TR Budapest Christmas that Wasn't!

“THE BUDAPEST CHRISTMAS THAT WASN’T

Took a little trip for the holidays to Hungary. The plan was to spend 3 or 4 days in Eastern Hungary, then onto it’s capital Budapest for 4 days. Our first night was only 5 hours of driving for a nice motel stay in Graz, Austria. I say a “nice” stay, because hotels in most of Germany and Austria are to American expectations, those of Italy by far are not! Next days drive of 3 hours takes us into Eastern Hungary to a city (town really) called Heviz. Now it’s not been said yet that our sweet 4yr old is carrying with her a little snuffle bug she picked up at her Italian preschool, which by the time we arrive into beautiful Hevitz has advanced to diarrhea. Not a great problem, just some concerning due to the fact that we also have a 2 yr old and 6 yr old. The differences at the border crossing of Austria and Hungary are immediate and sudden. The main roads in Hungary are very much fewer than those of Austria, Germany, and Italy. And as soon as you cross the border, the few main roads that exist are more akin to backroads elsewhere. The scattered houses and farmsteads are all equally plain looking, to the extreme, are of unpainted and unsided cement, placed randomly instead of more normal community friendly designs, nearly all of which show great age. Our border crossing obviously sees very few Americans, as our documents and vehicle inspections were quite uncomfortably lengthy.
We stay 3 nights in Heviz, which is a tourist town famous for it’s lake-sized thermal spring. Very incredible to see, this lake has beautiful, wooden spa facilities on one end of the 1.5 hector lake (about 5 acres). The hot thermal springs there completely refills the lake every 23 hours. Much to our dismay, an age limit of 12 yrs ended that wondrous fantasy for us. Although it was bitterly cold, the steaming lake looked soooo inviting. Next day we meet up with Peter Csabai (pronounced Chow-boy), a Hungarian friend of our neighbors. He takes us to a 250 yr old Festetich Castle in the nearby town of Keszthely. Not a house for the king, this very beautiful Baroque, white castle housed some of Hungary’s past aristocracy. The gigantic stables now hold the house’s preserved stagecoaches, carriages, and elegant wagons. This mini-museum also contains many old saddles, horse paraphernalia, riding clothes and boots, and horse-whips. To imagine the fine living these past inhabitants enjoyed through the 1700’s is incredible! And by now of course I’m wiping my 2 yr old’s nose as if it were a Hungarian thermal spring… Now comes our time to join the growing group of Hungarians to tour this amazing castle. We all don velvet shoe slips to protect the floors, and our group advances through a labyrinth of incredible rooms, decorated with gigantic paintings, rooms made completely of burl walnut, or wormy chestnut, rare grand porcelain vases covered with tiny intricate flowers, and a library that compares to few that I’ve seen in the past. Not a gigantic library, but a grand one for sure, housing amazing volumes of priceless antique books, and more than half of which is in Latin. Our friend Peter translated the guide’s Hungarian descriptions, saying that when the Germans arrived in the second great war, some great-minded, low wage caretaker bricked and mortared the outer entrance, and decorated the adjoining room entrance with a hidden, nailed shut bookshelf. The Germans came, destroyed or stole great amounts of treasures (a great deal of which has since returned), and left, completely unaware of this humongous room filled from floor to ceiling of priceless literature. Our tour guide stops the 18 or so of us in yet another amazing room, and explains some of the beautiful décor. Peter whispers to us the broken English version, and then the room grows completely quite, as our eyes absorb this incredible history. Then suddenly from my side, just beyond the little hand I gently held, came this horrific noise. A sudden huge boom of gassy, splattery #&%!$, of such intensity and duration as to boggle the mind! All sets of eyes slowly descend on my son, who is semi-crouched in a Sumo stance, his face contorted as a Sumo as well….. Then a wretched stench…..! Naturally it was required of me to leave behind the stroller and baby bag at the front door , so the remaining tour sped up quite noticeably, I thought. Out of the castle and into the old section of Keszthely, we find a Pharmacy. In we go, because my Sumo boy is greatly complaining about his bloated stomach. Peter receives a cell call just as we enter, and upon meeting the 2 ladies behind the counter, I soon realize that they don’t speak Italian as I do, no German as my wife does, and no English. So as I’m demonstrating my boy’s problems with hand, face, and belly motions, they look at me dumbfounded. Just as Peter enters, Silas deflates himself into his diaper almost as dramatic as in the castle. Well, both ladies certainly understood that! And we all laugh at Silas speaking for himself, not needing a translator whatsoever. Arriving back to our cars, 2 pink tickets lounge under our wiper blades, parking tickets. Peter laughs and says don’t worry about it, just throw it away. I say no way, this will go into our photo album!!
We then visit the long finger lake in Eastern Hungary called Balaton. Pretty frigid in the winter, but incredible in the summer no doubt, as many Germans and Austrians visit, people famously known for not having concern for modern conveniences, like clothing. No doubt, this place would hapnin’ in the summertime! We visit for much of the day with Peter’s incredible parents, in the lake town of Balatonboglar. Peter’s Mom fixed us an incredible Hungarian feast with this nation’s staple, goulash, filled with fresh paprika, another famous Hungarian staple. Here you can buy fresh ground paprika to use (and they use it in almost everything), or buy strands of dried sweet peppers that paprika comes from; Peter stated that most foods cooked goulash-style require a tossed-in paprika pepper, rather than the spice itself. Peter’s father, knowing that I collect wine, gifts me Balatonboglar’s version of Champagne!
Three days into our trip, I have 3 snotty noses, and 2 with diarrhea. My poor Sumo boy is now rashing quite badly, and I fear bleeding if this medicine don’t kick in ASAP!! All is well as can be I guess, so it’s tally-ho onto Budapest, December 23. Simply put, Budapest is cool. It’s actually 2 cities separated by the great Danube River, Buda lies on the West bank and Pest is the Eastern one. We arrive at dusk, and meet up with Peter’s brother Janos (pronounced Yanosh), who escorts us to our wonderful apartment. After eating an incredible Hungarian meal nearby, we unwind and wash the children, as these recent days very frequent washing is required, molto poveri! Anche Papa’ e Mamma! Lying there, only about a half hour away from the arrival of Christmas eve, I suggest that we spend tomorrow seeing all we can in Budapest and then go home the next morning, for a later and longer return to this great city. My idea hits jackpot and we slumber with smiles. Apart from our sickly horde, just yesterday, Peter mentioned that a recent Hungarian law to benefit all employees requires that all stores be closed for Christmas holiday the 25th and 26th, pretty much stunting our Christmas in Budapest, not to mention our sickly horde. Next morning we wake with our action plan ready for go, when our 6 yr old enters our room and solemnly apologizes for having pee’d in the bed last night. I tell her no worries, we’ll get her cleaned up and hit the Hungarian breakfast downstairs! Rising from my bed, a familiar smell fills my nose; my dearest has dirt-squirted herself fully, from midback dang nearly to her knees. Awe man, into the shower, my wife tags our fouled daughter, I tag the seriously fouled fold-out couch/bed and sheets. Half an hour later, we’re heading to breakfast ….in Budapest! Loading up at breakfast (for that’s not possible in Italy, they don’t do breakfasts), our sweet-6 relays to me that she don’t feel too well. Then proceeds to vomit into my emptied coffee mug, luckily my emptied LARGE coffee mug, and then another. I hover over the precious to consol her, and to protect the other guests from the grisly scene. My wife and I look at each other, baggy eyes, slumpy and tired, and agree, screw this Christmas in Budapest, let’s just go home. So we drive around Budapest for an hour or so, see a few of the sights and clip off a couple of pictures: the Danube, the House of Parliament, Fisherman’s Bastian, and Hero Square. The historic downtown of Pest is grand and jam-packed full of stores, block after block after block.
So then we headed home, quick as I could, 7.5 hours, through Zagreb, Croatia and Ljubljana, Slovenia. 95-100 miles per hour (quite unproblematic in most of Europe, and in our Toyota Sienna, very cozy cruising). Some points of interest however. One is that it’s so wonderful to see a population and nation that so loves Americans and what America does. Much of developed Western Europe is appalled that Bush was reelected, and I have to say that I am quite dismayed at Italy’s negative ideas of the US. Hungary is quite the opposite, and frankly I love to see it. Hungarians show incredible hospitality! Another interesting thing in Hungary: you never ching-ching your beer glasses, you toast only with wine! In 1840 the invading Austrians hung Hungary’s leaders and generals and toasted their executions with beer. To this day, a salute with beer is an insult.”

“Ain't that cute, my caca expression was changed to squibly q's!”

“Wow NA, that's something else.”

“Gotta watch out for them Eastern European kitchens. Their cooking is a bit greasier than most of the west, and if you're stomach ain't used to it -- look out.

I remember the first time we met up with some family in Yugoslavia in '89 (now the southern part of Croatia), I got violently sick every time we ate out somewhere. Eating in didn't cause too much of a problem, I guess because my grandma had enough of an influence on the cooking to not upset my stomach. But yeah, it was interesting; i was about 10 at the time.

Since then, I've found that antacid tablets help out (though it's hardly heartburn), and have always carried loads on every visit. Most of my family is from Slovakia, and many of them still live there. Don't get me wrong, the food tastes great; it's just not very "American Stomach" friendly.

I'd love to get back out there someday and backpack the Tatra Mountains. We just don't have mountains like that here in North America. But that's a whole other topic altogether...”

“Do ya spreak da language, Phantom?”

“Naked Ape, What a great trip report!! Thanks! Your description of "dirt-squirted" made me laugh out loud, especially since I am a mother and I know of what you speak.

I have heard much of you from Jerbear, and I hope to some day get the chance to meet you and your family in person.”

“Samosrieme [SAHM oh* sryeh meh]. (Of course.)

*The 'o' is pronounced like the 'a' in water.”