The Blithe Traveler

Change

Frankly, I don't like change of any sort. I mentioned that little fact about myself  (and if I were being honest, might say I mentioned that in a petulant sort of way) at the last PTA meeting and a couple of the moms ... tittered ... at me. Nicely, of course. They weren't being mean. But, it's true. Despite appearances, by which I mean, third country in three years sort of appearances, I don't like moving.

Right now, we are packing for our summer holiday, and have a plan to move to Vienna in about six weeks. So, I am also packing packing to move. Unfortunately, that moving plan includes a "move-out" date on our current, beautiful house in Brno, but does not include a move-in date in Vienna.

So, change. We have a lot. And look! Since I've been packing, here's a recent collection:

This lot has been collected from the dryer, trouser pockets, dresser tops, under beds, between the cushions of the couch. You know, the places where change accumulates. It includes coins from Thailand (easy to id because they all have the profile of the King on them), US (mostly recognizable), Hungary, UK (Queen!), Czech Republic and, well, a slew of unidentified "others." All are are traceable when you have the internet at your fingertips, but, at the moment, I don't really have time to track them all down.

There are two, though, that I shall highlight:

This one is from Moldavia, the Happiest Country in the World. Ha! Kidding. Moldavia is actually the unhappiest country in the world, if you believe Eric Weiner, author of Geography of Bliss. <--not a terribly interesting or insightful book, so I don't recommend it.

But, the coin. This coin is not a coin at all, of course, but a slug. In order to understand the hows and whys of its acquisition, you must know about these:

Shopping trollies. All carts for all grocery stores (and Ikea!) around here, come with these little money chain devices that require you to insert a coin to release the trolley for personal use. When you are finished shopping and have placed your groceries (or your new living room furniture!) in the back of your car, you return the trolley to a trolley stand, insert the chain and retrieve your coin. Generally, we're talking 5 to 10 koruna, so something like twenty five to fifty US cents.

One day, when I was new to the CR, I finished grocery shopping and as I left the mall with my groceries in my trolley, I stopped at the sports store. You can't bring a loaded grocery trolley into a sports store, so  I left it just outside, and kept a careful eye on it. Their was a dude who hovered around it a bit, but mine was not the only cart out there, and there were a few of us watching the dude, so I wasn't overly concerned. I bought what I required, and headed out, only to discover that hover dude had swapped out my 10 koruna coin for this slug! Seems like a lot of work and high potential for disaster for fifty cents, but, hey, my life is not dedicated to crime, so maybe I just don't get it.

And then there's this one:

Why US coins only warrant a "mostly" recognizable. When exactly did this happen? And, point number two, not illustrated, but I think you will understand the point: my children have a hard time recognizing US quarters because, ALL OF THE BACKS ARE DIFFERENT. They don't get it. And, frankly, I'm not sure I do either.

Change, change, change. It's coming. And I'm about as ready as I ever am.

Ah, well. If nothing else, I can use a loo in about thirty different countries.

 

WC, For A Fee

Let me be clear, I don't mind paying for a potty. 5 rubles in Russia, 5 kuai in China, 2,000 dong in Vietnam, 500 tughrik in Mongolia, 1 euro in Italy, whatever, it's better than crouching under the nearest bush. Just sayin'. 

In the CR, there is a high probability you will pay for a potty, even in a shopping mall. There are ladies who sit at portable tables and collect the 5 koruna "toilet tax." I don't have any good photos, but you get the idea from this sneaky i-Touch image.

If you have a young child dancing frantically, they will occasionally let you sneak the kid in without paying, but, generally, you dig up 5 koruna or you get no pot to pee in. And I really don't mind paying, it's just that I don't always have money. I always have change rattling around, but if the currency doesn't match the country I am in, the ladies get huffy.

Jeff, however has the very best Pay Potty story ever. He used one recently where the woman watched him, and charged the fee based on which he used: urinal or stall.  I swear, it is always easier to be a guy.

 

Salt Mines

So, Sunday morning rolled around, I demanded coffee in bed, as befits any mum on Mother's Day, and then got up and packed up the apartment to head for home. On our way, we decided to visit the Wieliczka Salt Mines.

Now, I am going to say right up front that this is an amazing, albeit rather expensive tourist sort of adventure (I think it was around $50US for the four of us). And, as we discovered a bit too late to do anything about it, it is a three hour tour.  Now, this would not have been an issue if we had shown up at 9:00, or at 13:00. But, we decided to descend into the Salt Mines at 11:00. Without having fed the children lunch. Do you require me to spell this out for you? Our lack of planning will bite us in the butt later.

So, the basics: The Wieliczka Salt Mine, located in the town of Wieliczka in southern Poland, lies within the Kraków Metropolitan area. The mine continuously produced table salt from the 13th century until 2007 as one of the world's oldest operating salt mines. It is believed to be the world's 13th oldest company still in operation. Does that not blow you away?

Commercial mining was discontinued in 1996 due to low salt prices and mine flooding, but the Salt Mines are apparently among the largest tourist draws in Poland: 1.2 million people annually.

The mine is as deep as 330 meters and has over 300km of tunnels. Which is about the driving distance from Prague to Vienna. Or a little shy of New York to DC, if that is more familiar to you. The touring route is about 3 and a half kilometers and takes you down, down, down to 130 meters below the surface. You do walk all that way down, starting with a set of stairs that went on just about forever (if you were Hope and already beginning to muse aloud about lunch), or 378 steps (if you were Tom and counting them). Fortunately, there is a lift back up again at the end of the tour. Fortunately, or I can promise you Hope would have taken up residence and become the Littlest Salt Miner, rather than clamber back up to the surface. 

 

There is a history of miners carving statues out of the salt, although, given that they are salt, they don't last forever. Some of the oldest ones remaining were carved by miners, although more recent figures have been created by contemporary artists. This tableaux represents the original story of the mine. Apparently, the Hungarian princess Kinga was about to be married to the King of Krakow. As a gift for her future husband, she asked for a salt mine, since salt was scarce in Poland. Her father provided a salt mine. She threw her ring in one of her father's salt mines before leaving for Poland. On arriving in Poland, she asked the people to dig a deep pit. On digging, the people found salt and wrapped around a salt crystal was the princess's ring. 

Interesting story, and really fascinating to see the carvings.

As we wound our way down through the mine, we were shown how the salt was mined and given descriptions of life for the miner. Below is a tableaux that described the life of the mine horses. Unpleasant, in a word. They went down, and they never went back to the surface again.

We passed through prayer chapels, an underground cathedral (pictured below), an underground lake (complete with light and music show that was quite beautiful), and exhibits on the history of salt mining. 

The Last Supper: in salt

The Wieliczka mine is often referred to as "the Underground Salt Cathedral of Poland." It also houses a private rehabilitation and wellness complex, as apparently the salty/mineral-ly water is deemed healthful.

The salt crystal chandeliers were fascinating. They are made from rock salt that has been dissolved and reconstituted to achieve a clear, glass-like appearance. The rock salt is naturally gray in various shades, so that the statue carvings resemble unpolished granite rather than the white or crystalline look that many visitors expect. 

It's all salt!

And, in fact, it is all salt. All around you! The guide made the tragic error in the beginning of the tour of telling people that if they licked the walls, they would taste salt. The children were hungry. And salt was all there was. 

I know. Disgusting. But do you remember when you were 6 and 8? They thought it was pretty cool. They licked their way through the entire tour. I just averted my eyes.

Hope melted down around the two hour mark; generally, they are pretty good and do try to behave, but the poor thing was genuinely hungry. The good news was that we ended up the in underground restaurant, so we got them some water (!!) and a few snacks to bolster them for the ride to the surface.

With which, we headed to the car, snacked on our usual ham, cheese and bread for the gluten-tolerant, and headed for home.

Tomorrow: Changes

 

Castle Quid Pro Quo

With a history harkening back to the 9th century, Wawel Castle perches atop a limestone outcrop on the left bank of the Vistula River in Kraków. The complex was built over centuries, so mixes Romanesque, Gothic, Renaissance, and Baroque architectural styles. The result is a stunning mish mash of fabulous castle-ness. And I am jaded, so that is saying a lot.

This is the Sigismund III Vasa Tower, built in 1595 and the (extensive) defensive walls. Old and hard to attack.

I confess to castle-weariness. We have visited castles in more cities than I care to name, although, if you want the truth, we rarely go inside. We generally walk up the hill (because, all castles are up on a hill), meander around the outside, oohing and ahing at the grandeur of it all, snap a few photos, locate a playground, let the children play, and then walk back down again. Amazing how many castles come with playgrounds, by the way.

However, the hike up to Wawel castle was a particularly long one, and the day was a bit raw and chilly, AND, drum roll, I have been wanting to do a "Royal Apartments" tour and have forestalled, thinking always, as one must, of the children. Face it, a Royal Apartments tour isn't going to do a blessed thing for them. Come to think of it, the last one I did was the Summer Palace in St. Petersburg, when I was pregnant with Tom.

So, given that it was Mother's Day weekend and all, I gave them The Lecture: We do stuff for you all the time, so, despite the fact that you were dragged to Warsaw against your will, YOU WILL BEHAVE FOR ONE HOUR WHILE I ENJOY THE ROYAL APARTMENT TOUR!! Capisce? <<--This is what I said. In hindsight, I realize we were in Krakow. But I really struggled with this.

The Wawel Cathedral (aka, Cathedral Basilica of Sts. Stanisław and Vaclav). It has a 1,000 year history, and is the traditional coronation site of Polish monarchs. The current, Gothic cathedral, is the third edifice on this site: the first was constructed and destroyed in the 11th century; the second one, constructed in the 12th century, was destroyed by a fire in 1305. The construction of the current one begun in the 14th century. Oldie, old old old.

They capisced, bless their little hearts. Hope got a little whiny, but Tom kept explaining to her, "Look, Hope, this is for mom. You can stand this just a little bit longer for her, can't you?" So, maybe they are not as badly trained as I think they are. 

 

This is the Renaissance courtyard of the Royal Apartments. Shocking how much it looks like the stable the Hapsburg's built for the Spanish Riding school. But I suppose, that was the style. Royal apartments, stables for the royal horses, it all sort of blends together.

The actual tour was a tetch disappointing, even for me. I love reading about history and imagining what it was like Back In the Day. But my Back in the Day, well, it smells bad. It has dirt in the corners. There are people wandering around trying to stab each other in the back, in the most literal of senses, of course.  There are people eating greasy game meat and wiping their hands on their merkins ... er, I mean, jerkins, right?

I have this fervent desire to spend a week living in a disgusting mud hole of a freezing cold castle just to feel, taste and smell what it was really like. Although one imagines that ending up with cholera could be a real downer. My imagination is vivid, but I am quite sure my 21st century brain can't really wrap itself around What It Was Like.

What the Royal Apartments were like, was very pristine, gloriously beautiful with huge high ceilings, fantastic marble floors and beautiful tile stoves tucked into the far corners (I asked the question, "Weren't they cold??" These are the things I need to know! Turns out, yes, they were. In the winter, the floors would be covered with carpets and the beds covered with fabrics to huddle under.), very spare furniture (but where were the clothes!? where were the royal undergarments stored, both clean and used!? inquiring minds want to know this far more than how old that carved table is!) and quite a few portraits, all of which seemed to be discussed at great length. Even I was yawing at some point. So, the very sanitary tour was a bit sterile. Interesting, but not sufficient.

Still, I was grateful that the children held it together for an hour.

So, payback being a you-know-what, I agreed to take the children to the Dragon's Den. Which seemed like it might make them happy. The Dragon's Den is a cave under the castle that is described as a "popular tourist stop." And while the cave itself was lame, this awesome statue was not. It was fire breathing. No word of a lie. Look carefully at the nose and you can see an odd spot of orange that you might attribute to bad photography. Nope. Fire.

 

The thing does not breathe fire continuously, but rather sporadically. Or perhaps on schedule? We didn't hang around long enough to work out the mechanics of it, but it does breath fire in a loud, vibrant and breathtaking kind of way.

Now the why of why dragons are important in Warsaw  Krakow is as follows: Smok Wawelski, also known as The Dragon of Wawel Hill or simply The Wawel Dragon, is a famous dragon in Polish folklore. He laird in a cave under the Wawel Hill on the banks of the Vistula river. Each day the evil dragon would beat a path of destruction across the countryside, killing people, pillaging their homes and devouring their livestock. In many versions of this story, the dragon especially enjoyed eating young girls, and could only be appeased if the townfolk would leave a young girl in front of his cave once a month. The King certainly wanted to put a stop to that awful situation, but his bravest knights fell to the dragon's fiery breath. In the versions involving the sacrifice of young girls, every girl in the city was eventually sacrificed except one, the King's daughter Wanda. In desperation, the King promised his beautiful daughter's hand in marriage to anybody who could defeat the dragon. Great warriors from near and far fought for the prize and failed. One day, a poor cobbler's apprentice named Dratewka accepted the challenge. He stuffed a lamb with sulfur and set it outside the dragon's cave. The dragon ate it and soon became incredibly thirsty. No amount of water could quell his stomach ache, and after swelling up from drinking half of the Vistula river, he exploded. The apprentice married the King's daughter as promised and they lived happily ever after.

So, dragons are an important part of Polish culture. Much like Brno, only, totally different.

Sadly, while the Fire Breathing Dragon was cool, it did not suffice as pay back for the Wee Children. Luckily, we stumbled upon a Fun Fair at the foot of the castle.

From 9th Century Castle to 21st Century Bouncy Castle, they found happiness: 

Good heavens, you ask yourself, "Is this safe??" No. Of course not. But, all survived to bounce another day. So consider it a win.

 

Weird Wiki Tidbit of the Day: A column fragment of Wawel Castle has been incorporated into Chicago landmark Tribune Tower. Located in its own niche over the upper-left corner of the main entrance, it is a visual tribute Chicago's large Polish populace, the largest such presence outside of the Republic of Poland.

 

 

 

Kraków

We went to Kraków (or as I like to refer to it: "Warsaw;" seems I have trouble with Polish geography) for Mother's Day weekend, so we'll be reaching back in history a bit for the next few days.

Kraków was Jeff's idea; he really wanted to go somewhere for the weekend. When put to a vote, three of us voted to stay home, and one voted to go to Krakow. So, we went to Warsaw Kraków. Some days democracy wins, some days, it doesn't.

It's about a four hour drive north east, so not a terribly arduous journey. We (which means "Jeff" since the rest of us were on strike and refusing to have anything to do with this trip) rented an apartment in the center of town within easy walking distance of the Old City and the Castle and restaurants with English menus and set off on Friday night after school.

And, as it turns out. Warsaw Kraków, is beautiful. The weather was not Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, so our (Jeff's!) photos are not quite as grand as being there, but the city is definitely worth seeing (1). Dating back to the 7th century, Krakow is old even by European standards.

This is Market Square in the Old Town.

The Old Town district of Kraków is chock full of horse drawn carriages, gorgeous, ancient buildings, pigeons, featuring somewhere in the neighborhood of six thousand historic sites and more than two million works of art, including this one:

I'd say this is crocheted. But is it yarn bombing, or just art?

The building below to the left is Cloth Hall, a market place that has been the center of Warsaw Kraków commerce since the 15th century. Today, it is a place for tourist vendors to ply their wares, but its historical import is quite far reaching. And it is a gorgeous building; not that you can necessarily see that in these photos, but, use your imagination.

One of the highlights of the Old Market Square is the church below. You can just see it behind the bubble blowing hooligans.  St Mary's Basilica was originally built in the 1200s and rebuilt in the 14th century. Astonishingly old, the church is also well known for what is believed to be the largest hand carved wooden altar in the world. We did go inside, but the church is used for services and I struggle with photographing places of worship while people are worshiping (the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, for example, does not allow tourists in during prayer times, so it makes it a little less uncomfortable to snap a photo). Clearly a personal issues as people were snapping photos all around us. 

Really interesting historical tidbit:  every hour, a trumpet signal—called the Hejnał mariacki—is played from the top of the taller of St. Mary's two towers. The tune breaks off in mid-stream, to commemorate the famous 13th century trumpeter, who was shot in the throat while sounding the alarm before the Mongol attack on the city. The noon-time hejnał is heard across Poland and abroad broadcast live by the Polish national Radio 1 Station. Think about that for a minute: how far is Poland from Mongolia? That Genghis Khan really got around.

Krakow also has one of those awesome bike rental systems we have seen in a few European cities (Barcelona and Vienna spring to mind).  BikeOne - a reasonably priced system of public municipal bikes. You need to register and you are given a personal PIN code that allows to grab a bike from self-service rental stations. The nice thing about this system is that you don't need to return the bike to the same station you rented from - just grab a bike for a few minutes to transfer from one point to another and drop the bike at any station you want. FABULOUS way to travel around these cities! Well, not so much for us, as we generally have Thing 1 and Thing 2 with us, and they are too short yet to ride the available bikes. But for grown-ups, it's an awesome option. 

More tomorrow:

Warsaw Kraków Castle, Bouncy and Otherwise

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(1)Of course, Krakow's place in WWII lives in infamy. We chose not to visit Auschwitz, as the children are far below the recommended age of 14. Jeff and I visited Buchenwald in Germany before we had children, and certainly plan to expose them to these critically important periods in human history, but when they are older and better able to process the lessons and impressions these sites leave.

Quiz: How Many Tiles Are There In a Czech Scrabble Game?

Answer: 40, if you include the blank one.

There are 2 As, 2 Cs, 2 Ds, 3 Es, 2 Is, 2 Ns, 2 Os, 2 Rs, 2 Ss, 2 Ts, 3 Us 2 Ys and 2 Zs.

  

Awesome photography skills win the day again.

And, brace yourself. 749 koruna for the game. That translates to around $45US.

I thought you might want to know.

 

The Odd Things You Might See in a Five-Star

Awkward title, don't you think? It's not like I spend a lot of time in five-stars. And most people I know don't spend any time in them. But, once in a while, there is a good deal (Istanbul!), or we are getting married, or having a ten-year anniversary, and Jeff splurges.

I confess, I don't put up much of a fight if he is willing to splurge. I mean, we did take the bus to Budapest.

But, on those rare occasions when we stay at a five-star, I do feel a as though we are doing something special. And I try to soak in the je ne sais quoi, five-starred-ness, of the whole experience. It's not like I'm all wide-eyed, and like, oooohhhhh! look! champagne at brekkie! But I do enjoy the extra effort the staff makes, I marvel in the bountiful breakfasts, I luxuriate in the fine bedding, and I generally appreciate the experience.

That said, our hosts, the Intercontinental in Budapest, have apparently encountered some of those Rudapests. Because, well, look:

The irons are secured to the ironing table! Locked down! Which would suggest to me that at some point they have had a problem with guests stealing irons. I'd like to repeat that, at 11 is one louder: they have had a problem with guests stealing irons.  (<--note I have resorted to bold type, which in the history of this blog, I have done before exactly never.)  

Seriously. Can you imagine shelling out the moula for a fancy schmancy sort of hotel, and sneaking out with the iron? No, I thought not. Me neither. Really. While I would seriously contemplate scaling the Chain Bridge while chemically inconveneicend, the idea of stealing an iron is so far outside of my sphere it might as well be in another galaxy.

And then there was this:

This is the room number sign on our floor, directing you right or left, depending on your room number. Now, all I saw was the #1 taped up with packaging tape. The tape was on for a day, then disappeared. So here's what I came up with (based on foreknowledge of the permanently tethered iron). Some moron had decided they wanted the #1. They removed it and went on their merry way. The hotel had to replace the #1, so they glued it up, but stuck packaging tape on it while the glue dried.

I have no idea if this scenario is fact or fiction, but can you come up with a better reason for the packaging tape?

Also in residence at the Intercontinenal were the NATO COMEDS; in English, the Chiefs of Military Medical Services. They had signs and banners all over the hotel, not to mention this:

And since it was a Plenary meeting (yes, I had to look that up), one assumes "all of them" were there. I don't know exactly how many COMEDS there are, or at what level the Plenary was meant to respresent, but the hotel was prety full. And the COMEDS had the meeting rooms pretty well locked up.

I know this because the meeting rooms were on the 1st floor, same as the fitness room. And when I wandered up from the lobby to check out the workout options, I happened upon this guy:

Five star, schmive star. You never know what you are going to find. Also: always carry your camera.

And so, our time in Budapest was over. Short, sweet, and childfree. We  were a little early for the bus, but, I managed to squeeze in a little knitting.

Happy Father's Day

Do you know what this is? It's one of those fancy schmancy home coffee makers: a Nescafe Dolce Gusto. With the little capsules that make perfect coffee every cup. Well, this is the "Piccolo" version, so maybe it's mini-fancy schmancy. I know these are available in the US, and while they are off-the-scale popular around here, I'm not sure how far up the innovation curve they have climbed in North American.

Jeff has a coffee capsule machine in his US office and has mentioned more than a few times what a nice cup of coffee it brews. As opposed to his wife, who frankly, is about as good as brewing coffee as I am at cooking. Which is to say, pretty bad.

The Trouble, with a capital T, in our house is that I get up with the sun. Not so bad in December, but it is light around 4:30 these days and, dang, that's early! But I get up, brew a pot of coffee, drink half of it, and it sits, and sits, and sits, and sits until Jeff gets up at a more reasonable hour.

Now, my brewing skills are haphazard at best, so the odds of getting a great cup of coffee if you happen to be standing there when I brew it is probably about 1 in 50. The odds drop to "never" if the coffee has been sitting around for four hours before you get to drink it.

Now, Jeff doesn't have as much contact with the outside world as I do, so he doesn't know that many of my friends have capsule coffee brewers at home, that they are quite popular across Europe at that the capsules are a standard stock item in virtually all grocery shops. So, we discussed the idea of getting one, but with Father's Day looming, I actively discouraged him from looking at them until we moved to Austria. "Because," I reasoned, "we'll need to be sure we can buy supplies in Austria." He he. Subterfuge.

I did the research. I went to friend's houses and drank coffee. I went to the shops and priced various models. I checked internet reviews carefully. And decided to go for it.    

Cost, of course, was a big consideration. The tiny machine that I bought, the Piccolo, costs around $100US.The red one, was about $20US more, so I went with white. Given that there are just two of us and that the whole thing is a bit of an experiment, it made sense to go with the smaller machine. It easily makes two cups of coffee at a time, so no worries.

A box of the capsules costs $6-7US and makes either 16 or 8 cups of coffee, depending if you are going with a milk beverage (like a latte or cappuccino) or just coffee (like a lungo or espresso). Around here, every grocery shops sells these; in the US, you might have to order from Amazon, so costs vary. 

Cup to cup, this thing costs more than buying coffee and brewing it at home. But. The coffee tastes better. Way better. It's like drinking an expensive coffee house coffee in your pajamas every single morning.

And easy?? Good grief, couldn't be faster or simpler. You add water to the water holder. You turn it on. You wait the 15 seconds it takes to heat up. Insert capsule, turn switch and hot water moves through the capsule at 15 bars of pressure (1). It is up to you, oh, coffee consumer, to decide when there is enough coffee in your cup (there are directions on the box: 50ml for espresso, etc). It took a cup or two of fiddling to get it right, but I use these clear cups, which hold 240ml of liquid, so it's actually pretty easy to estimate.

Jeff was away for the week prior to Father's Day, so I had plenty of time to experiement with different coffee types and work out any kinks. Ha! I would venture to say that it is idiot proof, so smooth sailing.

Awesome coffee every time. I did check the calorie counts, just out of curiosity, and for a Latte Macchiato, you are looking at something like 80 calories, cappuccino, 90. And given that I drink my regularly brewed coffee half milk, the calorie counts are pretty equivalent for me.

Sigh. Life styles of the rich and famous. I love this thing. Happy Father's Day *Jeff!*  

 

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(1)  Here's what the Nescafe people have to say about "bars of pressure" if you have the slightest interest.  "15 bars of pressure refers to the barometric pressure that builds up inside every smart capsule. 15 bars is like being 500 ft underwater! This pressure is comparable to professional coffee house machines and much greater than most single serve coffee machines on the market.

What does it mean to you? Fifteen bars of pressure means a frothy, coffee house experience on demand, in your home kitchen. It maximizes the flavor and aroma from the coffee. It's how you create the highest-quality coffee drinks for you and all your guests, in less than a minute."

Turkish Baths

When I read The Blood of Flowers, set in 17th century Persia, the historical bit that most intrigued me were the hamam, or, the baths. The hamam provided a great context for the repugnance the Perisans felt for contact with early Europeans; the early Europeans didn't bathe, while for the Persians, bathing in community was an integral part of society.

Here's a bit from wiki describing hamam historically: 

"Hamam complexes usually contain separate quarters for men and women or, alternatively, they are admitted at separate times. Because they were social centers as well as baths, hamams became quite abundant during the time of in the Ottoman Empire and were built in almost every Ottoman city. Integrated into daily life, they were centers for social gatherings, populated on almost every occasion with traditional entertainment (e.g. dancing and food, especially in the women's quarters) and ceremonies, such as before weddings, high-holidays, celebrating newborns, beauty trips, etc."

The oldest bath in Budapest, Rudas, was built in 1550, although it has been refurbished since. Probably more than once. Given that Rudas was a short walk across the Elizabeth Bridge, right down the road from our hotel, Jeff and I decided to head there for our Budapest Bath Experience. How better to experience a traditional bath than in one older than the country we are from?

Actually, "how better" would have been if Jeff had gone with one of his friends, as it was a Male Only day. Not having read the literature very thoroughly, we had missed that bit about how the more traditional baths maintain traditional men only and women only days, catering to a more local crowd.

Jeff whipped out his i-Phone and found this place a short distance away. While it did not appeal esthetically (I really wanted to see the inside of a 16th century bath house!), at least it was a short walk.  

A short walk, but also not open. As you can see from the great quality of the photos, the weather was not perfect. We decided to hike back to the hotel and reconnoiter.

An hour or so later, with lunch under our belts, we struck off again, this time for Széchenyi Baths, which, I believe, is not so much a "Turkish Bath" as it is a series of thermal pools, with an outdoor pool and and a few steam baths thrown in; so perhaps "spa" is a more accurate description.

This photo taken later in the day, so the sun shone beautifully for us again. The spa is over a hundred years old, which makes it not very old in Budapest, but men and women bath together, so it met the real criteria for the day, which was an outing for Jeff and me: together.  What with this being a wedding anniversary trip and all.

Moving "inside," the outdoor pools are in the courtyard, while the steam rooms and warm baths are in the yellow building in the background. The weather was perfect by this time, probably 28C degrees (maybe 85F?), so not exactly what I would call "outdoor bathing weather," but clearly I was in the minority. I supposed, with the sun beating down, it was warm enough to swim reasonably.

The chess players are here every day. The fee structure would suggest that the tourists, who pay day rates, subsidize the locals, who buy season passes. Seems about right to me. If I had one of these in my back yard, I would for sure have a season pass. I've been meaning to improve my chess game for ages, and what better way to do it?

Inside, everything was bright sparkling clean with lots of natural light. The warm pools ranged from a quite cool 28C (this is considered a good "heated swimming pool" temperature, by the way, although I find 85F a bit cool and always have to work up my nerve to take the plunge) to a quite hot 40C (104F). Jeff prefers the 40C, whereas 38C suits me just fine. The best thing about a place like this is that there were so very many pools of differing temperatures that you really could soak for a bit in one, wander to the next, soak a bit, and wander on. With a steam bath thrown in when you were in the mood.

On the left, we have the the Super Hot Pool: 40C. Next to the Super Cold Pool: 20C. No, I am not kidding. That guy in the corner is hanging out in 68F water. Brrrrr. Most people used the 20C pool as a cool down.

  

Not me. I used the showers.

 

 

 

 

Budapest, Este

Budapest, in the evening.

Jeff sprang for the Intercontinental, right on the Danube on the Pest side, next to the Chain Bridge. So we could peek out our window and enjoy the view of Buda: the Buda Castle.

And the famous Chain Bridge. The bridge was opened in 1849, and thus became the first permanent bridge in the Hungarian capital. It was severely damaged in WWII, and was rebuilt and reopened in 1949. It has became a symbol of advancement, national awakening, and the linkage between East and West. And it is very pretty at night. 

 

Our evening photos represent a post-dinner stroll, courtesy of the children being away at camp. Ha! Walking around for hours with no one complaining! Joy! Rapture! Although, my sandals were hurting my feet a bit, so maybe there was a little complaining. But less. Much less than usual.

Free as birds with no dawdling children in tow, we walked from Pest to Buda and took the Fun, Fun, Funicular! up to the castle. It cost a bloody fortune, so we should have walked, but, hey, if you can't splurge on your tenth anniversary, when can you??  

Fom the Buda Castle, we can look back at the Chain bridge, and our hotel on the right next to the building with the blue lights. Nice digs.

We hiked around the top of the castle for a bit, then wandered back down and walked back across the bridge. 

And happened apon these two morons taking some extra special Chain Bridge photos. Jeff and I examined the structure carefully and agreed that it was not a difficult climb. And while we agreed out loud that only a fool would attempt such a thing, especially a fool who had consumed half a bottle of wine an hour or so before, I'll be honest, it was tempting.

 

But, we imagined what it would be like to have to call the school from prison, and we put the kabosh on the notion. I mean, really, when you are a guest in someone else's country, it is best to not engage in activities that are designed to bring the local coppers running.