Lángos!!

My favorite Hungarian treat in the entire world - lángos!!!  I found some at the Great Market Hall, a typically touristy place, but what the heck.  I was appalled when the offerings for your lángos included nutella, pepperoni, peanut butter and other such weird things.  I have only had one sweet lángos in my life, and that was in the United States.  We ordered the traditional one that has sour cream, cheese and SHOULD have garlic sauce on it, but for some reason it didn't.  It was a feeling of home comfort food, and we gobbled it up very quickly.

Traveling with your parents...

Let me start by saying that I am grateful that I have the opportunity to (as my mom says) "make memories" with my family while traveling.  In the close proximity of traveling with family, particularly internationally, there are certain quirks that may not be as appreciated as others.  Like most of the things my dad brings to the table... those are the not as appreciated, but probably should be appreciated because I'll miss them dearly when I no longer have these opportunities.  

Let's start with pre-travel packing "issues."  My lovely, but aging parents could single handedly fund their own gyogszertar (pharmacy) in Hungary.  If you had a clue of the pills they took on a daily basis, you'd think that they were working on making an elixir for life.  In their defense, they are fairly healthy, but really.  My dad has am pills, pm pills, pills for before eating, pills for after eating (dessert pills perhaps?) and drops for his eyes to top everything off.  Don't worry, there are charts to mark down when he puts what drops in which eyes.  Then there is the eye patch... I won't even go there.  All of these things take a calculated amount of time to prepare for when coming up to a trip.  It's basically the only thing my dad is in charge of in terms of packing, other than 42 sudoku books and an occasional three inch anthology of presidents.  God only knows why he needs a book for "easy sudoku" one for "hard sudoku" - there is one thats "complicated sudoku" and best of all, his new "Christmas sudoku."  What the hell makes it Christmas sudoku?  You guessed it, red and green colored paper.  While my mom and I were futzing with our right controller (see post from yesterday) my dad was trying to get to the "games" on his television, and then trying to figure out how the hell to put the numbers in.  Really? You have five inches of sudoku books - why the eff are you bothering with these stupid airplane controllers?  

...I digress....

For those of you who know my parents or have followed my writing before, you know that my dad appreciates the little things.  Whether it be a branch that's caddy-whampous (is that how you spell that?) or a leaf the size of his face.  It could be a man hole cover, or a gutter that seems to flow the wrong direction.  He notices it all.  We are standing looking at the Coliseum in Rome, and he notices that a dog is walking down the street and is fascinating to him because it's an "Italian dog."  Don't get me wrong, he was impressed by the Coliseum, but its the little things that really impress him.  For example, our trip to the great market yesterday.  My dad hates shopping.  With a passion.  He has a sudoku book with him at all times (travel size mind you - which he did NOT pack for the trip) in case the shopping becomes too intense and he needs to find a chair and rest for a bit.  We walked into the great market hall - which is impressive - and he could have spent hours there.  At one point, he told my mom and I that we were walking too fast, and he couldn't stop to see everything.  

 

My dad was so impressed by this cauliflower.  Admittedly, it was freaking huge, but it's cauliflower dad.  Don't you know that there are cheap, crappy souvenirs for us to peruse upstairs?  Let's keep moving.  

Mom and dad in the great market - designed by the Frenchman Eiffel.  Yes, the one you're thinking of. 

My other favorite part of traveling with my dad is the way he takes things in and is easily fascinated by things that are different.  Perhaps it's because he didn't travel extensively until retirement, perhaps it's because he's crazy, I don't know.  My dad is a watcher.  He likes to watch other people.  He likes to watch Fox news.  He likes to watch my mom.  He likes to watch machinery at the European breakfast nook in our hotel. 

Nothing pleases me more than watching my dad watch other people trying to figure out the cappucino machine, or more recently, the orange juice machine.  You have to push certain buttons for what beverage you desire, and my dad just wants coffee.  A large, mediocre, free-refillable cup of mcDonalds coffee.  Well, that's not a choice on the cappucino machine.  You can get "frothy milk" "espresso" "cappuccino" "long milk" etc.  None of these are the type of coffee my dad is used to.  So what the hell does he push?  By this trip, I'm used to just getting his coffee for him so he can stop and watch people as they choose their buffet foods.  I do love the choices on the different machines though, and watching to see if he pushes the right buttons, and puts the cup in the right place so it actually makes it into the cup he put there.  

Who knows what the hell is happening here... but he ended up with some frappy-dappy something or other in his cup.

I'm not even going to get in to the orange juice machine....

The last thing I love about my dad, is how he dutifully follows my mom around.  She wanted to do some shopping while out last night - and hells bells, my dad was not warned of said shopping, therefore ill prepared with no sudoku book in hand- he just had to endure.  As you can see below, he is thoroughly enjoying himself at the H&M.  He just stands inside the doorway, where there is the most direct heaters and waits.  patiently.  as long as he needs to. 

That is family travel love.

Note to the readers: In this picture, my dad has on long underwear - top and bottom - an undershirt, a long sleeved shirt, a columbia vest and a winter jacket - with fleece lined jeans of course.  All of that, and he still looks like he's never braved a MN winter.  Yeesh. 

Well, we're at it again... The Staffa's go (back) to Europe

I'm not sure how we pulled this off exactly, but as a result of my parents' financial savvy and my credit card, we are back in Europe- more importantly, in Hungary.  This is our fourth trip to europe in 13 months- it's a bit of an addiction if you ask me.

I decided months ago that I would return in December for the Szalagavato of my youngest students that I had while teaching in Hungary.   Luckily my parents were interested in coming with, and Mike traveled from Tokyo to meet us as well.

These students we are visiting are the ones I had for the full year and a half I was there, several lessons a week.  One might say I knew these students the best as a group since we had so much time together.  Szalagavato is a sort of 'coming of age' ceremony that is very important in the lives of the 'school leavers' or the graduates.  They receive their ribbons- it's pinned to their winter coat to indicate their status as a school leaver - and then do their class dances.  They have themes that each graduating homeroom chooses, and as far as I can tell, this year's English group is something Godfather like.  After the class dance, they do a waltz in white wedding dresses and tuxedos.  It's a very special night for the graduates and their families, and I'm blessed with the opportunity to attend my third Szalagavato this year.  More about that later though.

The flight over was long, but do-able, as we're basically naturals at this by now.  It would have been a bit smoother, but both my mom and I had faulty television controllers.  I know, first world problems, but when you're looking forward to the free movies as the highlight of the flight, this was a buzz kill.  I was just told on my way to the airport by a friend from school that I should watch "The Campaign" sometime, and sure enough, it was one of the movies offered.  Unfortunately, my controller's arrows would not move to the right, so I was not able to select that movie.  It was super frustrating (as most technology is to anyone who is much older than I) I spent 30 minutes trying various ways of getting around the right directional arrow.  Clicking up, to the left, continuing to the left, trying to go alphabetical, none of it worked.  I eventually settled and watched the latest Bourne movie.  While I am an ardent fan of the Bourne movies, this did not live up to my expectations as it did in fact lack Jason Bourne.  I also watched "Mirror Mirror" with Julia Roberts, who - I'm certain if I were a lesbian I would lust after her.  I also started Pixar's "Brave" but didn't finish.

The thing I hate most about flying on planes is my loss of control.  I am a control freak (as many of you know) and it all goes down the crapper when you're flying.  I can't control when I can eat and drink.  Depending on my seat, I can't control when I pee.  I can't control who I sit next to, and I can't control if my television controller works or not.  This flight was manageable, but not without traits of my OCD and control freakiness bubbling to the surface.  First, I purchased a foot long subway sandwich at the airport before we left.  Never mind that I had eaten before going to the airport, and knew we would be eating on the plane.  There was just something about not being able to eat something if I wanted to while on the plane and when they weren't serving food.  Additionally, there seemed to be something just right about getting a sandwich - with cold cuts - for said flight.  It's as if I was preparing for my arrival to Hungary.  Next, I had two empty water bottles that I filled before take off, a caribou Reindeer Drink and a Diet Coke in my bag.  I need to have beverages.  Lots of choices of beverages.  Lastly, I had an aisle seat.  I've always longed for those super artsy pictures of people taking off and landing in famous cities around the world, and I've certainly done enough traveling to accumulate a great collection.  But that one picture just isn't worth it to miss out on being able to freely pee when necessary.  Bathroom accessibility trumps pictures almost every time.  Well.... that's arguable I suppose.    The last thing I hate about flying is the crapshoot that is seat assignments.  You know you all look around the waiting room wondering, "will I be sitting next to him?  Or him?  Geeze - I hope it's not her that I sit next to..." Yeah - I do that.  Every time.  I ended up okay as the guy I was next to didn't speak to me.  Airplane captive audience small talk is my own personal hell.  This was avoided by immediate application of earphones, to be removed only for aforementioned bathroom trips.  On our flight from Amsterdam to Budapest, I was in the middle (sigh) but again sat next to two equally "shy" passengers.  I did note that the 30something guy next to me was reading in Russian, typing on his computer in English and speaking in Hungarian.  There is something to be said for someone who can just switch like that.  I aspire for such skills.

At any rate, we made it safe and sound.  We are in a nice hotel near the Danube and the pedestrian shopping street, in my favorite part of town.

We will rest easy and prepare for Mike's arrival and more debauchery in Hungary.

at the airport

forralt bor (hot wine) and palacsinta (pancakes)- fresh off the plane :)

Vaci Utca - the pedestrian shopping street

Viszontlatasra!  (there are supposed to be accents somewhere in there, but I forget where)