Eastern Europe, Hungary

Saying “yes” to the tourist trap was a good idea…

Yesterday was a memorable day that turned out to be quite special. I’ll be writing a longer, more detailed version of this story when I write about this trip, but for now, I want to preserve the memory while I can.

I did a whole lot of walking yesterday. I used to walk a lot, but nowadays, I’ve gotten pretty out of shape. What I did yesterday is no longer normal for me. I probably won’t repeat it today, when I venture out on my own.

I went from the hotel, across the famous Chain Bridge to the Buda side of the city, down the Danube to the Margaret Bridge, around Margaret Island, and then back to the hotel. It took several hours, and I walked close to six miles. I got tired and thirsty, and never managed to eat lunch, although I did have a wonderful cold lager that tasted so good…

After a nap, it was getting close to Bill’s quitting time. I decided to rest in the hotel room. I thought maybe we’d go to the Italian restaurant near our hotel that looked really cool. But since Bill had walked to his conference yesterday morning, he wanted to show me a shopping area very close to where we’re staying. I didn’t bring my purse with me. Instead, I left my bag in hotel room, and carried my phone, some Carmex, and my keycard in my pocket. We were looking at a display in the street, and I dropped my keycard. A few minutes later, I noticed I didn’t have it, and we were walking quickly back to the display to see if we could find it.

On the way there, a modestly dressed, overly friendly woman tried to stop us because she wanted to talk to us… (probably about Jesus, but I don’t know for certain). I was anxious about the keycard and annoyed by the woman. I snapped, “We don’t have time to talk.”

We found the keycard and decided to leave the busy plaza. The intrusion by the proselytizer had put me in a foul mood. I was hungry and tired, and in no mood for people and their bullshit. So I forgot about the Italian place, and we rounded a corner, where we were confronted with a bunch of touristy restaurants… the kind with pictures of the food.

I don’t like to eat in touristy restaurants. I find that the food is usually overpriced and mediocre, and the service is half assed. When we went to look at the menu, there was a very young, pretty woman in a very short skirt, clearly there to lure in male customers. That, too, was a bit of a turn off.

Then a group of Asians rudely pushed in front of us as we were talking to the hostess. They didn’t even end up eating there. By all rights, we should have just walked away and found someplace less obnoxious.

Nevertheless, I really needed to eat something, and didn’t want to repeat the process at the next restaurant. So although I had low expectations, and was put off by the tackiness of the menu and the hostess’s attire, we said yes to the “tourist trap”.

The short skirted hostess pointed to a four top table, right by where the stream of guests were walking in, which I didn’t like. The chair was also not very comfortable. The faux arm rests, which weren’t actually functioning arm rests, dug into my thighs (more long walks without lunch might solve that issue).

I was not all that enticed by the menu, which was a lot of heavy Hungarian dishes, along with pastas, salads, and other stuff. I ended up ordering a draft beer and a Caesar salad with shrimps. Bill had chicken paprikash.

As expected, the food was fairly mediocre. My salad was mostly iceberg lettuce, with quartered toasted white bread, a small slice of bell pepper, some greens, dressing, and Parmesan cheese. I think there were six medium sized prawns. I was glad they weren’t overcooked.

About halfway through dinner, a quartet of musicians showed up. One guy was playing what looked like a dulcimer, while the other three were playing a violin, viola, and upright bass violin. I shouldn’t have been surprised that they played extremely well.

The violin player was obviously leading the act, and he noticed me enjoying the music. He acknowledged my admiration with a big smile, and kept playing Hungarian hits of centuries ago. And then they started playing “I Could Have Danced All Night”, a song from My Fair Lady I often tease Bill with by changing the lyrics to something obscene. Before I knew it, I enthusiastically burst in, singing along like Julie Andrews. People stopped to listen, like it was something out of a movie. The fiddle players came over and started accompanying me. Then they played “Memory”, which I could have sung, but the key wasn’t ideal.

Bill gave them a big tip and we bought their CD, which made me happy, because I love buying music from buskers. It’s probably my favorite souvenir. However, Bill had given them such a big tip that he was short on cash to cover the price of the CD. They wisely sold it to us, anyway. LOLOLOL… Well, it’s not like we didn’t already pay them with the tip.

They played to most of the other people sitting on the terrace and a group of Brits really got into singing “Edelweiss” and “Do-Re-Mi”. One of them came over and paid me a compliment on my voice, and I returned the compliment to him and his group, when he jokingly said, “You weren’t as good as we were!” 🤭

Bill and I had wine for dessert, and left there feeling a lot better than we did when we arrived. And it later occurred to me that this is something that happens to me quite often. I show up somewhere in a foul mood; something amazing happens; then I leave with great memories, or a new story to write about in my blog. When I am back at my usual computer, I’ll have to write more about that phenomenon. I don’t know if this is something unique to me, but it’s happened to me a lot of times in my lifetime.

Anyway, I’m sure this is what the band does all the time… get the crowd going and earn tips, which is exactly what they should be doing. But they were truly kind and talented gents, and I couldn’t help but realize how much time, money, and energy went into what they do. They were stellar musicians. I didn’t hear them put a single note wrong. And as someone who is also somewhat of a musician, I really appreciated that. But I also love that they gave me a wonderful memory and a new story to share.

Bill was emotionally overwhelmed last night, and so was I. The musicians brought tears to my eyes, because they were so good. And when we left, they bid us an enthusiastic good night. I felt like I made new friends! 😁 Music truly is an international language that brings people together.

Every time we travel, something crazy happens… But even if we hadn’t encountered the wonderful musicians, we also saw a guy who came up, perused the menu very obviously, and then walked along the terrace and tapped all of the flowers in an odd and entertaining way. If anything, Budapest is a great place for people watching.

I don’t know what today holds. I’ll probably try to explore the area we vamoosed out of last night, since it looks like it might be a good place to buy stuff for the grandchildren. I don’t think I’ll walk six miles again, though. I need to let my thighs heal from all the chafing.

Standard
Baden-Württemberg

Stuttgart, Germany… it’s as lovely as ever in the springtime… part three

For the past few months, I’ve been following a Facebook group called Ausflugstipps für Baden-Württemberg. Members share photos and day trip suggestions for Baden-Württemberg. I’m also in similar groups for Hessen and the Schwarzwald. I don’t contribute much, but I do get some good tips from actual Germans on places to see. In some ways, I kind of like the old way I used to find places to go… suggestions from people I know, seeing signs on roadsides, or even just by doing a trusty Google search. I have to admit, though, that the Facebook groups make finding places a lot easier!

Anyway, someone in the aforementioned Facebook group recently shared some stunning photos of Brenztopf (aka Brenzersprung), a pond near the Rathaus in Königsbronn, a municipality near Heidenheim, a nice town on the way to Ulm. They also shared some photos of what looked like a really beautiful creek, but people in the know recognized that the background scenery in the photos didn’t match the terrain in Königsbronn and its environs.

I was intrigued by the beautiful photos of the spring/pond on the eastern side of the Swabian Jura. I told Bill I wanted to check it out; it reminded me of when we visited Blautopf in March 2017. Blautopf (Blue Pot) is a gorgeous pond in the town of Blaubeuren. A lot of people have heard of Blautopf; it gets plenty of visitors. By contrast, I had never heard of Brenzertopf, nor the nearby town of Heidenheim, which boasts a big hilltop Schloss (castle). So, although the weather was positively bipolar, Bill and I set out for the attraction, which is about a 90 minute drive northeast of Stuttgart. I got a few rainbow pics… March weather is nuts!

For those who don’t want to drive, it’s possible to take the train. Bill said it involves taking the high speed ICE train from Stuttgart to Ulm, then getting a regional train to Königsbronn. The train stop is right by where the spring is.

Before we went on our excursion, I did some basic checking out of the area. I learned that although Königsbronn is quite industrial, there are a few nice restaurants near there. I thought maybe we’d score a good lunch, too. On the other hand, such things usually require planning… more than I ultimately did.

We managed to find our way to the Brenztopf. It was raining a bit when we arrived, and Bill had to pee… blame those high blood pressure meds. Nevertheless, we gamely found a (free!) parking spot, and found our way to the pond, which I came close to missing, as it’s beside the Rathaus and Hammerschmiede (blacksmith) building. The blacksmith was closed, but Bill sweet talked some lady into letting him use their restroom while I walked around and took a few photos. While Bill was doing his business, I found my way around the building, where the pond is. Although it was very pretty even in the rain, the brilliance of the water doesn’t come out unless there’s sunshine. There I stood in the rain, taking pictures… At least it was free!

Then, just as we were about to drive away, the sun came out. I asked Bill to drop me off by the pond again, to see if I could get some sun kissed photos. As you can see, the effort was well worth it!

So, the moral of the story is, give it a few minutes if the sun isn’t out… I’m actually glad I got to see the pond when it rained, too. I thought the more opaque baltic blue was gorgeous… it’s one of my favorite colors to wear! But it was especially exciting to see how the sun changed the perspective so dramatically. Seems like a metaphor for life, too.

Bill didn’t bother to look at the pond a second time. He relied on my photos. Then we got on the road again and went to Heidenheim, which was having its Saturday market. I think we mainly just wanted to look around a bit, maybe find some lunch. On the way there, Bill saw a woman at a bus stop who wore a long black coat with the hood up. She also wore a white headscarf. He said, “It’s a nun!” I looked up and realized that the woman was actually Muslim and trying to keep warm in the chilly rain. We shared a laugh.

Although Heidenheim has a number of restaurants, not all of them were open. Some appeared to be more like cafes. It was chilly, and the rain was off and on, along with the sun. We were starting to get a bit grumpy. I had noticed an Italian restaurant when we first arrived, but although the sandwich board was out, it looked empty. I thought maybe it would open for dinner. We walked around and I got more photos. I tried to get a good one of the Schloss, with varying results…

Finally, we went back to the Italian place. Noticing a sign for the WC, Bill walked up the stairs, where he found the entrance to La Strada Osteria. On the menu, it looked like they didn’t take a pause, either. Score!

We were greeted by a very friend and tall waiter, who invited us to take a seat in the quaint dining room. He asked what we wanted to drink, and I blurted out “Rot Wein!” It was mainly because I was cold, cranky, and wet. We both enjoyed a healthy pour of red wine. For lunch, Bill had a pizza with buffalo mozzarella and ham. I had lobster ravioli with “hummer sauce”.

The food was very good, and I was charmed by the waiter, who was very pleasant. I noticed everyone seemed to be enjoying their lunches, including an adorable Bichon Frisé at the next table, who smiled and wagged at me when I sat down.

It was about 1:45pm, and we were finishing up lunch. The waiter asked if we wanted anything else. I wanted another glass of wine. He hesitated. I then noticed that he and his coworkers were eating pasta. They were having a pause, after all. So he was hoping I’d have coffee or dessert, rather than wine. I guess he thought we’d linger. Bill had wanted an espresso, and God knows I don’t take that long to drink a glass of wine.

When the guy hesitated, we were about to just pay the check and leave. I was a little embarrassed. But then he compromised and said he’d bring us “Wein für Eins”… I guess he thought we’d split it, which we ultimately did. I was confused, though, because it would have taken just as much time for me to eat dessert, plus they’d have to prepare it. Below are some photos.

We weren’t even the last ones to leave… but the guy got out of the restaurant at just after two, and Bill gave him a nice tip so he could buy himself some more smokes. Then, tired of the crazy ass weather, we decided to head back to Stuttgart. Heidenheim is a nice town; I’d go back, especially if there’s an event going on, and the weather isn’t shitty. A few more photos from our drive back to Stuttgart…

As special as Saturday had seemed at that point, it was about to get even more special… We sat down in the bar and ordered a round, noticing that a large family was wandering around the area. Some of them had musical instruments.

After a little while, we noticed a couple at the end of the bar, who heard us speaking English. It turned out to be a woman and her son. She had long white hair and a face that gave away her German heritage. They had come to Stuttgart from Vermont; her very elderly father had died, and they were there to help her German stepmother bury her dad.

She told us her story. Her dad was born in Stuttgart and had left due to World War II. He married and raised his family in Maine– a place Bill and I visited in 2011. Then, years later, he married his second wife, a German woman who lives in Stuttgart. However, although they were married, the couple lived apart for years. She’d come to the USA for a few months, and he’d visit her in Germany. Finally, about ten years ago, he sold everything and moved back to Germany permanently. He’d finally passed away at the age of 91, so the lady from Vermont and her son were there for the funeral, visit family, and see other sights.

Just after she told us her story, a manager warned us that the big family in the bar was celebrating a birthday, and they were going to be playing music. The lady from Vermont and her son decided to leave, but Bill and I opted to stay… and I have to say, by the time the evening was over, I’d had a good cry.

I’m not totally sure what was going on with the big family. I think they were celebrating their grandfather, but this family had several acts, most of which were very professional. The first performers were three little girls who sang, with violin accompaniment. One of the girls was noticeably talented as a singer; one was noticeably less so; and one was probably tone deaf. All three were adorable.

Next, a teen girl sang what sounded like a German pop song. She was pretty good, but seemed a little nervous– still, obviously more trained than the girls.

Then there was an older young lady who played cello beautifully. That’s when the tears started. She was followed by other family members– a boy on trumpet, a woman at the piano, someone playing a recorder, two violinists… and they played so beautifully for the patriarch. I was very moved, and grateful they didn’t kick us out of the bar. I was very happy to witness that concert. Besides the excellent playing, it was just so obvious that they were a close and loving family.

It made me miss MY family, which is also very musical. We used to be bound by our Granny, who was almost 101 when she died. Unfortunately, her passing, along with the deaths of many aunts and uncles has made it less imperative for me to go home to Virginia. Maybe we’ll make an effort to go back again soon. Some of my extended family might remember me, right?

Below are a couple of videos of the music. Since I wasn’t actually in the party, I didn’t film faces… just got clips of the music they played. Beautiful, isn’t it?

What a privilege it was to witness this…
We were at the right place at the right time.

Standard