought it sat on it for a while, meanwhile she turned her castle into a resort hotel. The person who bought the side yard decided not to use it, so, putting herself into debt again, the architect bought the side yard back. She built a bunch of duplex condos, which she is now selling (a two bedroom one will set you back $50,000). Meanwhile, a championship golf course is going in across the street, with a major championship match scheduled there next year. I think property values will be going up soon, better act fast!

And so, we enjoyed the pool behind the castle. A beautiful day, maybe my farmer tan will disappear before the end of the trip. It could happen!

The next day I woke up not feeling very well due to dehydration. It has been unusually hot in Europe this summer, a continent that does not believe in air conditioning. This has lead to several deaths here this summer, over 25 in France as of last week and more than 14 in Spain. Balaton, a spring fed lake with no outlet has dropped more than 10 cm. in a week. So, lots of water, and better by evening.


*****

This evening we are the guests of Kazi-Basci and Zsuzsa-Neni at a "Gypsy Wedding" show put on by a pro group in Zalacsany. Needless to say the show is proceeded with schnapps (you knew that had to happen). They meet you at the gate with it, with a traditional dry biscuit chaser. There is a photographer there to memorialize your shudders for posterity (that they will be happy to sell you after the show for $59.99, or something...). Then into the performance hall.

They perform in a permanent structure in a meadow on the edge of town. A huge wooden stage is covered with an elaborate wooden scaffolding, with a canvas roof. The audience is in arena seating, with bench seats and a plank table in front of you. Two pitchers of very good, home-grown wine, one red, one white await your drinking pleasure. A recording is playing the last tune in the Hungarian Folk Suite that was the recessional for our wedding last year and is now entrusted to Z-Musikmakers - at least I got that tune right! Meanwhile the band is setting up and quickly checking mics. The band is two guitars, a mandolin, a female vocalist (who is the dancer when the band performs separate from this show), and a percussionist who plays milk jug. Really! You have to hear it to believe it, it is pretty incredible.

One of the actors is floating around behind the audience, posing for pictures with the audience (available following the show for $59.99). Zia explains that gypsy women traditionally wear clothing that doesn’t match, and is as bright as possible to attract attention. Somewhat like what I wear to school every day, only more tasteful, I guess.

The head gypsy of the band is called "Vaida." Our Vaida is the MC of this evening’s festivities. He evidently is an insult comic, according to Zia. He begins the show by introducing his wife ("once she was pretty, now she is my wife"). Zia at this point warns me that the script contains a certain amount of profanity. I pass the warning on to you, be fore warned that I am including comments from our Vaida, and they include a certain amount of profanity. You have been warned. On with the show...

The script is a horse opera, literally. Our hero is stealing a horse to impress a girl and win her as his wife. Unfortunately, he kills his future father-in-law in the process. ("I’ve never seen such a f*^&#%g ugly dead man.") Regrettably, he doesn’t stay dead. ("Never mind, I don’t have luck in life.") The wealthy horse owner and two side kicks return, and there are several of the tricks from our Puszta show of the other evening. At one point several of these tricks are done by a mule, ridden by the father-in-law, which, according to Zia, is incredibly difficult. ("He’s a poor cowboy, his horse is as big as a dog.") I hope, at this point, that you are catching on that the plot is pretty irrelevant here. The band is pretty hip, in a very subtle way. For example, at the end of this whole mule schtick, Vaida says, "get outta here," the band plays a real short instrumental version of "Hit The Road Jack." If you don’t know the tune, you probably missed it, but several folks in the crowd got a chuckle out of it.

So, on with the "plot." The wealthy guy wants to buy the girl, which leads into a scene where he is tricked into getting drunk on sacramental wine at the ceremony, and his bride is stolen away. Much dancing ensues. The dancing is a highly skilled cross between break dancing and the slappy dance. The percussionist is adding some pretty cool mouth percussion to the music at this point, in addition to anchoring the group with bass lines played by controlling how he slaps his hand on the end of the milk jug. It is pretty amazing.

There is a mistaken belief that Hungarian Folk Music and Gypsy Folk Music are the same thing. Although there is considerable overlap, instrumental differences, and melodic shapes and modalities are different. Having heard a lot of Hungarian Folk Music lately, the differences in this show are pretty evident, although hard to describe without playing you some examples.

Anyway, onward. Half-time brings the main course. We are dining on Paprikas this evening, beef for the carnivores and mushroom for the vegetarians. The side dishes include a regional specialty. It is a pasta, made by grating a hard dough into small discs, and then cooking with lentils. This is accompanied by white bread (and yes, it is way better in Europe than in the US). The Mushroom Paprikas was a little oily, but the pasta was very flavorful. Not my best meal here, but not too shabby either. Desert is a brownie like thing, not too sweet, more nutty. Fill up the wine glasses, and on with the show.

The opening number by the band includes some strictly non-traditional blue notes which had me laughing pretty hard. The police arrive, and search the audience for "horse thieves." The selected individual ends up on stage being used for target practice for a guy with the a Hungarian horse whip, which he is able to crack at the guys side and then wrap around his waist, making it look like he is hitting the guy.

The wedding party makes their appearance, carrying the wagon tongue (you can’t steal a wagon without the wagon tongue). The dance music for the wedding is sung, primarily on "La’s." The cops are back, and being corrupt (they speak German), are bribed off. ("We were broke, but we were happy.") A large finale dance thing ensues. Vaida thanks everyone, the dancers, the band ("Does the band have a CD? You bet! But it’s f*^&#$g expensive. It looks like a coaster. What are you thinking, charging so much?") The cast dances one last tune, bringing people from the audience up (bodily carrying them if necessary). We kill the wine, and clap along. The end of a great, and very funny show. Thanks to Kazi and Zsuzsa, and Peter and Vera for taking us!

Dave