Next Stop - Back to Budapest

For whom the bells toll is not just a book or movie title. As comfy as the bed was, the Lutheran church at the end of the block has bells that toll every quarter of the hour. On the hour, they ring not only the hour, but the hour is six languages or so it seems. They go on forever. It was almost as disturbing as trying to sleep near a mosque in Egypt with the call to prayer at unusual hours. A bit groggy from interrupted sleep, we went down for breakfast. Then I went to two other hotels for a tour and note-taking for the book. Everyone was genial and giving of their time, though I had written them ahead of time. All sights were closed - Monday is the universal day for closing of museums. We hunted down Lena Bayer to meet and thank her in person. She is a charming young woman. We had brought her a box of homemade truffles from my favorite chocolate shop in Budapest, much to her delight. Although it was Monday, the town was still sleepy lazy empty. There was not a lot of traffic either car or pedestrian. We looked in some shops, walked the longest park in Central Europe and bought our train tickets before finding a bakery for a coffee and munchie. We brought it to the park and watched the world go by. On the 1:10 train, I paced my book to finish it as we approached Budapest, but the train was delayed an hour, so I had to nap for an hour since the book was now history. I will have to order the third book in the series. Karp is funny! We were home by 4:30 instead of 3:40, but it was a good little get-away. Sopron is a lovely little city.

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Next Stop Sopron

After getting tons of incredibly useful information from Lena Bayer at the Sopron TourInform office, the next step was to visit the city to put it to use. This is the first time that Sopron will appear in a Frommer's Budapest & the Best of Hungary book, so I am a bit charged about it. After writing to the three hotels that Lena suggested, only one was willing to give us a free night with the understanding that this did not guarantee them a place in the book. They were secure enough to offer a room anyway. We left the Huffman family, a Fulbright family who were B and B guests. They were returning to Debrecen on a later train. We had another single guest in the small room, but he knew ahead of time, we would have to be gone Monday morning, so if he wanted the room, it would be self-catering with a small discount for the inconvenience. He was fine with that. Arriving at the train station at 9:15 am to buy tickets for the 10:10 train seemed to be plenty of time for a Sunday morning. It was surprising how busy the station was at that hour. I receive a 50% teachers discount for all travel within Hungary, but Ron questioned if he receives a discount with his Hungarian pensioner card. How does FREE strike you? All he had to pay was the 520 Ft for the reservation; it was a direct train taking 2 hours and 40 minutes. Score one for seniors. With Marshall Karp's sequel to Rabbit Factory, the second book Bloodthirsty in hand, I could have ridden up to 3 whole hours on the train before complaining. I sweat out the ticket collector thinking he would give Ron a hard time, but it was smooth. The hotel was only a 15-minute walk from the train station, very centrally located. We dropped my backpack and then went to see the sites. With a very Austrian feel, it is also compact and easy to negotiate. Sopron is considered responsible for the beginnings of the Iron Curtain coming down with the Pan European Picnic twenty years ago this month. After running around, we went to one of the restaurants Lena had suggested. The first and closest was located in a courtyard, but then up a ramp and back in the corner. There was not a seat to be found, but will all entrees under 980 Ft, we could see why. They were only open until 4pm on Sundays, so we did not want to try our luck waiting. Besides, everyone looked like they were hunkering in for the long haul of food to be served. Our second attempt, also suggested by Lena, was fantabulous! The meal was actually better than many we have had in Budapest and the service was exquisite. We sat in the courtyard with old fortress walls surrounding us with gardens planted. When we paid the tab, I told the waiter they were going to be in my book. He told the manager provoking a VIP tour of the entire restaurant and wine cellar. Chasing down all of the attractions was an amazing race within a city, knowing they would all be closed on Monday. Time was short, but we managed and even spent 45 minutes in the medieval synagogue. With all of the streets neatly rolled up and tucked away by 6pm, we went back to the hotel for a full tour so I could take notes for the book. The chapter is so small, I can barely get much of it in, but it was lovely. Our room had twin sleigh beds with cozy mattresses that swallowed us up in a nurturing comfort zone, like being back in the womb. After a rest, we went to restaurant number three on Lena's list. The Google map did us wrong, so we went a mile out of the way only to find that it was really only blocks from our hotel. Another open courtyard, different in charm with brick walls surrounding us and a pleasant waiter who was excited to practice his elementary English skills. My dinner was served in an enamel baking pan just like we have at home, but this particular size, we use when making four portions. It was heaping to the top and was solely my portion. I do swear a gym membership should be provided to every guide book writer. To be fair to the review, I ate until I thought I would topple off of the chair for weight displacement and a tear emerged as I let the waiter take the rest of the dinner away. Had we been in Budapest, it would have been a take home portion worthy of lunch for the both of us the next day. A lengthy walk was needed to burn off ten or twenty calories before retiring. That "just too stuffed to bend over feeling" needed some release. To bed with a good book after combing the city and taking lots of notes, this is the life. If you want to know the names of the restaurants and hotels, the book will be out in April 2010, but I will give a preview if you are heading this way sooner.

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What is in the Mailbox

Sometimes there are fun surprises in the mail. This is one of them. Look for the upcoming review, but if you miss it, look for the book on sale in the US. THE BOOK OF FATHERS by Miklos Vamos – Other Press 10/13/09 Dear Dr, James -- I am working on a literary book by Hungarian author Miklos Vamos that pubs in October and am wondering if you would be interested in reviewing it for your blog? I am attaching descriptions below and look forward to hearing back from you about any interest. I can get a copy out to you right away.

All best,

Gretchen Koss

Tandem Literary

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Did You Want an Autograph With That?

Two nights ago, Ron and I went to a restaurant for dinner and to re-review for the book. I had gone back to this restaurant during the time he was in the States, but was terribly disappointed in the food and the service. Because I refused to believe that this was their new standard, going downhill so drastically, I wanted to give them one more shot at it before it went into the book. The book has the good, the bad, and the disastrous, so watch out. All went well, the service was fine. With only four other diners in the place, I should hope so. A group of five older ladies walked in and took a seat. Their NYish accent pricked up my ears, so my eyes followed them to their table as they sat down. Then lo and behold, what should they place on the table to the side...Frommer's "Budapest & the Best of Hungry" 7th edition. As my head and chest swelled, it was difficult to maintain my balance in the chair while trying to eat at the same time. Fortunately, I had a few bites of my dinner before they displayed the book, or I would have forgotten to taste the food. As much as I tried to ignore them, I could not keep my wandering eyes at home. When we finished, I told Ron I was going to say hello. He did not think I would do it. After excusing myself, I asked how they liked the book. Three of them formed a chorus of "We love it. It is our bible." I will excuse the other two for not joining it with the rest. They had just arrived from NYC only four hours prior and were still jet-lagged, so their reflexives were not up to par yet. Once they heard the others, they were able to kick start themselves and shower me with platitudes making it a complete cheerleading squad of 60 somethings. Four of them pointed to the fifth woman and said she is the organizer. She has been organizing their annual trips together for the last ten years and does an amazing job. She bought the book, and read it to them every chance when they were gathered within earshot. I looked at the book. There had to be over fifty little pink tabs growing from between pages and not one of them had any writing on them. I was uncertain how they were distinguishable, but as we spoke, the ring leader was able to grab the correct tab needed to quote something that I wrote. After fifteen minutes of soaking up the praise and laudatory comments, we left them to enjoy their meal, but as we were walking away, we heard "Wow, isn't that wonderful? We met the author." Another said "That was so cute of him to come over to speak to us." Cute? Peter Pan complex aside, I think I have passed 'cute' a few decades ago, but hey, you have to bask in whatever rays of sunshine come you way.

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A Message About Healthcare

Protect Insurance Companies PSA from Will Ferrell

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Feels Like a Hungarian Autumn?

Our friend Jennifer wrote from Connecticut saying it was feeling like autumn there and wanted to know if it was the same here. Uh, nope! I am not complaining at all. I hate, despise, loath, detest cold weather. These temps can stick around until we leave on vacation December 16th for all I care.

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He Had Me in Stitiches

After the surgery, I returned the following Monday for a bandage change. The doctor is so cute; as he was removing the old bandage, he kept saying "I'm sorry!" anticipating my pain at the tape being pulled off. He was actually so gentle, I did not even think I winced, but was reflective of his concern. The surgeon was doing the dressing change, not a nurse, not an intern. Last Friday, I returned again. Each meeting begins with idle chit-chat, but regardless of what I say, he responds with something to assure me that he is really listening. This go-around, he removed three stitches, dressed the bandage, and sent me on my way. Monday was the final removal of the last of the stitches. After they were out, he sprayed a "liquid bandage" on me to protect the scar. He said it will take six weeks for me to completely heal. I made a joke about my state of affairs, just off the cuff, so it really surprised me when he busted out laughing. Now I can shower. Sponge baths are fine in a pinch, but they are really god-awful over a week's time. Regardless how fastidious I tried to be, I thought I smelled myself with every little breeze, making me feel like a dirty pariah. As I left the exam room knowing I would be returning again this Friday, I turned to him to ask if he was going to be around forever. What I meant to ask was if he was a resident who would be finishing a rotation only to disappear. When I modified the question, he assured me he was a specialist with the department and would be around for some time. Relief washed over me...I hate ending these long term relationships.

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26 Hours

6:15 am Got up, showered, dressed and walked to the hospital to meet with the surgeon. I told Ron not to bother going with me. I assumed that they would not allow the surgery without the microbiology results, so there was no point in his joining me. I expected to be home again within the hour. 7:15 am As I walked up to the hospital, I ran into my surgeon outside. I told him about the problem with lab work. He asked if I had a print-out of the others. He said it was no problem, we could go ahead with the surgery. Again, mixed emotions. He took me upstairs and personally took me to the registration, so he could translate. Registration consisted of giving them my lab results and medical card. I was registered within three minutes. The surgeon then took me to my room, one of the newly remodeled ones with only three beds in it. One was occupied. He explained that he had to go on rounds and would be back for me. The nurse came in to ask if I had any allergies. The dietitian asked if I was on any special diet. They all did their best to communicate without much English. We did fine. The bed had no electric equipment for adjustments; just the head hand cranked up and down, but it was perfect so no adjustment was needed. We had our own bathroom with a shower in the room. It was beautifully tiled. 8:15 am My doctor came in and said they would be coming for me shortly. Minutes later, a young man came with a concave gurney that looks more like a hammock. He said "Undress!" followed by "NOW!" I got on the gurney and he wheeled me off down one hall, then another. There were so many twists and turns. Looking at the ceiling, I had flashbacks to movies like Coma for some reason. Within three minutes, he had me completely shaved. No foam, no soap, nothing to soften the hair, just swipe, swipe, swipe with the efficiency of a barber. 9:15 am This same young man takes me from the anterior room into the surgery suite, a much smaller room than I anticipated. He lifted me off of the gurney onto the surgical table. I was more concerned about his back than my nakedness. Draped in sheets, the doctor and nurses arrived and started rearranging sheets, blocking my view. The anesthetic was a local. Three needles into an area already hurting. The doctor explained what I would feel, when I should tell him the pain was unbearable, that I may feel pressure, and I may smell burning flesh when they cauterize blood vessels. This is one of the times when knowing self-hypnosis comes in handy. 10:15 am The surgery is over. The young man again lifts me off of the surgical table and puts me on the gurney. When we reach my room, he one more time, lifts me into bed. Then he put a large cloth bag under me while putting a kilo weight wrapped in a towel on my surgical area. PAIN!!! Within minutes, the nurse came in with a pitcher of tea and a cup. 11:15 am Ron found me though he had no idea where the hospital was or where I would be. I was groggy, I think from the trauma of it all. He left and planned on returning later. I fell asleep immediately. 12:15 pm My friend Laszlo came to visit. While he was here, they served lunch. A large bowl of soup was handed over to him to put on my bedside table. No covering on the soup, just a large bowl. The nurse handed me a spoon and a plate with two large pastries. Ron returned and the three of us talked for a while, but I was wiped out and Laszlo left us. I went down with Ron for a cigarette, but ran into my surgeon who told me I needed to be flat for the rest of the day. A new roommate arrived for the middle bed. 1:15 pm to 5:15 pm I slept, waking for minutes at a time, trying to read my book, but could only last about 10 minutes and then off to sleep again. The only interruption was the doctors doing rounds. The head doctor spoke English and asked me how I was feeling. My surgeon gave my history and explained the procedure to the rest of them. 5:15 pm The nurse arrived to hand each of us a thermometer. I start to put it in my mouth, but she motions it goes under my arm. Moments later, she places a plate on my table. I was thinking how wonderful it is that we get an afternoon snack. Actually, it was dinner. One roll, one scallion, two slices of lunch meat, and a cube of margarine, but no silverware. I ate it and went back to sleep. 6:15 pm My roommate from the middle bed went home. I am curious how he managed that so fast. The nurse returned for the thermometer. It was 37 degrees on the dot, but I have no idea what that is in Fahrenheit. 7:15 pm to 10:15 pm I could not stay awake. As much as I wanted to try to stay awake for fear of being up all night long, I could not do it. At 9:00 pm, the two night nurses came in to check on us. Both male, they pulled my covers down, rearranged the weight after telling me I had to take my sweat pants off. Ugh! My dinner dish is still by my bedside. I was wishing I had brought my phone to call Ron to bring more food; I was hungry. Instead, I drank the grapefruit juice he brought, the tea they gave me and one of the candy bars I had asked him to get for the nursing staff. In between everything, I continued to sleep. 11:15 pm I was awakened when the nurse brought in a new patient for the middle bed. Why he was arriving at this hour was beyond me. They set up an old fashioned IV pole. Once he was changed they started him on an IV. Since I was nearest the window, I had it open all night long for the cool air. Neither roomie seemed to mind. The comforters were quite thick and warm, but the fresh air felt great. Being on a busy street, it was noisy, but it did not seem to disturb any of us from sleeping. 12:15 am to 6:15 am As concerned as I was about sleeping, I slept the night through, waking up for moments at a time to try to process the weird dreams, but tiring of that quickly and falling off once again. 7:15 am This time I thought I was awake for good. The anticipation of my doctor coming to release me, was building. He does not normally work weekends, but was coming in for me. Just like in the USA... ha, ha, ha!!! Anxiety wears me out. I was back asleep within minutes, not waking until the nurse came in with thermometers again. 8:15 am My doctor came in, took me to the examination room, changed my bandage and gave me instructions. No walking until Monday at least when I see him again to take the drainage tube out. No shower unless I can keep the bandage dry. Stay flat on my back or sit only. Gravity is not my friend. When I came out, Ron was in the hallway looking for me. We took a taxi home. Overall impressions: The staff was magnanimous providing for a non-Hungarian speaker. Although antiquated by American standards, I felt safe, comfortable and well cared for during my short stay. I find it difficult to understand how so many thoughts can be crammed into thousands of dreams in this many hours.

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Reader Comments

nad oliric Wrote "Tom & Beth are friends of mine since high school...when Tom sent me the image last wk, I immediately purchased it...his work is powerful, sometimes beautiful, always thought provoking...I am currently using his work to illustrate my book of poetry (Existential Male) Though we each create separately, I find many of his images fit many of my poems...his are visual poems... Beth is poetry in motion."

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Pre-OP Surgery

In order to prepare for my surgery, I had to pick up my lab results, though I was not certain where. The local district doctor told me he would have them, but at the hospital I was told to get them there. I had my private student write out in Hungarian "Where do I pick up my lab results?" listing the three. When I went to the hospital, they had the blood and urine test results and gave me a print-out, but said that the microbiology results would be at the local doctor's office. I went directly to his office, but he does not start until 4:00 pm on Thursdays, yet I was fourth in line. He did not have my microbiology results, but had the nurse call the lab. She had to make four phone calls, but no one seemed to know where they were. Then the doctor made some calls with the same results. He explained that they normally courier them to his office when they are ready, but he was having the clerk at the lab look through to see if they could find them, then I would have to go pick them up. They were not ready. The doctor was not sure if the surgeon would do the surgery without it, so I would have to go at 7:30 am tomorrow and ask the surgeon what to do. Part of me is hoping he will not do it and part of me wants to get it over with and not have it looming over my head. What I had completely forgotten about was that this was the weekend that my 'foster-sister' and her husband were coming to visit. Bad timing!

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Interesting First Week of University

Tuesday, my classes started at the university. I am the project coordinator (a title I just found out I had) of the degree minor in Journalism, Creative Writing, and Academic Writing, because I created the program. My first group to go through are this semester doing their internships. One student is writing for Time Out magazine and has had three articles published so far. With a new group starting the program this semester, I thought I would need to advertise it, but it seems that I did not. I have had to turn students away. We limit the enrollment to 10, the number of computers I received in a donation. A number of the courses are taught on the computers. When I had four students willing to bring in their own laptops if I would accept them, I increased the number to fourteen. One of the courses that is require is Critical Thinking. Due to space limitations, I was assigned to a very small room that comfortably fits ten, but had twenty-five students wanting to take the course. I allowed the journalism people because it is required of them as well as a handful of others. One student was literally whining and whimpering in the back of the room. She later came up to speak to me. She said she needed the class, but was not sure if she would be able to continue the semester as she was undergoing a police investigation. Mind you, she was speaking to me, but not in a confidential tone, so everyone could hear her. She explained she is trying to get to Switzerland for a euthanasia project. I immediately felt sorry for her and asked if I could ask what her illness was. She responded that she did not have an illness, was not sick at all, she just wanted to be euthanized. This is why she has to have the police report to get clearance to go to Switzerland. Looking at her arms, she is covered with scars from cutting. This is going to make for an interesting semester. Since she did nothing to keep her thoughts to herself, the rest of the students are concerned about having her in class for her safety as well as their own. We have a faculty meeting on Tuesday; this is my top agenda item.

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A Work of Art

The post title is truly understated. If you have read this blog for the last few months, you will remember that we had the pleasure of hosting artist Tom Besson and his wife Beth. Beth was kind enough for forward to me a photo she had taken in Kerepesci Cemetery, which inspired Tom to pick up the brushes and create. Because I admire his work so much, I asked if I could post them here. Art is meant to be shared. www.tombesson.com

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One Thing Leads to Another

My friend Daphnee sent me a note about a medicine wheel video someone sent to her. Since she is technologically challenged, she only sent part of the name and told me to search YouTube for it. What I found with her partial title did not fit her description, so back and forth we went. I have not been able to teach her how to copy and paste a url. In my pursuit of inquiry, I came across this video which I found very interesting. Life can be a series of 'flow of consciousness' moments with one thing leading to another and another...so finally I had downloaded four different videos. I am sharing two of them here. Whether or not you believe in any of the 'theory', I found the graphics and music soothing enough to listen to repeatedly on Thursday night and in the wee hours of Friday morning.

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Kaszas comments...

Well Kaszas, my surgery is Friday at 7:30 am. I am doing the best I can to push it into the dark recesses of my conscious thoughts taking one day at a time. The one positive thing I can say about all of this is that here in Hungary, you actually get to spend time with the doctor. In the US, they are in and out so fast, they look like they have super hero capabilities with the speed that they are able to come in and out of a room. As for the blood work, I have a black and blue mark the size of Rhode Island. If I could light it, it would make a fabulous laser show. Kaszas has left a new comment on your post "Another Medical Adventure": ...and were you safe? Oh I feel sorry for you. Thank God I am not familiar with similar practises abroad so there is no basis for comparison on my side. However the process you described matches my experiences with lab work pretty much! Though I wonder what the English lesson would be replaced by in Hungarian...

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Annie comments...

I promised to let this topic drop, but did not want to ignore Annie, so here it goes. I promised not to post any further comments on this topic though. Annie has left a new comment on your post "Last Word on Esztergom": It never fails to amaze me how quick Villy can detect every mention of Esztergom on the internet. Just write the word, and he turns up within hours :D Looks to me that your displeasure with Esztergom stems from the behaviour of that Michael guy, rather than the town itself. Esztergom is awesome, especially all those Gothic paintings I've seen there. :)

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Good-Bye for Now Friend

We were up at 4:00 am in nervous anticipation. Kim was anxious about making her connection in Paris with only an hour to spare. Mixed emotions filled the air as the clock ticked away the minutes for her departure. All of us have new events looming before us that we have to deal with. I walked Kim down to the shuttle; we had to wait about five minutes. When the shuttle pulled up and we hugged, we both started to cry. It had been twelve years since we saw each other; we easily picked up where we left off as if no time had passed at all. Now we are starting that countdown clock one more time.

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Kim Files 9

The last day is always a bummer when you are really enjoying your time together. Kim and Ron gave me a helping hand in getting all of the beginning of the school year things to my office at the university. I had bought a printer for my own use, had piles of CDs and my laptop to bring back. This gave me the opportunity to show off the computer lab I had set up where I teach academic and creative writing, blogging courses, and monitor a peer to peer writing center. We were going to Margaret Island next. The tram stops on the bridge, but the buses are curtailed due to construction. As warm as it was, the breezes kept us cool. We had wanted to rent a Brigihito bike built for four with a canopy, but it was already rented, not to be returned for fifty minutes. Hold Udvar is close, but an attempt to get some early lunch was thwarted by their not opening until noon. We grabbed a sausage from a vendor for the price of a lunch at the restaurant. Our choice in bikes was still not available, so the next best thing turned out to be the better choice. We rented a golf cart that was motorized. Kim had to do it; you had to have a valid driver's license. She drove us around the island for an hour, on any path we could find. It was fantastic. On the way home, Kim and I got off a Antique Row for some browsing, walked to the Parliament, went to see the statue of Imre Nagy, and took the metro home. I tried making reservations at Hemingways. Tonight was a doubly special occasion. It was Kim's last night and also our 16-year anniversary. I was truly upset when Hemingway could not give us a table; they closed for a private party. It is such a romantic spot. One of my readers had written and suggested Dio be put in the book. This was plan two. We sat outside. The service was spectacular. Food was beautifully prepared and each morsel was taste bud heaven. This was truly a fabulous choice and Kim was kind enough to pick up the bill as a congratulatory present. Those rose shaped ice cream cones called our names once again, so we had that for dessert. Now the countdown really starts for Kim to leave us. The shuttle comes at 4:50 am.

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Another Medical Adventure

I had to go to the local doctor for blood work, a nose swab, and urine test for my surgery next week. I did attempt following my surgeon's instructions by going two weeks before hand, but the local doctor was on vacation until today. After sitting in the waiting room for a half-hour, the nurse told me to go in. I sat in the chair and the doctor was on the phone, so I did not speak so as to not disturb him. He kind of glanced my way, but did not acknowledge I was there. He hung up the phone, rubbed his eyes and held his hands over his face for a good five minutes. When he let them drop to the desk, he fully noticed I was there with a vague impression of actually seeing someone. I said "Good Morning", he repeated "Good Morning" in a monotone. I continued with "How are you?", to which he repeated "How are you?". For a minute, I thought we were doing English lessons. Then after a pregnant pause, he said "I thought I was alone. I did not know you were there." I always suspected I could turn invisible when in restaurants and wanting a waiter's attention, but it never worked in a doctor's office before. He looks over the sheet that the other doctor had given me, get a swab kit, does the swab and then hands me a test tube for the urine sample. BUT, I cannot do it there. I have to run home, catch it in mid-stream, then collect the rest in a bottle of my own choosing to bring to the lab at the hospital. The clincher was that I had to have it to the lab by 9:30 am, but as he was talking it was already 9:10 am. I had to break into his further instructions on how to find the hospital, saying I have been there a zillion times, in order to finish this amazing race I was now a contestant in. Ran home, did the sample, ran out and made it to the hospital by 9:29 am, but did not know where to take the sample. I found this little old lady that looked like she should have retired thirty years earlier, but was still wearing a uniform of sorts. She was kind enough to walk me over. It was the same place I had to get the blood work done, but the receptionist was anything but receptive. After a long spiel in Hungarian which I tried interrupting to tell her it was all lost on me, she finally went for an English speaker. The phlebotomist had me sit in front of her with my arm dangling. After disinfecting, she stabbed me like a serial killer with the needle. The cotton she gave me to hold over my wound filled with rich red blood in minutes. I had to go to the bathroom. Holding the paper she gave me in my mouth, I struggled to see what I was doing, while blood poured down my arm. From here, I had to turn in the nose swab, but forgetting it was in my bag, I was sent down to the Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor, where I dropped my medical card into the door slot and waited to be called. Then remembering I had the swab, I gave it to the nurse who told me to bring it upstairs, but in my anxiety, I said they sent me here. She had the doctor fill out another form and sent me back upstairs to return it for the lab to process. Some results will be ready tomorrow, but the nose swab needs to culture for five days. I hope that is not five working days or it will not be ready for my surgery on Friday. Cultures don't take the weekend off, so I guess I am safe.

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Kim Files 8

Well the Kim Files are sadly coming to a close as her time here shortens. She was able to get in on the Opera House tour, while we went to Treehugger Dan's for quick coffee. Meeting her back at the Opera House, we stopped for another coffee at the Ballet Slipper cafe. Deciding we needed to gear up for dinner, we went back home. Kim read, I wrote, Ron puttered around. There was a big night ahead of us, going to the Trofea Restaurant. An all-you-can-eat dining venue where everything is included, a 120 food choices, plus beer, wine, and so on, we needed our strength. As much as I try to monitor myself, getting really small portions, I inevitably come away feeling like the Pilsbury Dough Boy, poppin' fresh. We waddled back content.

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Kim Files 7

Yesterday, Ron took Kim to the Parliament where she went on the tour to be thoroughly impressed. They then met me at Cafe Gerbeaud's, which I still think is overrated and overpriced, but not as much as others. We wandered down Vaci shopping once again, hit some shops for a second time and others that we missed the first time. Needing lunch, we made our way to the Amstel Cafe and waited for 45-minutes to be served. As it turned out, the waitress who was busy talking to a friend had forgotten to turn the order in at all. This was the worst service I had ever received here. Toward the end of the street, we returned to Intuita where Kim bought us a clock I had noticed yesterday and really liked. We made our way to St. Stephen's Basilica. Ron did the interior tour while I tried getting a table for us at California Coffee Company, but no deal, so we had rose petal ice cream cones instead. We had to show her the Four Seasons and of course use their bathrooms. Back home, we rested and then went to Szep Ilona for dinner. Szep Ilona has remodeled since we were there last. It is lovely inside, but we dined in the garden. The food was exceptional and so was the environment. Another memorable dinner.

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Kim Files 6

Ron took Kim on a tour of Kerepesi Cemetery, which some may think is strange, but really it is a glorious park where history meets art. I have included a larger section on it in my new book. While they were gone, I caught up on my writing for the book, completing a couple of chapters, which really felt accomplished. After they returned, Kim rested, we discussed our shopping day. When I told her of the itinerary, she rebuked the idea of so much territory, but I knew better. We started on Kiraly, where she tried on eyeglass frames from the Seattle/Hungarian Tipton. His frames are handmade from old vinyl records and the newer models are from old celluloid film. After trying on a dozen pairs, she finally settled on one to purchase. We wandered down to the tram to arrive at the great market for a quick once over for souvenirs, but they were declared unworthy, so we moved on to Vaci street. Once I got her into one of my favorite stores, Intuita, she received that shopper's rush of energy. Store to store we went, shopping bags accumulating with each block, and finally making it to the other end of Vaci, my original suggestion earlier that morning. All in all, it was quite an exciting day having a shopper with me for a change who made purchases. Dinner was at Marquis de Salade. This was a memorable restaurant that Ron and I went to when we first, first came to Budapest on vacation in 1998. The service was fine, but there was something off about the food. We did start with the six salads, a great choice, but the entrees were not as spectacular as in the past. For one thing, the menu has shrunk. There were quite a number of choices from Russia, Azerbaijan, Uzbekistan, and other countries, but many seemed to be absent from this new menu. What we ordered was good, but not exceptional, so it was disappointing for me who wanted to show off a great restaurant.

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