I know, more ice cream, borrrrring.  Or as Hungarians call it fagylalt or fagyi (sounds like “fudgie” so it’s easy to remember).  And you should remember it because if you’re in Hungary, anywhere in Hungary, you’ll see a gelato stand on just about every corner.  It’s cheap, it’s summery, and it doesn’t matter who you are or what time of day it is or what outfit you’re wearing.  You’re the odd one out (especially on weekends) if you’re NOT eating ice cream.  And I blame Györgyi for my new love of ice cream cones, as if I need another thing to give up.  But there could be worse things, I suppose.

We had a kind of lazy end to the weekend, which included one last ice cream at Dóm Cukrászda.  Györgyi convinced me to go to her favorite place, which is–no coincidence here– next to the apartment house where she grew up.  Then we had to take some new pictures of the flat so that she can advertise it to a new round of medical students in the fall.  Then we went back to Budapest.

Because the American oil execs are in Györgyi’s office this week and weekend, we’re not sure what we’re going to do, so I find myself on this early friday morning not really sure what to write for my weekend plans.  We’d like to go to the Great Synagogue (how many times have I written this now?…) and we’d also like to go to Eger to get some Bull’s Blood wine to take home.  But since it’s summer and I’ve resolved to try to take it easy and not work myself up into a total frenzie before the trip home, I’m just going to leave it up in the air.  As long as I avoid most large crowds of tourists, have a good little lunch in th Jewish district, and eat another ice cream, I think I’ll call this weekend a success.