Valencia!

Or I suppose I should say, Valencia take 2!

My first "visit" to Valencia was for Tomatina, the gigantic tomato fight just outside the Valencia in Bunol.

Since my hotel was so far from the site, I slept in the airport with a group of other tourists then headed to Bunol on the first train running at 6am.

So really, I did not see Valencia other than the airport and returning to get on a bus to Barcelona.

Trip II to Valencia is to collect Alma!  She has been studying English in London.  Just to clarify, Alma speaks great English.  She is a chatty person and doesn't worry about making mistakes although she strives for near native fluency so she can work anywhere in the world (well you know, almost anywhere).

So I drove for about three hours from Soria to Valencia with Alma's parents.  We stopped just outside Valencia for a delicious paella valenciana with Alma's grandparents.  I sure hope you know what paella is.  Saffron rice with vegetables, perhaps seafood or meat.  Valencia is known for the best and purest form of paella.  A true paella has been cooked of a wood fire in a shallow pan to obtain a delicious crispness.  The kind we had was very typical with some vegetables, crab, mussels, and chicken in it. DELICIOUS.

When we saw Alma again, she was ecstatic to be back in Spain.  She was wearing a long sleeve shirt, jacket, and jeans which got me a little nervous about my 24 hour stop over in London. The girl is a total beach babe- just like me!

We got back to Alma's apartment which is the coziest thing.  The apartment belonged to her great-grandparents and stayed in the family.  Alma's sister Laura owns her own interior design company and for her final project she redesigned Alma's apartment.  The lucky girl has her own modern two bedroom apartment decorated in fantastic bright colors and it is only a short drive from the beach!

The next day we ate yummy pizza and ice cream with Alma's family- grandparents, aunts, uncles and  cousins.  Most of the family prefers horchata, a blended drink made from jamaica (not Jamaica!) but I can't stand the texture- or calling vegetables a dessert!

After ice cream- the beach! What else?

The beach area reminded me of Miami, particularly Coconut Grove, with the small canals and mid-sized yachts.

Technically, Alma is suppose to be in school now for her last semester but the term begins with an add/drop period so attendance isn't mandatory.  So she will be showing me around her favorite city and we will be going on a few side trips!  I am very excited to see more of my favorite country and its beaches!

Alma's cousin, Alma, me and Alma's mommy

Soria

Where in the world is Francesca.

Possibly one of the least internationally known stops on my world travels I am now in Soria, in northen-central Spain (the part without beaches).

Soria is in the autonomous community of Castile and Leon. Castile? Like Castellano, the most widely spoken form of Spanish? Yes.

Hence my connection to the province.  When I was studying in Spain during summer 2005 my teacher went on a trip to Soria because she wanted to set up a permanent exchange between my high school and they students there since the people of Castile and Leon are known to speak some of the purest Spanish and Soria is a quaint, safe city.  My teacher contacted the head of the Chamber of Commerce in Soria who at that time happened to be Alma's dad.  My teacher and her husband stayed with Alma's family, just as I am, and it is easy to see why she fell in love with them.  So much so that she offered to find an American family to host Alma- mine!

Today Alma's mother and I went on a city tour.  Now, remind you that Soria is not a city like Madrid, Paris, or Shanghai.  It is a city like Troy, New York, my hometown.  In fact, Soria is even smaller with just under 40,000 inhabitants.  However, if you go out on the streets on any given night you will see the whole city and it will feel like many more than 40,000 people live here. The town square, or plaza if you will, is crowded with social drinkers snacking on tapas.


Situated on the Rio Duero, the city is noted for its walls and a number of architecturally distinctive churches. here a church, there a church everywhere a church church! Wait, that's all of Europe- and somehow they stay open- unlike the Churches in America's Catholic/Protestant turned atheist North-East.

Like most of Spain, Soria has belonged to many cultures over time, typically at the periphery of the ruler's kingdom. The area of Soria was inhabited by the Iberians, who merged with the Celts to form the Celtiberians around the 4th century BC.  We saw some excavated Celtic ruins which were pretty cool. During the Roman conquest of Iberia, Soria was besieged and its population committed a collective suicide in order to escape slavery. That's a pretty deep subject which I discovered through a low budget film at the ruins. Centuries later, after the Arab conquest of Spain, it grew in importance due to its proximity to the border of the Christian lands, which in the 8th century had settled along the Duero river.

Sister Hermana!

I kinda of feel like my life is the show Sister Sister. 90s Flashback.  Tia and Tamara. Twins separated at birth and adopted.  I feel like I am at the point where they get back together and join families.

Here I am, in Spain, at Alma's family's home, without her while she is London.  All because I hung out with her for a week six years ago.  I only know her from those seven days but somehow the four days we spent in Malaga made me feel like we knew each other much better. She's smart, GORGEOUS and a person I am very lucky to have as a friend.

Alma's family is absolutely incredible too.  Her mother IS my mother.  She is always offering me food, chatting and they have the same mannerisms which is FREAKY.  For some reason I have a very hard time understanding her father.  Spaniards speak with a lisp and his is very heavy.  I suppose a Spaniard would say he has a nice voice but it does me no good.  Together they are much cooler than my parents because they travel.  They've been to ALASKA, Chile, Jordan, Kenya, Japan, Vietnam--- all over!  Maybe they aren't my parents but they are the future ME.  I just need to find a man with a big lisp and a passport.

I also met her older sister Laura who has the  most adorable two year old daughter.  Honestly, most kids, especially around that age, I find boring and repulsive but this girl is perfect. She has a brother/sister on the way which only means one thing--- I need to go back to Spain!

I don't feel weird at all hanging out with Alma's family while she is in London.  I am only here a few days then I will drive to Valencia with her parents and pick up Alma at the airport.  Then I will stay with her for a few days and off to Munich for Oktoberfest.  Alma was going to go but flights got expensive and London was costing her a pretty penny. 

We made this tentative plan that she will come to the states to work when she graduates and if we speak Spanish at home then I can move to Spain to work a year or two later.  Whatever happens it is really nice to know I have family on two continents!

My Spanish mommy (and my traveler's acne)

Tengo suerte!

“I’m lucky”.  That’s all I could say for the past four days. 

I’ve been to Spain once before, six years ago to study in Cadiz.  That same summer, the teacher who helped organize the trip asked if I would like to host the daughter of a Spanish friend of her’s for a week.  My parents agreed and we hosted Alma.

In a purely serendipitous moment I sent a message to Alma saying that I was in Guaro, outside of Malaga, working on a smelly farm without a shower.  I told Alma before I left China that I might make it to Spain and she told me we should try to see each other if I did but she would be in London for three weeks.  I wholly believed she was in London when I sent that message but by the grace of God, she was in her car on her way to Malaga.  By the powers of Facebook she read my message immediately after I sent it and she invited me to join her at the beach for a few days.  I grabbed the bus without so much as asking who she was with.  I imagined she was with friends but I was delighted to meet her amazing parents.  Alma met me at the station and I recognized her immediately. Strange how that can happen after six years. 

The rest of the time was filled with showers, good food, showers, the beach, showerers, spanish conversations, and SHOWERS. 

Guaro- que guarro!

WOW.   

Its taken me a few days because 1) I had to absorb my situation and 2) we are operating on solar power, with Spanish outlets and no internet so this whole using a computer thing is challenging.

Well El Higuero, the name of this farm or “campo, finca or granja” if you would like to speak Espanol, is not quite what I thought it would be.

First, I should state that I put only minimal effort into finding this farm.  In my last couple of month in China, I was very unsure of what my net move would be.  I knew that I wanted to improve my Spanish and this seemed like an appropriate way to do so.  Plus, I had been in a very dirty city and I could use some of the simple life an fresh air.  Note here that I am not saying that I am moving from a dirty city to a clean place.

The facilities at El Higueral are primitive.  In my hesitant phase (perhaps two weeks ago when I still didn’t have a plan) I e-mailed Guillermo, a volunteer just like me who plans to stay here for a year!  Guillermo told me the farm is “un paradiso”.  Another part of the email mentioned taking baths in the river.  I like lakes and I thought taking the occasional bath in the river would be refreshing.  Well, the river, named the Rio Grande (BIG RIVER) is not so appropriately named.  It’s a stream.  It barely comes to my ankles. Oh and we can only use organic soap.  Apparently organic shampoo is very hard to come by. Its 106 degrees and I sweat. This will be interesting.

Interesting, the name of the town, Guaro, sounds much like the word "guarro" (roll the r people rrrrrrrrroll the rrrrrrrr). "Guarro" is a slang word for filthy, disgusting, or dirty.

In my emails to Maria Jesus she told me Guillermo would be on the farm and there would be another WWOOFER, John, from New York. When the car came to pick me up at the bus stop in Guaro out came Guillermo and a young girl.  The girl was Karina, 19, from Germany.  She speaks brilliant Spanish because she spent a year living in Mexico.  This brought our happy family to four (Maria Jesus is on vacation until the middle of the month).  In total there are NINE of us. Most people came within the past week.  Xenia (23, from Austria), Stephen (21, Ireland), Amelia (26 from Italy) Meme and Cullum (17 from England) plus the others aforementioned.  This was far more people than I imagined but for such a diverse group of people we get along great. Everyone is social, pleasant and relaxed. Amelia was preparing lunch when I arrived and from that first meal (pasta from the Italian of course) it felt like a family meal.  We all started singing songs from the Lion King in our own languages- Spanish, English, German, Italian all blended together.  We are family. So fast. So soon!

 

At dinner we decided that it is time to take a field trip.  Apparently the average WWOOFer does not stay as long as Guillermo (a year) and only stays a few weeks.  My plan was to stay for a month but that got cut short by the tomato festival and I actually felt bad for staying so short.  It seems most people’s plans are a week, 10 days, or maybe 2 or 3 weeks.  Since people will be leaving soon.

I was hoping we would hit the beach.  Its been so long since I have had a beach holiday or put on a bathing suit (awkward).  I can’t describe how happy I was to see the beach from the plane.  It felt like home, and by home I mean Miami. Since then I have been constantly reevaluating whether I should look for a job in Miami.

We did not go to a beach but instead went to Ronda (rrrrrrrroll the rrrr). A city I visited  on my first trip to Spain 6 years ago!  It has the oldest bull ring in Spain and some ancient ROMAN aqueducts.  We found a cool waterfall and BATHED!

Once you get past the fact that the farm is dirty and overpopulated its not so bad.  We take turns cooking and we have had some delicious meals (pizza, pancakes, pasta, scones, curry, fried rice, potatoes and eggs).  We eat a lot of things fresh from the farm: figs (OMG no one ever told me how good these are!),  tomatoes, peppers, pomegranates, oranges (fresh orange juice), eggplant, pumpkin and almonds.  In addition there are many herbs, floral plants and olive trees.  Maria Jesus makes her own olive oil but it is not the season.  Even though I did not put much effort into choosing a farm, I was sure about not having animals, chickens might be ok but nothing too big.  This farm only has a cat, two dogs and SIX new born puppies. The puppies are just a few days old and can’t even open their eyes or walk yet.

From Sex tourist to farmer in 24 hours

I can't speak for Kate but I wasn’t really a sex tourist in Amsterdam. Its AMSTERDAM so I could have been (if I wanted to).

Kathryn left me this morning on a plane bound for the United States.  She is returning to China next year and is spending some time home and watching her friend get married before that. 

My future plans include 3.5 weeks on a farm in Spain, then going to Tomatina, a very large tomato fight near Valencia in Spain, and then a giant mystery (go to Portugal? Morocco? tour Spain?) and somehow make it to Munch for Oktoberfest and my flight to the US on September 18.  Oh and that also includes a 22 hour layover in London.  

When in Prague, the home of Franz Kafka, I read the Metamorphisis and found this appropriate quote “The traveling is arduous but without it I couldn’t live”. I guess it makes all the expensive flights, cheap hostels and layovers worth it.

So back to farming. The farm that I will be working on is the town of Guaro, it is a town of 2,000 people one hour from Marbella and two hours from Malaga (the airport) in Costa del Sol on the Mediterranean. Well those cities are on the “Sun coast” and I will be in the Sierra Nieve (snow) mountains.

Since Guaro is so small and not a hot tourist destination, there are only three buses a day from the city.  Unfortunately, my flight comes in too late (at 7pm!) so I will have to wait until the next day to get to the farm.  I haven’t been communicating with the people on the farm too frequently so this was recent news to me.  I should go stay in a hostel but since I am cheap and don’t see the point of staying for the night and not enjoying the city and the people I am going to Couchsurf... ALONE. I talked with this girl Desiree who works at the airport (perfect) and will be picking me up there (more perfect).  She’s going to the States next week as a Fullbright scholar (wow) so hopefully I can give her some advice in return.

Well it is time for my vuelo (flight) with Vueling (supposedly flying?) airline.  CHAO. (the spanish use an a "h" instead of "i")

Paris IS Vegas

What will go wrong in Paris?  Will we get lost?  Harassed for being American? Mugged? Rapped? Killed? 

No we are too lucky for this and our apparent Paris hold up has been Freddy, our recommend Couch Surfing host.

Paris, well pretty much all of western Europe, is a hot bed for couch surfing but in the summer it is apparently in overload and man people just don’t host.  So, based on a mutual connection, Laura, our host in Moscow, Freddy took us on.  However, FREDDY IS A LIE AND A USER.

My perspective on Couch Surfing is that it is a give and take organization.  You surf and you host. While you are surfing it is often nice to bring a gift or treat the person to a meal or drinks or maybe just cook. Freddy’s idea is that it is give and take, the host is a hotel and the surfer must compensate him according to the high season rate at the nearest 4 star hotel.

We did our best.  Without insured compensation we followed his instructions to pick up cigarettes and liquor duty free at the airport.  Luckily he did repay us by discounting the amount we owed home for purchasing Disney Paris tickets for us at the discounted Parisian rate.

That was a scam and a half.  Freddy warned us that the metro gets super crowded in the morning and that we should leave by seven am for Disney.  He must have forgot that we lived in China (although he made the common joke that he was waiting for Chinese people when we arrived) and he did not remember that we lived in a small cereal box of a city with 24 million inhabitants.  We know crowded more than he ever will.  We got to the park before it opened and got in line to switch our vouchers for tickets. As we did so, the polite Disney employee at the counter asked to see our IDs.  Coincidentally, these did not match the names on our vouchers which were printed as “Super Man” and “Wonder Woman”. Nice one Freddy.  The only reason we got to go into the Park, after already paying Freddy, was because 1) This is Disney and they are nothing but nice and 2) we remembered Freddy’s address, although not his last name.

On our way home from the Park we stopped and bought some wine, cheese and the works (bread, meats, grapes) because we were feeling a little bad about the night before.  We arrived in Paris a bit famished and went out for some food and to walk the streets on our first night in Paris.  Freddy told (not asked, told) us to be back by 11 because he was going out (we were not invited). Partly because I lost my watch in Budapest, we wanted to see PARIS and we just didn’t care, we came back 20 minutes late.  He was livid!  When you let tourists out on the streets of a new city without a map, sometimes they get a little lost.  Besides, aren’t Europeans suppose to be a bit more laid back and less punctual than Americans? There is no reason to be mad… but he was.  He drank most of the wine and tried to make conversation but it was clear Freddy liked us as much as we liked sleeping on an air mattress on his kitchen floor.

Days later Freddy left Kate and I this review:

 "I hosted Wonder Woman & Super Girl ^^ I waited a couple of Chinese, and surprise i see two nice american girls. Two girls with a lot of punch, independent and motivated to visit Paris, even late at night. Handy when you are too busy, by your daily work! Bon voyage et bonnes aventures ailleurs girls."

 A lot of punch? Oh we were out so late- almost past 11!   The rest doesn't make sense but I am sure it is an insult. I don’t really get his problem.  Freddy lives in a BEAUTIFUL city.  Cheer up you chubby bastard.

I really fell in love with France and want to see more of it.  Maybe even learn some French.  I must say, perhaps after coming from Hungary, that I was a bit disappointed by the food.  Everything smelled delicious, and I mean everything while we were walking the streets smelled like heaven, but we didn’t eat anything exceptional.  Being our Asian selves and in need of a pick me up from Freddy’s hell, Kate and I literally waited in line for a Chinese buffet. We saw the sign right across from Notre Dame Cathedral 10 euro all you can eat.  With this prime location you would think the restaurant would be open at 5 but we had to wait until 6.  A couple of Korean guys who were biking around Europe (far more than we biked) also joined us in line. We really enjoyed the international cuisine in Paris and even though Parisian food is supposed to be the best in the world (actually number two after Japan) we really enjoyed little French food other than wine and cheese.  I suppose I must return.

We were happy to leave Freddy’s and spend the weekend (Friday and Saturday nights) in a rented apartment. We cooked for ourselves, including a breakfast that I hardly remember cooking when we came home at ten AM. Opps.

The night before we met yet another group of delightful French people.  I remember the conversation starting when the lone girl in the group approached us and drunkenly mumbled “Promise me, PROMISE ME, that you will not get in the car with any one.” This was roughly the extent of this girl’s English yet we continued to stay with her and her guy friends until the wee hours of the morning which wouldn't have been a problem but we had a bus to catch at 3 and still wanted to shop at Louis. White girl problems.

By the way I suppose I should explain the title.  Paris IS Vegas for no reason other than I expected both to be entirely underwhelming and they blew my mind.  There's some kind of magic there, even outside of Disney.

Polska

Leaving Lithuania after 24 hours was not too heartbreaking.  We saw some images of the countryside which may have made a few days longer worthwhile but really, been there done that.  The whole city of Vilnius was thankfully not as creepy as the area surrounding our hostel.  In fact, we met another traveler, one who loves Vilnius and he said that's the worst hostel there.  Anyways, just like Tallinn and Riga, we saw another Old Town and more churches.  To put the icing on the cake, although we were sitting in the square preciously where the free walking tour was suppose to start, we missed the tour and had to give our own tour of Vilnius.

So we took a ten pm bus to Warsaw, Poland and arrived at 7am.  Trying to find the hostel or even the city center from where we were dropped off was incredibly confusing.  In our search, we came across another traveler, Berky from Hong Kong.  Berkey ended up getting a room at our hostel and we hung out in Warsaw and again in Krakow.  We took a public bus in our search for the hostel and before it left, some guy asked if we saw a backpack that he may have left.  We all searched our things and said no.  Then somehow, before we got to our hostel, Berkey realized her backpack was gone.  I know she had it when the guy asked but it was just so odd and I felt so bad that she lost her computer and some of her photos.  This kind of thing would make me very mad, mostly for sentimental reasons loosing memories, but she handled it really well.

90% of Warsaw was destroyed during WWII.  The Poles knew this would be their fate and made extraordinaire draft to replicate the old city in its rebuilding

His holiness Pope John Paul II was from Warsaw and his image is everywhere

We were told that there isn't much to see of do in Warsaw, so we planned to only spend one night there.  The common saying is that "Warsaw is like Disneyland" since 90%(!!!) of it was blown up in WWII.  Our CitySpy map has some useful Polish phrases such as "how new is the old town" (60 years). It really was beautifully rebuilt. Best of all, Warsaw, and all of Poland, was cheaaaaap.  We ate delicious kebabs (kebaps as they say) for $2 and perogies of all different flavors for the same price.  The three of us wandered around after dinner and we saw a whole lot of people sitting on a hillside.  We sat down too and an hour later a watershow played on the fountain.  This was not your ordinary watershow.  The water spayed up like a curtain and images depicting Polish history and tradition were show.  It was very cool. We went back to the hostel and slept since no one sleep on an overnight bus anyways.




The next day we took a supposedly three hour train to Krakow.  It took four hours. Lonely Planet says Poland has the worst trains in all of Europe but I am set to say it has the worst transportation.  Every ride we took was miserable.  The ride to Auschwitz concentration/death camp (we were told the difference between the two- gas chambers) was so hot and disgusting that I was sure it was part of the "Auschwitz experience".  People told us we were strange for wanting to go to Auschwitz.  Its actually a main tourist attraction and  definitely a sad experience but a poignant one.

I have to mention that we also stayed with this awesome "friend" in Krakow.  His name is Michael, he's Polish and amazing.  Amazing factor #1 he's incredibly nice. Factor 2- he fed us.  We already ate more perogies but he offered us pastries, kielbasa and his grandmother's homemade bread.  OH and Polish vodka shots.  Polish vodka comes with a long piece of grass in the bottle and kind of taste like grass but its so good, especially in comparison to the Russian vodka we brought with us.  Michael's amazing factor #3, he is hitchhiking from Poland to AFRICA.  Crazy.  He also plans to go to Tomatina in Spain, which I will be at, and I hope we can reunite there.

Pro-poverty propaganda?

Hey now, I’m a cyclist!

Living in Shanghai for a year has made me hard pressed for fresh air.  I wanted it.  Craved it.  I very much enjoyed the clear blue skies during my one week stint in the States in and with the PERFECT weather we have had (past perfect tense soon to be explained).

The plan was to cycle from Vienna to Budapest. This is part of the famous Danube Trail which starts in Germany and I think ends in Budapest.  I looked into tours but they are very costly.  Fortunately, I came across Pedal Power who offered us a very good price for a week rental, side bags, and pick up in Budapest. I booked the hostels and we were set.

Here’s some things you should know about the Danube Trail:

1)     Its not really a trail.  At least not in the sense of being well marked and paved.  I’d say 5% is paved but that could just be because we got lost and had to ride on main roads.  There are signs but they are small and only when you really need a sign.  If you aren’t constantly looking you will miss it.

2)     The “trail” does not follow the Danube.  While we were lost I thought “hey the river is that way”.  Nope, the “trail” is miles away on either side.

3)     The average age of a “trail blazer” is about 55.  The trail was not highly populated, we saw  people somewhat often and these people were usually retirees.  This gave me some hope that I can settle down and still live an active life, eventually.  One day I would like to return and do the whole trail, from Germany back to Budapest.

Day 1 of biking was from Vienna to Bratislava (about 60 km). It took us a little longer than we anticipated since we got lost. Another fascination of mine is with the cheap and cheesy movie Eurotrip.  There’s a part where they get mislead to Bratislava but it turns out to be ok since everything was super cheap in backwards Eastern Europe. They went to a rave, drank absinthe and stayed at a lux hotel.  They tipped a bellboy 5 cents and he slapped his boss saying he quit.  Due to my interest in the movie, we decided to spend two nights in Bratislava, one to party and one to rest before we bike.  Well, we failed to party since a long bike ride wiped us out.  We felt a little embarrassed since the young guys in our hostel were being nice to us and invited us out.  As a consolation, we enjoyed a terrific meal.  A biker definitely has bigger eyes than a stomach and we both ate too much.  I ordered garlic soup and the most fantastic turkey/cheese/potato dish that I am dying to replicate.

As aforementioned, in the past perfect tense, we had perfect weather in Russia, Poland, Prague and Vienna. Everything changed on day two of the bike trip.  We acknowledged there was a possibility that it would rain while we were biking.  Thus, we packed rain coats.  Clearly, we could have been more prepared.  It DOWNPOURED.  Cats and dogs, Waterfalls.  Great Lakes. TSUNAMI. It sure rained and we sure pedaled. We didn’t really know what else to do.  Somehow the sheer discomfort and the threat of getting sick seemed minimal compared to rearranging travel plans.

In a marvelous, somewhat victorious break from the rain, we enjoyed a fantastic meal in Mosonmagyaróvár a short distance from our final destination, Gyor. Mosonmagyaróvár- just one example of why Hungarian is ranked the third second most difficult language to learn.  Since we already attempted the most difficult- Chinese maybe we'll learn to pronounce our destinations. 

When I bike this trail again (which I will do, with my husband, in the future.) I fully intend to go back to this restaurant because the whole menu seemed delicious, although the service, like everywhere else we have dined, was poor.  I ate Hungarian goulash and turkey with dumplings and Kate had garlic soup and bacon wrapped pork.  Delicious.  With bellies satisfied we pedaled on.

We made it to our final destination, Gyor.  Hostels were in hard to come by and our reliable Couch Surfing failed us so we stayed in a two star hotel.  The hotel was attached to a four star hotel but the part we stayed in was actually student dorms during the academic year.  After sleeping by Kate’s loving side for the past three weeks I was surprised when the woman, who was very helpful and eager to speak English, opened a second door.  For all of 16 euros a night Kate and I had our own rooms.  I would have preferred 8 euros a night to share a room, since each of our rooms had two beds in them, but we were being lodged and we were dry.

With hopes of avoiding the incessant rainfall on day three, we spent our morning in the mall across the street from our hotel.  In Krakow I was teased walking through a mall on the way to the train station but I never actually got to shop in a mall.  Some addictions are hard to shake.  All of the rain definitely made my bones cold so I bought a sweatshirt to wear under my raincoat and it made a big difference.

With time ticking, and our hosts waiting, we eventually decided to hit the trail… in the rain.  Oh and how lost we got!  It was a very difficult start, as all of our starts turned out to be, but we pedaled on.  Really we’d be great postal workers: “Come rain or snow…”.

When we finally arrived in Tatabanya, we had a difficult time trying to connect with our hosts because, damnit, nothing is easy for us.  We finally got through, via a stranger’s cell phone, in front of a cheap burger joint where we finally conceded to American fast food style eating in the country which I strongly believe has the best food.  We were told that a typical Hungarian meal can contain more than 2000 calories (the supposed daily allowance).  We biked, so we indulged, but I don’t think I will be deep frying a hamburger patty or ordering extra fries ever again.

Our hosts in Tatabayna were magnificent.  We stayed with a Hungarian family, baby and all! It was a little interesting since the family did not speak English so well.  Mom and Dad are both teachers and baby Anne was only 6 months old!  We weren’t so hungry but we definitely ate more than we should have in this house. The mother, Adrienne, cut up some vegetables and cheese that the husband, Sandor, made on their family farm. After a year without cheese in China anything will taste good, but this was really delicious.  Even though I was really stuffed, they brought out a traditional Hungarian dessert, which I really really wish they did not introduce me to.  It’s almost like a ricotta cheese (but its surprisingly not cheese!) dipped in chocolate and sold in the freezer in grocery stores.  I ate too many of these in Hungary. Adrienne made us breakfast the next day and even tried to convince us to stay for the lunch she was preparing but a bike must continue her route.

After another day of biking the in the rain we made it to Esztergom and the home of Cat Lady.  Cat Lady teaches German and because of her job, she doesn’t get to travel much but likes to host travelers to share their experiences. If you haven’t sensed the pattern, I will make it clear that we had a difficult time finding Cat Lady.  The bike path, or at least the path we took, was along a main road and we found the town faster than we thought.  We were supposed to meet at the cathedral, which we Googled to make sure we knew what it looked like.  We arrived two hours early and spent two hours on the church steps doing anti-rain dances, mostly so we wouldn’t pee our pants.  Public phones in Hungary don’t seem to work and we finally reached her on a stranger’s cell phone.  Turns out we were at the wrong church but they sure do look the same!

So why is she called Cat Lady?  Because in her home this woman has an infinite number of cats!

I think she could pull them out of drawers.  She also has birds, guinea pigs (ew), fish, two dogs and was dog-sitting another.  I know it isn’t nice to say this about someone generous enough to host you but Cat Lady was a little nutty. Cat Lady liked to party too.  I think we brought her down since we were so tired we left after treating her to a couple of drinks.  I am still gracious that she hosted us and pointed us towards a terrific Hungary restaurant (Cat Lady didn’t want to come, Cat Lady said she doesn’t like restaurants but I really think Cat Lady doesn’t like to eat).

Happy, ESTATIC, to leave the animals and each Budapest, we set out in the morning.  Cat Lady had a friend come visit her that morning and he rode his bike over from Budapest.  He said he rode through the mountains (something he wouldn’t recommend to novices) and it took him two hours.  We rode along the so called path and it took us seven hours.  I don’t know what happened. Rain?

Guess what happened in Budapest?  We had trouble finding our hostel! The hostel didn’t have directions on its website, and we didn’t really have internet while biking so we forget to investigate.  Luckily, when we asked at a nearby hotel, it turns out the hostel was just across the street, down a road which I dismissed since the only thing I saw was a sex shop.  The hostel was cute, comfortable, and the employee was a cute young guy impressed by our biking.  So impressed he forgot to charge me for a towel. 

My sister--- I mean twinfriend Blair’s boyfriend studied abroad in Budapest for a semester and her gave us some good (and some bad) tips.  In celebration we dragged our tired, dirty selves out to his favorite bar.  Our host in Russia studied in Budapest too and recommended the same bar and some cocky Brazilian guy I was talked too told me “this place is famous”. The boyfriend’s bad recommendation came when we ordered his recommended drink, unicumm.  It came as a shot and smelled like hell so we decided to order his second recommendation, Palinka, which was listed as a  “long drink” to chase it down.  It was also a shot.  So then we ordered a beer.  Twenty dollars later we stood at the bar with three drinks. Since we hadn’t eaten and my mouth felt like I just threw up in it a few times, I got an overpriced slice of pizza which tasted like heaven, in comparison.  We spent the night talking to the friendliest French people we have ever met who bought us some more nasty shots and immediately Facebook friended us.  I even got a marriage proposal which was ok since he was kind of cute.  Surprisingly this time I was the one who didn’t want to leave, and I don’t know why we left, and this surprise brought out my inner bitch who was kind of mean to Kate on the long walk back.  I think I’ve been forgiven. 

Hungarian liquors are the complete and total opposite of Hungarian food and should never, ever be consumed.  We spent the next day in bed.  We tried to go on a food exposition but nothing appeared to be open for lunch on a Sunday.  We tried one restaurant but the waiter was very rude when he saw we had our own water bottles (has he never been hung over?). His lost because we went on to another delicious Hungarian restaurant where I consumed four days worth of calories in the form of steak, fries,, onions and sour cream with a  massive lemonade on the side.  This time we were blessed with cute Spanish speakers in our room and we embarrassed ourselves by sleeping all day, at least this time it was a Sunday.

On our last full day in Hungary we actually did something with our lives and went on a walking tour of the city.  It rained. Our guides were super friendly (but perhaps lairs). We followed Chris’s (Twinfriend’s boyfriend) recommendation and ate lanogs at the Central Market.  Langos is a huge more than satisfying piece of fried dough topped with all sorts of artery clogging things.  Based on Chris’s word I got garlic and cheese. Fantastic.  After that we did the worst thing possible, put on a bathing suit for the first time in a year (EEEK).  We walked to the famous Gelert Bath where and submerged ourselves in hot water.  Fancy that, the time that I actually purposefully put myself in water it finally stops raining.  The sun was out and the scenery was gorgeous.

Well, tonight we are embarrassing ourselves yet again by sitting in out hostel as there is an apparent ragger doing on at the Irish bar (Kate is a proud Irish-American) right outside our window.  I am using the excuse that we do not have ANY Hungarian money left but Kate isn’t buying it. Even though I am in my pajamas I am pretty sure I have gone out dressed worse so this situation may change soon.  I’ll stick with beer.

Manana, paris!