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.
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| Here, here, the gang's all here. L-R: Marton, Zora, me, Diane, Erzsi, Renata, Zolt. See me squirming? |
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.
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| Lighting the sparklers on the cake. |
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.
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| Chain Bridge |
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| Szent Istvan's Bazilica (thanks for the pix, wiki) |
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| Inside the Basilica (thanks for the pix, wiki) |
The strudel is dead, long live the palinka!
Itt nézett, te kölyök. (Here's looking at you, kid.)
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