Day 10 - It Ain't Over 'Till You're Home

Getting up at 3am is no fun. Zora was staying with us in the flat for the final night so that we can take the bus together to the airport, and help her with her luggage. Her ankle is much better, but she’s walking around with a cane. So this works out well for all of us because she also has to shut down the place.

In the morning, we all got ready, packed away the final things, and began the process of shutting down the flat. Since the flat is only used when Zora, her family, or guests come into town, all the electricity and hot water provided by the building gets shut off. So I shut off the hot water (the flat is kept above freezing by hot water running throughout the flooring) and as we had already taken the luggage downstairs, Zora turned off all of the circuit breakers. We then walked out and closed the door. 

Zora has a friend that has a key to the flat, and after Zora leaves, her friend goes to the flat and removes any leftover food from the refrigerator before it goes bad.  She also checks for anything else that needs to be done, and that everything is ok.

The last thing to do was to lock the door. When Zora tried to lock it from the outside, the key wouldn’t turn. Hmmm. She then tried to unlock the door to see what the problem was…and the key wouldn’t turn. Uh oh. Jiggle, jiggle, jiggle. Nothing. We’re locked out, and the food in the just-now-powered-off refrigerator - is locked in. Ugh.  

Zora had given both Diane and myself a set of keys, and someone, I’m not naming names here, but it wasn’t me, left the key in the lock on the inside. It just so happens that when you do that, it prevents someone on the outside from getting in. Now I’m not blaming - the person I won't name who isn’t me - because Zora forgot to tell us about it, and this has happened before. So there’s enough blame to go around – except for me. So Zora is going to have to call a locksmith to fix it. Problem is that there’s meat in the refrigerator, and Zora’s friend can’t wait around for the locksmith to show up and do the repair. So the only person that might be able to be there when the locksmith comes is the doorman. At least there’s someone who can help. There’s nothing we can do about it at the moment because the bus was going to arrive any minute to pick us up. And there it was. So we left.  

At Ferihegy airport in Budapest, we found a well-disorganized mess at the ticket counter with everyone trying to get in the line that wasn’t a line. While we were doing our best to locate an opening for online check-ins to get away from the riffraff, Zora made a profound statement – “In Hungary you don’t stand in line, you push.” Kinda says it all.

After a short flight from Budapest to Munich, we had to take the steps down to the tarmac where Zora was expecting a wheel chair, but no one showed up. So we get her onto the bus from the plane and she has to stand because the seats in the bus are raised up off the floor by about a foot. It would have been too troublesome to try to get her up to the seat. This bus was not for those who disabled in some manner.

We get into the gate area and again, no one is there with a wheelchair. So she speaks with some airline people hanging around the gate, and they are not very sympathetic. However, one does call for a wheelchair after some further discussion, and an “I no speak English” from one of the other agents – whereby Zora said something to her in German! Boy, was that agent ever surprised.  Zora is a very smart woman.

Now Zora has a problem in that she has a very, very short connection for her flight to Newark – she has only a few minutes. The flight was slightly delayed because of minor fog, but the captain came on the speaker system and said that we would still be on-time (on-time for an airline is being as much as 15 minutes late.)

So the wheelchair finally shows up, but the agents hanging around doing nothing refuse to push her. They claimed that someone was waiting for Zora at ground level, but they must have been waiting at the front of the plane while Zora exited at the rear. So in order to get Zora to her gate on time, Diane volunteered to push the wheelchair to the gate. However, we had to go back through security because of EU and US rules, or something like that. But no one could tell us, or was even the least bit interested in telling us where we needed to go. No connecting flight info, no directions, nothing – at all. This was my first time in the Munich airport, so I was clueless and just followed the signs for connecting gates. Hey, I’ve done this many times before.

We exited security and Diane wasn’t so sure that we were going in the proper direction. So just as we passed through the security gates, and while they were still open, she tries to go back in pushing the wheelchair and Zora, and the alarms begin going off. After a second or two, with me pleading with her not to do that, she relented, and in a few moments we found the Lufthansa customer service desk where several other people were crowding around going to Newark as well.

Unfortunately, the agent said that they were now too late to get to the plane because we had to go back through security and passport control that required at least an hour. Geez! Here’s Zora in a wheelchair, we were, according to the pilot, on-time, and now she and the others for Newark can’t get on the plane because we’re late? So I don’t understand. How can we be both on-time, and late, at the same time? Makes no sense.

Now in the US, on most flights, they announce the connections, and if delayed, they ask the people to wait for the others to deplane so they can make their connections. And there’s an agent waiting when you exit to help. Not here. Nothing. No announcements, nothing about connections, no one at the gate to help. Screwed.  

After a bit, Diane and I had to depart for our flight, so we had to say goodbye to Zora, hoping that she would be ok. The agent at the Lufthansa desk told us that she would get someone to take her to the gate – whenever that would be?

So Diane and I pass through security that was practically empty, and then passport control, which was practically empty as well. We had about 30 minutes before boarding, and while we were waiting, we heard an announcement for final boarding for Zora’s flight. What? Apparently, she and the others could have made the flight! We had passed through, so why couldn’t Zora? What a pain. All that could have been avoided if the agent had just called ahead to the gate and told them that a bunch of connecting passengers were on their way. United Airlines and Lufthansa. Ugh.

The flight back to Dulles was 9 hours. The pilot took the long route through the North Pole and back so that he could get additional frequent flyer miles. This was 2 hours longer than the inbound flight we took. But our trip home was uneventful – until we reached Dulles.

Once we got off the plane we used the facilities, and then made it through passport control and customs in record time. It was mostly empty.  I then paid for my parking and left the terminal to catch our bus to the long-term parking lot. While waiting for the bus, I was going to check my Blackberry for messages when I realized I had left it in the bathroom - on the other side of immigration! DOH!!! Oh geez, what did I do?

I realized immediately that it was going to be a very painful experience getting it back. Worse than I thought.

I went over to the security office near the immigration point and asked how to retrieve it? They said that I needed a United Airlines representative that had clearance to retrieve it for me, and pointed me in the direction of the United baggage claim desk. So I headed over to the United baggage counter - all the way on the other side of the concourse – about a 5 minute walk.

Once I got to the baggage claim desk and told them my problem, the gentleman there told me that I had to go to the customs office – back where I just was. I could already see where this was going – can’t you? I mentioned that the security officer told me that I needed a United rep with clearance to get into the secure area. The baggage guy said he was sorry, but that wasn’t correct, and that only the customs persons could do that.

So I went back across the airport and found another security officer because I didn't see an immigration or customs office, and reiterated my problem. He told me exactly what the first guy said, that I needed a United rep to get back into the secure area. But after I told him what the United baggage agent said, he told me to go to the ticket counter and get someone there.

So, I hightailed it back across the airport again to the United ticket counter. I saw an agent who wasn't busy and asked.  She said that I needed to use the red phone over by the customs gate - back on the other side of the airport, to call INS (Immigration and Naturalization Service) and they would call the proper party. So I run back over to the other side of the airport, AGAIN, and pick up the red phone. 

So far I’ve done about a half mile of walking, power walking, and just plain running back and forth, all the way across the airport, four times, from one end to the other. I’m out of breath, sweating profusely, with Diane still waiting outside by the curb.

So I pick up the red phone and it rings through to INS. A woman answers and I tell her my story. She tells me that she can’t call anyone, and that I have to do that through the white courtesy phone.  Hmmm, white courtesy phone?

I look around and don’t see it so I go over to the information help desk nearby and ask. “I’m sorry,” she says, “Dulles doesn’t have a white courtesy phone. Other airports do, but not Dulles.” Oy. Not Dulles.

What now? No one wants to take responsibility, no one knows what to do, and no one wants to make a phone call. Have a nice day!

I go grab Diane so that she isn’t waiting and wondering if I’ve been sucked up into a jet engine, or have been swept away to another country for interrogation and torture.  

We go back over to the information desk, and they suggest that I just wait for someone to come out of the secure area and grab them. Well, I did one better. I just walked into the place when someone came out and the doors were opened. There was a rep standing there and waved me in, seeing that I was in sort of a panic.

I told her my problem and she pointed me to the United desk right behind me. I told my story ONCE AGAIN, and one of the gentlemen nodded as if this has happened a zillion times before, and took off into the netherland of immigration and customs.

About 10 minutes later he comes back ---- with my cell phone!!! Hooray! I shook his hand heartily and thanked him profusely. And left to go home. 

Tomorrow, I’ll summarize the trip and consider what I would do next time.

Maybe I’ll limit the strudel, and wait until I get home to use the facilities?

Welcome home!

Day 9 - The Last Day

One of the things that I've thought about since I've been writing this blog, is that I am absolutely certain that everyone involved in this trip who is reading this, Zora, Erzsi, Zsolti and Renata, Diane and Marton, will have seen things very differently than I have. I know that for a fact because when we get back to the flat each day, Diane and I briefly discuss what we did, and at times we've come up with different things. And the way I remember what happened along the way, and how it happened, is different than what she remembers. So I'm sure that this will began the expected family fights about what happened, and why someone did this and didn't do that, and why did you say that, and why did you turn right when you should have turned left, and why did you let them pay for this, etc. Ahhhh, family! :-)

We Begin to End
Today is our last day here in Budapest as tomorrow we get on a flight at 7am for home. Ugh. Can't wait to get up at about 3am - not. I am writing this at several times throughout the day so I don't have to stay up until 12am or 1am trying to craft something that others might find interesting enough to read, and maybe laugh about, or cry about, or look dumbfounded, as the case may be.

I needed to meet Erzsi at the Jewish Archives on Sip utca at 8am to see the vital records for Budapest. Diane wasn't going with me - she's on her own today to do some shopping by herself - surprise, surprise. But we would travel together to the same neighborhood where she would be starting her shopping exercise and where I would be gazing at family records (Diane might call it grazing.) So we got up early, did our thing, and left together. I only had half a cup of tea before we left (I miss the strudel,) so when we got to the Deak ter station, we stopped for coffee.

One thing that they do slightly different here in the downtown area is that they make pretty sure that the WC is used only for customers. Some places have a person guarding the bathrooms asking to see a copy of the purchase receipt (well, at least it's a job), but this place had an electronic door lock. You get your receipt, and at the bottom, literally, is a toilet code. And that's the security code you enter to get into the bathroom. Ours was "Toilet code: 1987#." Of course, that means that you can't just walk in to the store and go to the WC before you make your purchase. So you have to stand on line, wiggling and jiggling doing the "I gotta go" dance, while making a decision on what to purchase. Then, you have to find a spot to sit, and put all of your stuff down; purse, shopping bags, coffee, cake, etc, and then get up again to go to the toalett (like all of the ways they describe the bathroom here?) Not sure how the ladies do it who have a ton of packages and travel alone? It's gotta be a painful experience.

We finished our coffee, kissed goodbye, and headed in opposite directions. We made sure that Diane had everyone's contact information, just in case. Up until now, she was depending upon me for traveling and calling when necessary.

I get to the address on Sip utca and Erzsi is already there waiting for me. We check in with security and head upstairs to where the records are kept. It's a small office with 2 middle-aged ladies sitting and chatting. One of them could have been my mother several years ago. However, mom never spoke Hungarian, nor was she as lazy as these 2 seemed to be. In any case, I don't think they spoke a lick of English, so Erzsi did her thing. Although I don't speak Hungarian, I could tell that these ladies seemed to be annoyed that we were there asking them to do their job. And when they left the room for a moment, Erzsi confirmed my suspicion by telling me the same thing I was thinking.

Now being the idiot that I am on occasion, this being one of them, I didn't do much preparation with names and dates, etc. I was just going to wing it. Erzsi, on the other hand, is an experienced, methodical, professional, research scientist in particle physics, and so she took me to task for not being prepared - through giving me a motherly glance, you know, the kind the says "you have been a bad boy!"  In all honesty, I really didn't know what to expect, so I brought my laptop that has all of the family data. So I was prepared, sort of. But Erzsi came to the rescue because she had some of the basic info already written down on paper. This room in the Sip utca archives is not bogged down by computer servers or electronic search engines, databases, or iPads or iPhones, only people and paper - and I believe there was a typewriter there as well.

After some additional discussion, the ladies told us that all of the information they have has already been photographed by the Mormons for the Family History Library, and is freely available. In that case, I already have all of it - ugh. But Erzsi suggested that we should see the original books since we are already there, so I wrote down a few names and dates, and the ladies went into the back room to take the books out of one of the two large, old, heavy wooden cabinets.

They invited us into the room that is pretty small, but has enough space for the cabinets housing the original record books, a table and a desk. So the ladies opened several books to the pages that had our family names. We asked if there was a cost to photograph the pages, when one of the ladies said something to Erzsi, and the other shook an old plastic soup container at me that had a few coins on the bottom - like the containers that you get in the Chinese restaurant for takeout, but with a slot on the top for coins. Obviously, it would be ok to just donate a small amount to the archive. I can live with that.

So I take pictures of the entries for my family with the help of the ladies - some births of a few Zeisler children, and the one for the baroness, Caroline Melanie Weiner, born in 1865. About 9 photos in total. Then we are done and I ask Erzsi how much should I donate? She replied to me that they normally charge so much for a page when they do it (I don't recall the exact amount,) and therefore I should donate about 20,000 HUF - about $100!!! Ahem, choke, gag, and other throat-clearing sounds...I'm not so sure that I want to "donate" $100 for something I already had, and didn't really need. On top of that, I didn't have that much money with me. After giving Diane some money this morning, I only had about $50 left over, about 10,000 forints. So after asking Erzsi again if that was the right amount to "donate," I agreed and Erzsi loaned me the difference. The ladies thanked us, laughed hysterically behind our backs as to the success of their con game, and we left. I really don't have a problem donating money to the archives as it is a very good cause, but I would have liked to have known ahead of time what I was getting myself into. Well, that's what you get when you are 1) unprepared 2) don't know the language. Sheesh. We then sat down outside the room for a few minutes to discuss our next foray into the deep, dark, and confusing land of Hungarian genealogy. Next up, the archives at the Dohany synagogue to check out the burial records for Gyongyos. But that's not until 2pm and it was only 10:30, so I headed back to the flat where I am writing this now.

Birth records from 1881. Bottom listing is for Jeno Zeisler, my grandfather's older brother who died before my grandfather was born in 1884. Of course, most of the photos came out blurry - at least for the names I'm interested in. Can't win.

At 2pm I met Erzsi at the Dohany synagogue to see if we could locate and look through the death records for Gyongyos. Heading into the synagogue grounds, we asked where we needed to go. The girl pointed us in the direction, and we went through the gate and straight ahead. Wherever she thought we wanted to go, wasn't where we wanted to go. So we headed back and asked again. This time she pointed us towards the museum part of the synagogue, a 90 degree left turn from the previous one, and we headed that way.  

Erzsi spoke with the guards at the museum entrance, and after a somewhat lengthy discussion in Hungarian, they pointed us upstairs. One of the guards joined us to make sure we got to where we wanted to go. It was a good thing because the upstairs is a catacombs of twists and turns and going up some stairs and going down some stairs. It was really cool because I got to see the temple from behind the upstairs balcony, not a place they usually take the tourists, like me. We found the archive squirreled away way in the far back corner, and told one of the archivists what we were looking for - the burial records for Gyongyos. We settled in while one of them brought us the record books.

The records start in 1846, but I glanced at the one they gave me and it was the birth records. I hadn't really thought about researching the births for Gyongyos, but that was cool. I asked about the burial records and they brought those down as well. Again, they begin in 1846. 

I had really hoped to photograph all of the records, but seeing as it was my last day in Budapest, and we only had two hours at most, and the birth records are huge, that wasn't going to happen. 

So Erzsi started researching the death records while I went through the birth records. I was looking for any Ungar or Zeisler. Several people who subscribe to H-Sig (the Hungarian special interest group - a part of JewishGen - a Jewish genealogy organization) had asked me to tell them if I came across this name or that name. Unfortunately, since time was so short, I wasn't able to do that at all. I barely had time to look for my own family records. Of course, this had to happen on my last day here - and for only 2 hours!

I found no solid information that would link any of the Ungar births to my family, but there are numerous Ungar births between 1846 and 1875 when this record book ended. There was only 1 Zeisler birth, and there may be a connection. But that will require a bit more research when I get home.

With regards to burials, there were no Ungar burials at all. None. It's a bit funny because my gg-grandmother, Josephine Ungar Zeisler, was born in Gyongyos in 1827, so one would think that someone from the family, either her mother or father or a sibling, would have died there. Not between 1846 and 1876. I ran out of time (only had 2 hours) and therefore wasn't able to go any further, but I did complete the books that I had been given. Erzsi had to leave early, about 30 minutes prior to closing, so we said our final goodbyes for this trip. She was a lot of fun and hugely helpful for a third-cousin once removed. She even paid for half the "donation" from our trip this morning. What more can one ask? 

However, there is one bright light to all of this. As I mentioned previously, one of my goals was to photograph the record books. I confirmed that the Mormons have not gotten their hands on these books, and in speaking with one of the archivists who had previously lived in Washington, DC for several years, he suggested that it might be possible, with the 90 year exception, to photograph the records. So that's something to consider for another time.

It's about 7:30pm here now, I'm very tired, and have to catch the bus at 4:20am. Since we've just completed a great dinner created by Zora, I am going to pack, and then go to bed.

Not sure if I'll be able to blog tomorrow as it'll be a very long day, and I'm sure I'll be exhausted by the time I get home. However, I do plan on writing again once or twice to tell about our trip home,  to summarize it all, and to remind you of all the fun we've had along the way with our friends the strudel and palinka and shopping and Erzsi and Zora, one last time. 

Jó éjt, boldog álmok. (Good night and happy dreams.)

 

Day 8 - A Day to Celebrate

Interesting day. Nothing like what I expected, although I'm not very sure what I was expecting? It was a day of celebration in two parts: life and death. Life; because this week claims the birthdays of both myself and Erzsi.  Death; because today was the last of three days of national mourning - a holiday for celebrating the dead - three days for everyone to visit the cemetery. Or something like that. Not a bad idea actually. Helps the flower vendors quite a bit. And although not a part of this celebration, today would have been my parents' wedding anniversary.

The schedule for today was simple. Wake up, eat breakfast, wait for Erzsi to pick us up at 11:45 to go to our birthday lunch with everyone, and then go to the cemetery. It wasn't quite that simple, but close.

After waking up, Diane and I ate the last vestiges of whatever leftover strudel was...left over. The strudel is finally dead, and thankfully there isn't another to take its place. Sort of appropriate for a day of national mourning. Not so sure, however, what we're going to have for breakfast tomorrow? Palinka and pickled herring I guess?

Zora called and suggested that if I was ready early, I should walk over to her place and chat. So I did. Diane stayed back at the flat to do her thing without me. I think she appreciated the time alone, and I'm certainly glad that she wouldn't be with me at Zora's just in case we discussed family matters - and I'm sure she was glad too, because we did.

Over at Zora's place, she hobbled around a bit on her sprained ankle, located herself on the couch, and we chatted for about an hour and a half or so about the family and other stuff (yep, Diane would have been bored to tears listening to more of this stuff - and probably would have hurt me when we got home.) Towards the middle of our chat, Zora got up and waved me into the kitchen. There she poured us both a drink of some Polish alcoholic concoction made from juniper berries. Not bad really. And we only had 1 shot apiece. I forgot that I hadn't had my morning dose of palinka, so this was an interesting substitute. Almost gonna miss the stuff when we get home. Harboring illegal spirits on the plane, however, is usually frowned upon. And we don't drink much at home anyway. Diane and I have made some great liquors over the years, but we end up giving most, if not all of it, away.

After our chat and saying goodbye for the moment (we would be together again in another hour or so) I left and walked back to the flat. No long after I returned, Erzsi arrived to pick us up for the lunch, and noticed the bottle of palinka on the table that she had given us just a few days ago - not quite empty. She looked at me as if she was very insulted, and said with her Hungarian accent "Jerry, you do not like the palinka? You haven't had any!" Haven't had any? The bottle is 1/3 empty, and it didn't evaporate. I told Erzsi that we've been having shots for breakfast, and that I knocked down a few at night. Erzsi looked back at me and said "If I had it, it would be empty!" Hmmm, now I know a little bit more about Erzsi than I did just a few minutes ago.

There were a total of 7 of us that would be having lunch together including me and Diane, Zora, Erzsi, Erzsi's husband Marton, son Zsolt, and his lovely wife Renata (not that the other women aren't lovely, it's just that Renata has a really nice perky personality - and being the youngest in the crowd doesn't hurt either.) So we finally had everyone together. Took 8 days, but we made it.

We arrived at this very traditional (Zsolt's word) Hungarian restaurant not too far from where Zora is staying in the Groedel apartment. "Traditional" is not necessarily the appropriate word for the restaurant's decor. I would say the more appropriate word would be "rustic." The tables are made of heavy pine, as are the seats - as if we would be eating out in the forest and forgot to bring the pick-nick table and chairs. However, the seats are not made from just a single slab of wood, they are made up of what were once probably large branches that were connected together in some random manner. Have you ever tried to sit on a bunch of narrow logs? Not very comfortable. However, the restaurant was nice enough to supply pillows to sit on. So although it was a bit weird on my bottom, and I had to squirm around from time to time to get the circulation moving again in the various parts of my lower half, it worked out ok.

There were only a few other people in the room with us; a single, older man, and a younger woman. Both were sitting alone at separate tables. The rest of the smallish room was empty.

The food, however, was a different story from the seats. Ohmygoshhowdoimakethisathome? It was the best food that I've had since we've been here. "Awesome" is the word that comes to mind. The family shared a bit of theirs with me and Diane, and all I can say again is "awesome." Diane agreed. We started with a really flavorful fish soup that was served family-style in this weird bowl that was hanging from something like a tripod. Guess they were going for the Neanderthal look. Then came the main course. Mine was beef with chicken livers, Zsolti had a chicken dish, Diane had a vegetarian dish, and the others had whatever they had. All I know is that it was all really, really good.  

After a bit we had to take the traditional family pictures, some with all of us and some with just the birthday boy and girl, and some with Marton's camera and some with mine. But we needed someone else to take the family picture because my arms wouldn't reach across the room. So I began looking around for someone from the wait staff, when the young woman from the table nearby must have heard us discussing the situation, stood up, and said that she would be glad to take the picture for us - and said it with a perfect, New York accent!

Now here were are in the bowels of Budapest, not a small city, in an area that's not very touristy. And who is the one person that wants to help us take our picture? Someone from New York. Makes no sense, but what the heck. Can't get away from it for trying. But she was really very nice, and did a pretty good job with my camera, one that requires a bit of manhandling - perfect for a New Yorker.

Here, here, the gang's all here. L-R: Marton, Zora, me, Diane, Erzsi, Renata, Zolt. See me squirming?

We finished picture-taking, thanked the girl (who said that she was living in Manhattan and found this place in Fodor's guide to Budapest,) left the restaurant and headed for Erzsi's house for cake and champagne.

We took two cars and met at Erzsi's about 15 minutes later, after a brief tour of the area. The view from Erzsi's house is wonderful as it looks out into a valley. There's lots of houses in the valley and the surrounding area, but it's up on a hill so it has lots of privacy. Very impressive.

In the living room was a table completely set up (by Marton no less) with china and two cakes. One was a chocolate cake for me, and the other was a blueberry somethingorother for Erzsi. On top of mine they had written "Happy Birthday Jerry" in English, and on Erzsi's, it was in Hungarian. Cute.

Zsolti opened the champagne, poured the sparklie stuff, and we toasted to us.  Marton had prepared a few sparklers for the cakes, and so when we were ready, he lit them, and we took a few more pictures. Thankfully, no one sang anything.

Lighting the sparklers on the cake.

We enjoyed the cake and ended this part of the day having had a very nice family celebration.

Folks, this was the culmination of my family research, and the very positive result of the time, effort and money my sister and I have put into it over the years. It's the common heritage that binds us, gives us that common link that opens the doors, and allows us to share our lives with people who are now relatives, who were once total strangers and unknown to us completely. It was a really, really cool moment that I wish my sister, Bonnie, could have enjoyed as well. I'm really glad that Diane was there. It's one of those moments that you want to, no, need to, share.

After the cake and wine was done, we headed off to the cemetery. Zora wouldn't be joining us as her sprained ankle was still a problem.

It took about 30 minutes to get to the cemetery, just about sunset, and we were very fortunate to find a parking spot right away in this very crowed street surrounding the cemetery. Near the gates are the volumes of flower vendors selling their wares.

We were there visiting Erzsi's and Zora's grandmother, Iren Groedel (a daughter of the baron and baroness) and their parents. All three are interred in the same grave. So Diane and I purchased a bunch of flowers, as did the others, negotiated with the dealer, and walked the short distance over to the gravesite.

The tradition is that each person lights a candle and places it on the gravestone. The stone consists of a headstone and a short stone that lies flat over the grave. This gives you a place for candles which are set in a glass. Looking around you can see thousands of lit candles throughout the cemetery. It's really very nice. They asked me to light a candle, which I did, but I also did something else.

The Groedel family was originally Jewish, but most converted in the early 1900s to assimilate and avoid antisemitism. So I thought that in addition to lighting the candle, I'd honor Iren's birthright and place a small stone on her headstone. Zora was apparently familiar with this Jewish tradition, and understood. Diane was a sweetheart and lit a candle for Zora who wasn't able to come. We then stood silently for a bit saying our prayers privately, and left when another family needed the space next to where we were standing. The space between the rows is very small, and there just isn't enough room for more than one family at a time in adjoining or across-row plots.

On the way out is a memorial to those fallen heros. Surrounding a central statue is a round, but flat depression where people have placed many hundreds, or even several thousand candles to honor those that served and died in the multitude of Hungary's wars. It was a spectacular sight.

Overall, the entire process lasted about 30 to 45 minutes. We then said our goodbyes to Zsolti and Renata, with whom over a few short hours, we learned a lot about each other, and sincerely enjoyed their company and conversation. It really was too bad that we weren't able to meet them sooner in the week, as I think we could have had a really fun time together running around Budapest.

Marton and Erzsi dropped us off at Chain Bridge as it was only about 5:30, a bit too early to go back to the flat. They suggested that we tour Szent Istvan's Basilica right near the bridge. Sheesh, is that church huge, and the pillars inside the church are the largest pillars of brown marble I have ever seen. It's a beautiful place. Can't say that I've ever seen a more well-decorated church. Not that I've been in very many, but of those that I've seen, this one is by far the most impressive.

Chain Bridge

Szent Istvan's Bazilica (thanks for the pix, wiki)

Inside the Basilica (thanks for the pix, wiki)

 We headed back to the flat to prepare for tomorrow's journeys. I will be doing some research at the Jewish archives and another facility, while Diane goes.....shopping!

The strudel is dead, long live the palinka!

Itt nézett, te kölyök. (Here's looking at you, kid.)

Day 7 - Are You Kidding? We're Going Sightseeing!?

Yep, today was a very busy sightseeing day, with very little shopping, but not entirely shopping-free.

We got a pretty early start on the day today as no one came to visit us in the morning to plan the day's activities or to chat. Up until today, either Zora or Erzsi has come over, and we usually didn't get out of the flat until about 11:30. And once we left the flat, the first thing we would usually do is go have lunch! So that was more wasted time. However, today was different. I believe we actually left the flat at about 8:30am, and headed directly for the Buda side of the river. But first, there was the traditional strudel, tea, and palinka for breakfast. The only reason we decided to have the strudel for breakfast was because - it was there! The small refrigerator in our even smaller apartment is kinda overflowing with strudel, so if we wanted to add something to our diet, you know, something nutritious like a vegetable, something else would have to go to make room. And it was the poor strudel that we selected to go first. Then the palinka. 

The train let us out at Moskva ter. If you recall, that's where we got off the train yesterday and shopped until we dropped and never made it to sightseeing - unless you call going up and down and up and down and in and out and in and out of stores over 4 levels in 2 different buildings in the shopping malls, sightseeing? There were sights, but not much worth seeing - with the exception of the local, um, structural attractions. But I digress. However, I was afraid, very afraid, that Diane would want to go back to the mall. She said no, she had enough of THAT mall. Oy.

It was a bit challenging trying to figure out which way to go, as this was a giant intersection of 3 major roads, smaller streets and hills, with several different buses and street cars running in every direction, and more up on a rise in front of us. Where we wanted to go was to castle hill, but even with the map it was challenging to figure out which way to turn. Although it was against my better judgment as a man, I took it upon myself to ask someone for directions. I looked for a fairly younger male thinking that he might know more English than an older one, and wouldn't yet realize that our common manhood was at stake. So I found one and asked, and he appeared to be very happy to try out his English to help me with directions. I'm not sure why, but it was a pleasant experience - and my manliness appeared to still be intact.

Diane wanted to walk from where we were up to castle hill because Erzsi had told her that there were shops along the way - but not to buy anything because the prices were higher than on the Buda side. Ok, I can handle that. The young fellow pointed us in the right direction and we began walking. Fortunately, it wasn't too far, maybe a quarter mile. But it was all uphill. Several buses had passed us by, and at times I was wishing one would stop. But none did. Diane was very disappointed though that there were no shops on this street, just houses.

So finally we made it. I couldn't believe my luck! We were sightseeing and there were no shops - yet. When we arrived at the gate, the houses along the narrow street were stunning. At first, there was an ornate church, and then an old Jewish prayer house, and then the houses lining the narrow road. It's not that the houses were ornate, they weren't - not like in Pest. It was more of how simple they were, the colors that they were painted, the decorations around the windows, the doors, and the flow down the cobblestone streets.

We walked around for a bit, ooohing and aaahhing at all the fantastic architecture (and no shops.) As mentioned, one of the most striking thing about these houses were the windows, doorways, and the wrought iron gates as you'll see below in some of these examples.

We continued to walk towards the castle and found a restaurant for lunch. The sign outside was offering gulyas (goulash - a soup), chicken paprikas, and dessert for 3000 HUF, about $15 per person. When Diane and I first met Zora several months ago at her home in New Jersey, she cooked us a dinner of chicken paprikas (pronounced "paprikash) and gave us the recipe. Actually, Diane helped Zora cook it so that she would know how it's done. And believe me, we've eaten it almost every week since then. So we got seated.

The waiter brought us bread and a jar of something that looked like a paste or spread. The info on the jar was in Hungarian, and my book didn't have the words for the ingredients, except for paprika, so I smeared a bit on my bread and tasted it. It had a great taste, but was very spicy. After leaving my ego behind once again, I asked the waiter what it was, and he said it's for the soup. Ok. So when the soup came, Diane and I tried it first without the mix, very good, and then with it. Well, we both ended up adding a bit too much, but being the man that I am, I finished both. I'm still here so it couldn't have been that hot. However, it did blow away my tastebuds for the chicken dish. So I guzzled down a few glasses of water to cleanse my palate, and hit the chicken. It was good, but I must say that both Zora and Diane make it much better. The cake came after we were done, and was drizzled with chocolate syrup, like at McDonalds, and it tasted just as crappy.

After lunch we hiked further up the road, and finally reached the castle. The views of the Pest side of the river were fantastic, and the architecture of the castle itself was incredible. Even Diane was marveling, and not complaining about not shopping.

All of the columns in this part of the castle are different in some manner. And there are hundreds of different designs.

We especially like the statues.

Nice view.

We looked around a bit, took a few pictures, and eventually went into the castle which now has several separate functions and buildings: 1) art museum 2) history museum 3) library. The library has 2 books that my gg-grandfather, Ede Zeisler, wrote back in 1862 and 1866, but I am scheduled to visit there on Tuesday so not today. We decided to go into the art museum and look around. It was free so that was very nice.

The paintings were primarily Hungarian, which I guess one would expect to see in a Hungarian national art museum, and so many of the people in the paintings were unknown to me. From my family research over the past 10 years, I have read up on much of Hungary's history, so some of the people were familiar. Nevertheless, they were all gorgeous. Most of them were from the 18th and 19th centuries. I was hoping for a portrait of one of my family members, but it was not to be. Maybe if they had paintings of prison cells, one or more of them would be in there. But that's another story for another day.  

We finished walking around, and so we went downstairs to the main level to consider our next move, and to organize our stuff. Diane was sick and tired of all of the sightseeing and wanted to go shopping!

The woman at the information desk spoke English pretty well, so we went over to her and asked. She appeared to be in her early 50s or so, and was very friendly. However, when Diane asked her where we could find the local shopping district, she went into a well-mannered tizzy - something about how she wouldn't go near an Americanized shopping mall. That was beneath her. When she was growing up, she shopped at real stores, not the chain stores like in those "American" type malls. And then she threw some numbers at us about how many malls there were per person in Hungary vs the US. Of course there were many more malls in Hungary per person than in the US. Why should it be any different? She's gotta have a story to tell, and she's going to tell it right - with numbers to prove it. Hrumpf! Basically, she just told us in a very nice way to go f..k off. So after giving us a bit more info that was totally useless, we left.

We were looking around the outside of the castle or palace, when we came upon a fantastic water fountain, with no water. Diane wanted me to take a picture of it, so I did. After the photo, a young woman asked me to take a photo of her, with her camera, by the fountain, which I did. I snapped off a few shots, she thanked me, and departed.

The water fountain

After that, we took the bus down the hill because our feet were killing us, and we were too far away from that Thai foot massage parlor from yesterday where I could have paid a little more for something a bit "extra."

When we got down to the bottom, we were right at the beautiful Széchenyi Chain Bridge that opened in 1849. We got off the bus and began walking across the bridge when we bumped into the photo girl again while she was taking pictures. We asked her if she wanted me to take another picture of her on the bridge, but she declined.  So we continued to walk across the bridge. Now you have to understand that this was the first time that I had walked across such a large bridge. You would think that having grown up in Brooklyn, I would have taken the time to cross the famed Brooklyn Bridge at least once in my life, but I'm sorry to say that I haven't. Always wanted to, but never have. So this occasion was actually pretty nice. I was impressed.

Chain Bridge across the Danube in Budapest

Once we got across the bridge, we hightailed it to the nearest H&M clothing store to pick up some necessities. I mentioned in a previous post that the flat we're in doesn't have a washing machine or dryer, and there are no laundromats around here. We need 2 days worth of some extra stuff like underwear, socks and tee-shirts, so we bought what we needed, but they didn't have everything.

We walked around a bit more, and ran into the same girl for a third time! I was beginning to think that there was a message here, and considered for a moment asking her to join us for dinner. But I didn't think that Diane would appreciate it, so I quickly crossed it off my list.

We had been talking for days about taking a boat ride down the Danube. It was about 4pm, and dusk was just starting to settle in nicely, and we had the time, so we purchased tickets and headed for the boat that was due to depart at 4:45. We were the first to board about 30 minutes early, but we also got the best seats right up at the bow. The boat has outdoor and indoor seating, but the weather was really nice, and so we decided to stay outside.

We had some tea while waiting, and just before we set sail, while the sky was darkening nicely, and the engines had just started to rev in anticipation of the trip, all in one moment, Chain Bridge, the castle, the big church a bit further down, and the huge parliament building on the Pest side were lit. Wow! Right in front of us was a very different city than just a few moment before.

Chain Bride and Buda just lit up

 The ride was an hour long, nice and slow, but towards the end it got a bit too chilly for us and so we went below. Once the ride ended, we disembarked and wanted to head back to the flat, but first we needed some food.

We decided to hit one of the grocery stores if we could find one. Don't forget that this is Sunday night - in Budapest. We found out that it doesn't matter. The stores are open late on Sunday. The problem was that we didn't know where to go to find a grocery store. So we decided to head back to the flat to see if we could find something in the neighborhood.

We walked around a bit and found a train station. The Metro stations are all underground in this area, so we went downstairs. However, the train maps for this station are horrible, and we got a bit turned around. We wanted the M1 line, but we were at a M2 station. I saw a sign for the M1 that pointed back up to the street, so we followed it thinking that we might have to walk a block or two to get to the M1 line. But as we exited the station, right at the top was the "Match" grocery store! It's a chain here in Budapest that has some decent foodstuff. So we got most of what we wanted; some Russian made pickled herring (ok, that wasn't on our list, but it sure looked good,) hummus, sun dried tomatoes in oil, salt to replace what we had used to wash out the coffee pot (don't ask,) sugar, salami, black olives with feta cheese, lettuce, and napkins. We already had some bread back at the apartment.

Right now, you might be asking yourself "What the heck are they going to make with THAT stuff?"  And if I were you, I'd be asking the same thing. Well, we were hungry, and just bought whatever looked good, and whatever was on our list - although the list was much smaller than what we bought.

Grocery stores in Hungary are pretty funny when you try to check out. They don't provide any bags to pack your stuff - at all. None. Not even for a charge. Not only that, there's no one to help you pack them even IF you have your own bags. AND the counters, at least in this store, are really short. So the checkout clerk rings you up, and either you scramble like crazy to pack your bags while she rings up each item - if you were smart enough to bring enough bags, or you have to take your items off the counter and place them on another nearby counter so that you don't hog the first counter. Get it? I didn't. I would have just let the stuff pile up on the first counter until they fell on the floor, but don't forget that I have a woman with me who protects me from doing stupid things like that. She knew right away to use the second counter to stash the stuff while I paid the bill and the next person stepped up. Weird.

We were I was fortunate that I didn't have to take off my jacket in order to carry the groceries (no bags, remember?), because, once again, I am protected by a woman who also has this gift of knowing what to bring along for the ride. She had brought along her big carry bag that we've been using throughout the days to carry things like extra maps, notebooks, pens, clothing, other shopping goodies, etc. And now groceries. What a woman!

We finally get back to the flat and unpack the stuff. Diane loved the pickled herring, best she's ever had, but I thought it was a bit flat. Tasted the same as what we get back home, but not as strong, and the fish were small and had a weird texture. Go figure.

So Diane opens the refrigerator and takes out the rest of the stuff we've squirreled away, such as the potato and sauerkraut strudel, and gives it to me to heat up in the microwave. Now the microwave buttons are all in Hungarian, and there's no way to know what they say. There are 14 different buttons on the thing, but being the technical guru that I am, I begin pressing every one to see what happens. Eventually, I hit some buttons that get the thing going (I still have no idea what I did) and heated up the strudel.

So on the table now are the following items: potato and sauerkraut strudel (no mustard), salami, hummus, black olives and feta cheese mixed in oil, lettuce, herring, sun dried tomatoes, bread, and seltzer. Diane focused on the potato strudel, herring, some lettuce and tomatoes and a piece of bread, while I had a bit of everything except for the herring, of which I had a bite not long before. Diane decided that she didn't want the sauerkraut strudel, so I ate that too. And to top it off, I had a shot of palinka. Diane passed on the palinka.

And finally, since we weren't able to purchase all of the clothing items we needed, Diane broke down and washed some items by hand. Fortunately, we have one of the heated towel racks, so we placed the wet stuff on that to dry. What a pain. Should have done some more shopping.

And that was our day. 

Tomorrow is party time!

Jó éjt, jó szerencse. (Good night and good luck.)

Day 6 - A Long Day and a Winding Road...and Shopping

It's been a very long day. Not sure how long I'll last writing this tonight as I'm first starting at 10pm, and it's been taking me about 2-3 hours to write each of the previous posts. Diane is already asleep, so it's not a problem - other than for me dragging in the morning.

Got up at about 7:30, had breakfast of leftover strudel (could it have been anything else?), and waited for my cousin Erzsebet to come by. Erzsi is Zora's sister - both are decendents of my cousins, the baron and baroness, whom I mentioned in an earlier posting, and the primary reason for us coming to Budapest.  We had met Zora in the US as she lives in New Jersey, but Erzsi lives here in Budapest.

Erzsi arrived at 9:30am and was nice enough to bring us a breakfast - of pálinka. For those of you who haven't heard of pálinka, it's home-made booze, and in this case, it was kerítésszaggató pálinka, or literally in English "fence-ripper" pálinka. It's a tradition here in Hungary to have a shot or two in the morning for breakfast. And we did partake. Whoooooeeeee! That stuff is strong! 52% strong. And illegal too. I can tell because Diane said so. And believe me, when Diane says something is strong, it's strong, and therefore probably illegal. Many years ago, Diane brought home a gift of White Lightning - a wonderful, home-made brew closely related to lighter fluid that's made in the deep south that will make your eyes spin and shoot out of their sockets - just like in the cartoons. I couldn't believe that she drank the stuff, while I took one sniff and burned the hairs in my nostrils! This particular pálinka was made from plums so it had a really nice taste. So we were all feeling wide awake by the time we downed 2 shots, and got down to business as to what we should do today.

So we made our plans to walk around the Pest side of the Duna for a bit, and then head over to the Buda side. But first, we wanted to check out the giant farmer's market on Vámház körút, one of many streets in Budapest where my g-grandparents lived for a bit. But we would be on our own. 

Yesterday, while I was in Gyongyos trudging though the thickets of brambles taking pictures of dead people headstones, Zora and Diane were going to the spa to get a facial and their hair done. On the way, Zora twisted her ankle pretty badly, so she is now out of commission for the duration. So Diane and I would be on our own - which is not really a bad thing. There are times when you need some time away from the family, and this was as good a time as any. So after Erzsi, Diane, and I decided on a plan of action for the day, Erzsi headed home. She hurt her back last week and can't walk for too long. Quite a pair of sisters, eh?

Diane and I took the train a few stops and got off at Kálvin tér which is a block or two from the market. The place is huge! The bottom level is dedicated to food, and the top to general market stuff like clothing and furniture. The place was absolutely packed with people. It's Saturday at about noon, and everyone wants to eat - including us. So we dodged people left and right, turned this way and that way, bumped a lot of people, took a few pictures when I could, but eventually we got to the prepared food aisle.

 Market on Vámház körút

 

Inside of market. It's so big it could have been a train station or an airplane hanger!

 Prepared food vendor aisle.

 Food

 
We looked for a vendor that had lots of people on line, but it was too crazy for that as there was almost no way to tell who was on line for what, so we settled for the first opening we saw, and one where we noted some English was being spoken.

Although I have no problem pointing to something that looks reasonable to eat but not really sure of what it is, it was much better for Diane to know what she was eating. So I did the dance with the mob of people scooting back and forth while Diane grabbed a place to sit and eat. I was looking at what others were eating, chatting a bit with some other English-speaking people who had some of the same concerns as Diane as to what was what, and chose a bunch of stuff from the pans of food. Hey, if it wasn't any good, we'd just toss it. It's not like we're at a fancy restaurant or something where we need to have some level of manners and eat everything on our plate. And it was also very convenient that Diane was sitting right next to the trash can.

But it really wasn't necessary. I chose some sausage wrapped in bread - similar to what we have in the States called pigs in a blanket, sauerkraut, stuffed cabbage, and rice. Most of it was reasonably decent peasant fast food. But I was a little peeved that I had to pay 150 forint, about 60 cents, for mustard. Sheesh.

So after stuffing our faces, we walked around a bit and was just about to leave when we saw a stand with...say it with me now....strudel!  Believe me, I am definitely going to be strudel'd out by the time I leave Hungary. We purchased another 6 pieces including potato and sauerkraut. Strange, but true. Sauerkraut strudel. I tasted the potato strudel and it was something akin to a kanish, but with less onion and salt. It will be great with some mustard. Hey, don't laugh. That's what we did growing up in Brooklyn. Ok, not with the strudel though. That we had with ketchup (ugh, just kidding.)

The next place we went began just across the street, and that was Vaci utca, a really nice.....shopping street. Here we go again. I bet you girls are so jealous of me getting to do all of this shopping with a professional! 

However, I need to take a moment to describe why Diane likes to shop when she's somewhere other than home, and she has a pretty good reason. Seeing what's in the stores is a good indication of how the people live in the area; what kinds of clothes they wear, food they eat, prices they pay, etc. In this way, she gets a better understanding of the local culture. I do it with food, and she does it with what's on the shelves. Also, I have to clear up something I wrote a few posts ago while we were in Vienna - akin to Truth in Advertising. I had suggested that Diane spent a lot of money while we were shopping, shopping, shopping. But that wasn't really true. I got caught up in the moment and went with the flow. The truth, however, shall set you free - and is weirder than what I wrote. The only things we actually purchased after all of that shopping, and going in and out of all of those stores were 1) a shot-glass for my daughter, 2) a tee-shirt for me, and 3) a boars-hair toothbrush for Diane. True.

Now on with the rest of the story.

So we're walking down Vaci utca (pronounced vatsi oot-sah) going in and out of the shops, when I noticed a sign for a Thai foot massage. Now Diane loves having her feet massaged, so here's a nice opportunity to be a good husband. We went in. Initially, I didn't want it for myself, but Diane wanted me to do it with her, so I relented. We selected the 30 minute massage for about 4000 ft each (about $36 total.) They give us some slippers and a pair of thin, white, cotton shorts to put on in place of our pants. It was almost as bad as a hospital gown because it had a front opening that, well, was open and wouldn't stay closed. It was minor and didn't matter because I was wearing my skivvies anyway (and the massage therapist was pretty good looking too.) They sat us on a pair of very nice leather chairs with foot stools, and began the massage.

Here I am, paying good money for a massage, with nice Thai comforting music in the background, trying to meditate on the massage, while the 2 massage girls were chatting away incessantly. Ever try to relax and meditate and get a foot massage with 2 people chatting away, laughing and giggling, back and forth non-stop, and on top of it all, in another language? Not so relaxing. But my massager had a good set of hands and was doing a nice job on my feet and legs. And I know that Diane was loving it.

At one point, my girl asked me to bend my leg at the knee so that she could get to the calf. She rubbed and slapped and massaged, and at one point she leaned over and hit my calf in a such a way that I thought that she wanted me to put my foot back down. I was wrong. My foot ended up square in her left boob. She looked up at me, our eyes met, and without nearly any time to think she said with a grin "If you want that, you pay more." Now if I was single or alone, or if my wife of 30 years wasn't sitting right next to me, I might have been able to come up with a really smart retort. But in the moment, I was considerably dumbfounded, and was only meekly able to reply "uh, um, no, no, that's ok." Sheesh. What a missed opportunity. Diane hadn't really noticed what had happened, but after we left (yes, I gave my girl a very good tip) I told her the story and we laughed pretty hard.

We spent the next hour or two walking around the shopping district, and then back through the Jewish quarter, up several streets, just walking around getting lost. We do that sometimes just to see what we stumble upon. We do that frequently when driving in a new place, but not usually when walking. After a bit, we came out on a major street called Rákóczi utca, and walked a few blocks to a lotto store. Diane wanted to buy some lottery tickets, but no one in the store could speak English to tell us how the games worked, so we left without a purchase.


Agnes, my contact from Gyongyos, was coming into Budapest today, and wanted to meet me again so that she could give me a CD with the pictures that she had taken in the cemetery of the headstones. I had no idea where she wanted to meet. Could have been anywhere in Budapest. But I was up for it. While we were in the lotto store, I received a text from Agnes telling me where we should meet. It was at the McDonald's (ugh) in a place called "Blaha Lujza." I had never heard of it before, so I scanned the map. It took a bit of time to find, but I found it eventually. It was 2 blocks away from where we were. See, getting lost has it's perks. However, we were there and she was still 30 minutes away. So Diane and I walked around the area a bit, and then went into McDonalds. This was one that had a McCafe, so we had a cappuccino.

Diane and I are not big McDonald's fans. As a matter of fact, we swore it off years ago when Samantha, our daughter, was a baby. Hate the food. But in this case, we didn't have much of a choice. Seeing as all we were having were a few cups of coffee, how bad could it be? In reality, the only thing I can complain about is that they used chocolate syrup on the foam topping. That we could have done without. But overall, we were satisfied. 

We were sitting in a booth by the window with Diane facing inward and me facing the window. At some point while chatting, Diane says "Is that Agnes?" I turned around and sure enough there she was walking past us inside the store, behind me. Now Diane had never met or seen a picture of Agnes, so I was flabbergasted that she was able to pick her out of the crowd (ok, so there wasn't a crowd, but still...) Agnes only stayed for a few minutes, and after she left I asked Diane how she knew it was Agnes? All she could say is that her antenna popped up when the woman walked by. I don't know how she does it, but I will leverage that power in the future!

It's now 12:21am as I write this, so I'm going to truncate the story a bit, of which I am sure you'll be thankful.

After leaving McDonald's we hopped on the train to Buda. This is the opposite side of the river from Pest where we were staying, and the area that has the castle and an old church and some really, really neat old houses. Lots of good sightseeing stuff.

Earlier this morning, Erzsi had spent about half an hour describing where we should go and what we should see and which street to walk down and which street to not walk down and which train to take and which bus to take and what places to see and what places not to see - etc. Never happened. We got off the train at Moskva ter to begin sightseeing....and went shopping for the rest of the day. Never got to see anything but the inside of a giant mall for the next 3 hours or so. It was waaaayyyy dark when we finally left, and we were too tired to do anything else. And what did we purchase? A pair of eyeglass frames for me, some necessities for the flat, some skivvies for me, and a travel guide to Hungary. Now that was well worth the time, eh? I especially was impressed with the travel guide as we will be here for only 3 more days, and it's pretty much fully planned - or not. Not sure if the travel guide has information on all of the shopping malls in Hungary or not?

We finally got back to the flat and dumped our stuff and said goodnight to each other when Diane was ready for bed.

My turn for bed. It's been a long day, a winding road, and I'm going to have to talk to that wife of mine about the shopping. But first, I think I'll have some apple strudel.

Minden jót. (Have a nice day.)

Day 5 - A Long Way For Nothing

No, the title doesn't say it all, I did get something out of today's trip to the cemetery in Gyongyos, but not exactly what I had hoped for.

Got up at about 6:15 to the beautiful tune of my cell phone, ugh. Diane got up with me and cooked a wonderful breakfast of... apple and cheese strudels. Oh, guess I forgot to mention the cheeeeeeeese strudel yesterday (no, not Hogan's Heros - it's from Wallace and Gromet.) and tea. Ok, so she didn't cook the strudel, but still, she was nice enough to get up and put it together for me. Love that woman.

7am came too soon, and so I ran downstairs and caught a taxi back to the same train station as yesterday. This is getting monotonous - but still enjoying it. One of the fun things about the Keleti train station in Budapest is that the trains are outdoors, and the indoor section is huge, but it's open to the outside on the rear of the station where the trains are so there's no heating. I arrived a bit earlier than I thought, about an hour too early.  And it was pretty chilly. So what you find are people squirreled away in a far corner of the station by the ticket counter where it's enclosed to avoid the draft and wind, but no heat. So that's where I sat for about the next 30 minutes until the train was ready to board. But first, I wanted to check that I was in the right place and going to get on the right train.

A funny thing about the electronic information board in the station that that it gives you the end station, but not the stops in-between. Although I saw a train scheduled to leave at the appointed time of my train, it wasn't exactly clear if it was mine. The end stop was Sátoraljaújhely (please don't ask me to pronounce it - because I can't,) but I wasn't certain if Gyongyos was along the way, and didn't want to end up in Auschwitz by accident. It has happened before, you know. 

I sauntered over to the information counter, noted by the pleasing letter "i". After the cleaning lady and the woman behind the Plexiglas finished their conversation lasting several minutes, I asked the bejeweled, and obviously very well-maintained middle-aged woman behind the Plexiglas if she could confirm which train is for Gyongyos. So she turned to her trusty computer and started typing - well, more like hunt n pecking with 1 finger - slowly - very slowly. She typed pecked. And then she typed pecked some more. And then some more. And then some more. And then a bit more (you getting the point here?) This was getting painful. I was getting worried that I was going to miss the train (this could be a good thing if it was going to Ausch... oh never mind.) So I just blerted out "Is it the train on track 13?" And after a few more seconds, she said "yes." And then she printed out a paper that gave me the same information that was on the electronic information board. Sheesh! I have no idea how long I would have been waiting if I hadn't TOLD HER the track number. With expertise like that, I haven't a clue how she can afford to keep up her appearance. Oh, right, this is Hungary and she works for the government. How could I forget? I guess the old days are still with us to some extent.

So I found the train and hopped aboard. Now my cousin Zora, who is a really, really nice lady, had purchased the tickets for me a few days prior for second class seats. First class would have cost only 300 forints more - about $6 additional each way. I guess she was looking out for my best interests. But it was ok as I was only going for an hour's ride. My problem was that I had no idea which cars were first class and which were second. So I made a left turn and entered one of the cars. Other than the trip to Vienna, and a previous train ride from Hannover, Germany to the airport in Frankfurt back in 2001, I had never been on a train in Europe. This one had enclosed compartments that seated several people. Never been on one of these before, but have seen them in countless movies from the 1940s. I looked in the compartment which was empty, and simply noticed that the headrest had a cloth covering. Since I wasn't sure about which car, I decided to check out the next car, and this one did not have the headrest covering, so I made the assumption that this was second class. I was to find out later that I chose wisely.  Chalk one up for Zora for saving me $12 for not having a cloth covering on the headrest.

The ride to Gyongyos was pretty boring, unless you like to look at tall weeds along the way and decrepit houses for an hour. Actually the train was going to Vamosgyork, and I was supposed to change trains there for Gyongyos, but the person meeting me decided to pick me up at Vamosgyork, about 10 minutes from Gyongyos. That was a very nice gesture, and a heck of a tongue-twister as well.

Surprisingly, the train arrived on time at Vamosgyork (pronounced something like vamosh-djork, with the accent on the first syllable.)  However, my contact was going to be 10 minutes late, as I saw in her text message. So I went to the WC for some relief. As I walked into the WC, I only noticed toilets, no urinals, so I assumed it was bi a common facility. After finishing, I opened the door, and was greeted  by a small woman in a red coat entering the WC, simultaneously thinking that I had just made a very interesting faux paux, while at the same time she looked at me and said "Jerry?" Now I must say, it isn't often that I exit a bathroom, probably the wrong bathroom at that, and am confronted by a woman calling my name. Actually, it's never happened in my entire life before this moment! I couldn't see it, but my face must have been a priceless contortion of ohmygodwhatdidIjustdo? and the color red. After a brief hug with my contact (of course it HAD to be HER that caught me, and not someone from, well, Vamosgyork,) she went into the WC, and I just had to confirm my thinking. So I nervously looked back at where I had been, and what I had missed, Of course I had used the woman's WC. Hey, I don't know the words for Men and Women when it comes to Hungarian bathrooms, and there were no international stick figures to help! This is waaaayyyy out in the boonies where they don't speak English, and some still carry a hammer and sickle. So when she came out, we had a good laugh at my expense. And of course, she had to tell her male companion who didn't speak a lick of English. And he laughed too. Good way to break the ice I guess.

So we went into town to get the key to the cemetery from a man who owned a dress shop, first making a short stop for some tea. Well, I found out that nothing takes a short time out here. Took a bit to get going, and to get the check. But once done, we walked about 3 more stores down the street and entered the dress shop. The owner, Mr. Waldner, is an older fellow who belongs to the only Jewish family in town. Gyongyos was once a prominent and very wealthy Jewish community in this part of Hungary. We all know how and when that ended.

While Agnes, (my contact) and her companion Joska, were talking to the man about the key, a woman, who appeared to be his daughter, and a younger man, who was probably his grandson, began speaking to me in English! I was impressed. Not only did they speak English pretty well for being out in the boonies, but the woman mentioned that she was related to the same family name that I am looking for in the cemetery. Now in truth, the only given names I know are those of my ggg-grandparents from the 1850s, so it would be a stretch to say that they were my cousins. But you never know. We had a nice chat, and they took my email address should something interesting show up, like a nice dress for my wife, or maybe a fully completed family tree? Now that would be nice (and a lot less expensive)!

So after a walk around town a bit with a stop at the old synagogue that is now a second-hand clothing and furniture store (remember there's only 1 Jewish family in town these days, many of the rest are neo-Nazis and communists - really), we went to the cemetery.

Now the last time I was here was 9 years ago, and the grass was tall, and the brambles and weeds were hell. As we drove up I could already see the weeds growing over the 8 foot high brick wall. Uh oh. Here we go again. The cemetery was at least as bad, if not worse, than it was 9 years ago. I would have thought that by this time, someone would have done something about it. Well, I earned the first part of the "assume" parable.

So we go into the cemetery and I just start snapping away with my camera. I had enough capacity in memory for about 1200 shots. The camera battery and my energy would probably run out before the memory.

My goals here were twofold; to try to find potential relatives/ancestors, and to take pictures of as many headstones as I could for the Jewish organization I support called JewishGen. I did my best, really. The thickets were thick, the brambles were brambly, and the stickers were, ouch, stickly. This was a labor of love, to say the least. It had to be in order for me to be willing to spill my blood, sweat and tears as I did earlier today. I had taken about 200 pictures, was absolutely drenched from head to toe in sweat, with a little blood on the side, and had no idea if any of the pictures would even come out well enough for anyone to transcribe. The sun was on the wrong side of the headstones as well (behind.) And to top it all off, I found nothing of interest for my personal family research. Came a long way for nothing.

After two hours of back-breaking and blood-letting, Agnes said the men had had enough. She said they were hungry. They weren't hungry - they were bored. The two men sat in the car for 2 hours while Agnes and I worked our butts off taking pictures in the cemetery that one of those two men is supposed to maintain. But I had had enough as well, and there was no more I could do anyway. Out of about 1000 headstones, I captured nearly 200. The rest are either too far gone from decay and acid rain, or they were just too deep in the forest of nature's reclamation process to get to.

So after dropping off the man from the shop, we went to lunch in town. We sat down and opened our menus. In many restaurants in Budapest the menus have some English. Not out here. Hungarian. So Agnes, being as nice as she is, tries to determine what I wanted to eat. She gave me a few items to choose from, including chicken and Ostrich. Not having tried the Ostrich here in Hungary previously, I chose the chicken, and some soup. I must say, I had no idea what the green in the soup was, but it was really good. And the chicken was pretty good as well.

Lunch was coming along, and it was a real shame that I wasn't able to have a discussion with Agnes' friend Joska. So Agnes flipped back and forth, having discussions with each of us for a few minutes at a time. She's good.

This was the end of the day for me here in Gyongyos, and Joska and Agnes drove me to the train station. On the way, chatting with Agnes, I had mentioned that I had hit a brick wall, both here and in Eger, the nearby town where my great-grandfather was born, and where my gg-grandfather was a teacher, and where he got married to the woman from Gyongyos. I mentioned to her that the Jewish records stop in 1850, and that I needed to go back one more generation to connect some missing connections. She turned to me and said "No they don't." During her research (she's a Ph.D. and an award-winning Jewish history researcher) she found earlier records in the university of Eger, and promised to review them for me soon. Wow! That could be great for my research. At that, we parted.

The trip back to Budapest was quiet and uneventful, as this was becoming old-hat now.

I think the important lesson of the day is - learn the difference between the Hungarian words "Men" and "Women!"

Touring more of Budapest tomorrow.

Jó éjt (good night)

Days 3 and 4 - Hallo aus dem Hinterland

Grüße! (greetings)


Getting up at 5am to catch a 7am train to Vienna was ok. Going to bed after midnight after not sleeping well the previous 2 days due to jetlag and too much caffeine in the tea, was not. However, Diane and I slogged through our sleepiness, caught a taxi to the train station, and hopped on the train to Wien. Caught a few zzzz's on the train, very few. Too much eye candy train shaking to sleep.  

Our goals in Vienna were very simple; see some great architecture, and give Diane some time to do womanly stuff - such as check out the shopping. Nothing more. Since we only had about 24 hours, we didn't have time for anything more anyway. However, I do believe that we accomplished both - and got in some sleepy time too. We had already maxed-out Diane's patience with so much family history talk and eating that she was ready to barf - not from the eating but from the family history talk, so I really did have to give her time to get shopping out of her system. She's fine now, thanks for asking. It's now me that's getting sick. I'm sure I'll begin to feel better some months after the bills come due.  

With that said, Vienna is a beautiful city. After getting off the train from Budapest, we wanted to first get to the hotel to dump off our stuff, and then figure out where to go and what to do. We hadn't really planned for this side trip as it was kind of a last minute thing, so we needed some time to figure it all out. I had noted the train station nearest the hotel, so it wasn't that difficult to figure out which trains to use. After changing trains at the Volkstheater bahnhof, it was only a few more stations until our stop.  

One thing about going to some unknown place on the train, is that you never know which end of the station to exit, nor which street you'll come out on. And it's never the one you want. The station signs and maps don't usually help much either. The website for the hotel said that the train station was only .1 miles from the hotel, so it shouldn't be to bad. And wouldn't you know it, it wasn't (thought I was going to take you through a long, drawn-out journey with a bunch of twists and turns, didn't you? Sorry.) We took about 5 steps out of the station and Diane saw the hotel. Wow, now that's different! I was impressed. Not only because the hotel was so close, but that Diane was awake enough and not too wobbly to notice it in the first place.  

Nice hotel. We were staying at the Marriott Courtyard Messe because I had points so it was free, and we didn't want to stay at the fancier Marriott because we weren't going to be in the room that much anyway. And because I'm cheap - ok, not always. From my perspective, this particular Courtyard was better than the US Courtyards which I stay at plenty for business.  

So we dumped our stuff, as tired as we were, went down to the receptionist and got some ideas where to go. Ok, it wasn't that hard to decide where to go. We went to the shopping district. Duh. It happens to be in the central part of the city called Stephensplatz. 

When we got off the train at our stop, the sights were unbelievable. The architecture was fantastic even though I hadn't a clue as to where we were. We were back to the old problem of - which side of the train station did we come out on? After turning the map upside down and sideways, turning around a few times, and dancing a jig, we took our first few pictures of a fantastic somethingorother building, walked across the street, and figured out where we were. We finally made it to Kärntner Straße - the high-end shopping district. Diane was awake now and feeling much, much better thank you. So, we went shopping.

Actually, the plaza is really nice. Lots of very cool architecture for me to look at (as well as other things - things that are structurally sound so to speak,) and lots of stores for Diane to look at (as well as other things, like more stores.)

 Caption: Diane mesmerized by all of the stores and not knowing which way to turn.

Stephensplatz is the geographical center of Vienna, and Kärntner Straße is the home of Stephensdom, one of the tallest churches in the world. The spires are...inspiring. It's partially under maintenance, so that's the stuff you see on the left of the photo and below the spire.

For lunch, one of the guide books recommended a deli called Meinl. It's more of a multi-floor, giant grocery store than a deli as we know it, but it had a restaurant on the second floor so we rode the elevator and got seated. The food was very decent (I had the Wiener-Schnitzel.) Ok all you old folks, let's hearken back to a time in the 1960s for a moment. Think now, of that large, happy fellow named Sergeant Shultz from Hogan's Heros. And picture him when he was thinking about his wife's cooking, especially Weiner-Schnitzel - "ahhhhhhh" (pat stomach, roll eyes and smack lips several times) "Weinerrrrrr-Schnitellll" (wipe mouth with sleeve after drooling.) Well, that's pretty much what I did! It was really, really good. I have had it only 1 time before, and it was dry and tough. This was exactly the opposite - moist and melt-in-your-mouth goodness. "Wienerrrrrr-Schnitzellllll. Ahhhhhhhh" (roll eyes and wipe mouth with sleeve.)

We saved some room for dessert, because there was no way I wasn't going to have something sweet here in Vienna - the very capital of the world for desserts. However, before we left I had to pay the bill. After waiting an eternity, I received the bill and noticed an extra charge so I questioned it. Now I believe that I am a fairly sophisticated traveler, but I haven't been in Europe for a while. I can't honestly say that I ever recall seeing a $7.50 charge for the silverware and tablecloth! Now others who have had more time on the continent may have seen it, but I was nary amused by it all.

After leaving the restaurant, we walked down the platz and found a really great looking pastry shop called Gerstner - been around for a few centuries or so. We were very fortunate to find a table in the back of the crowded store and sat down. In fairly short order the waitress brought us our tea and (ok you Hogan's Hero's fans) appppplllllleee struuudelllll (cue the rolling of the eyes and lip smacking.) Ohmygosh, it was incredible!

So we had our fill and continued to walk around and get accosted by several sales goons in costume trying to pawn Mozart opera tickets for "the final night of the performance with center section seating on the isle at the premier opera house in Vienna." We listened politely, and then passed. I've heard it all before. Apparently, every seat in every theater is center section isle seating.

So we walked and we shopped and we walked and we shopped, hit the antique stores, and hit the clothing stores, and after some unknown time, we finally had had it. Got on the train and went back to the hotel. It was about 6:30pm. We went to bed at about 8:00pm (I can hear you saying "Are you joking? You're in Vienna for a lousy day and a half and you went to sleep at 8pm? What are you, nuts?) and woke at about ..... 8:00am. I guess we must have been tired?  We had already been at maximum over the past 3 days, our flat in Budapest can be noisy at times as it's in the city, and the hotel room was so quiet, and the bed so soft, and it was really dark. Couldn't pass it up. It worked out well though. We needed the rest. And I didn't need any more shopping.

Thursday, October 28
Now what to do today? After careful consideration, and some minor arm twisting, we decided to check out of the hotel and go to the Fine Arts Museum. But first, we had some breakfast at the expense of Re-Max, the real estate company. They were having a gathering in the hotel lobby with danish, etc., so we partook just enough to satisfy ourselves and left. I didn't realize it at the time, but it was for Re-Max people only. Oh well. Too late. Can't give it back.

We got off the train at the museum quarter, but we never got to where we were going. Guess where we ended up? Yep, we went shopping! Yeah! In the same area as yesterday no less - seems that the museum quarter is within, um, walking distance of Stephensplatz.

While performing my husbandly duties in making sure my wife was getting a good shopping fix, we ran across a nice set of antique jade phallics in their erect state from India - no, not used for youknowwhat, but as a good luck gift for being fertile. Very amusing. Then to another antique dealer where the wife almost spent a fortune on a small bronze, 20 point buck (deer) to hang on the wall somewhere in the house - somewhere she had yet to determine - with money she had yet to determine. After a carefully thought out discussion (ahem) and with some pretty hard arm twisting by the dealer, she finally saw the err of her ways and passed on the deer (no additional comment from the peanut gallery needed here.)

After a decent pizza lunch (hey, I can't say that I've ever had pizza anywhere but the US.  Nope, never been to Italy) we decided to head back to Budapest.


Did the train thing and got to the Westbahnhof train station with about 45 minutes to spare. However, um, "Where are the train tickets" I asked Diane? She scratched around and scratched around - got red in the face, scratched around some more. Dug deep into the bowels of her purse, the goodie bags, back into her purse, my bags. Gone. Doh! Arrrrrgh. Well that's another fine mess you've gotten us into!

This wasn't a problem that more money couldn't solve, as there was no way we were going to go back to either the antique dealer (no second chance to buy the bronze) or the pastry shop (ok, I could have gone back there.) After giving the ticket agent about 75 euros ($105) for 2 MORE tickets, all was well again with the world. But just a bit lighter in the wallet.

The trip home was, fortunately, uneventful, and so here we are. At the end of another day.

Tomorrow, Diane goes to the spa with my cousin while I go it alone to Gyongyos (pronounced something like djun-djoesh) to do some family research at the local cemetery.

Mmmmmmm, apppple-strudddelll........roll eyes, smack lips.

Gute Nacht. Jó éjszakát.