Category Archives: Traveling

The Long Haul

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It’s never wonderful to travel these days, and that’s the truth. I rarely if ever hear someone say, “Oh I adore flying” or “I just love to travel” anymore. My latest trip from Cleveland-Hopkins to Budapest-Ferihegy was more more than usual. Gyorgyi and I arrived in Cleveland around 1 p.m. Being New Year’s Eve, the airport wasn’t crowded, which was a bonus. Our bags were morbidly obease, as usual, and we had to shift coats, UGS and books between the four bags to make their individual weight requirements. At security, I had the pleasure of stepping into the body scan pod, which really wasn’t a big deal, though I’m glad I didn’t see the computer image. And we even got in and out of our connection in Newark on time (with a nice little dinner at a old-fashionie diner to pass the time).

The haul really began in London, where, for some reason unknown to the ticket agents at three different terminals, British Airways (or Continental) had pushed the flight time of the previous flight so that instead of a two-hour window to get to our connection to Budapest, we had less than thirty minutes. Any international traveler, especially those with experience at Heathrow, will tell you there is no way to make that connection time. After transferring to the correct terminal via 15-minute bus ride, you have to go through security again, a new ticket booth, and then customs, before getting the chance to make the gate before it closes.

We didn’t make the gate. Not even close. And because it was (now) New Year’s day in London, there wasn’t another flight until 7:20 p.m. A mere 11 hours after our original flight departed.

Gyorgyi and I shared a moment of misery. A tear of despair or two. A few minor rages. We even contemplated driving back to Hungary just so we would have something–ANYTHING–to do other than sit at the airport all day. Then we settled down and lugged ourselves over to Terminal 5 for the long wait. Heathrow is a nice airport, actually, with a lot of nice shops and cafes. Unfortunately we were so exhausted from the traveling and lack of sleep that we couldn’t really take advantage of any of it. Instead, we found a little nook with three available leather chairs and took turns sleeping for 90 minutes. After about six hours, we were revived enough to go to the Eat deli and order a ham and cheese toastie.

God bless the ham and cheese toastie. It shall be my meal  of the year.  With the exchange rate, I think it cost me about $90 but I would have paid double for it.

Thirty hours after leaving Copley, Ohio, we made it back to Hungary. It was an interesting way to start the new year, but I suppose one that starts with a little teamwork, a lot of patience, and a saving meal is as good a way as any to get the ball rolling on 2011.

Tuscany

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In the middle of the month we hopped on a plane and flew over to Tuscany to enjoy a bit of the sweet life. That sentence made it seem like we walked out of our doors in Budapest and were in Florence in two shakes, but the truth is that we had what probably all of us would consider the worst check-in experience of any flight EVER. Two days prior to our departure was the final of the Budapest triathalon, so we were in ONE line at the airport that was filtering every plane going to Frankfurt at 7 in the morning and beyond. TEN FLIGHTS. Domestic and international flights, impatient business types, and BIKES!!  Did you know you could check your professional bicycle on a plane? Me either.  But you can!

We cut a few lines, missed a few flights, but by the time we got on the plane headed to Firenze we were popping Xanex like butterscotch drops and happy as clams. And what awaited us during the four days in Florence and Tuscany is something that was just remarkable.

I was in Italy already once when I was 17. Some things have changed and it was certainly more crowded with September tourists. But the light, THE LIGHT. The Tuscan light must have been what the great writers and thinkiers imagined when they pictured eternity, what inspired the the angelic duomos and sculptures. As Dame Judy Dench says in TEA WITH MUSSOLINI:

Florence isn’t just shiny cars and ice creams as little boys think. It’s the human form divine. The body beautiful. And you – yes, you – could be part of that world. To make, to create. To live as those old artists did… is to share a part in the divine plan.

Click on the picture below to see my Flickr slideshow of Florence, San Gimignano and Siena.

 

 

Back in Bovec

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We just returned from Bovec, Slovenia and tomorrow we will head out for a few days in Salzburg, Austria. Bovec was so beautiful it was almost painful to leave the sleepy town and sweeping mountain shadows.  I have added the Bovec pictures to a Flickr slideshow, which you can view by clicking the picture below. When we get back from Austria and my parents head back to the states, I’ll finally be able to catch up on all of the block posts from this past month.  Happy Fall everyone!

Memento Park, Budapest

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This past week, while Györgyi was hard at work, my parents and I visited Memento Park, located in Southern Buda’s 22nd district.

Memento Park is an outdoor museum/graveyard for the remains of Hungary’s soviet statue past.

The skies were overcast, though it didn’t deter the two tourist busses of people from visiting. We went by car, but unless you are on a tour trip through Budapest, you might not even known that it is out there in southern Buda. It’s almost as if there is a feeling from many (including Györgyi) that these little suffering relics of the past shouldn’t get anymore attention.

I’ve been to Memento Park three times now, and I am always left with a lingering creepy feeling. Like most people who visit and who aren’t from a soviet bloc country, my parents thought that the statues were really fascinating and strange.

There are several public transportation options for getting to Memento Park, including a bus that takes you right to the park from the center of the city. I wouldn’t, however, recommend the walking option, which, according to the website is a 20-30-minute walk from Kamaraerdő through the woods. No thanks.

Leaving for Firenze tomorrow.  La dolce vita!

Eger

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Just east of the Mátra mountains is the lovely little town of Eger. While it is recognized for its castle and baths, our main purpose for visiting Eger was to go to St. Andrea winery for a tour and tasting. The region is well known for its wines, but is particularly famous for its “Bulls Blood” red wines. In 1552, 80,000 Turks were advancing toward Eger. Just 2,000 Hungarians, led by Dobó István and including women and children successfully defended the Eger castle. The story goes that during the battle, the Hungarians were drinking the Eger red wine for strength, but all the Turks could see was that the Hungarians had dripping red beards, stained swords and faces. The Turks thought that the Hungarians were drinking bulls blood and were so shocked and scared that the mighty magyars were able to defeat them.

St. Andrea winery is located outside of Eger on a beautiful hillside. We were all very impressed with not only the incredible wines, but with the philosophy of the owners and winemakers. Our guide, Tamás, spoke about how they are searching for the truth in the process, or as he said “the way”. And that more important than selling a million bottles of wine, they want to make a great wine that people appreciate. The tasting was wonderful in addition to the wine, cheese and bread with oil and balsamic vinegar. Inspired by his wife and muse, Andrea, Dr. György Lőrincz’s wines are (like the name of one of his white wine’s suggests) blessings in bottles.

And finally, after the wine tasting, we went back to Eger for dinner right next to the castle at a great restaurant called Imola. The restaurant was recommended by St. Andrea herself, and the food was wonderful. We ordered ham and cheese plates, gulyas soup, beef cheek, stuffed peppers, trout, veal stew and duck. And we were so stuffed from the wine and food that we couldn’t even order desert. So despite the trickling rain and cool weather, it was a beautiful September 1st in Eger.

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Bovec, Slovenia

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Just below the Julian Alps’ Kanin Mountain lies the picturesque town of Bovec. We had always intended to go to Bovec, because Brian wanted to mountain bike in Slovenia, but I don’t think any of us anticipated just how beautiful the little town would be. 

We stayed for a total of four days, which turned out to be the right amount of time.  Trying to fit in all of our activities, which included many hours of just resting and gawking and so forth wouldn’t have worked without staying 3 nights.

We stayed at Alp Hotel, which was right in the city center. It was a great 3-star hotel with a fantastic view. Our first morning, we discovered that this little town of about 3,000 has this 7 a.m alarm:

On our first full day, while Brian went mountain biking, Györgyi and I went on a full day white water trip on the Soča River. Zsolt’s good friend from school, Tamás Vrana, who owns the Soča Rider adventure company in Bovec, was so kind to take us on the trip. It was one of the best experiences of my life, honestly. The water was piercingly cold, so we wore full body neoprene suits, but the cool blast from the white water was a refreshing smack to counteract the climbing temperature and direct sunlight.

There’s a small part of the river that is red flagged for most groups and boats, so we walked downriver a bit to an opening in the gorge where Vrana brought the boat alone. This is what it looked like:

We could have walked even further downriver to where we could have climbed back into the boat from river level. But instead, Vrana encouraged us to jump from the rocks into the water to where he was waiting for the boat.  Unfortunately, when we were throwing our oars into him, Györgyi flopped hers beyond his reach, so he had to paddle downstream and then come up to the rocks with us.  We were then faced with not only jumping into the water from the rock wall, but then swimming downstream, padding to the side, and then getting back into the boat (which he had tied up). It was definitely a scary challenge but we all did it and felt amazing (though we couldn’t feel most of our extremities because of the coldness of the water). Everyone very scholarly and appropriately used their rescue swimmer positions going downriver to the boat (on your back with head upriver and legs downriver) except the constant rule-breaker Györgyi who was paddling face-first downstream with more stroking power than any championship Hungarian swimmer (she doesn’t like being cold).

The whole experience was incredible.  We ate lunch halfway down on the stoney riverbanks. Brown bread, salami and paramasan sandwiches with lemon and peach tea.  We discovered cookies later in the trip, which Györgyi asked Vrana to give to her midway threw the rapids (she likes cookies).

The trip was over at 4 p.m and I wish it had only just started then. I hope that we can do it again when my parents are here later this summer.

That night we sat at a local outdoor bar and watched the America-England World Cup game 1. I don’t think it could have been more perfect than that moment. Especially considering Slovenia is also in the same group with America and England.

The next day we did a morning ATV tour with Mac who owns Outdoor Freaks agency in Bovec.

It was just the four of us and Mac took us up into the mountains, the national park, and around Bovec.  It was a fantastic tour and a great way to see the mountains, river and surrounding area. Plus there’s something absolutely invigorating about traveling the outlying passes on a quad.  I hope that I can also convince my parents to do this trip!

Though we came into Bovec from the Italian side, we decided to take the 24 turns up and down Kransjka Gora and go back to Hungary through Slovenia. At the summit, we found snow.  In June.

On the way back down (at about turn 18 or so) we started to smell the breaks burning, so we decided to pull off and wait for a few minutes at this little rest place.  It was an outdoor cafe/someone’s house/maybe park ranger headquarters.  You could take a shower there for 2 Euros, as long as you didn’t mind the little dog laying on the couch near the bathroom.  We didn’t stay long though–just enough time for a Coke and a few pictures of the inspiring view.

I can’t wait to go back to Bovec (and I won’t be leaving behind my good camera next time either). Even without the adventure trips, I would return just to sit on a park bench, eat the Italian gelato, and take deep breath after deep breath after deep breath.

Čakovec, Croatia

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When I was a kid, I remember watching Neil Zurcher’s segment on Cleveland’s WJW-TV called One Tank Trips. I used to love that show–how he’d meander the country roads looking for the undiscovered Ohio. Those were the days when you’d actually consider spending a FULL tank’s gas money on an Ohio travel odyssey, which I’m sad to say I think is something that many people wouldn’t consider doing anymore. Still, it really influenced my appreciation for Ohio and for travel, long before the Anthony Bourdains came around and made traveling hip.

Since coming to Europe, I’ve found that despite the fact that gas is about three times as expensive in the US, people still love to travel, even by car. Day trips, weekends, whatever, people are on the move and looking for that undiscovered thing, whether it be a castle, a quiet beach or a cabbage festival.  Györgyi and I travel a lot, and to a lot of big name places. But recently we’ve taken to going to quieter locales that don’t always make the must-see lists.

Yesterday, Sunday, we decided to drive down to Čakovec, Croatia. It was a true one-tank trip and one of the most pleasant days I’ve experienced in a long time.

Čakovec is named after the Hungarian Count, Dimitrius Csáky who built the castle there in the 13th century. The castle was later owned by the Zrinski family and it was the location of the Zrinski-Frankopan conspiracy, which was one in a very long list of attempts to overthrow the Habsburgs. But before Csáky, the area was the Roman town Aquama, marshland and legionnaire camp.

The castle is located inside of Zrinski park.

The weather was perfect just before noon, which was a relief to us since it has been raining and storming for what seems like months now in Budapest. And there weren’t a lot of people in the park or the castle, which gave us plenty of opportunities to take pictures of our little monster.

The city is located just a few steps outside of Zrinski park. On Sunday, there was a little street basketball tournament taking place. Everyone else was strolling around town and enjoying the late morning at one of the many cafes.

I loved the arch and curve of the streets. It offered perfect lines for beams of the high sun, and that quaint Adriatic pose of a resting town.

Čakovec is a small town. In addition to the town’s center, there are a few schools, a library, a cultural center, and one bypass that where the town’s only traffic lights are located. There is one sports stadium, which holds 7,000 or half of the town’s population.

We sat down at one of the cafes before leaving. Our waitress didn’t speak English so we ordered the universal language beverage: Coke. Honestly there’s almost nothing better than a cold, .25l regular Coke on a sunny, Croatian Sunday. And after we finished and our straws were empty, we went back to the car and drove the 3 hours home. Two toll booths, one EU customs and passport check (which we almost failed because we forgot Barnabás’ passport)  and the much beloved Marche petrol station where we enjoyed a delicious Hungarian lunch. And we did it all on just one tank.

The Rock

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On Wednesday we went to The Rock–otherwise known as Gibraltar. It’s about an hour’s drive from Marbella and only 20 kilometers from the coast of Africa. Gibraltar is also a British territory, and the 28,000 residents are proudly British. British flags, accents, police with their bobby hats, and fish & chips restaurants were everywhere.

We took a private tour of The Rock with Douglas, a native Gibraltarian and captain of their professional field hockey team.

We got to see a few of the island’s 280 wild, tailless apes, some of them who knew Douglas and came to his car for a few peanuts. The tour was well worth the money, as we would have never gone up to the Top of the Rock alone, probably, without the guide. And the accompanying info was very interesting (especially for history nerds) including the importance of Gibraltar and the straights of Gibraltar.

Also– for you Americans– we learned that the Prudential insurance slogan “solid as The Rock” is actually a bit incorrect, because during the 18th century, over 56 kilometers of tunnels were dug into The Rock.  We toured those as well.

Even though it was a bit touristy, I’m really glad that we went. From the top we could see Africa in the distance, which of course inspired our trip yesterday to Tangier.

On the way in and out of Gibraltar, before and after customs, you have to cross over the one and only airport runway. Technically it belongs to the Royal Airforce, but three times a day, planes come in from London and Madrid. I really got a laugh out of the sign “YOU ARE NOW CROSSING A LIVE RUNWAY. PEDESTRIANS ARE TO KEEP WITH THE WHITE LINES…PLEASE CROSS QUICKLY.“

Gibraltar was definitely a good day trip, and a total surprise in a week of interesting places near this part of Spain.

Olives

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Yesterday we stayed in the apartment for the first part of the morning.  We had a meeting with Philippa, who is our personal contact here. She brought us a bottle of wine, some maps of Marbella, a restaurant guide, and gave us some all-important suggestions of area must-sees. After she left it was almost noon and we decided to just go back to Marbella because, unfortunately, it was raining quite hard.

We tried a few tapas bars, finally settling on La Taberna Del Pintxo, which had been one of Philippa’s suggestions. They have a really neat system there for tapas. First, every table gets olives, which are home-cured and fresh.

If you want cold items, you simply go up to the bar and take them. The cold items are mini gourmet open-faced sandwiches. We each had one to start.

Then, as you sip your small glass of beer or wine, waiters bring around hot tapas items. If you want one, you just take one. They know how much to charge you at the end depending on the color of toothpicks on your plate. We had a quesadilla and some fried shrimp in sauce on baguettes. It was the perfect amount of food and drink and we were able to sit, unbothered for over an hour. Also, the total bill was only 14 Euros!

The Spanish take their siestas seriously. Shops are absolutely closed here from 12-4 p.m. So after lunch, which was almost 4, we decided to drive back toward the resort. The rain wasn’t letting up and so we pulled into a little neighborhood grocery store somewhere in the hills and bought things to make for dinner.

The weather report is a little unclear for today, but for sure there will not be full sun like our first day. So we’re planning on charging up the camera and going to one of the must-sees on our list. Gilbratar, maybe, or Pueblos Blancos.

Old Marbella, or ORANGE TREES!!

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We left for old Marbella at about 10 a.m.  It’s a short ten-minute drive west down the Costa del Sol, which is lined by luxury homes and palm trees. We got there early enough to find a good parking place in town, probably because it was a solid four hours before the Spanish like to eat their lunch.

Marbella is known now for being an exclusive place. Every guide book and online site I looked at said that the city attracts Europe’s “royals and jet-sets.” And next to each restaurant (note: not taberna or tapas bar) in the books, there are Euros symbols extending off the page. But there was a time when the area was more simple. Once belonging to the Phoenicians, Carthaginians and Romans, it wasn’t really a “playground for the rich and famous” until almost the mid-20th century. And since we do not fall into ANY of the guidebook catagories for people you might find in Marbella, we decided to go to the old part of town and try to find a little bit of the old, quaint charm. Quiet streets shaded by orange trees. Large open squares flooded with sunshine.

The old streets were quaint and charming, and airy. In some ways they are exactly how you expect an old southern Spanish town to look like. I had to pinch myself several times. Moss-lined alleyways, window flowers, and greenery in pots on every single balcony.

And of course, because it is Europe, dogs peaking around the corners, old men chatting and enjoying a small beer or wine, and women of all ages gossiping window to window, window to street below.

After about twenty minutes (and after accidentally walking through a movie shoot) we made it down to the beach and the long seaside promenade. I call it a promenade instead of a boardwalk because there were too many of Europe’s “jet set” walking around with high heals in the sand and stone wagging Louis Vuitton bags in one hand and two year old children dressed head to toe in more expensive clothes than I will ever have in the other. These aren’t people who are munching fries at Thrashers, if you know what I mean East Coasters!

The stroll has been mastered here. It’s okay to go slow and enjoy the sunshine and rolling sounds of the small waves. In the little children’s park on the beach, next to the sand castle architect, I had to laugh out loud when I noticed that regardless of their parents’ income levels or lordships, nothing will stop children from rolling their little Burberry-clad selves into piles of wet sand.  It’s just life.

In the distance–one single sailboat. It seemed like everyone was on land, waiting for lunch.  So at about 1, we sat down at La Taberna Santiago tapas bar outside of the park lined by Salvador Dali’s sculptures.

We didn’t really have an agenda, so we ordered as we usually do when we don’t really know what’s on the menu—point to a few things and cross our fingers. I had a San Miguel cerveza, which was the type of beer they served at this particular taberna. Gy had a glass of Sangria.

And we ended up with four really delicious items: Fried cuttlefish (in a larger portion for 2), tortilla Espana, a small calamari sandwich, and a small cuttlefish in a sauce, which was nagyon delicious. Everything was delicious.

Let me use that word one more time to startle all you English teachers out there who want to underline and write in red TRY A NEW WORD:  delicious.  Delicious.  Delicious. It was the perfect lunch.

After lunch, we went back to the Marriott property at about 2 so that we could go to the pool for a few hours to nap and burn.

We noticed a constant procession of people down the beach toward a little seaside restaurant, so we decided to get dressed and follow the crowd. We ended up at a little placed called Merendero Cristina, an ocean-front restaurant, for drinks and dinner.

We were lucky that we got there when we did because we secured the last outdoor table. The sun was bright and warm and it was the perfect atmosphere for ordering a lovely pitcher of Sangria. I never really had Sangria before Spain, but it is simple and refreshing.

After thirty minutes or so we decided to eat at the restaurant because the air was so nice and we didn’t want to bother looking around anywhere else when we already found the perfect evening location.

The sun so so honest and healing. I was bathing in the evening’s warmth.

My cousin, Brandy was here last year with some friends. She wrote me a great list of places that we should see etc., and she ended her email like this: Remember – “Yo quiero paella, por favor” means “I want paella please.” Paella is serious in Spain, and especially on the coast…near the seafood.  So after a relaxing few drinks, we ordered the paella for two and really loved every bite.

At the restaurant you can only order paella for two or more, so Györgyi had to partake in the meal as well. And even though a year ago she would have told you that she despises “sea creatures”, as she calls them, she loves fresh fish now. Hungary isn’t exactly a mecca for fresh fish, so I don’t blame her delayed arrival to this understanding. I think it was the crab and trout when we were in America this summer, or the rock shrimp in Madrid in January that set the ball rolling. But at the restaurant I basically had to wrestle her for just one shrimp from the paella.  She even ate the king prawn with the big, dead eyes staring back at us from the plate.

After dinner we walked back to the property to sit out on the balcony and watch the sunset over the ocean. The air got chilly as the sun disappeared, but we didn’t mind it. We haven’t seen this much strong, rejuvenating sunshine in six months. It really was the perfect Spanish day. There’s a chance it might rain or be cloudy the rest of the week, or so warns CNN+.  But after this first full day, I don’t think I’ll forget about the sol in the Costa del Sol.