Europe day 13

                                            Gellert Spa and Hotel

          With the Air France pilots’ strike in full swing (note to file:  NEVER take a trip that includes Air France), part of our day was spent rearranging schedules, since we were all flying from Budapest to Paris en route home.  More about that in a postscript.  Having made arrangements for Tricia and myself, James and I headed via tram to the Gellert Spa.

 One of the spa pools

          There are more than 100 thermal springs bubbling up in Budapest, producing about 15 million gallons of mineral-rich hot water each day.  A number of spas have existed for years to take advantage of this resource, and Gellert Spa is perhaps the most famous.   In 1934, the International Batheological Association (surely you are familiar with this institution) established its headquarters here, after the Gellert Bath and Hotel opened its doors in 1918.  Believing the claims of the amazing medical, psychological, and social benefits to be obtained from soaking in these waters, I paid my fare, changed into a swimsuit (required nowadays since both males and females soak together), and floated around in different pools of varying temperatures until all my problems melted away and it was time to see more of Budapest.  The number of over-50 patrons far exceeded that of younger generations, and from the physical appearance of most of these patrons, the healing waters here have failed to produce the desired results.  James did not notice the dramatic change in my physique, and my feet still hurt from all the walking, by the way.  But it was a pleasant way to pretend to be Roman royalty in luxurious surroundings.

 Parliament building from across the Danube

          We took the tram over to the largest building in Hungary, the Parliament Building, arriving about 1:30 to buy tickets for the 2:30 English tour.  Only, that tour was now sold out and there was to be no more English tour until 3:45.  After buying two tickets for that tour, we realized we had promised everyone we would be back in the apartment by 4; so after much discussion we agreed to trade in our tickets for the 2:15 tour in Italian.   One of us suddenly remembered that neither of us spoke a word of Italian.  Fortunately, the two beautiful young Italian girls in line in front of us spoke some English, and no matter what James may tell you, I was NOT overly friendly and assertive with them.  I was only trying to learn as much as possible about the parliament itself and the history of the building.  And at the end of the tour, they did NOT get away from the group as quickly as possible so they could avoid any further conversation.  In fact, none of what he says about this particular encounter is true.  Do not believe him; he can appear to be sooo sincere, but there is treachery behind those soft eyes and honey-dripping tongue.

          

One of the stairways in the Parliament Building

          As you remember, the three cities composing Budapest were not united until 1873, and this landmark, still the tallest building in the city, was not completed until a thousand workers had laid 40 million bricks and used 88 pounds of gold and half a million precious stones in its construction.  We were led through halls and open areas that rivaled the cathedrals in their opulence, with marble columns, huge paintings on the ceilings, and statues beyond count.  There were even ornate brass cigar holders outside the legislative chambers, numbered so each member could keep track of his cigar.

 Legislative chamber

          Perhaps the most revered symbol in Hungary is the royal crown, worn by 52 kings over more than a thousand years.  It is on display in a glass case guarded by two soldiers, in a huge rotunda where no pictures are allowed because of the reverence with which it is viewed.  The guide gave a detailed description of its history, in Italian, and if it had not been for some translating by a couple of very friendly members of the tour group, we would have never known what the guide was saying.  If you are interested in statistics, the building has 10 separate courtyards in its nearly 900-foot length.  It has 29 staircases, 29 gates, 13 elevators, and 691 rooms.  And although the legislature became unicameral years ago, the unused chamber is still open to the public during the tours.

  Great Market Hall

Shopping in the Great Market

        While James and I were visiting Parliament, Viren did a walking tour of the city, while Tricia, Jeanne Marie, and Amita went over to the Great Market Hall, a huge building housing the largest market in the area.  Our fears of credit card max-out were unfounded, as demonstrated by the huge variety of local foods (and no souvenirs!) they brought back and prepared under the tutelage of Chef Amita.  Our last deliciouis meal, accompanied by two bottles of Hungarian wine, was taken in the apartment while we reminisced and said our good-byes.

          It was a great ending to a great trip.  Time to go home.

         

 Charlie & Tricia

©2014

Postscript:  Before we post this final trip report, a summary of our travel woes is in order.  While the Kisses and Mehtas spent much of Wednesday arranging a Friday flight to Paris (they will have to drive to Vienna and fly from there), we were able to change from our original Budapest-Paris-Atlanta-Jacksonville trip on Thursday, leaving at 10:10 a.m. and arriving in Jacksonville at 11:00 p.m.  After our Air France flight to Paris was cancelled, the friendly Delta lady was able to quickly rebook us on Alitalia to Rome at 7:15 a.m., and after a 3-hour layover to JFK at 12:45.  The final flight was to Jacksonville after another 3-hour layover, arriving at 10:40 p.m.

          Arising at 4:15, we left in a taxi to the airport at 5, where we were informed at the Alitalia counter that our tickets had been changed again, and that we would not be leaving until 12:15 for Munich.  After some animated conversation about sitting in the Budapest airport for 6 hours, the agent changed our booking, and the fourth and hopefully final version goes like this:  leave Budapest on Lufthansa at 6:40; arrive Munich 7:55 a.m.  Leave Munich on Lufthansa at 3:35 p.m.; arrive Newark 6:35 p.m.  Leave Newark 8:45 p.m. and arrive Jacksonville 11:08.  At this point we have made it to Munich, at least, and are enjoying our 7.5-hour layover in air conditioned comfort.  As we try to avoid commiserating over the 25-hour trip, we hope you have enjoyed these reports and perhaps will do another one someday. 

Until then, auf wiedersehen.

Europe day 12

 View of Pest from Buda

          On the banks of the Danube River, you will find one of the largest cities in the European Union, consisting of Buda and Óbuda on the west side of the river and Pest (pronounced pesht) on the east side.  These two cities were united in 1873, and we have known them ever since as Budapest.  Originally a Celtic settlement, the Hungarians moved here in the 9th century, but the Mongols pillaged the place in 1241.  For a while it was ruled by the Ottomans, but it later became the second capital of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.  They held a couple of revolutions here, in 1848 and 1956, and of course made the mistake of siding with Germany and Italy in World War II.  About 450,000 of their Jewish countyrmen were sent to Auschwitz and other labor camps within a period of 8 weeks just before the war ended and exterminated.

 The Danube from the chain bridge

          All that is now a distant memory for most, and today Budapest is one of the world’s most beautiful cities.  It hasn’t been renovated as thoroughly as Prague, but there are still plenty of beautiful and historic buildings.  This morning we strolled by some of them on the way to Castle Hill.  While we were strolling, a male member was sidetracked by this huge display of ice cream flavors, and before you knew it he was lovingly engaged with a scoop of rice pudding and raspberry.

                                            Chain Bridge

          A couple of my companions had talked me into the 20-mile walk over to Castle Hill, shaming me with what they claimed at least barrel of ice cream had done to the waist line.  They claimed it was only a mile or two, neglecting to mention that we would skip the funicular ride to the top and walk up the 20,000 feet or so to the top of the hill.  We crossed the famous Chain Bridge to get there, pausing briefly to catch our breath,  and  had some friendly conversation about the desirability of taking the funicular instead of climbing the mountain.  Anyway, when we finally reached the top, panting and drenched with perspiration—two of the group seemed unfazed by it all—we joined the other three friends, and your writer was assigned the job of procuring tickets for entry to the Church of Matthias.

 

Funicular we should have taken

          There were two ticket lines for the church, and I chose the shortest one, behind half a dozen or so others.  There was a great deal of animated conversation between the person in the front of the line, and apparently a great deal of confusion generated thereby.  A sign to the left of the window, in Hungarian, listed the prices.  There were six rows and three columns, so there were 18 possibilities for tickets, depending on your age, marital status, size of group, race, national origin, sexual preference, and political leaning.  It was impossible to tell which category we fell into, and the clerk seemed to be arguing with the person at the window about what price she should be paying.  It was not difficult to tell that the clerk was fairly new at this, and there was a sign partly in English apologizing for the fact that the computers were down and it was a cash only day.

 Matthias Church

          After 10 minutes or so, the ladies apparently settled on a price, and the next person stepped up.  This person did not speak any language that any other person within earshot understood, so there were many minutes of hand and arm signals—some of them gestures, you might say—before he was able to move away with tickets.  This left four people in line in front of me, and Tricia finally came over to say the group was getting a table in a nearby restaurant, and would I please hurry up and get the tickets and come join them.

 Roof tiles on the church

 

          The next person in line had a significant hearing impairment, and must have thought the clerk had the same problem, as he was soon yelling at the top of his voice, and the clerk was shouting back through the window to the best of her ability.  This shouting contest went on for several minutes, and after what seemed forever, they finally settled up, and the line moved forward by one.  Around 30 minutes had passed at this point, and there were three people ahead of me.

          The next person seemed to have a pleasant but lengthy conversation with the ticket agent, until the girl pulled out a credit card and tried to pay for her ticket.   She apparently could not read the sign in four languages saying cash only, and could not understand the Hungarian clerk, so a sort of argument ensued while my watch clicked off the minutes.  Finally, someone in the line made her understand she had to pay in cash, so she began rummaging through her pocketbook.  This seemed to take forever, and she finally put all her Hungarians forints through the window.  But it was not enough.  She was 500 forints short.  Now, at an exchange rate of 232 to U.S. dollar, we are only talking about two bucks or so.  She starts looking all around as if to expect to see 500 forints on the ground or falling from the sky, until some guy behind her says “look, I’ll buy your #*!@* ticket for you,” and shoves a 500-forint note through the window.  Finally she is able to move away with ticket in hand.

          We won’t bore you with the details of the next 15 minutes in line, but it took me approximately 45 seconds to buy our six tickets and hurry on over to the restaurant, where the rest of the group had finished lunch and were ready to move on into the church.

Inside the church

 The organ from below

 

          $20 million was all it took to restore the church, with its huge stained glass windows and east-meets west interior, combining several architectural styles.  Parts of the church—named because King Matthias married here in 1474—date back 500 years.  But much of the church was built in the 19th century.  That does not make it any less impressive, and we spent quite a bit of time here, admiring the paintings by Roman artists and climbing the stairs on the side to view the details of the interior more closely.

Royal Palace from a distance

With one of the royal guards

        We passed by the Royal Palace, destroyed and rebuilt six or seven times over the last seven centuries, which now contains the national library, two museums, and untold numbers of monuments and statues.  We thought some of the most colorful statues were outside, until we realized they were ceremonial guards.  One of us tried his best to make one of the guards smile, but his antics only served to irritate and frighten the rest of our group.

Solo concerto for the birthday girl

       In the evening we celebrated Tricia's __ birthday one day early, because we have an early flight out in two days if the Air France pilots strike comes to an end earlier than scheduled.  the restaurant featured a  string band of gypsies, one of whom took a liking to Tricia and gave here a violin solo in celebration of this most momentous occasion.  She didn't look a day over 40--don't you agree?

Charlie & Tricia

©2014

Europe day 11

Prague train station

          As we pass by the beautiful Czech and Hungarian countryside, on the train this time so we may enjoy the scenery, we will offer you a few observations from our days in Prague.  Tomorrow, we begin two days of exploring Budapest.

          There is essentially no serious crime here.  We left our balcony door open during the day, with money and valuables within easy reach, in a city of more than a million.  We didn’t ask for a wall safe or a place to store our valuables

Fun in the dining car

          Prague is a clean city, at least the parts we saw.  No one throws trash on the streets or sidewalks, although there is a great deal of cigarette smoking, both inside and outside.  It makes you wonder.  What is so culturally different about us that makes so many Americans feel the highways are trash dumps?

          Can we bring back the trams and cobblestone streets in some beautiful American town. Like they have here?  And while you’re at it, how about some of those tiny cobblestones for the sidewalks, and a good restaurant every block or so?  For good measure of course, throw in a few high quality ice cream shops, with 30 or more exotic flavors on display for the public to sample.

          The arts are alive and well here.  It’s even reflected in the buildings in the old town, with their balconies, terracotta tile roofs, gables, pediments, arches, statuary, arches and other ornamentation that would cost a fortune to add in our country.   You could attend a concert every day—sometimes two a day, and in venues that would put most of our concert halls to shame.

          The people don’t smile much, and seldom make eye contact on the street.  Some go out of their way to be rude.  Perhaps we would be that way if we had endured 50 years of Soviet rule and the communist economic system, following years of Nazi domination.

          Speaking of the Russians, we saw petitions being signed demanding the removal of Putin and the restoration of true democracy in that country.  Tilting at windmills occurs even in Eastern Europe.  One of us signed such a petition—so don’t count on trip reports from there anytime soon.

          And as we roll across the farmlands, hills, and mountains on the train, the Soviet-era apartment buildings stand out like sore thumbs, with their lifeless, plain exteriors, pretending that government can put us all on an equal economic footing.  Viren even pointed out that there are no windows at the corners of those buildings, so no family can have more windows than any other family.  Makes you wonder whether there is a word for opportunity, or advancement, in the dictionaries of that anachronistic empire.

          If you thought the tutti frutti flavor of ice cream had passed from the scene, you should visit the corner ice cream shop just south of the old town square in Prague.  It’s actually pretty good.

 In the Budapest train station

          And if you are holding your breath until we return to Georgia late Thursday, don’t.  Upon our arrival in Budapest, we have learned that employees of Air France, scheduled to fly us out to Paris Thursday morning, have gone on strike and all flights are cancelled.  Have a nice day.

 Charlie & Tricia

©2014