I, however, have chosen to spend a few days in Hungary, hanging out with my Mom and visiting the Hungarian part of our family. Klari and Michael moved back here after nearly 30 years in the States, and it's been great to spend time with them and their son, also named Michael, who is about my age and has been working in Europe. When I walked through the door of their home Klari greeted me with a Hungarian welcome, "God has brought you here." Did I ever think the Italians were affectionate? They do the two-cheeked kiss here, but several rapid micro kisses on each side.
I flew from Rome to Vienna, the closest airport to Koszeg, which is just over the Austrian border. We spend a half day in Vienna, enjoying cafe und kuchen at Demel's and a trip to the Kunsthistorisches Museum. The one problem was the weather, which was exactly the same as it had been when I was first there eight years ago in July: freezing, windy, and rainy. To top it off, my shoe was falling apart, just like it was on my first trip.
Anyway, Koszeg is a small but richly pictureseque city. The mountains are green and lush, many old buildings remain from ancient times (when the battle of Koszeg defeated the Turks), and window boxes of pretty flowers spill from the houses. Little chapels are found at the corners of some streets, and unmanned farm stands operate on the honor system: you can pay what you wish for flowers, raspberries, narrow orange peppers, and toek, a kind of long blond zucchini made into soup with paprika and sour cream. The raspberries are divine, the first I've tried that remind me of the ones I collected in my grandmother's garden with my brother and cousins when we were little.
We took a brief trip to Budapest, a three to five our train ride to the middle of the country. It was there that I discovered that the qualities I thought to be uniquely a part of my grandmother (aggressiveness, pushiness, loud talking) are actually family, if not national characteristics. We visited Gabor, my third cousin or so, who is working and studying in Budapest. He was a skinny kid with hardly any English when he came to the states 14 years ago, and it was pleasure to see him all grown up and speaking English so well.
Despite the nice pictures below, Mom and I didn't end up seeing that much of the town. This was due partly to the inconvenient train schedule, which required an afternoon departure from Budapest (with an uncomfortable, un-airconditioned, smoking-only train). We also had a travelling companion, who shall remain anonymous, who made for rather feisty company. For her heavy-footed gait and singular build, we shall call her Dumpling.
When I come to a new city, or even when I'd like to explore an old one, I like to walk around. Alot. I discovered this was not the easiest plan for my Mom and Dumpling, who moved slower and were less interested in seeing the sites. When I was up at seven, rearin' to go, Dumpling was cooking eggs and raiding Gabor's fridge to make us breakfast. I learned that force-feeding and hostile generosity seem to be engendered in the Hungarian mind. During our walks, we couldn't pass by a restaurant or even a hot dog stand without Dumpling offered to buy us a second lunch. When Mom pointed out a bakery which was offering pogarcsa, a fluffy kind of biscuit, Dumpling was running up the steps, buying us a kilo. (A kilo is 2.2 pounds.) Even when we were running to make the train, she wanted to stop and buy water, despite our armloads of fruit, juice, and snacks! Between all the food and logistics of getting around, we only managed to see a few parts of the Pest side of the city, not the hilly Buda part with Parliament and other monuments.
It is a beautiful town, very much reminiscent of Paris, with the one striking feature that everyone speaks Hungarian. Let's discuss this language for a moment. Whereas other languages throw you a bone with a few cognates, this language might as well come from outer space. People speak very clearly, every single syllable is understandable, and I have no idea what they are saying. Mom grew up hearing some Hungarian, and can understand quite a few key words, which I find deeply remarkable. This skill came in handy with Dumpling, who spoke only a few words of English. Though I did learn how to say nem, nem, nem to her offers of more food. As I was taking in the city, I also stared at the Hungarians, wondering how their brains are wired to speak the way they do.
Me and Mom. Me and Gabor.
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