Budapest, part II: Mental tourism

The second weekend:

Without a delayed flight this time, we were in Budapest early enough on Saturday to enjoy the day (and enjoy spending the rest of our money). So, once safely on terra firma, we wasted no time in getting down to business.

Our number 1 plan was to spend, spend, spend. Kate’s vote was for shopping and museums. My vote was for food. Thankfully, we compromised and ate a newly purchased pair of paprika-sprinkled socks.

Actually, as I’d mentioned before, Hungarians do like paprika. But their culinary art goes deeper than any one spice. With placement between the Slavs, Turks, Italians, and Austrians, Hungary has been a mixing bowl of cuisines for hundreds of years. And I was excited to splurge.

Without delay, we heeded the call of our stomachs and went to a popular Turkish restaurant on the Pest side of the river very close to our hostel. There we had some excellent stuffed grape leaves, chick pea goulash, and honey-flavored dessert.

We then walked off the calories near the parliament building, where we found this neat bridge-shaped memorial with some old Hungarian man standing on it.

We continued our walk by cruising on by the Blue Danube. Here Kate shows what taking Viagra can do to hair follicles.

We then walked south along the river toward the southern end of Pest, where we happened upon the most expensive patisserie in Hungary (so said our guidebooks) – the Gerbeaud. Excited, we sat down outside and ordered a poppyseed croissant and a couple warm drinks. Almost immediately we were disappointed, as my croissant was crispy and our outdoor views were marred by a homeless person eating fallen berries and begging for money. So, afterward, we hung out at this fountain with a kid who was insistent on making that lion growl “barf.”

Then, disappointed with the whole bad croissant thing, I was done with spending money on food for a while…so we headed toward the Buda side of the river, where it got a little more hilly.

On the other side of the river on top of a rocky mount called Gellért Hill is what’s called the Citadel, a Habsburg fortress built to ensure the manic Magyars were kept under control. This is where we were heading.

So we crossed the river and on our way to the citadel came upon the Rock Church, which in Hungarian is called the Sziklatemplom, which is much more fun to say if you ask me. Kate called it the Church of Rock! (cue Van Halen riff).

It’s basically a teeny church built into the mountain. If that’s not cool enough, it also is connected to about six miles of underground caves built by the Turks.

Following the upward climb, we made our way to a couple vantage points that offered great nightfall blicks (to use a German word) of the Pest side of the river.

Ultimately it led to the Fisherman’s Bastion, the most photographed sight in the city. It’s up here on this towery neo-Gothic stronghold that Kate and I enjoyed (perhaps a little too much) a very beautiful sunset.

The next day brought new opportunities to spend money. And spend we did. We started by celebrating Father’s Day in an oddly appropriate way for Kate – we saw the traveling Inca exhibit.

We followed that up with the intention of going to one of the famous Budapest bath houses, but as we couldn’t figure out which ones had only hot water and which ones were open on Sunday, we opted instead for lounging in the park.

We then walked, walked, walked around the Pest side of the river and took numerous dumb photographs of me “wearing” streetlamps as hats.

We walked so much, in fact, that Kate lost a leg in the process…oddly enough in front of a picture of a legless girl.

As walking had made the time go by quickly, and there was really not much of substance we did during this day (other than eat at a fantabulo all-you-can-eat and all-you-can-drink restaurant that served traditional Hungarian food), I’m going to list famous Americans who have Hungarian heritage
· Drew Barrymore
· Adrien Brody
· Jamie Lee Curtis (and Tony Curtis)
· Eva Gabor (and Zsa Zsa)
· Bela Lugosi
· Paul Newman
· Steven Spielberg
· Joe Namath
· Monica Seles
· Joe Theismann - former football player turned broadcaster
· Elie Wiesel
· Joseph Pulitzer
· Tommy Ramone - member of the Ramones
· Paul Simon
· Gene Simmons (KISS)
· George Pataki
· Harry Houdini
· Calvin Klein
· George Soros
Whew. So then it was nighttime and there was this churchything we liked but we couldn’t (or wouldn’t) find in the guidebooks….so we had to have our picture in front of it.

The next morning we headed to the big market hall to finish spending the rest of our money. There, we purchased some goodies for an early-afternoon picnic.

On what I like to think was a dare to myself, we bought the least-spicyest-looking raw pepper (along with cherries, cheese, sausage, and some other goodies).

My lips went numb. My eyes watered. My nose watered. But I kept on eating. I then started biting into seeds, which were even stronger, so I decided I had to clean the pepper out with my finger. Then, determined, I kept eating, eventually wiping my running nose with my now-spicy finger, which is just about the time my nose went numb. All in all, not a good idea. But, all in all, a very good trip.

Budapest, part I: Dental tourism

Kate and I traveled to the capital of Hungary for two straight weekends recently, ostensibly to have dental work done on the cheap (as prices are exorbitant here in wicked evil socialist Germany and this was recommended to us by several trustworthy parties). Our dentist appointments were at 9 a.m. on both Monday mornings. But thankfully, we only needed one. Why? Let me show you, you cute little inquisitive bug you.

The first Monday morning should have gone like this:

1) X-rays, exams, cleanings
2) Scheduling next visit (me for fillings; Kate for a crown)
3) $100
4) Handshake

Instead it went like this:

1) X-rays, exams, cleanings
2) No scheduling (I was “fine”; Kate needed a specialist)
3) Free
4) Hug

Don’t ask about numbers three and four. Or even number two (never ask about number two!). All we knew is that, instead of rushing around Budapest like we did the first weekend, trying to see all the sights, we had the second weekend all to ourselves. And it was wonderful. Here’s how it went.
The first weekend:

After a 10-hour flight delay due to unknown reasons, we arrived in Budapest LATE Saturday night, found our hostel, and slept. We woke up early-ish the next morning determined to cram in a bunch of sights.

This was my second time in Hungary’s capital and Kate’s first. I didn’t remember much about my first time, as it was only a couple hours during a 10-day driving tour of Europe my dad and I took in 2001. I did remember the Hungarian greeting “Servusz,” which is kinda like Aloha in that you can use it for hi and bye and I remembered that the exchange rate was confusingly high.

Our first stop, fittingly, was the ATM, as I didn’t have any Hungarian forints, the funny money used here. So, even though I hadn’t the slightest idea what the exchange rate was, I picked option four of six (75,000 Hungarian forints). It seemed right. And plus, in the States, if you pick the fourth option, it’s usually about $150, right?

(Assuming: 1 = $20; 2 = $60; 3 = $100; 4 = $150; 5 = $200; and 6 = “other”)

Well, my confidence in my memory and ATM protocol was outmatched by my ignorance of Hungary. Almost immediately after passing an exchange booth and seeing about $1 = 200 forints, we did some third grade math and figured that 75,000 forints was $40. Hmm…. we thought. The poverty established by communism must have lasted a little longer here. Things are going to be CHEAP!

So, off we went, eager to spend our monopoly money on an “expensive” breakfast. We stopped at the fanciest place (outdoor seating at Anna Café) on the fanciest pedestrianized strip (Vaci Utca), where we both ordered from the pricey side of the menu: I ordered a “typical” Hungarian dish (FYI – it was huevos rancheros with paprika) and Kate ordered the huevos rancheros with pesto. We were living it up!

In Hungary, anything with paprika can be called “traditional Hungarian food.” The Hungarians, who call themselves “Magyars” after the tribe of north-central Asians who settled here 1200 years ago and are still the cultural and linguistic ancestors of today's ethnic Hungarians, love paprika. Love it. They got the fever for the stuff when the Turks introduced it right after conquering the poor people. And today, Turks or no Turks, they still put it in everything. Sweet stuff. Salty stuff. If you put it in your mouth, it’s better with paprika. So I was excited to start this day of right.

Anyway, we ate it and loved it and couldn’t be more satisfied with ourselves for being “traditional.” But here’s where it gets stupid.

The waiter brought out the bill and wanted to be paid: 5,800 forints. OK, I thought. Here’s a 10,000. He gave me my change (a 200 forint bill and two 2,000 forint bill) and I thought, what the heck, keep one of the 2,000s. You could use it more than me.

I then excused myself to go to the bathroom, where I realized I have given the waiter a $10 tip. Wait a second, I thought. If we only got $40 out of the ATM and I just gave the waiter a $10 tip, then…(gerbil on hamster wheel….) I actually got $400 out of the bank! WHAT?! (Here’s me figuring it out)
After getting over the frustration of being so incompetent with money, I got a grip on life and decided that we’d better start spending this money – because if there’s anything I hate more than spending money, it’s playing exchange booth pachinko, where the house rules say you automatically lose 5-10% just for playing.

So we started enjoying ourselves. Budapest was actually two cities once upon a time: Buda, on the white-collar, Habsburg-loved, hilly side of the Danube, complete with a castle and a citadel, and Pest, on the flat, blue-collar, Turk- and Slav-loved side of the Danube. The Magyar people (who were taken over by and integrated with the Huns in the 1200s and still love to name their kids Atilla to this day) combined the two cities in the late 1800s and made it the capital of Hungary. Their language is not related to anything in the area, so it’s really quite an interesting and foreign place….with lots to explore.

Our first stop was the second largest synagogue in the world (and the largest one in Europe thanks to donations from the largest Jewish community still existing in Europe). We then walked along the Danube and caught a nice glimpse of the parliament. Afterward we enjoyed walking around the Fisherman’s Bastion area of town, perched high above the river, near the castle.
We then crossed the river again and headed for Heroes’ Square, a large pedestrian square with really not much going on. And ended up in a large and beautiful park.
Finally, as it is festival season in Europe, we bumbled upon a wine fest and enjoyed the local specialties, including wine, paprika vegetables, and this curious-looking and popular dessert, the Hungarian sweet log, which is basically dough wrapped in a layer of cinnamon-sugar and walnuts.

Then, since we had a dentist appointment the next morning, we then called it a night.

Three Dog Nights

We have been negligent. We apologize. We have been putting the needs of "others" before the needs of you, our dear blog readers.

Those rapscallion "others," by the way, were ewoks.
What can we say? They're cute and live in trees (just like I've always wanted to). Who wouldn't welcome them into their home and bed?

In reality, we were hosts to Jay and Linda's dogs for two weeks. Jay and Linda were off enjoying Greece, while Baci and Dodger enjoyed Pecos's shoddy attempts at hospitality.

The girls were good guests. All five of us peacefully slept in the guest bed, sat on the sofa watching movies, and went on long walks . . . well that's how I like to think of our time together.

Truthfully, most of the time with girls was spent with me working feverishly at the computer while they slept nearby. I did have to pause my work throughout the day to conduct the eight daily dog walks, but that was about all of the sunlight any of us saw. The dogs did enjoy some intermittent humping and barking, so some fun was had.

The girls have now returned to their home and I'm sure Jay and Linda are happy to be with them again. Pecos has resumed his normal schedule of sleeping all day and sleeping all night. I am a little less frantic since my first semester of school is done.

Here is a picture of me the morning after submitting my final project. It seems grad school is not making me prettier; hopefully it is making me smarter.

And as a tease, here's Justin in Budapest after our first foray into dental tourism. Look at those chompers!

Check back for the Budapest blog this weekend.

Tourgasm with Pecos, part V: Prague (Praha)

Thank you, Al Gore. Thank you for scaring hordes and hordes of normally sensible Americans into visiting every last scrap of the earth's beauty before the polar caps melt and whole countries disappear into the ocean. I’m pretty sure every person who saw or ever heard of your movie was in Prague’s Old Town Square on Memorial Day weekend.

Next, please tell them to buy Chipotle stock before it all disappears.

Actually, Prague wasn’t too bad. Our arrival in the “city of a hundred spires” was preceded by an arduous drive from Krakow (six hours) through some poorly maintained backroads. This drive was punctuated by a very memorable moment at the border, where Kate and I had stopped to spend the last of our Polish Zloty currency, which was about $40 worth. Now, while there are many popular border crossing stations in these countries, such as on highways or main roads, the one we were at was teeny….so we did what we could to spend our money, including buying lunch, Polish candy, Polish beer, and an expensive basket of freshly picked Polish strawberries.

In the end, we actually gave away the remaining money (less that $1) to the cashier at the 7-eleven-type store, and went on our way to show our passports, right after I took this shot to prove that I, too, could be Polish.

So we got in our car and were ready to drive the remaining 100 feet to the checkpoint, happy to have finally spent our money and giddy with joking about shirtless Polish men and eating a basket of strawberries for dessert.

At this point, may I add, we’d been in Poland for four days, three of which consisted of very long drives. And all that time, we followed the new Polish rules (as of April 2007) of having your headlights on at all times when driving. Never once did we drive anywhere without putting our headlights on. Not once.

Now, like I said, it was 100 feet to the checkpoint. I started the car, pulled out of the 7-eleven-type store’s parking lot, and coasted down to the checkpoint, where there were three cars in front of me. The first car spent a total of seven seconds driving through, simply flashing the passports at the smiling policemen. No problems. He left and the remaining three of us simply scooted forward.

It was then that another Polish policeman looked at me and pointed me toward another checkpoint. “Oooh,” I thought. “This is probably a lot of traffic for these guys here. Express lane here we come.”

I was wrong. The friendly Polish policeman then informed me that it is illegal to drive without headlights on in Poland. Ha, I thought. I’ve been driving for 30 frigging hours in this country. I knew that. Silly me.

So I told him that we simply just pulled out of the 7-eleven-type store’s parking lots 15 seconds before he told me to pull over. I had simply forgotten for 15 seconds.

“Now maybe next time you remember,” he said, smiling.

Then came the rigmarole. He took our passports for processing and told us it was a 100 Zloty fine. This, ironically for us, turned out to be $38, almost the exact amount we had just blown senselessly. So, off I went to the exchange place to trade dollars for Zlotys when I was stopped by a female police officer who said she needed to see my passport to enter the country. “Buh?” I said, pointing to my parked car less than 60 feet away still on the Polish side of the checkpoint. I hadn’t left the country yet. No dice. So, back to the nice, smiley policeman I went, retrieving my passport in humility and then, once again, back to the bitchy cop to show it to her. This time, though, she was gone. No where to be found. I stood there, alone and in the middle of the road for about 10 seconds, frustrated by the incomprehensibility of the ordeal. Flagrantly, I raised my passport to the whole world, showing each direction in an embarrassingly perturbed way that I was, in fact, coming into this country that I never left. But no one was around.

So into the exchange place I went, irritated by the occurrences of the last two minutes, and stood impatiently at the counter. But there was no one there. Behind me, I noticed a sluggish movement. A young blonde woman who was reclining outside, sunning herself, took a puff of her cigarette, looking at me. Then another. Then finally, after a third puff, she idly snuffed it out in a nearby ashtray and slowly rose, lurching toward me. This was the exchange lady. When she got behind the counter, I handed over a $20 and two $10s, asking for Zlotys. Without even picking up my money, she looked at one of my $10s and said no. “NO?” I thought. She then pointed to a fold in the money where it looked a little faded.

I raised my eyebrows and opened my mouth. Potty mouth words jumped on my tongue, demanding to be uttered. I pushed my tongue against my cheek, ensuring nothing came out. “How about euros?” I asked.

After getting money, I rushed back to the car and waited for the nice policeman to take it away. In a minute he came, took the money, and asked for some more information, such as father’s name and address. Rather than dictating to this nice ESL man, I wrote it down, putting my Germany address and mentioning that I work for the U.S. Army. His eyes got huge.

In another twist of irony, it turned out that he had a soft spot for the U.S. Army, after serving side by side with them for a year in Iraq. “You should have told me before,” he said. “We could have worked something out.”

Anyway, that was the event. Now, back to Prague.

Our hostel was bright and airy and included a balcony with a great view of some nearby towers.

Within minutes of dropping our stuff off, we had walked through the old town square, walked across the famous Charles Bridge, walked down to the Vltava River so Pecos could cool down, and saw this weird moving statue of men peeing.

Prague is beautiful. We’d been here before (me several times, Kate once) and both agree that, other than the clogging tourists, this city is spectacular. It is the quintessential European city – big but neighborhoody, with narrow cobblestone alleys a vast array of historic and stylish statues, churches, squares, and bridges, and a huge castle within walking distance…all set along side a narrow but scenic river.

Later that night, I used the Czech I had learned several years back to order Indian food from a Russian woman while sitting next to a contingent of Asian men (what else in this multicultural city?).

Once darkness overcame the city, we purchased two $12 tickets for a ghost tour of the old town. On Kate’s request, of course. Unfortunately, the tour was mediocre, with only four stops and pedestrian stories about nice butchers, priests, and lovers being killed. No evil ghosts with axes sticking out of their heads who still haunt the nearby surrounds at night, frightening innocent people. Nothing too gruesome or ghostly, at all really, except for the manner in which the odd old Czech tourguide told us about each of the sites. Very stilted. Very goading. Very rehearsed. Too rehearsed.

Anyway, then the night – and our trip – was over. We’d seen a lot, eaten a lot, taken a lot of photos, and Pecos has added two countries to his list. It was a good but long jaunt and I think all three of us were glad to be heading home.

Tourgasm with Pecos, part IV: Krakow

Krakow rocks! If this place isn't on your list of places to see before you die, add it. It’s awesome. Kate was so surprised by the place, I practically had to fight to keep her eyebrows down.

Don't believe us? What about believing UNESCO, the UN organization that has been cataloguing outstanding cultural or natural sights since 1978? Although today they have 830 sites of great cultural heritage, in 1978 they had four. And one was Krakow’s historic city center. Krakow is the Boston of Poland: an old-fashioned cultural and intellectual nexus, complete with one of Europe's largest medieval marketplaces, central Europe's second oldest university, and scads of rowdy British lads on holiday stag parties sucking down cheap beer and ogling the beautiful young fillies. Here are some now!
Since the year 965, Krakow has been cool, reigning as the capital city of all of Eastern Europe. A lot of money has been poured into this city over the years, and a lot of remarkable architectural complexes were constructed. One of the first things we did when we arrived around 5 p.m. on Friday was head right toward one of those remarkable complexes – Wawel Castle.

Any good tourist guide will tell you that the castle, which sits high atop Wawel Hill overlooking the barge-filled Vistula River and the city, was the royal seat for six centuries of Polish kings with the kinds of names that make learning history fun: Boleslaus the Bold, Boleslaus the Chaste, Boleslaus the Squintmouth, Ladislaus the Elbow-High.

They’ll also tell you that Wawel Castle – with parts dating back to the 10th century –remains gorgeously intact despite Nazi occupation.

What they might not tell you is that the castle is home to what Hindus believe is one of the seven most powerful energy spots on the planet. According to the Chakra belief system, energy rings encircle the globe, only connecting at seven points: Jerusalem, Mecca, Rome...and Krakow’s Wawel Hill.

I had actually heard this before and was half-expecting to see peaceful long-haired types holding hands and kissing the castle wall. But our timing on that Friday evening must have been off. Either that, or they were scared away by the raucous British boys.

Our next stop was the famous main square, Rynek Glowny. Dominated by the twin-towered St. Mary’s Basilica and the behemoth Cloth Hall, the square looks pretty much the way it did in the Middle Ages. However, as vast as it is, the square has a folksy intimacy, bustling with horse-drawn carts, street musicians, cotton-candy vendors, gawking tourists, and break dancing Polish kids.

This square is where Krakow lives. And it’s gorgeous. We had dinner and beers at one of the fancier restaurants on the square, probably the most expensive area in Poland. Although this is very unlike us, the purchasing price parity was pretty favorable.

I had a very civilized goat cheese and walnut salad while Kate had some sort of fish with head and scales still attached. After it was served, she asked me very pleasantly if we wanted to go halves. No. It doesn't matter how good the fish tastes, that's a lot of work for sharp little bones.

Afterward, we indulged in dessert and coffee at another restaurant. I had a crepe suzette and cappucino while Kate had a banana split. The cost for dinner and dessert: $30.

While walking around that night, I didn’t see a single McDonalds, Starbucks, or other American empire there. And, other than a line of police vehicles and tinted-windowed BMWs who were apparently protecting and transporting someone with A LOT of money and power, we didn’t see any motorized vehicles either. Just attractive and fashionable people and lots of outdoor seating. Gotta love Europe.

Afterwards, we walked back to our luxurious six-bed hostel room (don’t ask…) and slept off the calories.

The next morning we rose early and headed out with the dog to the river, stopping by this statue of a fire-breathing dragon, which really breathes fire (as you can see).

The story is that the castle was built on top of the dragon's lair, which upset the dragon so much he took the king's daughter. In a scheme to get her back, the king hired someone to dress a lump of sulfur up in sheep's wool and use it as bait. The dragon took the bait, knew things didn't feel right in his stomach, drank the water from the nearby river, and exploded. Nice, huh? Here's a cute picture to get you over the idea of dragon bits.

Next, we stopped by the leafy ring that encircles the old town. This ring, about 200 feet wide, is called the Planty, and it sits where the 13th century protective walls and moat once stood. Complete with large fountains, walking paths, and benches, it’s a great place for a dog like Pecos to get out some energy and bark at young kids, both of which he's very good at.

We then explored parts of the old town that lie outside the town square. Here we found the city’s main gate, the “Great Barbican,” which was Europe’s most insurmountable piece of martial architecture when it was constructed, with three-meters thick walls, a 30-meter-wide moat, and 130 holes for archers.
Afterward, we took a LONG ASS WALKING TOUR IN THE RAIN OF SIGHTS WE’D ALREADY SEEN. It was then that I discovered my inner athlete – he’s a retired asthmatic bowler named Ted.

One interesting bit of info learned on the tour was about an unknown bugler who was shot in the neck by an arrow during the first raid on the city in the 1200s. Apparently, the bugler had seen the invading Tartars a little too late, and, right in the middle of sounding his warning call, he was shot, abruptly stopping the call.

Today, that brave bugler is commemorated every hour (even through the night) by the playing of that very same warning call. Here’s a shot of him doing it.
Finally, after a dinner of beer and pierogis, we went back to the area our hostel was in to see the darker side of Krakow’s history – a part of town called Kazimierz. This tightly packed warren of crooked cobblestones and peeling facades is Krakow’s old Jewish district, hauntingly preserved and evoking the past of some 17,000 Jews who were ghettoized before being shipped to nearby Auschwitz and Birkenau. This area came to attention in 1993 as the setting for Steven Spielberg’s film “Schindler’s List.” Other than occasionally bullet holes and a thick layer of ash and dust from neglect, the part of the city looks just as it did then, with seven synagogues, a cemetery, and other cultural remains preserved. We had dessert at a Jewish restaurant here and were accompanied by Klezmer music and some passing Germans who giggled at my tasteless Ikea shirt, which read “Free meatball eater” on the back. Here's me drinking "coffee with bitter herbs." The "herbs," by the way, were vodka I was surprised to find out. What makes Krakow interesting to me is that it has so many personalities. The river made it an economic powerhouse. The kings made it a proud and historic city. The university made it an exuberant, youthful, and intellectual magnet. The Holocaust made it a terrible reminder of war. Communism made it a forgotten city. The cheap living makes it a resthome for adventurous expats. The energy lines make it a pot-smoking hippy city. And the cheap booze makes it a brothel for Brits.

It’s a city of about 760,000 people. But it’s also a city of about the same number of reasons to go. If it’s not already the next Prague, it will be very soon. Plus, Pecos enjoyed it.