Budapest, my latest adventure

If someone had told me I would go to Greece, I would smile with glee. If someone had told me I would travel outside the U.S. twice in my lifetime, I'd shake my head in disbelief with a smile on my face and a daydream in my head. If they told me it would happen twice in one year. No way I would believe them. No way.

Here is my latest trip. I went to Budapest over Thanksgiving break.

Upon returning from Budapest, I realize wanderlust has a powerful pull and I have no desire to fight it.

Budapest is an amazing and beautiful city. A person can read all the books, do all the research, but it isn't until I step foot in a new city and do some exploring on my own that I finally get what the travel books are tying to explain.

After 14 hours of flying (one way) and 4 airports (8 airports altogether. So much better than the 17 to go to Greece) I landed in Budapest, Tuesday afternoon around 3. In my hotel by 4. Since insomnia just seems to be part of my life at this point, along with not sleeping on the plane, the time difference, and just being plain (and plane) tired, Tuesday was mostly a bust. A trip around the block to see what I could see in the dark (not much) a bite to eat from a local shop and back to my room.

Wednesday was the tour of the city. A trip to the Jewish District, which was the Jewish Ghetto during the war, to Hero's Square (the square built in honor of their Millennium celebration in 1896, not completed until 1929, oops.) Opera House, Parliament, around the city, over the Chain Bridge and the Danube, over into Buda, to the Fisherman's Bastion,(which serves as a viewing terrace and nothing more.) Gellert Hill, (Gellert was a man who tried to convert the locals to Christianity. The locals didn't like this very much so, they put Gellert into a barrel, sealed it, threw the barrel down the hill, thus killing him. Let all other Christian converters be warned.) and then I was left in the town square to fend for myself to find my way back to my hotel. Hmmm, where's my map. In my pocket. Excellent. Now. Where am I?

On my way back to my hotel I stopped at St. Stephen's Basilica and then, since it was approaching dusk (which happens around 3 and dark by 4. Me no likey.) I wanted to make the trek back to my hotel since I wasn't sure how to get there and according to the helpful man on the street, it was only a 15-20 minute walk. Totally do-able. However, on my way I came across the Jewish Quarter again and I wanted to walk around since we really didn't have the chance on the tour. After a short stroll I realized I had forgotten the directions back to my hotel. (hey, the synagogue was shiny and sparkly, the stop couldn't be helped.) I stopped into a quaint Jewish bakery and asked the girls for directions. English was not a second language and there was some stumbling, but I was pretty sure I got it. And while in the bakery, stomach rumbling as it had been several hours (several) and many miles (many) since breakfast I bought a few pastries and they gave me a loaf of bread as a present. (ah, girls after my own heart.) Short story long, after about two hours I found my hotel. I didn't get lost, I got distracted. There is a difference.

Thursday I walked back to the Jewish district and took a tour of the synagogue, the second largest in the world, which also included a tour of a museum, the memory garden, which included mass graves from the Holocaust, and the Tree of Life, built in memory of those who were lost. The whole thing was beautiful, amazing, lovely, and heart wrenching.

I walked through the streets which was once the Jewish ghetto and let my mind wander back to another time. I listened to the sounds, the noise, the quiet, the smells, and took in all the buildings and it was suddenly 1940s World War II. It wasn't hard to image that the graffiti on the buildings once spelled out racial slurs and the buildings once housed thousands of Jews cramped into a small space. The fear, the dread, the threat of being taken away. It never ceases to amaze me what man can do to human kind and how human kind can overcome what man tries to do. It was an emotional journey.

From there I walked over to Buda and into the Castle District. To do so I had to walk over the Chain Bridge over the Danube. Pausing on the bridge to, once again, travel back in time and image when there wasn't a bridge, through the years of the war, post-war, to the present day.

Buda and Pest are totally different from one another. Pest is busy, busy, busy, noisy, lots and lots of traffic, lots and lots of car pollution, and the buildings all have graffiti on them. Buda is quiet, quaint, and has a feeling of old world. A place where a person can sit and watch the world go by. Pest, you are the world going by.

Friday was a walk down to the House of Terror. The building where both the Nazi's, during the war, and the secret police, post-war, used as their headquarters. Just as the name suggests, it was a house of terror. Again, what man does to each other. Again, it was an emotional morning. Later in the day it was back across the Chain Bridge, into Buda, and back to my hotel.

Saturday, up at 4:30 a.m., picked-up for the hotel at 6:15 and on the plane home. I arrived back in home state around 6:35 pm. Back to my apartment at 5:32 pm on Sunday.

It was a lovely and very quick trip. It hasn't all hit me yet, but I wouldn't mind going back some day.

Some highlights: I don't know what it is with me and European airports, but from Amsterdam to Budapest, I didn't have a boarding pass. I needed to stop at a transfer desk to get one. After learning the difference between "t" and "d", running, waiting and being told to go to another "t" gate with a shorter wait, running to the transfer desk and being told the plane was closed. Telling the girl I would run really fast if they would let me on, she said she would call the gate and in the meantime I needed to run. Now, running in an airport is interesting in itself. Running in an airport after sitting for 10 hours straight with a 30 pound backpack strapped to my back, well, yeah, "running" is not necessarily what I was doing. More of a fast jog. They were waiting for me at the gate. Yep, they held the plane for me. (ah, special.) After struggling to get the pack off (nice backpack strap burn on my arm) I was on the plane. On the return flight, I was booked on a plane/flight that didn't exist, they were most kind to me in Budapest and they placed me on the correct flight. Then I realized I had a whopping six minutes to get from the Budapest plane to the Amsterdam gate. Yep, six minutes. This time I had a boarding pass and I figured between the six minutes, plus the 30 minutes to board, I had 36 minutes to get on the plane. Totally do-able. I made it in 15, (I have learned to navigate my way through airports quiet nicely) but it turns out they make you go through security well before the need to board. I "ran" for nothing. Lesson learned. I also had to answer several security questions before I could board. Toughest test I've ever taken.

The food: Lots of bread, lots of pastries. Good wine. Since I hardly ate and I walked from one side to the other (literally) no weight gained. (yah!) (Must eat more next time.) And if you like things pickled, go to Budapest. A gyro in Greece is not the same as a gyro in Budapest. The same is true for falafal. The difference: it has all things pickled on it. Red cabbage, sauerkraut, carrots, and just for good measure, pickles. Mmm, that was a surprise....and not a pleasant one.

The people: very lovely.

The language: Almost everyone spoke English. When there was a language barrier, it is amazing what a smile, a pointing of the finger to what I wanted, money, and a nod of thanks, can get a person.

The currency: I made a cheat sheet, which was a really good idea; and when I would see 924 I kept reminding myself, that it was only about $5.

The weather: Not bad. Cold, but it didn't rain or snow. Definitely needed hat, gloves, and a scarf.

Problems: The only glitch was my cell phone. I had made it an international phone, but unfortunately, Verizon added that feature without checking to see if it would actually work. I spent about $80 on phone calls. Verizon will be getting an earful later today.

My feet: cobblestone, bricks, and ornate streets are beautiful, but good Lord, they hurt my feet. My shoes are literally worn out. The tread has been worn smooth. I ended each night with a foot massage. Sadly, performed by me.

Me: I honestly did this trip all alone. I was alone in Greece, but I would run into the same people, or the same people would be on the tours, so I was alone, but I met others. This trip, not so much. I literally did it all by myself and I am very proud of that achievement. I didn't get lost (getting turned around and distracted by shiny things is not the same as getting lost.) So, go, me!

My next trip: If I wasn't going to be spending my summer in Brazil (and wow, that's tough) I would be going to Prague and Vienna. Everyone I spoke with (and by "everyone" I mean shop keepers) kept asking if I was going on to those two cities. I wanted this trip to include all three, but time didn't allow for it, I now need to see the others. (I almost did a day trip to Prague, but again, time.)

It was a lovely and very quick trip, again, it hasn't all hit me, yet. I'm sure, just as Greece took some time to all hit me, the same will be true for this one.

The synagogue


The view of Pest from Buda


St. Stephen's Basilica


The House of Terror


The Chain Bridge


One of the lions guarding the Chain Bridge


Memorial garden, mass graves in the synagogue yard


Tree of Life, synagogue yard


View of Pest, from Buda


Fisherman's Bastion

The Greek diet

I'm a foodie. I admit it. (Only eleven more steps to go and then I'm cured.) (Hmm, maybe I'm not really a foodie.)

Anyway.

Of course I loved everything I ate in Greece and everything that I didn't eat, but saw others enjoying. It all looked just as wonderful as what was prepared and placed before me. All of the food was very simple and nothing I ate left me feeling stuffed or overly-full afterwards; which being an American who has head-sized sandwiches and sacks of potatoes in terms of deep fried portions placed in front of her, this was a welcome change.
I never knew what would arrive in front of me. I knew what I had ordered and what was described on the menu. However, what was ordered to what would show-up, two different expectations. Food ordered: salad, chicken, lamb. What showed up: a salad was fresh tomatoes and cucumbers. Chicken would be this large, simply prepared dish with several sides. Lamb, grilled with a few fresh vegetables.

My favorite part, every single time, was simply sitting down at a table. There isn't a hostess to seat you. You enter, you find a table, you sit, the waiter comes and does his little performance.
The table already had a cloth covering the tabletop, but then the waiter would place a paper table cloth over the linen, would tie the paper cloth down with clips, set the olive oil and vinegar carafe on the table, light the candle, set the silverware down, and then lastly, place the menu before me. Every time. Every place I went to. It was highly enjoyable. It was a little performance just for me.
A basket of bread was served with every meal and wine was served either glass, half liter, or liter and poured into a carafe, not from the bottle. Beer is either Amstel or Mythos. (Still trying to figure out the Amstel fascination.)

My first meal was at the restaurant right next to my hotel in Mykonos. The restaurant was right on the sand and my view was a night seascape. I ordered a Rocket Parmesan salad. What I got was Rocket lettuce with four very long thin strips of Parmesan cheese with large chunks of tomatoes. Dressing was the oil and vinegar placed on the table.
Another time I ordered Chicken Creme. At this point I had been through the, what I order is not what I'm expecting and usually a salad was just a salad accompanied by a basket of bread, so I was really only expecting a piece of chicken with a cream sauce. What I got was a non-hormone produced piece of regular sized chicken with a side of risotto and a side of french fries (only in Greece they are just called potatoes. Hmmm, go figure.) A salad of tomatoes and cucumbers is just that; a plate of tomatoes and cucumbers, undressed, and cut into large chunks served on a white plate.

My favorite meal was the day I climbed the volcano and swam in the caldera. It was mid-afternoon and we pulled into a tiny port town. There weren't any shops and the only places to eat were along the coastline (literally along the coastline.) I had picked a table on the lower level, but when I went to use the restroom I discovered there was a rooftop terrace. I quickly changed my table and ate rooftop. My waiter was the families eight-year-old son who was simply too adorable for his own good. He wrote each item down with his nose about (-) far from his note pad. My meal was grilled calamari and it was just that: calamari on a metal scour with tiny (tiny) pieces of onion and carrot. I think it's safe to assume it was caught maybe an hour before it landed in front of me. The only thing it tasted of was salt from the sea and freshness. My company for the meal were three ladies I met on the boat, a beautiful blue sky and sea, a warm breeze, a one-eyed black cat with a limp, and a Tabby cat without a limp and both eyes. The one-eyed cat was dubbed Willie and he was happy to have the tentacle from the grilled squid. (Very happy to take it from me. No hesitation at all. Willie was rather feisty. Might explain his lost eye and gimp.)

The only thing I didn't do was indulge in the desserts and that wasn't intentional. It wasn't until I reached Athens that this occurred to me. I then ate gelato twice in one day just to make up for my mistake.

I ate every meal, no matter the wind or the temperature, seaside, outside, along the sidewalk, port side, rooftop, or on the beach. My exercise after the meal was a walk back to my hotel, around town, to do some shopping, or to the bar. Believe it or not, I actually lost about 10 lbs. on vacation. Talk about wonderful.

The men of Greece

One thing about being a single gal traveling alone in a country where they are known for their big strong men; a single gal won't be single for long.
I only ate alone once. The waiter/host would either offer to join me for dinner or they would offer to take me out for drinks after they were off work.
Um, okay!
I'm also pretty sure the first English words all Greek men learn are: you are very beautiful, I live just a few (feet, miles, a short scooter ride) away, and don't worry, I can take you home.
Just a guess, but I'm assuming I am correct on that one.

The first glass of wine was always free of charge provided by the waiter/host as a gesture to get me to come into their restaurant. Hey, no problem. Where should I sit?

My hilarious marriage proposal from the aging Greek fisherman happened in Mykonos. The man who liked a bee-u-tee-ful, no skinny, strong wo-man. After passing him on the sidewalk that afternoon I passed him three times later that night. (Not on purpose.) I was trying to find a place to eat and I managed to get lost on my way back to the shore line. (The locals told me they get lost and turned around all the time. Good info to know.) When I passed him once, his face lit up like the twelfth day of Christmas. When I passed him again, he thought I was a tease. When I passed him the third time,he took it as a sign and he wasn't going to let me go. He cleaned off his stoop, set me down, and asked me my name. His, was Adonis. (Of course. A Greek Adonis standing before me. Well, he was an Adonis at one time, but no longer.) He is looking for a strong bee-u-tee-ful wo-man for a wife and he can tell I am a strong bee-u-tee-ful wo-man. He will only marry an Aquarius. What is my horoscope? I have to be an Aquarius, he can tell.
No, I'm an Aries.
He will only marry two wo-mans an Aquarius or an Aries. An Aries is a strong sign. I am bee-u-tee-ful and strong.
This went on and on with me laughing on the outside and secretly coming up with an escape plan on th inside. Each time I would stand up, he would, with both hands on my shoulders, push me back down onto the stoop. How I managed to escape is still a mystery. When I was finally able to free myself from the grips of Adonis I said a silent prayer of thanks to all of the Greek gods, not to let me pass him again. If I had walked by him a fourth time I am pretty sure I would now be married.

In Santorini I went to a little place that was away from the main center of town and I was the only other person in the place. (Which I honestly don't mind.) The waiter offered to join me.
Sure, why not.
He drank while I ate and drank. I taught him English while he taught me Greek. Sadly, he also kept bringing me shots of alcohol that I am sure was pure fire-water and all I remember is Yammis (spelled phonetically) which is Greek for Cheers! After a liter of wine and several shots of the fire-water, into a taxi and back to my hotel I went to pass out. he offered to take me back to his place, "which was only five feet away. Right across the street." But of course.

Mykonos: Delos

Delos is the birthplace of Apollo.
During the Hellenistic period the city was a major port of trade both in terms of goods and slaves. The city had no planning in terms of building or population control, thus is suffered from poor planning and over-crowding. At its height over 30,000 people lived there. The architecture of the homes and buildings started in Delos and then was copied in parts of Italy and Pompeii. The houses were made of granite, mud, and stone and the main source of light came from oil lamps, candles, and the homes also had no roofs.




The theater of Delos





The museum of Delos








Yep, it's a giant penis.

Yep, it's an alter to the almighty penis.

Mykonos

The pelican who joined me for lunch.






He's finished with me.



The streets and sidewalks of Mykonos






Aphrodite's breasts. (They're kinda big. She must of had a boob job.)



The monostary of Mykonos. Camera flashes aren't allowed inside the church, thus the blur of the pictures.

Cheesy self-portraits

I know this probably isn't the most flattering picture, but I LOVE it. This is after a day of sun, jumping into the sea, sea salt, chlorine, and hiking to the top of a volcano. This was taken on the balcony of my hotel in Kamari, Santorini.