The Pause That Refreshes

I am out of commas. At least my computer is out of commas. My keyboard started by skipping on the letter J. Instead of deciding what groups to join at IWC according to my blog I decided what groups to “oin.”

Larry suggested I shut down my computer turn it upside down and give it a good shake. This completely solved my issue with the letter J. Unfortunately the problem migrated southeast and now my comma key won’t work.

I e-mailed Dell as I still have 10 days left on my warrantee. They are sending me a replacement keyboard. Actually they are sending Alec a replacement keyboard as they only handle problems in the U.S. I’ll pick it up in December.

I hate not having commas. Commas restore order in a sentence out of control. They are the pause that illuminates and refreshes.

And there is no substitute. I am not casual enough to just throw dashes everywhere. And I refuse to employ semi-colons inappropriately.

I will continue to shake my computer upside down in an effort to get the problem to migrate to the control key. (I’ve got two of them; I can spare one.) In the meantime please round up all the extra commas you find laying around such as after “and” when it is not connecting a complete sentence.

Visually move all those extra commas into my blog for a couple of months. Soon it will be Christmas time and along with more expensive jewelry I am hoping for commas!

Father's Day

Photo: The Father Christmas Parade

The doors to the Metro train opened and a flock of elderly British tourists climbed on. "Hold on now" said a crisp British voice as the car gave a lurch.

The tourists braced themselves; but once acclimated they got out their cameras to snap a few photos. They must have thought they were capturing typical Russians riding the Metro but instead they got Larry and me.

"You don't look Russian enough" Larry whispered. "Try to look more downtrodden. " I immediately tried to look as if I'd been digging up potatoes with a spoon for the past 10 years but I was in too good of a mood.

We were on our way back from the Izmallava Market where we'd gone to stock up on DVDs. I also bought a white "polar fox" fur hat. It's fur alright but who knows what kind. However it met my top criteria: cheap and warm so I rescued it from the market stand and gave it a new home.

My biggest find of the day was the large Father Christmas to complete my trio. I love these handcarved handpainted pieces of art created by artists in the town of Serge Pasad. In exchange for the big guy we gave the vendor all the rest of our cash including two U.S. dollars I didn't even know I had. All I had left were our Metro cards for the ride home!

The leaves are already turning yellow on the trees and winter will soon be here. With my DVDs and fur hat and Christmas decorations I'll be ready.

Who-stun

Photo: The Concerto Restaurant in the Swiss Hotel.

After missing every single Daring Diners last year, Larry and I actually made the first dinner out this year.

It was being held at the Concerto Restaurant at the modern, new Swiss Hotel. I checked e-atlas and found the hotel was a good 1,000 meters from the closest Metro, not a distance I really wanted to be treking in high heels.

"Taxis" are plentiful in Moscow. That's because anybody with a car can be one. To summon a ride, residents usually stand on the curb and stick out a hand as if showing off a new ring. Any random driver in the mood to pick up a few extra bucks will stop. The two parties will negotiate to see if they can agree on where and how much. If they come to terms, the passenger hops in. If not, as is sometimes the case, the driver moves on and the passenger tries again.

Under this system, you are effectively riding around with complete strangers so it's not an option for me traveling alone. In fact, one Moscow woman was recently convicted of murder when she stabbed a taxi driver in the thigh while he was attempting to rape her. (The verdict was later overturned.)

While it's more expensive, there are a couple of transportation services you can call. Larry decided to try the taxi service used by his office. He called an hour in advance but they still had no cars available.

I reluctantly put my high-heeled party shoes back in the closet and slipped on my low-heeled slingback pumps. Is it any wonder I am so hard on shoes? It took us about 40 minutes to get to the towering hotel, probably the tallest building in Moscow, which kind of resembles an extremely large glass roll-on deorderant container.

There were about 50 expats attending the event, and we sat with a couple from Houston who are here with British Petroleum. (Their three of their adult children, all of whom were still in Houston, made it through the hurricane just fine.)

And speaking of Houston, I have to wonder why international reporters can't pronouce it correctly. I am awfully tired of hearing about "Who-stun." These guys are often standing in front of the Astrodome while mangling the name. Their in-depth reporting hasn't turned up how to pronounce the name of the city in which they are staying?

After dinner, we went to the hotel's Sky City Bar, a narrow ring with a 360-degree view of Moscow. From the swanky bar, Larry and I went back to the streets of Moscow (which to be fair, I should be pronouncing as Moskva) to catch the Metro for the trip home.

Oh, Those Charismatic Rulers of Medieval Russia!

Photo: Ivan the Terrible, who may or may not, qualify.

For expat spouses in Moscow, this is the beginning of 3-letter acronym season. This week, I went to AWO (American Women’s Organization), PTO (Parent-Teacher Organization), and IWC (International Women’s Club) get-togethers.

There are numerous social and cultural activities to get one through the long, dark winter. IWC alone has 70 interest groups which include things like Arabic Conversation, Russian Icon Painting, Ikebana, Turkish Cooking, and Charismatic Rulers of Medieval Russia. I was tempted to sign up for Charismatic Rulers of Medieval Russia as I’m sure it would have provided great blog material.

Instead, I registered for one of the two bimonthly Indian Cooking groups. I wanted to oin the Russian Contemporary Art group which visits various artist studios once a month, but it conflicts with AWO meetings.

AWO has about 30 interest groups. I signed up for Go Moscow, which does monthly field trips. I also re-enlisted for two dining groups I oined last year, the Galloping Gourmets and Daring Diners. I guess next year, they'll offer Lazy Lunchers or Bragging Brunchers.

Anyway, Galloping Gourmet meets once a month for lunch. A hostess sets the theme (usually a cuisine from a region with which she is familiar) and everyone brings something. When I hosted last year, I did Southwest U.S.

Daring Diners is a couples group that meets once a month to try out a new Moscow restaurant. Larry and I made exactly zero of these get-togethers last year, so I am hoping the dates will work out better for us this time around.

Thinking of Larry, I also signed us up for ballroom dancing. That starts next spring and I can’t tell you how enthusiastic Larry is about that. Okay, I could tell you Larry is enthusiastic, but I’d be lying.

I am leading the AWO book club. While IWC offers four different Russian literature interest groups including a Contemporary Russian Literature, my American group will be reading standard book club fare. Dosteovsky won’t be on the list.

And ust so I don’t get too bored, I am also working on the IWC raffle committee. I agreed to help with the provision I didn’t have to solicit anyone. The committee chair gave me $1,000 worth of raffle tickets to sell. (I haven’t figured out how she expects I am going to do this without soliciting anyone.) I decided to adopt the Amway approach and so far, have farmed a third of them off.

Now all that’s left is to figure out how to expand my workout program from two to three times a week, schedule in twice weekly Russian lessons, and STILL set aside one full day a week for grocery shopping.

I will certainly try to be burning the candle at both ends, which will hopefully help with my light deficiency depression!

The Survivors

Photo: Our Hungarian colored crystal survives the trip home.

Sunday

We caught our Aeroflot flight back to Moscow. Such are the low expectations on Aeroflot that the passengers applauded every time a plane safely lands.

Taylor was in the apartment to greet us and to tell us all about his school trip to study theater in London. This included a tour of the BBC, a Shakespearean workshop at the Globe Theater and tickets to "The Producers." At that age, my school field trips were bus rides to City Hall.

We all unpacked and I had about 30 loads of dirty laundry. (It would have been only five or six loads if I had a standard American-sized washer and drier.) While all of my beautiful crystal made it, FIVE of my six coffee mugs had broken. “But, look,” said Larry consoling, “the most beautiful mug made it.” (He would have said this about any mug that didn’t break.)

Along with hosting Taylor for two nights in our absence, my friend Sue, also thoughtfully sent a home-cooked dinner for us. With no food in the apartment and no energy to do anything about it, having dinner provided was a nice treat. I was glad I had gone back for an extra Sacher torte for her.

Danube Daytrip

Photo: Wine town in Austria.

Saturday

After a week of palaces, museums, and churches, we were ready for a bit of the countryside. We booked an eight-hour mini-bus tour and got our own Mercedes and private driver again. We drove out several hours along the Danube into wine country. Despite constant misting all day, the scenery was breathtaking. We drove through little wine towns that were so perfectly picturesque, they looked like models.

Our first stop was a local winery. Most of the Austrian wineries are family-run places. Harvesting is done by family members and friends. But we stopped at one of the largest wineries in the area. They operated out of a cave built into the side of a hill. We tasted several wines and bought a bottle of very good Riesling. We also talked them into taking us into their cellar where we saw the huge old oak casks. They proudly told us they were in the process of replacing these with stainless steel.

Next, we took a walking tour through Krems, a wine town with midivel stone streets and charming buildings of various decorations. We drove through several other equally lovely villages.

Our major stop was a monastery. The government and the church spent EU$70 million redoing this place and it included a surprisingly modern museum. Our guide took us to a restaurant on the monastery grounds where we had the standard hearty local food. We picked up lunch for the three of us, a total of EU$60. (And I must say, those monks are not great cooks.)

Despite the glory of the scenery, I dozed off on our drive back. Larry and I dropped our wine in the hotel room and walked down the street to Aida, a chain coffee shop, for mélange coffee. There are Starbucks popping up all over Vienna but why anyone would go there, when you can have fabulous mélange coffee is beyond me.

Like most cafes here, Aida has an astounding array of delicious pastries. Larry and I split a whipped cream-like confection which, of course, was the most delicious whipped cream-like confection possible.

Then we went back to Demelle and bought still more sacher tortes to tote back. (Everyone is getting either Viennese sacher tortes or Hungarian Paprika.)

Because it was cold and drizzly, we decided against the scenic overlook restaurant in the 19th district. We also decided against the highly-rated Steiregart Restaurant, I’d found recommended online. (Good thing, as the concierge later told me it took 3 to 4 months to get reservations, and the restaurant pretty much scoffed at anyone who had not planned that far ahead!)

We tried getting reservations at DO & CO and was told they couldn’t get us in until 10, so we made reservation to go back to Palmenhaus, a nice ending to our last full day in Vienna.

Photos: Demelle's daily pastry selection.

That Sugary Bill Clinton

Photo: The Spanish Riding School's morning exercises.

Friday

Today we hit some of the top tourist attractions inVienna. First, we headed out to see the famous Lipizzaner horses at the Spanish Riding School.

What a racquet! I didn't realize it, but we were among hundred of tourists, each paying EU$12, to watch the riders exercise the horses. And these weren’t even the show horses; these were the younger gray trainees just trotting around. It was like paying to watch the third string of an NFL team warm up and throw a few passes.

We left after half an hour in search of another Viennese institution, the famous sacher torte. We went to Demelle's, which according to several sources has the best sacher torte in town. I was glad our guide had mentioned going to the back as we would have missed the busts of Kofi Annan and of Bill Clinton made entirely in sugar. In back, we also saw confectioners in the process of making their amazing treats.

Larry and I split a very nice piece of the chocolate cake, along with delicious mélange coffee.
Mélange coffee is espresso with cream—really yummy.

Demelle also sell their tortes in various sizes, packaged in wooden boxes. We bought two sacher tortes to take home, including one for Taylor.

Then we headed over to the Kunsthistorisches art museum. While it looks like a palace, it was actually built as an art museum. The Hapsburgs had quite a collection and, of course, needed an equally grand place to show it off. With an unlimited budget, their architects pulled out all the turn-of-the-century decorative stops.

After seeing an impressive collection of 16th century paintings, we stopped for lunch at the museum's café. Sitting beneath a 60 foot copula, with soaring arches of various marbles, this has to be the most beautiful cafe in the world. Here's the proof: I can't remember what we ate!

After lunch, we saw the Rubens collection and their prized Vermeer. There are only 35 of his paintings known in the world. The museum also has an extensive coin and decorative items sections, but after four hours, we still didn't get to them.

We decided to head over to the Belvedere Palace museum to see their collection of Klimts. Unfortunately, we took the wrong tram. Instead of fabulous modern art and a palace, we saw the not-so-noteworthy Vienna suburbs.

That night, we tried the trendy restaurant, DO & Co, recommended by the concierge. Unfortu-nately, the concierge did not mention that reservations were necessary. When we arrived about 8 pm, they said they could seat us at 10:30. Instead, we ate at an outdoor café with more hearty breaded fried meat with potato salad.

Photo: Marble, arches and soaring ceilings at the Kunsthistorisches Museum Cafe.

The Fat Lady Doesn't Sing

Photo: The Hunderwasser Apartments in Vienna

Thursday

Larry and I slept in and had some “assorted Austrian cheeses” and coffee sent up to tie us over until lunch. I had booked a mini-bus tour (maximum 8 people) which was about a third more expensive than the usual 60 person-bus tour in multiple languages. But it was worth it to me not to have to ride around in a big obnoxious yellow sightseeing bus!

We met the driver in the lobby at 9 a.m. He led us to a Mercedes sedan, the car the company uses for their 178 ERU tours. “Uh,” I say, “We signed up for the minibus.”

The driver told us we were the only ones signed up and he would be happy to go get the eight passenger minibus, but he thought we might be more comfortable in the Mercedes with a private driver. We agreed.

Franz drove us all over Vienna while filling us in on Austrian history, at least his version where Czech Republic and Slovakia should have been sending thank you notes to Austria for occupying them. He also took us out to the Schoenberg Castle, another palace and gardens based on Versailles. Versailles was certainly the model home of choice for royalty.

We also stopped at Hunderwasser-designed apartment house, which I just loved. According to Alec, this is "organic" architecture like the Guadi stuff I also like.

We arrived back at the hotel about 1 p.m. and walked to a local restaurant for some Vienerschnitzel. On the way, we discovered a pottery shop where I found a Halloween pumpkin I just had to have.

We also walked by the Opera house and checked on tickets. As a student, Alec could get standing room tickets for EU $3.5. Our standing room tickets would cost EU $37. They had only single seats available.

The hotel concierge found us some good tickets together but wanted EU $237 each. For this price, I thought they should come to LeMeridian and sing to us in our now-draining shower.

I had really wanted to go the opera. But I really, really didn't want to spend over $600 for this. Maybe next trip.

For dinner, we went to another good restaurant where I had pork medallions on a zucchini “biscuit,” where I tried to get past not going to the opera.

Larry Floods LeMeridian

Photo: Larry buys buttons at a button shop in Budapest.

Wednesday

We had coffee in the room and ventured out for breakfast. We found a sidewalk cafe and each ordered their standard breakfast of three eggs, toast, generous portions of ham or bacon; a cappuccino; and a bottle of mineral water. The total for us with tip was $15. This seemed a pretty good alternative to our hotel, where the breakfast buffet was $35 each.

We had some time to kill before our train so we strolled for about an hour. We ended up buying some unusual last-minute souvenirs: Larry bought buttons and I bought Paul Mitchell styling gel.

We needed buttons because the dry cleaners in Moscow have obliterated the buttons on Larry's suit. While I'm sure they sell buttons somewhere in Moscow, I so far can't find any. I do know where to buy Paul Mitchell products in Moscow, but they are double the price I found here.

We checked out of the hotel and caught a cab to the train station. The taxi ride was a lot more than quoted by the bellman, and we were short of Florins. Larry stayed with the taxi and I ran about half a block inside the train station to get to the nearest ATM. By the time I got the cash and made it back, Larry had negotiated a lower rate with the driver and had strapped all our five bags onto two rolling configurations.

Our tickets, purchased through the hotel, were in Hungarian. I boarded what I guessed was our car on what I thought was our train and got confirmation from someone on board before we started dragging all our luggage inside. It was good we were there half an hour before the train left as we seemed to monopolize about half the overhead shelving in the car with our stuff.

We were in the first class “no smoking” car, which meant it was all Americans and Brits over age 40. Instead of backpacks, we had matching roller luggage. Normally, I love trains. I love the wide seats. I love the fact you can stretch your legs and look out the window as countryside whizzes by. I love the fact that it takes, at most 15 minutes to get to the train station and if you have your tickets, you only need to be there one minute in advance.

But I didn’t love this train ride. The air conditioning was broken and it was boiling hot.
Three long hours later, we finally made it to Vienna where we got a cab to Le Meridian and checked in.

Rather than an edgy state-of-the-art high tech room described on their website, we had a small room decorated with left-over Ikea furniture. The remote didn’t work. The lights flickered. Our room was so far from the elevator, I thought I’d have to leave breadcrumbs to find our way back.

I couldn’t believe this was the upgraded room for which I’d paid. I called the front desk to verify that this wasn’t their worst room. The switchboard couldn’t put me through and no one returned my call. I finally called back, asking about buying an even more upgraded room, and was told they were completely booked.

Our trendy bathroom featured a shower with no shower door. It also didn’t have a functioning drain. After a 10 minute shower, Larry completed flooded the bathroom. I wondered if they had room at whatever hostel Alec had stayed in here. I bet that it, at least, didn’t flood!

I asked Larry if he’d seen a local information/entertainment magazine, a standard in most hotel rooms. “No," he replied, "but we have a Henry Moore Sheep Sketchbook.” Sure enough, we did. Why old Henry hadn’t taken it with him when he checked out, we’ll never know.

I was too tired to try to find any of the restaurants on my list so I decided to take my chances with a recommendation from the concierge. When I got to the desk she was busy telling someone that it was five hours to Budapest. The guest asked impatiently, “But is it worth going to?” She said, flatly, “Yes.”

Having just arrived from Budapest, I could have given the guy the information he was unable to pull out of the concierge, but he struck me as kind of obnoxious so I decided he could just waste a couple of extra hours taking the hydrofoil!

After that, I wasn’t too hopeful about her dinner recommendations. She obviously didn’t do well with open-ended questions so I asked, “Can you recommend a casual restaurant with international cuisine a short walking distance from the hotel?” She could.

The Palmenhaus Restaurant was in part of the former conservatory of the palace. Built in 1904, it had 60 foot ceilings where royal gardeners use to grow palm trees and orchids for the Hapsburgs. While the restaurant had 's daily menu was in German, our waiter was happy to translate. We had an excellent Austrian white wine and a good seared tuna. Best of all was my pumpkin soup appetizer with blueberries. It bordered on amazing. We each had a few bites of the oven-warmed chocolate cake for dessert and walked across the park back to our hotel, where we hoped that housecleaning had mopped up the mess.

Calling Off the Search

Photo: Larry enjoys cafe society.

Tuesday

While Europe is highly cultured in many ways, they do NOT know how to do breakfast. They think an itty bitty cup of coffee and a crescent is quite suffient. Being from Oklahoma, Larry and I don’t buy it. The coffee and crescent are an okay start as long as you’re also serving a couple of eggs, some juice, and some meat to go with it.

Needless to say, finding a good breakfast in Budapest was a challenge. While there were plenty of cafes open in the mornings, their meager breakfast offerings didn’t measure up. We went back to Café Kor for breakfast, which offered ham and cheese “omlets.” Just like St. Petersburg, these omlets looks suspiciously like scrambled eggs but at least we were getting our morning protein.

Our family’s practice of being early (inherited from the Case side) served us well today. We arrived an hour early for the Parliament Tour and the wait line for tickets was 50 minutes. But it was well worth the wait. The Hungarian Parliament is modeled after the British Parliament. The interior is equally impressive.

Our Hungarian Parliament guide, however, was not impressed with us. Our group didn’t stay together well. We forgot to turn off the flashes on our cameras. Some of us couldn’t understand English when this was clearly the English-language tour. Her favorite words, when addressing our group were, “Jesus Christ,” i.e., “Jesus Christ, don’t stand so close or you’ll set off the alarm!” “Jesus Christ, I TOLD you no flashes!”

After an hour of seeing the wonders of Parliament and being berated by our guide, we went to a Mexican restaurant nearby. We talked about how Tay would enjoy it. It is the nature of parenthood that you can't wait to take a vacation alone, and then you end up talking about your children!

Speaking of children, after lunch, we walked up a historic street to Hero’s Square, stopping about halfway to salute the Terror Museum in honor of Alec who toured there. We finally arrived, hot and tired, at the large square and tried to identify the surrounding “must sees.” One of our problems was that the large lake on the map, which I had planned on using for navigating, had been drained!

We decided to go take a closer look at the Transylvanian-style castle, and I stumbled onto a vendor selling beautiful sheepskin throws at great prices. But even if I could get them out of the EU and into Russia, Uncle Sam would probably prohibit me from bringing them back to the U.S. I had to content myself with buying some sheepskin slippers. It’s the first purchase I’ve ever made from a market where they actually gave me a receipt!

Next, we tried to go to the art museum which was suppose to have some paintings by famous Impressionists. Unfortunately, half the collection, including anything modern was closed. We were getting awfully snippy in the heat and took the Metro back. We stopped at Gebrau’s, a famous coffeehouse. I had a few bites of their signature chocolate cake which was good, but I prefer my chocolate dump-it cake, which really is hard to beat.

Refreshed by our caffeine break, we decided to go back to Buda Hill market. Despite Larry’s warnings about weight limits, I bought six coffee mugs in different patterns from the potter whose work I like. Larry gave up and helped me pick out three pottery candlesticks.

Then we went to a stall that had heavy colored glass serving pieces. We picked out a stunning very modern small serving bowl and a 9-inch square platter. They were about $25. I would have bought at least four more sets as these would be fabulous gifts, but figured I’d better start paying attention to Larry’s weight warnings.

I did see a lovely leather bag for about $50, but the vendor wasn’t willing to negotiate. Also, almost every bag I’ve bought from a market seems to fall apart. The only exceptions were the nylon “Prada” bags from Beijing. Like the cockroaches, I expect they will be the only things surving the next atomic bomb.

We took the city bus back to the hotel where I displayed our new pottery in the hotel room to admire. The glass and crystal were wrapped carefully, and we didn’t want to unpack them.

For dinner, we went to a nearby restaurant recommended by the bell captain. The menu had higher prices than where we’d eaten previously and I cynically decided the bell captain was supplementing his income by sending unwary tourists here.

I declined to split the tartar appetizer with Larry. (I only eat tartar in countries where I am sure they have meat inspectors.) Instead, we had the vegetarian tapas with stuffed grape leaves, chilied almonds, smoked cheese, feta, etc. This was awfully tasty for a tourist rip-off.

My main course was a grilled chicken breast with parmesan shavings and tomato gnocchi. It was astoundingly good. Fusion is probably my favorite cuisine, and this place did a great job with it. We washed it down with another excellent Hungarian wine.

For dessert, Larry ordered the chocolate soufflé with cherry sauce and ice cream. I kindly decided to help him out with it. It was the best chocolate soufflé in the world. (Sorry, Roy’s, you just lost that title.) The bill with two Perrier’s, a huge appetizer sampler to share, two entrees, dessert, and a bottle of very good Hungararian wine was $100.

My mother said I always seem to be in search of a good meal in my blogs. Mom, I can call off the search.

Photo: Transylvanian castle.

I Capture the Paprika Market

Photo right: St. Stephens at night, taken by Larry on our way to dinner.

Monday

Larry had a conference call at 9 so I called room service and asked for a pot of coffee. It was not on the menu, but hey, this is a five star hotel! The room service guy appeared about two minutes later with the coffee, which was gratis.

Budapest closes down all their tourist attractions on Monday, leaving us no choice but to go shopping. (Maybe that was the idea.) While Larry was still conference calling, I met with the concierge for advice about shopping and sightseeing. I had just finished getting all the information I wanted, when another guest plopped down in the chair beside me. “Where are you from?” the interloper asked me brightly.

“I’m from America,” I said, which is my standard expat answer. The plopper was from Michigan and she wanted to know all about what I’d done in Budapest and what I’d recommend. We are sitting across a desk from the concierge, a person whose JOB is to be a fount of information for tourists in Budapest. But Mrs. Michigan chose to ask me, someone who hadn’t been in town for even 24 hours.

I barely remembered my manners, apologizing for my lack of knowledge and formerly introduced Mrs. Michigan to the concierge and left. Larry was still on his conference call on the speakerphone in our room. I was getting organized for the day out, but eventually even I noticed that the conference call was circling the same information for the third time. Larry would patiently summarize and review the actions to be taken on that issue and the same guy would bring it up again!

After the 90 minute conference call, Larry was ready to go. (Some vacation from work, huh?) We strolled down the big shopping street, Váci Utca, near our hotel. We found a bookstore with books in English (always a thrill) and a wine shop. We didn’t want to carry books and bottles around all day, so we decided to buy on our way back.

After a while we found the crystal shop, recommended by the concierge. It was a factory outlet store with a huge selection of colored crystal, off the main street. While my dear friend Ivette has told me that Czech colored crystal is even better than Hungarian colored crystal (and she would know), Hungarian colored crystal is about a third the price of Czech!

Larry and I found old fashioned glasses we liked right away, a waving checked pattern with cobalt and clear crystal.

We had a lot more trouble with wine glasses. We considered at some polka dotted ones that were fun, but looked too delicate. The heavy cut cobalt wineglasses were all too traditional. Larry called them chalice-like. After about 45 minutes, we came back to a modern pattern we’d initially passed up and decided it was perfect. I was very happy I married a man who would actually enjoy spending an hour picking out wine glasses.

We paid for the crystal and asked the store to hold it for us. It was almost 2 p.m., and we hadn’t eaten all day. Larry picked out a sidewalk café which had wonderful food. He ate goose liver while I had a grilled smoke cheese with salad. Cafes here all have a variety of Hungarian wines by the glass and I always tried a glass.

At the end of the shopping street was a huge indoor market which looked like an old train station. The first floor had lots of sausages and fresh produce. The second floor was filled with souvenir stalls and tourists. Of course, there were lots of stalls selling Hungarian Paprika and I bought more than my fair share of it to bring back as souvenirs. Meanwhile, as we had now exceeded our suitcase capacity with crystal and paprika, Larry bought an extra duffle. On the way back, we picked up our crystal, two bottles of Hungarian wine and some novels.

We had a lovely dinner at Café Kor, starting with a duck liver pate. After dinner we strolled on the chain bridge across the Danube which separates the Buda side from the Pest side. With Parliament on one side and the castle on the other, it was a beautiful view.

Photos: The Chain Bridge with the castle in the background.

Wining Couple in Budapest

Photo: Larry and I on the Fisherman's Bastillion

Sunday

Serge picked us up at 6 a.m. for our 9 am. flight to Budapest. We got to the airport in only 45 minutes and breezed through the two electronic luggage scanners. We arrived at the Aeroflot check-in desk. There were a bunch of passengers milling in kind of a line, but Aeroflot had better things to do besides deal with passengers and no one was assigned to check us in.

There was one open line for first class passengers only. Larry got in that line, while I stood holding our “place” in the line to nobody. Despite the fact we were going coach, they checked us in. I moved to join Larry and everyone else got in that line too.

Since there was only one check-in line, passport control was relatively empty. We breezed through into the departure hall. We walked upstairs to the lounge, past the people sleeping on the hard linoleum floor. Moscow doesn’t provide even hard plastic chairs.

Larry has a Priority Pass membership for a year courtesy of his Gold Corporate American Express card. We entered the Priority Lounge, which had large NO SMOKING signs posted all over it. The receptionist sourly verified Larry’s membership and, just in case we thought all the signs were a joke, told us, “No smoking!”

We grabbed some horrid coffee, peanuts and cheese which would be serving as breakfast. I saw one guy grab two 1-liter containers of juice and put it in his briefcase! Next I saw him walk back with two extra large cans of beer. Breakfast of champions.

We boarded our Aeroflot flight, a Tupelo. Larry told me this plane was the airliner equivalent of a tank. There were about six “carry-on” roller bags lined up on the jetway outside the plane. They would all have to be checked as this plane has nowhere to put them unless you buy them a separate seat. Our roller briefcases are also big for the overhead. But you can fold the bottom of your seat up in order to wedge them under the seat in front of you.

About 2.5 hours later, we touched down. Our plane was met by passport control, who would not let us off until they verified we each had a passport. (Must have had a few too many unwanted Russian refugees.)

Of course, we STILL had to clear the official passport control. We got in the shortest line, but it took the longest as there were too many Russians in front of us. Passport control always seems to take twice as much time checking Russians out. The rest of us seem to just get a cursory glance.

While Larry picked up our luggage and I hit the ATM for some Florins. About 200 florins are equal to $1. I bought us tickets on the city minibus service into town. We walked into the waiting area and 30 seconds later, they called us. We were driven directly to the hotel. With the two hour time difference, we were at Le Meridian at 10:30 a.m. At that hour, I was not surprised to find our room was not ready. The concierge settled us out on their patio with a couple of very good cappuccinos and some English language newspapers. (Alec: Is this what happens when you’re early at the hostels?) About 45 minutes later, they showed us to our deluxe room. (Hey, it’s our 25th anniversary trip and I got a deal.)

After checking out the room (“Hey cool, the bathroom floor is heated!”), we decided to go to the big wine festival at the castle that we’d read about on the patio.

We crossed the street to catch the #16 city bus which took us to the UNESCO castle district. We walked along this historic district, window shopping at the tourist shops and lunched at an open-air café with a nice view of the Mathias Church.

We paid to enter the church and admired the beautiful interior. It was very Moorish in nature, reminding me of the city’s long period of Ottoman occupation. Afterward we went to the nearby Fisherman’s Bastillion. We paid about $1.25 for a ticket, and climbed the stairs for an amazing view of the Danube and Parliament.

On our way to the castle, we came across a tourist market. There were a lot of things from Russia, but I also found a local potter with coffee mugs I liked and a booth with modern glass serving pieces made in a factory in Hungary. We didn’t really want to carry these around the rest of the day so we didn’t buy.

It costs us $7.50 each to get into the castle grounds for the wine festival. That included two tasting coupons and a souvenir wine glass. There were 180 wineries represented, both from Hungary and abroad. I noticed a booth for Woodbridge Wineries from “Kalifornia.” They also had all kinds of cheeses and local foods.

There were two stages of entertainment. They were doing some kind of cooking show on one stage, but the other stage had four singers in long aprons holding wine glasses. Unfortunately, we only caught about the last 15 minutes of their act. They sang, mostly acapella, in four-part harmony with great gusto. They were very good, and I was also charmed by their between act-patter. Although I couldn’t understand a word he was saying, the speaker sounded in tone and rhythm exactly like the Dan Akroid doing his “Two Wild and Crazy Guys” bit on Saturday Night Live.

As if this weren’t surrealistic enough, the quartet took another sip of wine and ended by belting out a Broadway show tune: “To Life” from Fiddler on the Roof, apparently in Hungarian. It was a smashing rendition, incidentally.

The rest of the afternoon, Larry and I shared a few tasting glasses but nothing really struck our fancy. We bought a very nice brie and took the bus back to our hotel.

At 6:30 p.m., it was much too early for dinner in Europe, but tell that to my stomach, which was still on Moscow time. We took the metro, one of the oldest in Europe, to the restaurant. The Metro reminded me of a little underground trolley. Every time it stopped, it played rinky-tinky music like a Vegas slot machine.

We ate at a cute little Moroccan restaurant. Larry and I split several tapas and had tanguine and couscous as our main courses. The food was very good, a great ending to our very day.

Racially Profiling

Growing up in the U.S., my image of gypsies were heavily influenced by Cher. I would see her on her TV-variety show, singing her hit song, "Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves," in a Bob Mackie-designed costume.

Russia has lots of gypsies. They look about as much like Cher as I do. (We all have dark hair but that's about it.) Gypsies orignated in India, moving to Europe in around the 900s. They have extemely dark skin and are about as tall as your average American 10-year old.

Real gypsies aren't attired by Bob Mackie, either. While they do wear extremely bright colors, their attire--long skirts and long sleeved shirts--more resembles the Amish. Their sexual mores are also closer to the Amish too.

In Russia, they hang around train stations, panhandling, and are justifiably notorious for thievery. They recently robbed the British ambassador to Russia on a major street in St. Petersburg.

Standing in a crowded Metro train one day, I noticed two gypsy children get on board. While I always keep my thumb on the zipper of my purse in the Metro, I took the added precaution of moving my purse directly in front of me where I held it with both hands. I suddenly realized I was "racially profiling." This realization, however, did not make me release my death-grip on my purse as the children moved among the passengers, begging for money.

Like other minority groups, the Soviets tried really hard to assimilate the gypsies. The Soviets are gone but the gypsies are still here. At least for now. Like the drunks who sleep along Moscow sidewalks, the gypsies will disappear as the weather turns colder, moving on. Afterall, they are gypsies.

Orphaned

I've been a lot of places but there is NO PLACE like New Orleans. It is one of those cities that is so unique, it really belongs not just Louisiana, not just to America, but to the world. Unfortunately, for long days after the hurricane, New Orleans looked like it belonged to no one.

Every day, I thought, "Okay, things have to get better." They just got worse. Day after heart-wrenching day, I sat glued to the TV wondering, "When are these people going to get help?"

The international news media has just crucified the U.S. over their response. And they had the horrifying videos to back them up. The story I'm not hearing much about overseas, is the one I hear from friends and family--about how people in their home state are opening their hearts and wallets to help the refugees.

Smooth Sailing

Photo by Taylor Perkins: AWO Boat Party

Because I registered us as U.S. citizens residing in Moscow, the Embassy added me to their Scary E-mails List. About three times a year, I receive one of these. They usually follow the same format: This is happening in the world right now, so EXERCISE CAUTION.

This week, I received a warning about possible Chechen terrorist activity on Sunday, Moscow’s birthday. This Sunday, while Alec was turning 21, Moscow was turning 858. I’d hate to be putting the candles on THAT cake.

I dutifully checked my calendar to see what low-profile activities I had planned. Sunday was the AWO annual boat party. That meant that about 150 of Moscow’s top American business executives, state department employees and their spouses would load up in a barge and slowly cruise the Moscow River. Just to make it easier for terrorists to identify, the AWO had somehow located a band who would be blaring Mariachi music on board. (I guess they didn’t have time to paint a bull’s-eye on the side of the boat.)

Actually, it was not a bad place to hang out. Chechens terrorists prefer to slaughter innocent Russians, not Americans. So on Sunday, we walked down to the boat which was docked across from the Ukraine Hotel and boarded. There we chatted, drank Coronas and Diet Coke, and chowed down on Mexican hors dervs as we cruised by the Kremlin.

Our route also included passing our apartment building. So on the return trip, Larry and I made our way to the top deck in the back of the boat to wave at Taylor. Tay took our picture from our living room. (You can see the boat and the British Embassy, but Larry and I are completely unidentifiable.)

Photo: We cruise by the Kremlin.