So I haven’t posted in a week, but I have a good excuse: my brother, Brian, is in Budapest, and will be for another week. We’ve been having a wonderful time so far doing the tourist agenda and seeing sites off the beaten path. We still have a few sites to see and a little adventure trip to Slovenia. I’ll be back after the middle of the month to write all about it. Happy June!
A few weeks ago we went to a little village called Nagyvázsony (population just over 1,800) very near to Lake Balaton and Veszprém. They were holding their annual event where the town gathers together and walks the cows to the pasture.
We were running a little late because as soon as we neared the lake, opening everywhere before us were these enormous fields of yellow flowering plants. Fields extending to the horizon and interrupted only by varying and bright greens and blues. The endless April rains really did their job. So of course we had to stop for pictures.
By the time we made it to the event, it was basically over. All of the townspeople were walking away from the fields and home to a nice, Saturday dinner.
At the far end of the pasture where the dirt road leads only to the hillside and the ancient castle, we found a group of men guiding the rest of the cows (and one very stubborn calf) to the fields.
It was kind of romantic in that city-girl-mingles-with-cows-from-camera-distance kind of way. I wanted to pet them but they were HUGE. I didn’t realize how HUGE cattle are with their big bovine heads that look much less docile when you’re right up next to them.
It was worth the nearly 2 hour trip to Nagyvázsony. Sun on the lake, and on the flowering fields. Pure joy. And of course Barnabás had a chance to run his little spaniel heart out.
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.
So, we were in in Africa today. Morocco. Tangier, specifically. I can’t believe I actually touched Africa. It seems like so many years and dreams ago since I was a little girl and thought about Africa as being a zillion miles away.
Anyway, I have about 200 pictures of the bazaar, spice market and kasbah, and I will be uploading them soon.
I realized today that the more places I see, the bigger the world seems. And how wonderful it all is.
Duh. Everyone knows that Coriandrum sativum, the annual herb in the Apiaceae family familiarly named “coriander” is known in the Americas as cilantro.
Except for me. Which is mildly devastating to the picture that I have of myself as a culinary saveur. More distressing, perhaps, is that I have long given up the hope of finding cilantro here, thus giving up an array of my favorite foods. What is wrong with me? How could I have not known this?
I’m so sorry Nigella. I don’t deserve you, and I never did.
I could make an excuse here about the English to Hungarian language barrier, but Koriander is a pretty easy cognate to grasp.
So anyway, on Saturday, Györgyi called our local, upscale foodie market in town: Culinaris. “Cilantro?–please hold… Koriander? Of course we have Koriander…”
OMG
So I dashed there on my little Mexican flavored wings and snatched up the last batch. (The shortage was due to the other American ex-pats in Budapest, whose numbers are never more clearly expressed than at every holiday when there is a surprising shortage of Tortilla chips and avocados.)
Behold–the herb of the gods:
And since yesterday was Superbowl Sunday, I graced Györgyi with my salsa recipe. And bless her Hungarian heart, she loved it.
In honor of this great moment in my life in Hungary, I will post my favorite cilantro-dance of all time. Which I have done several times since we found it here and will do it again, and in public.
(The greatest animated character of all time, from the genius–yes I said it–genius, American Dad!):
Day two we finally got a break from the constant rain and we were quick to make our way to the center of town to take some pictures, eat some food, and see some sites in the Spanish capital.
The Metro system in Madrid was very nice. The lines that we took around town were clean, efficient and we never waited for more than 5 minutes for a train. Even on Sunday. On New Year’s Day we headed to the The Puerta del Sol (Gate of the Sun) which is one of the most famous spots in Madrid and home of Spain’s km 0. I loved the Tío Pepe sign.
We waited for a few other people to snap their pictures, before getting one with Györgyi and the Bear and the Madroño Tree, which is the symbol of Madrid. It was gated off, which I don’t think it is usually, but the night before the big New Year’s Eve celebration was held in that square and probably they wanted to protect it from the revelers.
The plaza was packed. Seriously packed with tourists, despite the cloud cover and occasional spitting rain. Everyone was out shopping and eating, which seems to be the most popular activities in Madrid. I’m not complaining.
The area was a really interesting blend of tourism, modern Spain, Old Europe buildings and of course European classics: Loaves upon loaves of bread being delivered to alleyway shops.
When we saw the bread we knew it was a sign to start looking for something to eat for lunch. And it seems everyone else had the same idea because every little joint and tapas bar that we went into was packed. I took these pictures in a butchery/sandwich shop/tapas bar. There is something so beautiful about this meat. I’m not a really serious meat-eater, but the rows of these drying hung hams were just inspiring! I also adore the Spanish food culture. Especially the small-bites mentality. A few little lunch items, a small beer or wine, and then a walk (or nap) before going back out for an evening stroll and late dinner.
We sat down at Taberna Hambra. For you Spanish-speakers, you can see the menu options. The prices (in Euros) were pretty standard for most of the tabernas in town.
So. From the top left. The free bread for the table. Györgyi was particularly amazed by this gratis bread, especially since free anything is practically unheard of in Hungary. (When the server at El Campensino in America refilled our tortilla chips and salsa she looked as if she had seen the face of God.) So, bread. We both split/tasted the Tortilla Espanola, which was essentially a large cake of potato, onion, cheese and egg. Very very delicious. I had the paella, which was so wonderful, and one of the two things I wanted to eat in Madrid. Saffron flavored goodness with shrimp, mussels, clams and squid. And finally Györgyi had an empanada with tuna.
As afternoon dragged toward evening we walked through town and down the Grand Via. The sun was trying her hardest, but eventually the clouds wandered back into the city center so we headed to our hotel to rest before dinner.
As we walked to dinner, we passed the monument for Christopher Columbus. The light that evening was incredible. And despite the on and off again rain, people were really out and walking everywhere. This is a ritual throughout Europe, and one that I wish Americans would adopt. It’s relaxing, not to mention good for health.
We didn’t stay out much later than to eat dinner, though we did catch the sunset around the fountains before we ate. I always have a much harder time adjusting to the jet lag coming back to Europe than going to America, especially because I can’t sleep on the plane. So we went back to the hotel a little earlier than usual to rest.
The way back was lit by all of the holiday lights. Each street in our neighborhood had a different set of lights running from end to end. Not only was it beautiful, but it made figuring out the streets very easy, especially at night.
It was a nice and restful way to spend New Year’s day. We were fully prepared for the following day and our marathon of museums and tapas.
I should start off by saying that I am not a good plane traveler. Haven’t been for years now. But after a few handfuls of xanex, I’m usually ready to hit the skies. Unfortunately my trip back to Europe wasn’t the smoothest. First there were the delays in Cleveland when the pilot actually turned the plane off on the runway for an hour. Then delays in Newark. I thought the short 6.5 hours to Madrid would be better, since I ensured an aisle seat. Only the man sitting in the seat next to me (in the middle seat…on a 757) (who was traveling alone with his 10-hour-old baby) wanted to switch with me. And of course I had to say yes. Not out of moral obligation or general decency but the fear that god would either crash the plane on account of my selfishness or shrivel my ovaries right on the spot.
As you can imagine, I was more than happy to arrive in Madrid, and check into the lovely Hotel Wellington. You’ll notice from the above picture that there is no large suitcase blocking the shot of the room. That is because the ground crew in Newark was unable to transfer the bags from the Cleveland flight to the Madrid plane in the hour and a half that we had before leaving. My suitcase did arrive the next day, however, and was waiting for me in my hotel room.
The morning of New Year’s eve, we went into the part of town near to the Prado and Reina Sofía museums. Before anything else, we drank a civilized café con leche and planned the day.
We would have liked to go to the museums, but the Reina Sofía was closed until the 2nd and the line for the Prado was over an hour long. And as we were deciding whether to wait, it started to rain.
So we walked back toward our hotel, which was only about a mile away from the museums. We explored the neighborhood around the hotel a little bit. It was stocked with swanky boutiques and designer shops. But considering the fact that our hair was matting to our faces on account of the rain and I was wearing clothes I had washed in the sink the night before, we didn’t attempt to go into any of them.
Then it really started to rain. So we popped into a little bakery and grabbed some empanadas to take with us back to the hotel room. Clockwise from the top left: Empanada plate, red pepper, queso & Iberian ham, and some kind of meat/onion/garlic one. They were all delicious. Click on the pictures to see them in all of their new Nikon D5000 luster.
After a short nap, we looked out the hotel window and didn’t see any rain. And since my bags had arrived that afternoon, I put on fresh clothes and we left in search of dinner.
We made it three metro stops away from the hotel before the downpour started again. On the way we ran into a pack of runners. I’m not sure what the race distance was (because these New Year’s Eve runs were happening all over Europe) but I was glad not to be running that night. Click on the picture on the right to see the runners more clearly.
We abandoned our search for a restaurant and headed back to the hotel to do what any reasonably minded people would do on a rainy, New Year’s Eve in Madrid:
Eat dessert and drink a sparkling Spanish wine. And as it turns out, it was the perfect way to spend New Year’s Eve in Madrid.
Stories, pictures, tapas to come…
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