Personal Notes

A few personal notes for the day:

First, and most importantly, my Grandmother is going in for heart surgery today.  Everyone assures me that there's nothing to worry about, but that doesn't change that fact that I am a little worried.  I'm sure everything will be fine, but keep her in your thoughts today.

Second (on a much more positive note): I found out today that I passed the NC Bar!  It looks like my plans of moving to Italy and becoming a fisherman have to be put on hold now and we really do have to return to the states at the end of September.

I know I haven't been great with updating the blog regularly lately, but I'm almost up to speed.  We're leaving Kotor and heading to Sveti Stefan for some more beach time this morning.  I'll try to update more pictures and everything soon.

-Jackson Price, Esq. (Sorry, I had to do that at least once)

Dubrovnik – The Wheels Come Off the Wagon

Dubrovnik at Dusk From the Harbor

The low hum of the air conditioner; the weight of winter comforters pressing down against me; the ribbed wooden ceiling; the excruciating pain…those are my memories of Dubrovnik.  In a city that is easily one of the most beautiful and unique on the Dalmatian coast, it’s strange that these would be the things that I will remember most.  But that’s what happens when you wind up with food poisoning.

We arrived from Sarajevo without a place to stay (Clearly I’m anxious about it), but we located the perfect apartment.  It was on a street right outside the walls to the old city.  And it had air conditioning and, most importantly internet.  I’m being very cautious about getting places with internet right now as my bar exam results could come at any time (and should be here by now…again, anxious).  Our first afternoon we spent at a great “locals” beach with a very nice view of the fortressed town.  Then we walked around the old town and grabbed dinner at a seafood joint that had been recommended right in the harbor of the city.  I got the mussels and Kati had some grilled calamari.  Neither of them were very good.  That should have been my first warning.  They didn’t do a very good job cleaning the mussels--beards were rampant in the dish.  Yet, I continued eating.  After the disappointing meal, we decided to stop in D’Vino, a highly recommended wine bar in the old town.  I got a glass of a Croatian specialty red, Pošip.  It was exactly what I’d been looking for.  It was full-bodied, flavorful, and had the hints of nutmeg that I’d heard make Croatian wines so unique.  Afterwards, we drank some mediocre Bosnian wine we had brought with us back at the apartment and called it an early night.

1:13 a.m. – I wake up, not feeling my best, but I go back to sleep.

2:01 a.m. – I wake up again and in the process wake Kati up.  She asks me if everything’s ok.  In response, I could only dash to the bathroom.  It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this bad…definitely since I came down with the Swine Flu almost two years ago and thought I was dying.  I spent the night in complete misery wearing as many of my clothes as I could put on and using all of the blankets and sheets in the apartment, but I was still freezing.

In the morning, I took some Advil and was determined that I would not let food poisoning ruin our chances to explore Dubrovnik.  We started late—10:15—and went down to explore the town.  I forced down a little breakfast.  Then we stopped by the Franciscan Monastery and the third-oldest operating pharmacy in Europe.  Our next stop was at a really cool photo gallery that specializes in images of war.  While we were there, their emphasis was on the Middle East’s Jasmine/Facebook Revolution and Yugoslavia.  It was great.  About 30 minutes into walking around the gallery, I almost passed out.  Five minutes later it happened again.  We left immediately.  I tried to eat a sandwich, but it was no use.  Kati carefully walked me up the outrageous number of stairs to leave the fortressed old town and get to our apartment.  I spent the rest of the afternoon in even worse shape than the night before, but Kati took good care of me.

In a Moment of Feeling Ok at Café Buža 

At some point in the afternoon my fever finally broke.  I was still determined to explore the city a little more.  We walked back down to the old town and checked out a few more churches.  Along the way Kati and I were both feeling a little coastal (and really hot) so we picked up some sweet hats.  We also stopped by the one place that I really wanted to go: Café Buža.  In Croatian, buža essentially means a hole in the wall.  Café Buža is just that.  It doesn’t advertise, outside of a handwritten wooden sign for “cool drinks” and it’s not in any of the guidebooks.  But if you walk down the back alleys of the old town, you can find a hole in the wall, and, if you walk through, you escape the old town onto a rocky terrace overlooking the sea with the best view in the city.  If I was feeling a little better I would have joined the locals for some cliff diving right below the bar.  Sadly, I didn’t think that was a good idea so we grabbed a quick drink, stopped for dinner, and headed back for an early night.  Despite my terrible condition, we managed to see just about everything I had hoped, but we didn’t get to stroll along the city walls and battlements.  I guess that will have to wait until next time.

Touring Sarajevo

Mosque in Old Town in the Morning Sun

Beep Beep-Beep…Beep Beep-Beep…I looked at my watch, it was 2:03, too early to be my alarm.  The beeping continued.  In my sleepy torpor I couldn’t figure out where the beeping was coming from.  It continued for about a minute and then stopped.  I drifted back to sleep.  Beep Beep-Beep…it had started again.  Again I looked at my watch, it was 2:08.  Again it stopped…and then started.  The third time I was awake enough to investigate.  The beeping was coming from a phone in the bottom-bunk beside my top-bunk.  There was an Asian girl sleeping in the bed and a glowing phone sitting not more than a foot from her face, yet didn’t seem to notice her alarm. (Why she had an alarm going off at 2:00 in the morning to begin with is beyond me)  After the clock read 2:33 and everyone in the room, but the Asian, were awake and frustrated, Kati grabbed her sheets and headed out to the common room to sleep.  Luckily another girl decided to wake the Asian up and fix the situation.  Yet even after the girl knew about her alarm it went off twice more over the course of the night.  By the time the alarm stopped, I was awake and the heat in the dorm was unbearable.  We only got a few hours of sleep, but only slightly frustrated we started our busy day.

We woke up at 7:30 to catch some of the main sights in the old town because we were going on a tour that would take almost the entire day.  The old town sights were really cool.  We saw a number of churches and mosques, but unfortunately all of them were closed.  The mosques were closed to tourists because of Ramadan and the Orthodox churches were closed for invisible “construction.”  Our tour started at 10:00.  It was incredible!  We went to a lot of places that you usually can’t get to by yourself (without a car). 

First we went to the Tunnel Museum.  During the Bosnian War, Sarajevo was almost completely surrounded by Serbian forces and the UN, which controlled the airport, would not help the Bosnians at all.  To solve their dilemma, the Bosnians created a tunnel that stretched from within Sarajevo, under the UN-controlled airport, to the free Bosnian territory beyond.  The tunnel was about 1.5 meters tall and over 800 meters long!  It was through this tunnel that both civilians and the military funneled food and weapons into the city for its defense.  Only 35 meters of the tunnel remain, but we got to walk through it, and the museum was really neat.  The outside of the buildings by the tunnel were still riddled with bullet holes.

Our next stop was the 1984 Olympic Bobsled Track.  I thought it would be neat to see the track, but we were both a little skeptical at first.  Yet it was really one of the cooler things we got to see.  We even got to walk up on the track!  I didn’t quite know what a bobsled track would look like in the summer, but it was basically a giant concrete track down a mountain (now covered in graffiti).  The track was yet another victim of the Bosnian war.  The Serbs destroyed sections of the track and used it as a shield.  They would station their soldiers on the track and blow gun-holes through the concrete so they could shoot out but would be completely protected.  The Bosnians hope to repair the track soon and start hosting world championships again.  On the way back down we stopped at a nice scenic viewpoint of the whole city and then stopped by the Olympic Museum.  In a country that has been ripped apart so badly, it’s amazing to see how much pride they take in the 1984 Olympics, which is still recognized as one of the best Olympic Games in history.  In the 1984 games, Yugoslavia won only a single silver medal, yet the country couldn’t have been more proud of its performance, both as the host, and in winning its medal (alpine skiing).

Once back in Sarajevo we saw Sniper’s Alley, the infamous street where Serbs would train their rifles and shoot anyone that walked by, man, woman or child.  Then we saw the Parliament building and the Holiday Inn, which served as the UN “safe spot” for war correspondents during the war.  The tour wrapped up with a visit to a traditional Bosnian house from the 17th century and a stop by the Latin Bridge.

After the tour ended, Kati and I took a quick nap (to compensate for the sleep the Asian robbed us of) and then headed out to explore a little more.  Before dinner we stopped through Coppersmith’s Alley, where you can still see Bosnians making their own copper and metal work by hand.  We even picked up a pretty cool handmade coffee/spice grinder.  Then we were off to dinner.

At Dinner with Our Dark Beers

Dinner was incredible!  We went to a place that I’ve heard described as being “Willy Wonka meets Las Vegas.”  I don’t know how accurate that description is, I just felt like we were in an old-fashioned hotel restaurant somewhere in Eastern Europe that all of the old travel writers rave about.  We got a table on the second floor right on the balcony, overlooking the entire room.  We went there for the beer…the only place in Sarajevo where you can definitely get a glass of the local dark beer, which was to die for.  It was one of the best meals we’ve had on our entire trip.  I had some grilled calamari and Kati had a sort of curried apple chicken.  We finished off our meal with a traditional Bosnian desert, some sort of candied apple filled with walnuts and some sort of cream and topped with whipped cream.  After profusely thanking the incredibly polite waiter that had recommended our dishes, he left us with a simple, and very proud look in his eyes, saying only, “Please, enjoy my city.”

Sarajevo – Our First Night

Us at the Latin Bridge Our First Evening

We arrived in Sarajevo around 5:00 in the evening.  Our first experience with a Bosnian was immediately positive.  We got off the bus and, as usual, booked it straight to the nearest map of the city to figure out where we were and how to get to the tram, which would take us to our hostel.  In Sarajevo, the bus station is about 3 km away from the center of town, so the tram was a necessity.  As we were looking at the map, a tall, lanky guy with shaggy, shoulder-length hair said, in perfect English, “Can I help you get somewhere?”  We told him that we wanted to get to the nearest stop for Tram #1 and he pointed us in to a nearby stop.  After thanking him, he strode away and we started trudging along with our packs.  By the time we made it to the large street crossing, I realized that the guy who had helped us was waiting for at the cross.  He asked us again where we were going, and said he thought he mixed up the tram stations, so I showed him where we were going and our step-by-step directions.  He proceeded to walk us to a different tram station, make sure that the tram was the one we wanted, and showed us where to get tickets.  His kindness set the mood for the duration of our trip in Sarajevo.

We made it to our hostel, which was perfectly located in the middle of the old town.  There were only two minor problems: (1) it was on the fourth floor of a building with no elevator and (2) it had no air conditioning.  Other than that, it was great and the staff was incredibly helpful.  Kati and I got a recommendation for a local food place that serves what seems to be the “rice” of the Bosnian diet: cevapi.  Cevapi is essentially pita bread stuffed with “meat fingers” (sausages) made of veal and pork along with a kind of creamed cheese and onions.  Sans the onions (and with the cheese), they’re delicious, but they don’t warrant the kind of obsession that the Bosnians have for them. 

After dinner we headed out for a drink.  We had a recommendation for this small little wine bar in town.  It looked like a place out of the streets of New Orleans.  It had crazy artsy posters and old-school pictures all over the wall.  The wine was served in whatever glasses and mini-pitchers they had available.  The absolute bohemian-eclecticism of the place was really cool.  They even had a goldfish in a strangely-shaped bowl attached to an air-pump so the fish was continuously being blown around.  We finished our night with a walk past the Latin Bridge, the infamous location where Archbishop Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, starting World War I.

Bosnia & Herzgovina

Bosnian Countryside

What's the first thing you think of when I say Bosnia?  Chances are you, like almost everyone, would immediately associate the country with war and destruction.  The 1992-1995 civil war has branded the country as a perpetual war-zone in the eyes of many.  When I told my mom that we were going to Bosnia and Sarajevo she rolled her eyes, like she's done with so many other destinations I've chosen, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "Jackson, why can't you want to go somewhere normal and safe?"

To be completely honest, I didn't know what to expect from Bosnia or Sarajevo.  Going into our trip I knew three things about Sarajevo: (1) it's where World War I started; (2) they were embroiled in a devastating civil war that I remember hearing about in my childhood; and (3) they hosted the Winter Olympics some years ago.  I wanted to go to Sarajevo solely for the historical and war-related value of the city.  Little did I know that Bosnia, and especially Sarajevo, would be one of my favorite countries/cities I've ever visited in my life!

The country is almost all mountains.  While being home to nearly 4 million people, outside of Sarajevo, the population is scattered across small valley villages near castles, ancient ramparts, and romantic churches.  Our bus ride was brutal.  It was nearly 8 hours from Split to Sarajevo...8 hours of winding one- and two-lane mountain roads, barely wide enough for two cars to pass.  Yet we made it.  I'll talk about Sarajevo in a little, but first I'm going to talk a little about Bosnia as a whole.

I've never been to a country with such an extreme sense of national pride.  The Bosnian's have been through so much and their country is still in such bad shape, yet they are still the proudest people I've ever met.  If only Americans had 10% of the national pride that Bosnians have, we would live in a far better country.

Anyone who knows me can tell you that I ardently believe Clinton was the best US President since FDR.  Yet Clinton's (and the UN's) failings in regards to the Bosnian war are horrendous.  I'm reading a book, called Balkan Ghosts by Robert Kaplan, that is [allegedly] the book Clinton read that made him decide not to intervene in Bosnia in the early 90's.  Until the very end of the war, the US/UN refused to supply arms to the Bosnians or intervene in any way.  The UN only had forces on the ground to protect the Sarajevo airport and the Holiday Inn, where war correspondents were staying.  Yet eventually the US and the UN changed their course and decided to intervene.  As a result of this delay, Bosnians have a lot of built up frustration that's directed at the UN.  As one Bosnian that we met stated:

 The UN would not help us.  We pleaded.  They wouldn't help.  They said they could not supply us with weapons to defend ourselves in a civil war.  Women and children were being shot in the streets.  That is not civil war, that's genocide.  We were surrounded and helpless, but they wouldn't help.  And then, in 1995 when it finally looks like we will be able to win the war ourselves, the UN bombs the Serbians and ends the war.  When the Serbians Attacked Kosovo, the UN bombed the Serbians and ended the war in a few days.  Why not with us?  Why did so many have to die?

The Bosnian war ended in 1995 with the Peace of Dayton [Ohio].  (That's right, for some reason, the feuding parties in Bosnia were brought to Dayton, Ohio to end the war)  The civil war was fought between three local groups: Bosnians, fighting for independence, and Serbians and Croatians, both fighting to add Bosnia to their respective countries.  The Peace of Dayton could not be more clunky.  It divided Bosnia into three governmental regions, one for each ethnic group.  There are now three "presidents" of Bosnia and one "High Representative," selected by the Peace Implementation Council.  These individuals cycle through office in 8 month terms, so nothing gets done.  To further add to the confusion, Bosnia currently has over 52 political parties and, as we were told, nobody knows who to vote for so nothing gets changed.  A politician in Bosnia currently makes around 3,000 or 4,000 euros per month while the average salary for a normal Bosnian is between 300 and 400 euros per month.  Over 75% of Bosnia's annual budget goes to governmental administration.  Making matters even worse, a whopping 44% of the population is unemployed.  When the war ended, Bosnia was supposed to receive $11 billion in aid to rebuild the country.  They received $4 billion and the other $7 billion has been mysteriously "lost."

The above details about Bosnia paint a very drab and unfavorable image of the country.  Yet as one Bosnian told us, "There are so many reasons to come to Bosnia besides war.  When you go home, I hope that you will not encourage people to come here because of the war.  Encourage them because of the beauty of the country, the livelihood of Sarajevo, and the kindness of our people."  The country desperately wants to break free of it's image as a war-stricken place.  Sarajevo wanted to host the Winter Olympics again in 2010, but was turned down because of it's war-torn image.  The war-torn Bosnia in the minds of many is not the Bosnia of today.  It's such an amazing country and I hope that my pictures and future posts will do it justice.

Split: Exploring the City

Center of Diocletian's Palace

After a relaxing evening in Split, we woke up prepared to tackle the city.  It was a crazy busy day!  Our day was broken up into three parts.  In the morning, we took a tour around Diocletian's Palace and the old town.  Then we took a bus out to Salona, the capital of the Roman province of Illyria.  Finally, we spent the late afternoon on a nearby rocky beach.

Diocletian's Palace was pretty neat.  We heard some "traditional" Dalmatian a capella singers in the vestibule of the palace and learned a lot about the history of the city and this area of the Roman empire.  The palace was created as a retirement home for one of the Roman emperors.  It's pretty impressive!

Our next stop was Salona.  It took us about 15 minutes to take a bus out to the ruins.  Salona was the capital of Illyria, so it was a pretty large city.  However, the weather was miserable.  It must have been 110 degrees and we were outside in fields of stone ruins with no semblance of shade anywhere around us.  The ruins were neat.  We got to see an old ampitheater, a forum, a theater, two basilicas, and more.  We only stayed out at the ruins for about an hour and a half because of the brutal heat.

To end the day we walked to a nice rock beach near town.  It took us about 45 minutes to find the beach because we (I) got turned around in the mass of unnecessary Croatian road construction and sidewalk-closings, but it was worth it.  After such a hot day, a dip in the cool ocean was exactly what we both needed. We spent about an hour and a half at the beach and then headed back to the hostel to get ready for dinner.  At dinner I had some of the best grilled calamari I've had in my entire life and Kati had some pretty good Croatian-style tuna.  Finally, after dinner we grabbed a white wine made from an indigenous grape called the Debit.  It was alright, but definitely nothing to write home about.

Let's Make Like a Banana and Split!

Split at Night

August 22 -- Today was a full day of traveling.  We woke up in Plitvice to catch the 9:45 bus to Split.  Luckily, after securing our typical European breakfast, some kind of pastry or strudel, we went to the bus station only to find that there was an 8:45 bus to Zadar that was running late and hadn't yet arrived.  We quickly changed our plans and hopped on the bus, hoping to catch a connecting bus to Split in Zadar.  We were joined by a 56-year-old retired teacher from "Tazy" (Tasmania).  He was really strange.  We left Plitvice at 9:15 and we finally arrived in Split at 3:45.  Unlike Zagreb, our hostel in Split is fantastic...and air conditioned!

Split is the second largest city in Croatia, home to 350,000 people.  It's right on the coast and part of the region of Dalmatia.  To get to Split, we had to cross the mountains and went through the longest tunnel I've ever been in.  We were legitimately underground for 10 minutes straight!  Coming out of that tunnel was like entering a different world.  The architecture changed.  The plant life changed.  Even the look of the people changed.

Our first night in Split we didn't do too much.  The hallmark of the city is the Diocletian Palace, a large fortified Roman palace built by one of its emperors as a retirement home.  We checked into our hostel and then walked inside the Palace walls as well as walked down the Riva, or main promenade in the city.  We stopped for a great seafood dinner at a real dive.  It came highly recommended but doesn't even have a sign outside and only has a handwritten menu.  I had some mussels and Kati had some shrimp/prawns with risotto...with the heads still on (She sucked them out), both of which were fantastic.

Split is an incredible place.  It's completely different from anywhere we've been to date.  After a nice night of walking around the town for a while, we decided to pick up a Dalmatian bottle of wine and relax.

Interesting Fact: research shows that the Zinfandel grape originated in Croatia.  While there is no Zinfandel grape here, the "grandfather" of the California Zin is still a very popular Dalmatian wine.  Zinfandel is said to be the descendant of the Plavac Mali grape, so we decided to see how it compared.  The Plavac Mali is a very nice, smooth, and tempered wine.  It definitely lacks a full body (kind of like a Zin) and tastes a little watered down, but it's definitely a nice summer red.  I'll write more about Dalmatian wines as we try them.

Plitvice Lakes National Park

Kati and I at an Overlook of the Lowest Lakes

They say it's one of the most amazing places in all of Europe and yet somehow I had never heard of it until a few years ago.

Plitvice Lakes National Park is in the center of Croatia.  The park itself is something like 18 hectares large, but the highlight is a series of 27 or so pristine blue lakes, connected by more waterfalls than you could ever imagine.

Plitvice was really the reason that we came to Croatia in the first place.  After seeing pictures I couldn't believe such a place existed.  And after having seen the park in person, I still have trouble believing it.

There is surprisingly little information online about accommodations in the park.  There are four hotels in the park and campgrounds in a nearby town, but those are the only accommodations discussed on the National Park's website.  There are also limited other options floating around the internet, none of which are very helpful for backpackers without access to a car.  These situations--going to a new and isolated place without a set place to sleep--always make me a little nervous.  To ease my anxiety, we booked a cheap "apartman" that looked like it was close to the park.  Yet, when we arrived, we found out that the description of the place as being less than 1 km from the park was quite an exaggeration.  It was between 2 or 3 km and going to the park it was straight uphill.  Luckily, before even stopping off at the place we reserved, we went to the tourist information center and they set us up with an even cheaper private place to stay significantly closer to the park entrance.  While we had to stomach the cost of the first night we had reserved, our lodging already came in under budget and it was totally worth it.

We arrived at Plitvice on a Saturday...in August.  Mistake #2.  When planning a trip this long with so many interlocking details, you don't really think about things in terms of days of the week, but only in sequence of what comes after what.  We got our 2-day pass to the park and walked in.  Thirty minutes later we were about 30 feet from where we started!  (Ok, that may be quite an exaggeration, but it was crowded!)  We followed the "C" trail, which takes you past all of the best waterfalls and lakes and is supposed to take 4-6 hours.  The trail would have been very nice had it not been for the crowds.  Most of the park is very public-friendly with fairly flat wooden walkways traversing the lakes and passing by the waterfalls.  The only problem is these walkways are very narrow and people of certain nationalities (I won't be so rude as to name them) do not understand that they can't just stop wherever they want and make everyone move out of the way to take pictures.  At one of the waterfalls a very rotund and burly-looking woman even went so far as to physically shove Kati out of the way so she could get a picture!  While the crowds were obnoxious and detracted from the sublime surroundings, it was still an amazing sight and a great day.

It wasn't until the very end of the day that we realized that we were captive in regards to the food situation.  There was only one restaurant open: Licka Kuca.  We resolved to go there anyway and had some amazing homemade sausages.

Our second day in the park was wonderful!  We started early in the morning on the "K" hike which is a 6-8 hour hike that wraps through the park for 21 km (13 miles).  It was one of the best hikes I've ever been on.  We hiked up into the hills surrounding the lakes for some great views and then back down to skirt the very edges of the largest lakes.  Best of all, there were hardly any people!  We saw some waterfalls that we hadn't gotten to see the first day along with parts of the lakes that were just stunning and apparently untouched by humans.  Needless to say, by the end of the day Kati and I were both exhausted.  We capped off the evening with another dinner at Licka Kuca--braised lamb shank and veal on the spit.  Fantastic.

I only had one disappointment with Plitvice.  There is an iconic waterfall that's in all the brochures, online, and on all the postcards.  It was this particular waterfall that really drew me to the park.  Actually, it was this image that's been the background on my computer for almost three years and has been the real motivating force I used to push myself through the misery of law school.  Unfortunately, and for some inexplicable reason, the only trail providing you with a view of this waterfall was closed, and from the looks of it had been closed for some time with no real plans to re-open it.  I caught a few glimpses of my waterfall from the side and from a few outlook points we found (some sanctioned and some not), but due to the fact that it's been a dry year and it's August, this particular waterfall was sadly underwhelming.  Yet every other aspect of the park was amazing.  It really is a place unlike anywhere I've ever seen; almost like a scene from another planet.

Croatia - Zagreb

The Street Our Hostel Was On in Zagreb

Welcome to Croatia--the seventh circle of hell.  That's a little harsh because it's a fantastic country, but my God, it's as hot as Hades!

Our first stop was Zagreb, the capital.  I've heard it's a really nice city.  We must not have seen any nice parts of the city though.  We were only staying for a night before catching a bus, so we didn't do much exploring.  Our hostel was on a street that doesn't exist.  The Croatians had decided to tear up the entire street at the same time, even though the were only working on the 10 feet outside our hostel.  From the looks of it, the street had been closed for some time.  A general theme we've noticed in Croatia is that they're really good (and enthusiastic) about tearing things down, but once something's torn down, they seem to get bored and abandon the project so that they can find something else to tear down.

Our night in Zagreb was pretty miserable.  While we had a great dinner at a hole-in-the-wall seafood joint, the rest of the night did not go very well.  Our hostel was overrun with what seemed like hundreds of obnoxious French high school students (I know, obnoxious and French are redundant qualifiers) running around screaming in the halls for most of the night.  To make matters worse, it felt like it was 43 degrees Celcius (110 degrees Fahrenheit).  Our hostel didn't have air conditioning and we were on the fourth floor, so it was miserably hot all night.  Even better, they were still tearing down the street outside the hostel, so the construction workers finished around 10 at night and then started up again promptly at 7:00 in the morning (Although they were audibly preparing to start using their equipment from around 6:00).  Our bus for Plitivice Lakes National Park departed at 8:30.  The beds were stiff and uncomfortable.  We got very little sleep.  Oh well.

Canyoning - Grmečica Canyon

Today was our last full day in Bled.  We decided to do something incredibly awesome to celebrate the end of an amazing visit to Slovenia.  Kati spent the last few days considering the options and deciding if she wanted to go canyoning.  Late yesterday afternoon, she decided that she definitely wanted to do it.

Canyoning is a unique "high adventure" sport.  It leads you into areas that you can't see any other way and that are almost completely unaffected by people.  Essentially, you put on a wetsuit, climbing gear, and a helmet and literally jump into a pool in a canyon.  Then, you jump, slide, climb, and repel (or absail as they say here) your way down the entire canyon, following the flow of the water the entire way.

While Kati had been excited about the trip yesterday afternoon, with the morning came the sinking feeling of fear.  Yet I did my best to convince her that there was nothing to worry about and that everything would be fine.  We'd talked to the lady in charge of booking the trip and thoroughly discussed the specifics and told her of Kati's concern regarding heights, etc.

Our crew consisted of a guide and six other people.  There were two young Slovenian brothers who were "training" to become canyoning assistants/guides; a 29-year-old Slovenian couple from Ljubljana; and two 21-year-old Dutch guys who had just spent three weeks doing extreme sport activities in France in preparation for going back to Holland and enlisting in the marines.  One of the Dutch guys was pretty funny, he had already served in the Dutch army and kept making fun of the people he knew in the US Army because when they trained together the Americans always "complained of the walking because they're only used to riding in cars while we walk everywhere."  Disregarding the stereotypical invalidity of that statement, he was still pretty funny.  Everyone was really nice and made the trip a lot of fun.

We drove out to Grmečica, an intermediate canyon, which is about 25 minutes from Bled and suited up.  We were each given a standard-issue 5mm-thick full wetsuit, shoes, a helmet, and a climbing harness.  Then we started hiking up to the start of the canyon.  It took about 20 minutes or so to reach our point of entry.

The first jump is always the worst because it takes your breath away, literally.  The water, coming from the mountains, is ice cold and the first time you hit it your chest immediately contracts and it sucks the air right out of your lungs.  Yet after the first time, it gets less shocking.  Our first jump was only about 3 meters (9 feet), so it wasn't too bad.

Kati did great.  Over the course of two hours or so, we did a number of jumps anywhere from 3 meters to 12 meters (almost 40 feet).  Kati really got into it by the second or third jump and even opted to jump where it wasn't necessary.  We also had to absail/repel down a 15 meter cliff which was actually the hardest part because the guide insisted that we put our hands out and not touch the rope or the wall, which felt entirely unnatural.

By the end of the trip, we were all shivering from the icy water to the point that it took some real skill to lock and unlock our carabiners.  The last jump was about 12 meters high into a pool that was only about 2.5 meters deep.  As the guide said, it was vital to have "soft legs" as your feet barely touched the ground before you started to surface.  All-in-all it was a fantastic trip and a great way to end our week in Slovenia!  Kati absolutely loved the canyoning and even said she wants to do it again sometime.

We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing on a grassy beach by the lake.  Finally, to cap off the night we got a kremna rezina, a cream cake (Bled's specialty), from the local shop that created this town-wide craze.  It was delicious.

Tomorrow we leave for Croatia.  First we're stopping over in Zagreb for the night before heading to Plitvice Lakes National Park and then to Split to enjoy the beach.  As a forewarning, I'm not sure how reliable our internet access will be in Croatia, but we will keep you updated as technological access permits.  Until next time.

Sabrage

Andrej the Monk Teaching Me Sabrage

Before coming to Bled I had heard a legend...a legend too good to be true.  I had heard tell of a monk that lived at the castle who could teach you the ancient art of sabrage.  For those who don't know, sabrage is the art of opening a champagne bottle with a sword.  Going into this trip, seeking out this master monk was one of my highest priorities.  Not only could he teach me this outrageously cool art, his name could not be more fitting to his talent.  This monk's name was Andre[j].  While I have absolutely nothing tangible upon which to base this conclusion, I ardently believe that the man who created Andre, that crappy bottom-shelf California champagne we all love to hate, named his champagne in honor of this amazing monk, in the hopes that making such a crummy bottle of champagne would encourage future generations of alcohol-enthusiasts to learn the noble art of sabrage.

For the mere price of a bottle of champagne, Andrej gave me a lesson in sabrage and let me open my own bottle with a sword.  I learned all about the type of sword necessary and he even showed me the kind of sword I would need to open a comically large bottle of champagne, like he does at weddings in Bled.

You cannot possibly underestimate how cool it is to open a bottle of champagne with a sword.  It is hands-down one of the most amazing talents I've acquired over the years.  Check out the video of my feat that Kati shot (posted with all of the pictures from the castle).

Vintgar Gorge

August 17 - We woke up a little later than usual today (8:30).  Our day was divided into two halves.  In the morning we took a trip to Vintgar Gorge and in the afternoon we hiked up to Bled Castle.

Vintgar Gorge is merely 4 km away from Bled.  We hopped on a bus and headed out to the most hiked trail in all of Slovenia.  Despite the crowds, the walk was stunning.  It was a very easy 40 minute hike along wooden walkways that criss-crossed the river flowing at the bottom of the gorge.  Like Lake Bled, the water in the river was an absolutely stunning, yet clear, bluish-green.  The rapids in the water beneath blew up a very cold yet refreshing mist along most of the walk, significantly lowering the temperature in the gorge.  The hike ended at quaint 13 meter waterfall.  There were only two down-sides to the hike.  First, there were far too many people.  Second, the path was clearly defined and restricted, thus limiting the angles with which we could photographically capture the beauty of the gorge.  Regardless, it was a great morning.

The castle was cool.  It was only about a 10 minute hike uphill from our hostel, which is already up a substantial part of the hill, so it wasn't nearly as intense of an afternoon hike as we had expected.  The view from the top was stunning and the castle housed a museum about the archaeology and history of the region, which was pretty neat.  Yet the best part of our trip to the castle deserves its own post, and I will get to that in just a minute.

Around Lake Bled

Bled Island & the Church of St. Mary

Yesterday was our first full day in Bled.  We arrived around 10:30 and checked into our hostel before heading down to check out the city.  As a little background, Bled is the #1 destination in Slovenia.  It's situated in the mountains, about 60 km to the northwest of Ljubljana.  There's a small town around the banks of a crystal-clear lake.  Bled Castle overlooks the lake from a nearby cliff while the Church of St. Mary sits on Bled Island, in the middle of the lake.  The church is the second-most important church in the country and on August 15th, the day before we arrived, they said over 500 people came to the island to celebrate the Assumption of Mary.

The town is quaint.  We spent the early afternoon walking around the entire lake, which took a little over an hour and a half.  The water is unbelievable.  You've never seen water this shade of teal-blue and yet crystal-clear.  The only down-side to the lake is that half of it is dotted with an obscene number of yellow buoys.  We have since discovered that the buoys are there because Bled is hosting the world rowing championships, which is pretty cool.  

After lunch we hopped on a pletna (small row boat) to visit the island and the church.  A giant rope hangs down from the ceiling in the middle of the church.  There's a legend, too long to type now, that essentially states that anyone who rings the bell while making a wish will receive good luck and have their wish granted.

Kati Tobogganing

As amazing as the lake, the church, and the island were, Kati and I agree that the highlight of the trip was the last one of our day.  We went summer tobogganing!  From around the lake you can see the track, winding down the side of the mountain like a steel snake.  The track is 520 meters long (over 1700 feet) and you can reach speeds of 40 km/h (25 mph) while careening down the hill in little yellow toboggans.  While 25 mph doesn't sound very fast, when you're on a little yellow cart that's barely bigger than you and you're streamlining down a massive hill on a single steel rail, it seems pretty fast, and pretty awesome!

The rest of our day was relaxing.  We picked up a bottle of wine (Teran) and a couple of kebaps and went back up to the hostel where we played some Scala 40 for the rest of the night.

Ljubljana - The City of Love

Presern Trg. at Night

If you've ever talked to me about traveling long enough, you probably know that Slovenia is my favorite country in the world (bar-none) and that Ljubljana (loob-li-ana) is one of my favorite cities ever.

Slovenia is one of the smallest countries in Europe; situated between Italy, Austria, Hungary, and Croatia.  It has a population of 2.5 million.  What's more impressive, 57% of the entire country is covered in forests!  It's an outdoor-fanatic's paradise.  It has mountains, plains, beaches, caves, and everything in between.  It also makes some incredible, but not well-known wines, and is famous for its stunning white horses from Lipica.

Ljubljana is an ancient city.  It was supposedly founded by Jason and the Argonauts on their return with the golden fleece.  The city itself is home to around 260,000 people and is situated around the banks of the Ljubljanica river.  They say it's the city of love because its name is so similar to the Slovenian word ljubljena, which means beloved.

We arrived late the night of August 14th, checked into our hostel and walked around the city.  We ran into a really strange problem though.  There are ATM's everywhere, but none of them would take either of our cards!  Growing increasingly concerned about being trapped in a country with just over 10 Euros and 2,000 Forints, Kati realized that all of the ATMs only service Mastercard and not Visa...and they say Visa is everywhere you want to be...Finally we found an ATM that would give us money, and we continued exploring the city at night.  The night life in Ljubljana, even on a Sunday night, was incredibly vibrant.  The streets along the banks of the river are lined with bars and cafes, all completely packed.

The next morning we woke up for a morning stroll in Tivoli park where we took in a pretty cool art exhibit about the sights in Serbia.  Then, we hopped on a free walking tour of the city and learned all about the history of the city.  Ljubljana is the only place outside of France with a memorial to Napoleon--he permitted them to teach Slovenian language for the first time in history.  We also saw the Crusader's Monastery, where many a Christian stopped on their journey to Jerusalem.  Another interesting fact: a Slovenian was responsible for creating the first (and still only) dictionary translating Native American languages into English.

In the afternoon, we took in the Castle, walked around the streets of the city, and relaxed at my favorite wine bar in the city; sampling the best wines Slovenia has to offer.  We had a relaxing dinner at great local Slovenian restaurant, paired with my favorite of the Slovenian wines, the Teran.  Teran is a wine unlike anything you've ever tasted, probably in large part to the incredibly ferrous nature of the soil in which it's grown.  We capped off the night with a walk around the city while eating ice cream.

It only took a day and a half for Kati to fall in love with the city.  It really is one of the most beautiful and enjoyable cities in all of Europe.  If you're looking for somewhere to visit on your travels, I would definitely put Ljubljana and all of Slovenia at the top of your list.

Pictures

Just a quick note before we head out to explore Ljubljana.  Google has limited the space it provides me for pictures to a paltry 1 GB.  However, I also have a parallel Shutterfly site with unlimited storage.  To deal with the space situation, I will be posting only the most recent 4 or 5 sets of pictures to the blog, but you can access all of my archived pictures (and as soon as we find some time, all of Kati's pictures) at our Shutterfly site, here.

I know it's kind of a pain, but if it's far too confusing, then just use the Shutterfly site as it also runs an RSS feed of every entry I post to the blog.

Back to Budapest

Terror House - Budapest

I did the stupidest thing I've done in years today...I left my glasses in Tokaj.

Not kidding.  We got to the train station, and after several exchanges with the ticket lady (Who spoke ONLY Hungarian) we learned that the bus taking us to our train was an hour late.  Then, when we got to the station, we found that our train was an additional 30 minutes late.  Yet it wasn't until we were halfway to Budapest on the train that I realized my glasses were still in our hotel room in Tokaj!  By then it was too late to turn around and retrieve them.

Luckily, our hostel host in Budapest is very nice.  He called the hotel for us and requested that my glasses be sent to Budapest.  For some reason metal can't be shipped in the Hungarian post from Tokaj, but it can from Budapest.  My glasses should be in Budapest on Monday or Tuesday, at which point the guy here will forward them to Bled, Slovenija, where we will be from August 16th through the 19th.  We may have to modify our travel schedule depending on shipment, just so I can retrieve them.  Hopefully this won't negatively impact our travel schedule too much.  But there are worse places to be stuck for an extra day than Bled.  I still can't believe I left my glasses!  Eleven years of wearing glasses and never once have I left them anywhere until today...and at the most inopportune time ever.  Hopefully this will be sorted out promptly.

We're back in Budapest.  Today we checked out the Terror House which documents the massacre and torture of Hungarians during the World Wars and Soviet control.  It was really intense.  That's really all I can say.  The museum was VERY well done, but intense is the only word that adequately describes the atrocities that it depicts.

Tomorrow we leave for Ljubljana and Slovenia.  Thank God!  Nothing against Hungary.  It's been amazing and beautiful, and while I feel like we haven't adequately explored the country, we've had a patch of bad luck since we entered the border.  In addition to the metro-police fiasco of our first day, Kati got sick later that day.  We headed off her tonsil problems only for her to get a head-cold.  Then, once that started to clear up, her knee started hurting.  Then, she got sunburned in Miskolc.  Then we had travel problems in both Miskolc and Tokaj, and finally, I left my glasses in Tokaj!  It's a beautiful country and hopefully we will be able to spend some more time here in the future, but I hope that our departure to Slovenija will leave our bad luck and travel difficulties here and the rest of our trip will run smoothly.  I'm crazy-excited to be heading back to Slovenija again.

Our train trip to Ljubljana is over nine hours long.  We leave at 12:00 in the afternoon and should get in around 9:30 at night.  Luckily, I know the city and we're staying in a hostel with 24-hour reception that I've stayed at before.  Despite the strange hours, getting there should be relatively easy.  A day on the train will also give our legs a much needed rest after this past week.  See you in Slovenija!

Tokaj – Wines Galore

Statue of Bacchus Outside Racozi Pince

Tokaj (toke-eye, or toe-coy as some of the locals pronounce it)is world famous for its wines…its white wines.  Starting in the 17th century, the Hungarian king laid down restrictions stating that only wines made in this small region and only those made with one or more of six grape varietals could bear the name Tokaj.  This effectively made Tokaj the first “closed” wine region in the world; well before Bordeaux or Champagne.  Tokaj’s most famous wine is the aszú (a-zoo).  Aszú is essentially made from rotten grapes.  The grapes grow very large, but then the so-called “noble rot” sets in and cracks the skin of the grape, exposing it to the harsh sun.  These cracks coupled with exposure to the sun removes all of the moisture from the grapes, concentrating the sugar.  The aszú grapes are then picked by hand, one-by-one, and used to create the wine by the same name.  After tasting aszú wine, Louis XIV famously stated that it was “The wine of kings, and the king of wines.”  The wines we tasted definitely live up to their reputation.

What should have been a simple trip to relax and drink wine, once again, turned into quite an ordeal.  These difficulties have really been the overarching theme of our tenure in Hungary.  Luckily, we ran into a few very nice people over the course of the day that really helped us out.  We booked our train from Miskolc to Tokaj early Friday morning without issue.  Yet when we went to board the train, I wanted to make sure it was the right train so I checked with the conductor.  Good thing I did because he informed me that the Tokaj railway station wasn’t open!  They have been doing construction work on the railway just before Tokaj all week.  We would pick the one week that it’s nearly impossible to get to Tokaj.  Instead of just disembarking at the Tokaj train station, we were told that we had to get off the train at Szerencs and find a substitute bus that would take us the rest of the way to Tokaj.

Enter helpful stranger.  When we boarded the train there had been a middle-aged man sleeping in the seats across the aisle from ours.  After hearing my clumsy exchange with the conductor, he revealed to us that he spoke very good English, and even better, he was en route to Tokaj as well.  We later learned that he was a writer headed to Tokaj for a Hungarian writer’s conference.  Yet most interestingly, he was born in a Yugoslavian village, somewhere in modern-day Serbia, that doesn’t exist anymore.  He said that where he was from was a purely Hungarian village and that when the [Yugoslavian] war started and the minorities were being exterminated, he was 19 and fled to Budapest, where he’s been ever since.  We never caught the man’s name, so I’ll just call him Writer.

                Without Writer our trip to Tokaj would not have been nearly as smooth.  He helped us find the right bus outside of the train station, but he helped us even more later on.  Not 15 minutes into the bus ride, the bus stopped in the middle of an intersection.  It had broken down.  Just our luck.  Writer, told us to get out of the bus and had called one of his friends who was on his way to pick him up and take him to Tokaj, he said that we could tag along.  Yet before his friend arrived, a replacement bus showed up, so we hopped on that instead and finished our journey to Tokaj.

We checked into our hotel, which looked very similar to a seedy-roadside motel somewhere in the Midwest.  Yet it was sufficient, and cheap.  Then we set out onto the town, grabbed a pizza for lunch, and went to our first Pince (Wine cellar).  The Racozi Pince is the oldest cellar in the region, dating back well over 400 years.  We took a tour of the cellar, which was really cool, and then tasted six of the regions wines: two dry whites, three sweet whites, and the aszú.  The aszú is graded on a 1-6 scale based on the number of puttonyos used to create it.  A Puttonyo is a barrel (25 kg) of aszú berries.  In creating the wine, the same amount of grape juice is always used, yet the differences arise from the number of puttonyos added to that grape juice, with 6 being the best.  The aszú we had at Racozi was a 5 puttonyos aszú.  It was pretty good, but we had already tasted a 5 puttonyos aszú in Budapest that was far better.

After the Racozi cellar, we went to the Tokaj museum, which was an absolute waste of time.  After a quick power-nap, we trekked out past the railroad station to the vineyards themselves to walk around.  Seeing all of the fields of grapes covering the hillsides was pretty spectacular.

Upon returning to the city intent on tasting more wines, we were quite distraught to find that, although all of the signs in the city state that things are open until 20:00, all of the cellars close at 4:30!  It was just after 4:30 resumed our quest for wine.  Yet we lucked out once again.  We walked into the Hímesudvar Pincészet and the vintner told us that typically he would love to give us a tasting, but he had a meeting with the owner, who happened to be a very nice English lady.  Yet, he put a call down to one of his friends who runs the Sauska Pince and said that she would let us taste wine there.

We found Sauska, but from the outside it looked just as closed as any of the other cellars.  Yet Kati pushed open the large double-doors and we timidly walked into an empty marbled room.  We found a young lady in an office and she said they were closed, but she was allowing us to attend a private tasting with two of her guests that would be done in English.  Her guests turned out to be a gay couple from Poland.  The first man we met, a physician, was very nice and very friendly.  But his partner did not seem happy about anything and refused to speak in anything but Polish.  Yet the three of us had a great time.  The Polish couple were clearly wine connosiers and even knew the last manager of the winery we were tasting.  We had six wines, the last of which was the much coveted 6 puttonyos aszú.  It was worth the wait.  It was fantastic, yet Kati and I both agreed that the aszú wine we had in Budapest was far superior.  When we get back to Budapest we’re going to have to find the name of the winery that made it.  Apparently the Polish guys and the Hungarian woman thought it was pretty humorous that we were staying at the Hotel Tokaj.  Each time I told them where we were staying they gave me this look and said, "Oh...that's a nice place."  But they all seemed very amused when I responded, "I don't care where we sleep as long as we have great wine to drink."

After the wine tasting we also had a very intriguing discussion about the Hungarian language.  As I’ve stated earlier, Hungarian is unique in Europe and unrelated to any surrounding languages.  Linguistically, its closest relative is Finnish.  The Polish physician agreed with me on this point, yet our host told us that she couldn’t understand any Finnish.  She also told us that there has been a lot of modern research as to the origins of Hungarian and many now dispute that Hungarian is similar to Finnish at all.  While the dinosaurs in the field still adhere to that belief, she said that she does a lot of research on the topic and she, along with many more modern scholars, are convinced that Hungarian originated from the Asian languages; specifically from a precursor to Japanese.  Overall, despite the traveling issues, it was a great, and informative, day.

Miskolc - The Kandia Alley Bridge

Our Lock (We Had to Scratch a "J+K"
in with a Key)

They say there are places that can do magic to people.  The small bridge leading from Kandia alley to Szinva terrace is one of those places.

On a summer evening when this place was opened for the town's inhabitants, a boy and a girl walked over the bridge.  They were both very young and deep in love.  Holding hands, they stared at the water of the Szinva, gleaming in the darkness, and listened to the soft music of the gurgling river flowing by.  The boy wanted to speak about his feelings but was too timid and shy to say a word.  And the girl was just standing there hoping to hear the confession of love.  Girls have always been like this: since the beginning of time, they have always wanted to hear and not only feel that they are loved.  In a trembling voice, the boy whispered to her, "I love you."  His words were echoed by all the tiny drops of water in the river, murmuring the wonderful lines of the famous poem by Attilla Jozsef:

I love you as a mother loves her child,
As silent caves love their depth.
I love you as halls love light
As the soul loves flame and the body loves calm... 

They were standing enchanted on the small bridge, leaving time, space and reality behind, and listened to the river reciting the lines of the poem.  Perhaps it was only an illusion, perhaps it was the magic of love, but the River Szinva was softly murmuring the lines of Attila Jozsef's immortal Ode, the poem which was born in the same place as the river itself: in Lillafured.  It was on the little bridge in Kandina alley that the two youngsters first kissed and vowed to love each other forever because all lovers are insatiable; they are not satisfied by the eternity of the moment, but long for the infinite too.

The next day they returned to the bridge, tied two small padlocks together and fastened them onto hte iron rail.  They threw the two small keys into the water so that the padlocks that were to symbolize their never-ending love could not be opened and separated by anyone, not even by themselves.

Miskolc – The Legend of the Palace of Music

The Palace of Music

The following is one of the legends we heard that both of us liked a lot:

"Around where the Palace of Music now stands there used to be one-story buildings.  If people opened their windows they could see the Szinva river, as it flowed uncovered at that time.  There was a small park next to it, perhaps where the present building is located.  There lived a young man at that time who everybody called the “invisible violin-player.”  He lived like the birds of the night: he hid from people during the daytime.

He was an unfortunate child.  His parents and brothers died in an inferno, something which happened quite often then.  Miraculously, he survived, but his face and body were seriously burned.  They say that only his hands survived completely.  The old doctor who cured him grew very fond of him, so he decided to raise him and teach him how to play the violin.  When the old doctor died the only thing the boy had left was his violin.  He could play it in such a way that it broke the heart of anyone who heard it.  In the evenings when the sun set over the small houses, people would sit out and listen to him playing.  At such times, the men kept quiet, the women stopped gossiping, and the mysterious celebration took over them as their souls disappeared into the depths.

They say there lived a girl nearby who fell in love with the invisible violinist.  Or maybe it was the music that she fell in love with.  It felt like someone touching her heart with her bare hands.  It felt like someone had opened a door leading to her soul and found new places and kept opening new doors inside her.

Love has power as great as music.  One night this great power led the girl to the invisible violinist.  She crept up behind him quietly, covered his eyes and turned his face around.  The violin stopped and fell out of his hand.  It was a full moon that night and it shone down on them.  Only the moon saw the girl and the violinist looking into each other’s eyes.  The girl gazed at the face that was burned and deformed and the violinist was surprised to see the pair of dark blue eyes staring back at him.

They say that the girl’s family never forgave her for loving the burned-faced violinist.  They say that she was forced to marry someone else.  She didn’t have a chance.  In order to prevent her from escaping to see the violinist her father locked her in her room.  But love cannot be kept in a prison.  When the sun set the violinist started playing and told the girl that love is eternal.  The strings shivered from pain, hope and happiness.

They say it was already winter when they heard the sound of the violin for the last time.  The sound of the violin went through everything: the thick walls, the closed windows, and sad souls…

Some late-night passers-by saw two figures standing on the banks of the river.  The silhouette of a girl standing still and a man playing the violin.  They saw the man put his violin on a bench and hug the girl.  But the strangest thing was that the music never stopped.  It kept playing as if a hand from the sky had taken control of the violin.  The music flew in the air loud and clear.  The strings of the violin sang every happiness and pain of human fate.  No one had heard such a beautiful sound before.

Some time around midnight it started snowing and snow covered the trees, all the bushes, and the houses.  By dawn the music had stopped, and the girl and the violinist disappeared and nobody saw them ever again.  There were no footsteps left in the clear white snow.  The violin was found on the ground after the snow had melted.  They say that as soon as someone touched it the strings snapped quietly, just like a person’s heart breaks.

Many, many years later in 1927 the town built a Neo-Baroque style palace there.  A building that is worthy of the legend connected to it.  Since then everything is pure music there.  That is what the lute on the front of the building, the square in front named for Béla Bartók and the statue of the boy playing the flute all represent.  The rails of the balcony, the door, the windows and stairs are all musical notes carved into iron.  The wall paintings in the concert hall also stand for this.  Everything is completely about music here even when the hall is quiet, when there are no concerts, when the sound of the pupils’ instruments are not heard on the street.

How odd, how great, that so many famous violin players are somehow connected to Miskolc.  Ede Reményi, the bronze relief of Ernó Lányi near the staircase, the statue of Jenö Hubay in the front room of the concert hall, they all remind the visitor of them.

The three of them were world famous, the whole world could hear them play.  The memory of the fourth one, the invisible violinist, is not preserved by any statue or memorial.  Only this legend is left.  But legends live forever, just like love and music."

Miskolc - A Day of Actual Exploring

Timber Church

Our second day in Miskolc was jam-packed with things to do.  We started the morning bright and early with a hot breakfast at the hotel.  Unfortunately the Hungarians’ idea of eggs and sausage consisted of very runny scrambled eggs and a microwaved hot dog.  We opted to stick with cold meats, yogurt, and cheese.

After breakfast we made the trek down to the bus station in Miskolc-Tapolca to head out to Diósgyör and the medieval castle.  It was clearly a haven for young children, but cool nonetheless.  Interestingly enough, the castle is where the Peace of Turin was signed to end the war between Venice and Hungary.  The castle is also home to the largest set of wax figures in Central Europe.  They were really poorly made and pretty creepy, but it was still kind of neat.  I felt really bad for our tour guide who was kind enough to ask us if we were American and then proceeded to painfully give the tour to us in English (And Hungarian for everyone else).

We spent the afternoon back in central Miskolc.  The kind ladies at the TourInform center gave us a pamphlet with walking tours of downtown Miskolc that would take us past all of the major sights in the city.  We opted to take the long tour and see everything.  The booklet was interesting in that it didn’t provide you with dry facts about everything in the city.  Instead, it stated upfront that the best way to get a feel for the city is to see the sights and hear the legends/stories behind each location.  If I have some time, I’ll post some of those later.  The walking tour was fun, but somewhat disappointing because for some inexplicable reason all of the churches and the synagogue were closed all afternoon on a Thursday.  It just doesn’t make sense.  There were no signs with posted hours for the churches, they just seemed to be closed all the time.  My favorite sight in the city was hands down the Timber Church, unique in that it is made entirely of wood.  Unsurprisingly, the current church is the fourth reincarnation on the same sight; the previous three having fallen victim to “infernos.”

It was a long day and we were both exhausted.  Kati had decided to wear a strapless dress all day yet neglected to put on sunscreen, so by the end of the day she was pretty burnt.  By the time we made it back to the hotel in Miskolc-Tapolca, it was around 5:00 and we were beat.  Yet, seeing as there was no food in the immediate vicinity, we knew we had to venture out at least one more time that evening.  We mustered up our strength, grabbed our towels, and headed back down to the cave baths to relax before grabbing dinner.  It was an excellent choice.  The thermal mineral water and the “healing” air in the cave really rejuvenated us…at least long enough to have dinner and hike back up the hill to our hotel.

Hungarian Frustration

“Reservation!”  That’s the only word I could comprehend.  It’s the only word that held any meaning; any value.  Not an hour into a mid-morning train ride across the Hungarian countryside from Budapest to Miskolc, I had a run-in with a Hungarian train conductor.  It’s in these routine, common-place interactions where communication is most taken for granted and yet effective communication is most important.  This is by no means a tale of effective communication.

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The night before our departure for Miskolc, I was already feeling a bit uneasy about the trip.  The language barrier in Hungary had already proven more substantial than any I had encountered before.  While I had managed to make due up until that point in the trip, moving from the cosmopolitan metropolis of Budapest to Miskolc, a non-tourist destination, raised deeper concerns about the extent to which the language barrier would be amplified.

My perception of Hungarian as an impenetrable language could be due to the fact that those Hungarians around Budapest seem to mumble and slur words together so much that it sounds like incomprehensible gibberish instead of distinct words and phrases.  However, more likely than not the language’s impenetrable nature has to do with the fact that nobody understands how it originated or from where it was derived.  Thus it is different from anything you will ever hear or encounter elsewhere.  It is unique in that it bears no resemblance to any other language in the area and it closest linguistic relative is, strangely enough, Finnish.  They say that Hungarian is the most difficult language in the world to learn, and, after this trip, I can attest to the truth of that statement.

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When the morning of our departure arrived, I had begun to feel more confident about the likely success of our trip.  A hot shower and a good night’s sleep had rejuvenated me and restored my confidence.  The morning started like any other.  It had become routine by now.   First, I load my clothes into my stuff sack and compress them down, tightening each strap in turn to minimize space.  The clothes go into the pack first—the need to access them while in-transit is minimal.  Next, my raincoat and jacket go into the bottom pocket for easy access.  Then, all of my electronics and books are placed in my day pack and it’s jammed into the remaining space near the top of my backpack.  After pulling up my socks and tying my shoes, I throw the backpack over my shoulders, buckle all of the straps, and I’m ready to go.

We made it to the train station just in time, and after a successful bilingual exchange with the lady at the ticket counter, we had two tickets to Miskolc in our hands and were ready to go.  The train was no different from any other we had been on in Europe.  We skipped the first class car and went straight to second class—we had made the mistake of sitting first-class in the Czech Republic, but the kind conductor informed us we were in the wrong car and pointed us in the right direction.  We easily found two open seats in a nearly empty train and sat down to the breakfast we had picked up along the way.

About 20 minutes into the trip, the conductor came around to check tickets.  I’d been through this process so many times, in so many languages, that I wasn’t concerned.  I’d mastered the simple art of handing my ticket to the conductor and taking it back after he confirms its validity.  Yet this time was different.  It wasn’t quite so simple.  I always held onto the tickets for both Kati and myself.  I handed both tickets to the conductor and he seemed to approve and handed them back to me.  Then he approached Kati clearly seeking her ticket.  In an attempt to head off any encounter between the two, I kindly gave him the tickets back, pointing to the tickets and then pointing to Kati and myself, indicating that my tickets were for both of us.  It was then that everything went wrong.  For some reason, having two tickets was sufficient for my trip, but insufficient to cover both of us.  Then he spoke the only word I understood: “Reservation.”  “These seats are reserved?” I asked.  He nodded his head in apparent understanding.  I pointed to our tickets and toward the car immediately behind us.  He was unphased.  No response.  I pointed to the car immediately in front of us.  “Reserved?” I asked.  No response.  No nod.

My Hungarian is limited to a few choice expressions I have written down in a little black, leather-bound book I carry with me everywhere.  My first instinct was to try to use signs to ask if we were in the wrong seats and, if so, where we were permitted to sit by our tickets.  My efforts were to no avail.  The only result was that he reached into his fanny-pack and pulled out a small computer, reading “720 HUF”—720 Hungarian forints, equivalent to just under $4.  Again, I attempted to use signs coupled with English to convey my point.  I could see the ivory glaze roll over his eyes.  It was clear that we were from two vastly different floors of the Tower of Babel.

I made the first attempt to breach the language barrier by grabbing my trusty black book.  Quickly flipping to the page of Hungarian phrases I’d jotted down, I found what I was looking for.  I kindly looked at the man, pointed to the tickets in his hand and asked, “Hol?”  “Where?”  He chuckled, and just pointed again at the digital display reading “720 HUF.”  By this point I was frustrated…exasperated, and the conductor was growing increasingly and visibly annoyed.  To head off any further and more severe confrontation, I paid him the 720 forints he was demanding and resolved to stew in my own annoyance.  In return for my payment, I received a small receipt.  It contained no seat numbers, no “reservation” and no identifiable information other than the clear and distinct fact that I paid “720 HUF.”