Travelogues and Reflections: Of a Twentieth Century European American

By Laszlo Gyermek

This book is about the travels of Laszlo Gyermek, MD, PhD, a retired physician and researcher who has immigrated to the USA from Hungary in 1957 after the defeat of the uprising against the Soviet occupation and oppression of his native country. The source of his travelogues has been the numerous trips he has taken from the United States to more than sixty countries, particularly in the last three decades, which encompass mostly recreational trips/vacations, reflecting the authors wide-ranging interests in geographic and cultural explorations all over the world, but particularly in Europe, where he has established two regional residences: one in Southern France in 1983 and another one in Budapest, Hungary, in 2000. From these bases he originated many of these trips. The book is narrated in a unique, perhaps scattered and unusual, style, considering the many destinations in different time frames, often repeatedly, and covering the common, practical aspects of todays travels into foreign lands: from ticket purchases to challenges during travel-e.g., jet lag and other health problems. There is varied information from many social, economical, educational, and artistic aspects about many European countries first and, in the second half of the book, encountered in several overseas countries on five continents. The last part of the book deals with episodes in selected cities in the United States and abroad, often with a humoristic veneer.

In essence, the reader is presented with a lot of material and with analytically aspired, but often critical and subjective, stories. Still, the author believes that the contents are worth going through and pondering about.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781496973993

Laszlo Gyermek

Dr. Laszlo Gyermek is a Hungarian-born citizen of the United States since 1962. He has been first a pharmacologist and, from 1966, an anesthesiologist who has been involved in medical research, practice, and teaching for over half a century. Author of many scientific publications and inventor in several new drug development–related European and US patents, he has been interested and engaged also in arts. (For example, he created over five hundred paintings, mostly “studies” of classical Renaissance and French impressionists’ masterpieces, and “reproduced” the entire series of C. Monet’s thirty Rouen Cathedral paintings). He has won several prizes in Physician Artist’s Exhibits with his own compositions. Besides being an ardent admirer of fine arts and classical music, he developed keen interest, in the last two decades, in writing: producing “travelogues” and various short stories with emphasis on exploring and analyzing “life in the world.” He is married to Emilia Bathory-Rausch for over sixty years, and they have lived in California in the last forty years. Their two children, Laszlo Jr. and Francis, having families, also live in California. www.monetpaintingsreplicas.com www.monetsrouencathedrals.com

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© 2015 Laszlo Gyermek. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/22/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4969-7377-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-7399-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015903647

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Introduction

Preface

PART I

EUROPE

EMPHASIS ON HUNGARY AND BUDAPEST

Budapest 2000. New impressions and old memories

Vignettes of Europe. Our 2002 50th Anniversary trip

Hungary’s place in the New World, ca 2005

Budapest in the winter, 2006

Five weeks in Budapest, 2007

2009 Spring trip to Hungary

May and June 2005 in Europe (Budapest and France)

Budapest, Spring 2010

Budapest and France May 2010

Tristan de Cuncha or Lindau? (Choices between islands)

Budapest 2012

Budapest 2013

Budapest 2014

PART II

EUROPE

EMPHASIS ON FRANCE, PARIS AND VALBONNE

Thoughts on France, 1999

The days of the Agapanthus, 2001

A Christmas in Valbonne

France 2002-03

I have made the left turn !

Visit to Normandy

The week is gone without a trace. Valbonne 2007

Valbonne, a year later

A day at the Allee des Pins, Val d’ Azur 2010

PART III

TRAVELS AROUND

THE WORLD

Notes on Tasmania, April 1996

A Turkish Odyssey, 1998

A Tour in Northeastern Europe, 1999. Finland, Estonia and Russia

Transport

The January 2000 Millenium cruise to South America

A visit to Japan 2000

Tahitian trip and tales

The curise into the Panama Canal 2005

Berlin, 2005 Visit and Reflections

Our second transatlantic cruise and Spring trip to Europe

Finalmente: Venezia! (Finally: Venice !)

Dublin, City of pubs and buses

The long Journey of 2006

Modern Travel

The Grand Africa Voyage, 2008

OUR THIRD TRANSATLANTIC CRUISE

Another long flight 2010

A Cruise to the Caribbean, November 2012

Eighty days around half of the World, 2013

A cruise to Hawaii 2013, a seach for detachment

PART IV

VISITING FEW CITIES AROUND THE WORLD

Scotland’s two Cities

Boston, with a disappointment

Denver 2011

Ft. Lauderdale 2001

Las Vegas 2004

Orlando

Washington letter 1999

INTRODUCTION

I was born in 1926 in Hungary, in an area of Europe which has been identified either as the Central or Eastern part of the Continent. This loose definition of location, and sometimes even the change of size and shape of that nation is the result of complex historic events which were instrumental in modifying geography shifting both reference and vantage points back and forth, dependent on the creation and disappearance of empires; success or failure of expansion or retreat of ethnic groups, political and religious currents, and sometimes just by the birth or death of a historic figure…. Most importantly to my travels, the subject of this presentation, has been the fact that Hungary was in my early life a small, land locked nation not much suited to extensive travel. That opportunity has been the privilege of citizens of mostly those nations which had extensive oceanic shorelines, easy access to busy ports, large surface areas with developed road and railroad systems to travel excessively, at least on the ground, through relatively varied and expansive landscapes, which in historically rich countries, offered significant opportunities. The early 20 th century Hungary, part of the former Austrian- Hungarian Empire, at least to some extent has belonged to that advanced group of nations, and some of my earlier countrymen could follow the historic call of a Hungarian poet…… To the sea, Hungarian!

But, by 1926 the country, following a lost WW 1 became, as mentioned, a rather insignificant, land locked nation. Then came WW 2; and in my youth the restrictions to travel became apparent or even worse; and manifested often in forced relocations for many. Travel for those has meant an event for the first and sometimes the last time to destinations like battlefields or concentration- and extermination camps… At that time to see the World on someone own’ terms has been practically impossible. But in these trying times the desire to travel has exploded with many of us, partly as part of longing for freedom, but also for the purpose of gaining knowledge, experience and pleasure…. Only well after my age thirty; after I have escaped from Hungary in 1956 could I start to travel under normal conditions. I have made great efforts to organize my family’s first Western European trip three years after I landed in the United States. I have spent practically all savings from my earnings of the first few years in America to make it happen. It was an eye opener for me, my wife and our two small children with an opportunity to be introduced to such Western European centers of art, culture and history as Paris, Amsterdam, London and few of the Cities in Germany, which were still in the stage of recuperating from the wounds of WW 2….

I grew up in Europe first in modest and later in deplorable and even dangerous conditions during the War. Deprived at those times of practically all personal freedom, including that of speech, access to a free press, and live with the strict censorship that inhibited to move, even just within the confines of a small, land locked nation, that was fully controlled first by the German third Reich then by another totalitarian, Russian Communists- directed dictatorship, was impossible to tolerate. The Hungarian Revolution of 1956 has been the first, open, sizeable uprising against the Soviet oppression in Eastern Europe. It lasted for weeks, costing massive devastation along with some twenty thousand lives and allowing a large exodus of some 200.000 Hungarians, who escaped to the West . My small family with a (pregnant) wife and an 18 month old son was among the last few hundred who managed to escape in the last few days of a window of some two months, during which the Iron Curtain separating completely the Western and Eastern parts of Europe has been lifted by the revolution.

As I said before, it took me some three years in the USA to allow me to organize our first tour to see the Free part of Europe in 1959 (Since the Iron Curtain was still down then, to see again my home country with my family became possible only in 1968, although my wife bravely managed to visit Hungary with my older son, Laszlo jr. at the first opportunity allowing to pay a visit there in 1966. Besides, in the nineteen sixties I was intensively involved in a fascinating but quite demanding scientific profession; so our family travels were not as frequent as I would have liked, but even so we managed to return again to (Western) Europe for a few weeks long summer vacation in 1962; visited Mexico and Canada twice and I had a short professional trip in 1965 to the International Congress of Physiology in Tokyo. In the year I finished my clinical training period in Anesthesiology we managed again a family trip for a few weeks in 1968, again to Europe; and from that time on I grasped the opportunities to continue our Geographical adventures almost annually, reaching out to all Continents, except the Antarctica….Of course our main interest remained in Europe, to where we returned in the last half a Century more than thirty times. Besides, I visited Africa, South America, Asia and the Middle East several times; and we lived with my wife in Saudi Arabia for two years; finally Australia we visited just shortly with my wife on the occasion of an International Congress… Most, but not all of my travels in the last 25 years are described and narrated under this Title.

I have found most travel experiences fascinating or at least worth to pursue. My family and myself gained irreplaceable, sometimes unique knowledge and memories, which enriched us immensely. I am convinced it was the best choice . To trade it with other endeavors, within our dimensions never occurred to me. Finally that path allowed me to share our experiences, information, knowledge and thoughts, deriving from such reaching out in a particular fashion to Mother Earth, with the readers. All those of you who seek to gain knowledge, and to spent just a little time of one’s life to try to understand each other within that immense family of the Homo Erectus has been spelled out more than two thousand years ago by our Roman ancestors claiming: Audiatur et altera pars: to listen to each other, even on the other side, or by other ancient wise men who were teaching love, respect and cooperation among us as long as the message was, and is commensurate with those human beings who reached the behavioral status of the specimen: Homo sapiens…

PREFACE

With my background first in Europe and later in the US I have made efforts to explore, and establish ties to other parts of the World. In this process I have acquired two bases in Europe: 1) First a small country house in Valbonne, Southern France in 1982 and 2) Later an apartment in Budapest, Hungary in 2000. To and from those sites many trips have started and completed. Therefore many chapters have reference within Europe to Budapest, Hungary and Valbonne, France, where I have often spent weeks/ months. I was fortunate that most of my travels were done together with my wife Emilia and sometimes with other members of my family. I owe much appreciation and thanks for their interest, understanding, support, companionship and love.

PART I

EUROPE

EMPHASIS ON HUNGARY AND BUDAPEST

Budapest 2000. New impressions and old memories

Our last visit in Budapest was short, lasting merely for a few days about 1 ½ years ago. One does not see much during such a quick visit. This time we are here without a special purpose, mainly for relaxation for an entire three weeks. However one has to know us better, as we know ourselves, that the three weeks will not necessarily be idle. The thought, that we will spend our entire vacation just with a few visits and activities within and around the recreation –designed Thermal Hotel-Margitsziget was already an outdated idea even in the planning stage as we came closer to the departure date. Therefore I settled for a modified recreational plan, which would include visits to a few Anesthesiology Departments, if for no other reason that at least part of a this trip should be considered a professional trip. For that need I woke up rather late, e.g. just few weeks ago and also rather suddenly, realizing that my contacts in my profession: anesthesiology were rather limited in Hungary. Fortunately I have found some business cards I received few years ago at one of the European Anesthesia Congresses, from some Hungarian colleagues; and there was a former correspondence with Professor S. E. Vizi, whom I previously knew only somewhat, but since the 1998 Congress of the WHMA (which stands for the Worldwide Hungarian Medical Academy); where we together have organized a Symposium in memory of an important and recently deceased Hungarian –American Anesthesiology Professor: Francis Foldes, Thus we could establish not only professional but also personal connections. Lexi, as he prefers to be called by his friends, was not only the Director of the Medical Research Institute of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, but also Vice President of the Academy, (later becoming President of that prestigious Institution). Therefore a letter of Invitation to visit his Institute and to give a lecture was important to create a professional and scientific aura around my visit. I also contacted two senior Anesthesiologists at the Clinics of the Medical Faculty and at the Postgraduate Medical Division of the University. Since they also responded favorably two weeks before our departure I ended up with three professional visits and obligations for three lectures and discussion sessions, which was more than I originally thought about… I had to add to this program a visit in the Margitsziget Hotel, of Dr. S. from Akzo –Nobel /Organon -Holland, visits to the Hungarian Academy of Science’ s Central Chemical Research Institute, and discussions with K. Nador, my old Chemistry Professor Colleague. All these connections and events created more like a busy professional - than recreational trip.

So much about the end results of planning originally a leisure trip to Budapest….

Note: Beyond describing the circumstances and some details of this three weeks stay in Budapest this trip has been important in our life for an other reason: it was then in 2000 when we decided to buy an apartment in Budapest as an additional European base. (As I have mentioned before, the first has been a small country house in Valbonne, Southern France that we purchased after a two years long professional engagement in Taif, Saudi Arabia in 1982-83; when we decided that we shall have at least one second home on the European Continent.)

Vignettes of Europe. Our 2002 50th Anniversary trip

Paris

Other words: Paris in chapters, fleeting episodes as they may be, yet significant enough to preserve in writing. For what purpose you may ask- and that is a good question. The best explanation is that we want to remember the events of a trip that we have taken for the reason not less than our 50th Anniversary. Reaching this remarkable stage of our life we indeed wanted to remember, trying to recall old memories, which are becoming harder and harder to trace, and with another reason, to register the current ones. Here they are in the form of these vignettes of Paris and also beyond . The reason for this title is that we started as well ended our 3 ½ weeks long European nostalgia trip in that City of lights, Le Capital du Monde as the French like to say, and also the Capital of France, a country considered by many, and certainly including us, as a second home, beyond the country one is from, or resides in. It is not easy to explain, but in essence it means that many of us during the years became Francophiles, admirers, and sometimes even lovers of a unique country whose joie de vivre or modus vivendi, strange affinity to both traditions and innovations; culture and sometimes decadence of its Cities; attachment to the terrain and its products in the provinces makes it standing out among nations. Yes, by now we know this country and its vibrant capital, full of magnificence, physical and spiritual pleasures, complexity and annoyances also, but the latter ones are more easy to be forgotten in Paris than anywhere else. So here follow the vignettes like the episodes in a famous tone poem: Les Preludes by Franz Liszt, the Hungarian musical genius who expanded into a wonderful musical score the text written by a Frenchman: Lamartine, about life, conceived as a prelude to eternity. … May be my vignettes would have remained merely simple observations of every day life, that would have faded away had I not have written them down. Like with many stories in books and in plays of the stage and screen the events roll back also here from the present to the past to give full account, meaning and, I also hope pleasure, to the reader.

Paris to Budapest

The Eurocar Office, Paris October 8th . Here we return today our rental car, a light gray Volkswagen Golf , matriculated some four months ago in Paris as vehicle 398 PEM 75, without a scratch after having driven it some 3000 miles, during a more than three weeks- period and counting only about 12 driving days, under varying and sometimes demanding conditions! The location of the office is in a large, underground Garage, some 100 meters from the edge of the l’ Etoile, or Place de Gaulle, in the center of Paris. The l’ Etoile is the second largest circular square in the City after the Place de la Concorde. Both of them share a traffic pattern unknown in the United States. They both discharge 6-8 major Boulvards from their center, which makes entry to and exit from these places challenging even for the local drivers and a nightmare for foreign ones. Needless to say we have to arrive here via a difficult route, from our Hotel, where we discharged our luggage. We had to pass first the Place de la Concorde from the Rue Rivoli toward the Champs Elysee, which is relatively easy because the latter one is the first exit on the right after you entered that immense circle. In the case of l’ Etoile, however the exit: Avenue Foch is the third from the entry point: the heavily travelled, multi-lane Champs Elysee. In these places where lanes and driving rules lost their meaning, courage and aggressiveness are the only virtues, which can make you succeed. Finally we are off l’Etoile and right there is the (small) sign Eurocar at the downhill rump. What a relief, we have made it ! Filling up the tank, signing the release papers and giving information to the clerk to the effects that a) We did not find an English written use- manual in the German made French rental car (so it took some ½ an hour at the beginning to find out, for example the location of a well hidden little button behind the hand break lever, enabling one to open the safety cover of the gas filling port. b) The oil level was low right from the beginning, indicated by a yellow-lit small oil can on the dash board, again requiring precious time to find its meaning by intuition, through looking into the oil dip-stick which indeed indicated low oil level at a stop later. Needless to say we could not find anything in the elaborate, French written manual about the significance of this little yellow oil can on the dashboard. We however got informed about the importance of the red oil can icon, which when appears indicates: Stop the car immediately, fill with oil and check for oil leaks. Since I am not color blind I drove along the car with the yellow sign on for some time and hoped that the robot, or Turkish assembly line worker in Wolfsburg did not mix up the wiring to the yellow vs. red lights on the dash board…. Anyway the engine did not freeze and the yellow light disappeared for good after adding a quart oil. After having heard our complaints the clerk was ready to reimburse us for the cost of the oil on the condition that we present a receipt for its purchase. (That was more than 3 weeks ago, so we did not have a receipt. Of course some, more clever travelers might have carried separate folders or even a briefcase for just storing such items). As I said the car served us well, in spite that it has had a merely 1.4 L engine. It was accelerating reasonably well and could run smoothly at 140-160 km/hour speed (wherever it was possible). Due to its relatively wide axles (and body), it hugged the road very well and was quite comfortable for a not exactly rock bottom priced but still economical vehicle of the road in 2002. However, the troubles of travel comforts of the European roads usually do not relate to the modern vehicles but to the crowded highways on which we recently did not travel much for quite a few years, except in France. The road conditions are quite different from country to country. In general, at places where they collect the sometimes hefty toll road fees, the density of traffic tends to be less. To my surprise on the Italian toll- and on Austrian non –toll highways we did very good time: like 5 hours from Venice to the Hungarian border!. The freeways stop there and in the pouring rain, struggling with passing the heavy trucks -dominated traffic we decided to make a 30-40 km long (and slow) detour to the four -lane Balaton-Budapest Freeway. First, it was not finished, in contrast to what was shown on the map, and the remaining old section was in repair in 5-10 km segments, which reduced our previous 140 km/hr speed between Venice and the Hungarian border to some 70 km/hr. In addition, we run into a major traffic congestion problem before entering the City with detours in the, by us unknown, SW outskirts of Buda. Finally we seek help at a friendly Shell station, but even they could not easily describe how to get from Budafok to the Southern Railway Station (a reference point close to our apartment). We ended up hiring a taxi to lead us there, and then the almost unbelievable happened. Even with my over 50 years experience and rather aggressive habits in driving I have lost the taxi due to the bad visibility in the pouring rain, traffic congestion and the merging between us of a couple Hungarian kamikaze drivers who, without doubt, would have crashed into me at the intersections and crowded crossings, where I encountered them, even that I have kept no more than 1-2 feet distance between the taxi and us at these points. That was an unpleasant and nerve wrecking experience, not even mentioning my guilt feeling over not having been able to follow the taxi and letting him go without pay. Finally with the help of a friendly hotel -receptionist in one of these unfamiliar outskirts I have got a local map with instructions. Armed with these at last we entered our apartment another half an hour later, now with help from Geza, our friend and neighbor, who kindly directed us in the maze of the underground parking area of our building to the proper parking spot. The time was close to 8 PM, some five hours after we crossed the border and covered a distance less than 1/3 of what we covered in the first 5 hours of the day! But traffic problems don’t start and end in Hungary, where parking difficulties, lack of freeways, and the danger of being confronted by millions of inexperienced and wild drivers prevail. To our surprise on the Slovak and Czech freeways, like the Vienna -Budapest freeway, we did not have any difficulty. In these places you pay for a permit -sticker a few dollars for a short use. (In contrast, the Swiss annual pass ticket cost us 30 Euro. In a typical Swiss way they collect the annual fee regardless whether you are on their freeways for 3 hours, as we did, crossing their country, or for an entire year!). Problems with the German highways system started right at the Czech – German border. Crossing here took some 5 times longer than at any other border (e.g. French, Italian, Austrian, Hungarian, Slovak and Czech). First they operated only one out of five control gates, and second, they were apparently very conscious about controlling entries from the East. So we have spent about 40 minutes at the border. Then came another surprise: The main road, which to my surprise for some 60 km to Dresden is still a two lane road, was closed, and a series of detours of narrow, sometimes even unpaved roads followed. In this network of small roads we just followed mostly local German traffic, hoping that we go in the right direction, across dozens of small villages where the sign Dresden was only sporadically displayed.

Alsace

This region, an idyllic part of west-central Europe typically developed to what it became and still is: a fusion of Teutonic and Gallic influences, and in that order. Alsace now belongs to France but still remains more German than French in appearance of its Cities, villages, countryside, its customs, history and lifestyle. It combines German discipline and restrain with French flare and extravagance and the better of both cultures. The result for the tourist is a delightful geographic area without majestic extremes of other lands but still combining a long list of earthly pleasures on which one can indulge even at a reasonable cost and within a relatively confined limits of distances. No wonder there are many picturesque tourist towns here and a large agglomeration of smaller hotels, for example of the Logis de France Hotels Association frequented by many French, German, Swiss, Benelux and British tourists, all from countries of easy driving distances. We visited Alsace a few times, always for a short time and always with gratifying results. The present trip was no exception. After driving though the dull planes of Champagne and an unremarkable stay in a non descript simpler Logis de France Hotel, close to the historic, yet disappointing city of Troyes, whose significant Cathedral we just approached but not entered, due to our time constrain and navigational errors, creating a time -delay. Next day we entered the slightly, but not much more scenic area of Lorraine, bypassing its notable capital Nancy, that we visited long time ago. After a short visit to Strasbourg and its majestic cathedral, that we have not seen for more than 30 years, we drove south to the heart of the Alsace region, to the historic town of Riquewiehr, with a village fleuri designation on the list of scenic villages throughout France. On the way there we stopped in the village Innenheim for a choucrout lunch at the pretty and busy Le Cep de vigne restaurant, which with the local Riesling was simply divine! The small Hotel in Riquewiehr was also much to our liking: modern, clean, comfortable and reasonably priced. It had no restaurant, but offered an evening wine tasting with some cheese tidbits. The harvest just started in the vineyards, surrounding the hotel and the village, that was in full swing on that occasion. Its picturesque streets with many small restaurants and stores were full of tourists engaging in wine tasting offered practically at every corner. The nearby Colmar always remains for us a delightful destination, where one can step into the middle ages in the famous Musee Unterlinden with its Romanesque courtyard and rich collection of not only medieval memorabilia, but also prehistoric remains of a region discovered by men of the very early, stone and bronze-age civilizations. The Chef d’ oeuvre of the museum is the world-renown 500 years old double sided thriptych of Matthias Gruenewald, depicting the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ with dramatic force and passion in the expressions of the personages of this monumental altar piece. The style of this unique artist with such pioneering spirit and talent was still unknown among his contemporaries. The Musee Unterlinden also displays the earthly, everyday aspects of the region with canvases of Breughel depicting the merriment of the village burgers, folks who fortunately did not completely change in modern times. Alsace thus remains somewhat rural, and with a medieval imprint, with its vineyards, orchards, ancient houses, old churches and occasional fortified palaces on its hilltops; now silent sentinels of old times, when the acquisition and possession of estates with fertile fields and forests, populated with wild game, were the main preoccupation and raison d’etre of the ruling class of landlords. We visited one of them, Haute Koenigsburg which is one of the largest one of these castles, once occupied by the Hapsburgs. As I mentioned, this time we entered Alsace at the right time, during harvest when everything is carried out here with much vigor and preparedness in collecting the wine crop now with modernized techniques. The horses-drawn and grapes-laden carts became replaced by tractors and the wooden casks. Collecting the fruit are substituted by more sterile-looking plastic containers. The de-stemming and crushing of the grapes by a local winery took place just next to our hotel and gave us a direct insight of a well planned and organized process serving the purposes of a collective of small wine growers. The grapes are almost exclusively white: Riesling, Pinot Blanc and Gewurztraminer, producing light and fruity wines characteristic for the region. The only red grown in Alsace is the Pinot noir, in relatively small quantity. On our second day here we visited Illhausern, a nearby village known for a single establishment: The Auberge de l’ Ill, one of the twenty top rated culinary temples of France. (see about this remarkable place also in PART II. In Chapter : France 2002-03).Our destination is a lunch there, long secured by reservation. The restaurant was run by the two Haeberlin brothers previously, now complemented by a younger family member. The Auberge is one of the only very few famous French restaurants which retained a three star rating by the Michelin guide for over three decades. This was our third visit there and it did not lag in overall satisfaction behind the previous visits. The setting is relatively simple, but beautiful along the side of the little l’ Ill river and the food and services are both superb, yet not pretentious or overwhelming. It provides the optimal of a cultured, fine, sedate and delicate culinary atmosphere. It can be summed up as one of the possible ultimate of dining experience. We did not eat and drink much. Emmy had a salmon dish and I had pigeon as the main course followed by a wonderful mixture of house made assortment of sorbets. We drunk only a small bottle of high –rated local Riesling, and, as the clever Michelin guide advises: did not look at the prices, because at these places the experience is nearly priceless. Accordingly the lunch at the l’ Auberge proved indeed to be a highlight of a special trip; and Alsace is a place and region worth to return to!

Locarno, Soriso and the Al Sorriso

Why this title? Locarno may ring a bell in the memory of some but Soriso and Al Sorriso certainly not. The explanation will follow; just bear with me dear reader, for some minutes. As you may rightly guess these places are grouped together because of their vicinity to its other. We have traveled many times in the lake district of northern Italy, particularly around Lake Maggiore, where at its northern tip lies Locarno. This town, like Lugano, although entirely Italian cities, belong to Switzerland’s Ticino Canton, which has both advantages and disadvantages. The fact remains that both towns enjoy a central location, in the heart of the Continent, an excellent, mild microclimate and beautiful scenery. This time we again stopped in Locarno, one of our favorite spots in Europe, and after having searched for reasonably priced Hotels in vain, decided that we will live it up and buy luxury. Therefore we went to the Reber au Lac, where we stayed once, some forty years ago when, in contrast to the present, the US dollar was still King. The middle aged lady receptionist with a somewhat cold politeness, so typical for Swiss innkeepers said that they can accommodate us. On my question as to what will it cost, she measured me up in my somewhat informal attire, and quoted a price, which she believed, will scare me away. It did not; and thus I suddenly got accepted a customer and guest. This change in status was reflected in the change of attitude of this Swiss business women and we were offered all necessary services including parking our car, a midget among the mostly limousine sized vehicles belonging to Swiss clients whose license plates indicated that they came here for a week end from the northern commercial and banking centers, to burn some money in the sunny Ticino, its luxury hotels and Casinos. The room was large, well appointed and from its balcony we had a magnificent view over the hillsides, bordering the town toward the mountains in the North. With the cost of the lodging we decided to have a simple dinner in one of the lake shore restaurants, which was really not bad at all, characteristic for this strange Country were everything is satisfactory, often good and sometimes even excellent but with one common denominator: everything is expensive. Next morning, we have made an appointment, which is a must, at the Italian and German speaking receptionist of the UBS (which stands for Union Bank of Switzerland) who was a middle aged, polite gentlemen somewhat resembling both Carl Djerassi: the famous chemist and Daniel Berenboim: the famous conductor; yet he did not share their common ethnic origin because he was Italian Swiss. Later we had a conference with one of the junior bank managers. This visit was about our moderately sized and hardly growing account, that we have had here for many years still believing, in the style of good old times that to have something, anything in a Swiss Bank is a necessity for one’ s security, a concept many times challenged and by now almost entirely obsolete. But it is difficult to resign to that for someone like me, who went through the common experiences of a middle eastern European, member of the middle class, in the midst of the turbulent 20 th Century. For those the ownership of a Swiss bank account was first an utopia, later a goal and finally a reality and disappointment. A full circle, like with many other things, particularly worldly possessions which just come and go….

After we finished in the bank, as good tourists and clients of Switzerland we acknowledged that everything has been accomplished and now we can leave. So we did and took off for the short ride to the Lake Orta, a small jewel of Italian lakes. Orta is not majestic because of its small size, but in good weather you can see behind the gigantic Monte Rosa, one of the highest peaks of the European alps. Down at the lake’s level you see typical rural and historic scenery, and towns like Orta San Giulio itself. Narrow streets, small shops, villas, boutiques and few old Hotels create an atmosphere of the early Twentieth Century. Not much has changed here, only the tourists who are now wearing T-shirts, blue jeans, shorts and sandals. Long gone are the ladies in stylish, airy light summer dresses, wearing colorful hats, carrying small parasols and led, hand in hand or arm in arm, by well groomed man, some in sportive hunting outfits with matching felt hats, decorated with small feathers of a game bird, others in well ironed white trousers, shirts, at least vests if not summer jackets, Panama hats and polished two-tone shoes. A cane, a binocular or a cigar in hand… The small excursion boats in modernized version carry now different tourists along the shore of this small lake and may stop at the tiny Isola San Giulio, with perhaps a dozen houses and the inevitable old church, to which we rowed over in a small boat with our children over thirty years ago. Orta is a romantic, idyllic place which now seems to be increasingly out of place, a curiosity, or oddity perhaps, giving me the impression for the first time of getting more end more run down and forgotten. I would have liked to stop at the old Grand Hotel to see if its Salon would still have the old photographs or drawings of the past times showing the promenading guests or groups of visitors boarding the small steamboat leaving from the old pier which still stands on the lake side of the piazza. We take a light lunch because we want to prepare ourselves to the dinner that is waiting for us in nearby Soriso. Thanks to modern computer-technology the location of even the smallest villages in many countries, including Italy, can be traced. In the case of Soriso it was necessary, although the Michelin guide Italia and the book on Relais et Chateaux hotels gives you some help to locate even the remotely located luxury accommodations and culinary sites; in this case the Al Sorriso Ristorante and Hotel. To find this place the computer print of the village of Soriso and its vicinity was essential. It is a well hidden place. I classify Soriso as one of the least interesting small towns of Italy. Why did Angelo Valazza, the proprietor of the Al Sorriso, one of Italy’s two top rated restaurants by Michelin, set up this place here, leaves me baffled. Nevertheless he did. Probably he grew up there, and as we know the Italians are one of the most local patriotic people. Soriso, beyond its insignificance as a town, is not inconveniently located: an hour drive from Milan, the modern centerpiece of Italy, and in an area which is close to the most desirable part of Italy: the Lake district. Our walk through the town in early afternoon verified what I said about the nondescript, plain and very quiet appearance of Soriso, when the few stores just started to open after 4 PM following the siesta time indicating that Soriso is not entirely a ghost town after all. But let me go back to our arrival to the Hotel restaurant. The neatly kept mid- sized building had a simple entrance where the dinner menu was displayed in the door, and we had to ring the bell to get in (siesta time!). A small young employee struggled up to the first floor (in Europe, one story up) with our luggage, while a young middle aged gentlemen, who later turned out to be Signor Valazza, greeted us and checked us in, with a quiet, but still different, more personal manner than the Swiss lady concierge a day before in Locarno. As I talked to him later it turned out that he is the proprietor and he admitted that he is more a restaurateur and manager than a chef; who in this case was his wife. He spoke excellent English and was very well informed about the international restaurant circle (of which he, by know is a recognized representative). He described his, in essence family operation as a difficult, demanding business. We of course knew that, exemplified by Laszlo jr’s challenging and often disappointing career in the culinary profession. The Valazza family indeed had to cope with long hours and a six days work week, that they would like to get down to five and a half days, but Valazza was not sure if he could afford it. And this is the sobering admission from the manager of one of the world’s most renown restaurant! This represents another side and the cost of being at the top, having been listed and praised by the Guides, culinary books and the Press. The dinner of course was remarkable, with Valazza taking close supervision of the 4-5 waiters. He himself served us as wine steward. We were among the first few guests, so he could pay a bit more personal attention to us, and succeeded to selling me the yet most expensive red wine I have ever had: a half bottle of Gaja Barbaresco 97, going for somewhat more than 100 Euro. He looked at it, swirled, smelled and finally tasted this famous fermented grape juice, a top rated product of the Aosta region wine-making. After having satisfied himself he poured a little in a gigantic wine-glass for me to taste. Than he slowly placed the small bottle with the assistance from one of his waiters into a contraption I have never seen before: a shiny, golden plated brass decanter with a spiral-cogwheel driving mechanism to enable him to very gradually tilt the precious bottle, now trans illuminated by candle light, to allow perfect decanting. A show for certain, because even a couple from the next table became keen observers of Angelo’s oenophilic wizardry. (The possible explanation for this elaborate process, besides the obvious reason for impressing a presumably conoscenti client was probably the necessity of doing the decanting of a small bottle with more precision than with the larger bottles, where simple manual decanting can allow an extra few ml loss of clear wine over the sediment in the bottle.) First I witnessed that there were very few hotel guests, and thought that the restaurant will remain fairly empty. However by 9 PM, the usual starting time of dinner in Italy, it became almost full. The al Sorriso can serve up to 50-60 guests; even that, however requires a lot of work and attention at the level expected of such a complex and lengthy dinner affair. It was interesting to observe here also the sign of modern times: the traditional décor and service in opposite to the attires of the clientele. While the majority of us was still reasonably dressed up with coats, some with neckties, the ladies in dresses; some younger people came in blue jeans, leather jackets and short sleeved shirts. Next morning at 8 AM Valazza himself served us the breakfast and he threw in some thin slices of prosciutto, as a bonus. 15 Euro for a breakfast seems to be a lot but the Al Sorriso was not out of range in this respect. Many other places in France charge now over 10 Euro for a more simple breakfast and our plain Hotel in Paris commanded almost 10 Euros for a strictly continental breakfast of coffee, croissant and jam. That was certainly more overpriced than Al Sorriso,s elaborate morning offering. Wishing further success to Angelo with his well renowned, yet demanding business, and having taken a picture of the Valazzas posing with Emmy, we departed toward Venice. Angelo himself helped me with the luggage, because of his helpers were still asleep… That morning I recalled an old experience, some 40 years ago in Portola Valley, when our neighbor Mr. Jellich, a Croatian-American rancher and a millionaire by then, rototilled my one acre lot opposite his 100 acre orchard. …I paid both these well to do businessmen for their services; and while the old Roman saying: Pecunia non olet, i.e. Money does not stink, in these two cases the old Hungarian proverb saying something like: Honest work leads to nobility also applied. Neither Signor Vallazza nor Mister Jellich were noblemen by birth but they were considered by me such through their attitude toward hard work, deserving the success they attained.

Venice

We were many times in this unique, timeless city of lagoons, palazzos, churches, museums, over all decay and turbulent history. Beyond having been acquainted, we developed high affinity, understanding and compassion to her. Thus, there are for us many positive sides of Venice. Then there are the tourists, from whom you would like to escape, particularly when they are in a large noisy crowd led by guides of different languages carrying different flags and shouting while leading them as herd of sheep through the obligatory tourist sites. But Venice can be and should be adsorbed by a very different way, by going alone, wandering just a few yards away from the maddening crowd, and the main arteries of the city. Then within a very short distance away the old, medieval Venice opens up before you, often with the less than spectacular facades of smaller old buildings, yet carrying with them just as much authenticity of the past in an once magnificent republic of Levant, with vibrant life around the canals, where the riches of the world, from gold and spices to dirt, from patrician Doge families to slaves and from giants of the medieval arts and science to modest handyman of the workshops intermingled for centuries in the process of building a city of remarkable power, fame as well as beauty. Beyond that Venice creates a phenomenon which vibrates in us reminiscent of a dreaming, half conscious state through the mind of the witnesses, participants, observers and admirers… To this experience however conditioning is required. One has to confront this ancient city repeatedly with curious attention. Then at one point one reaches a state where the objects, one by one start to shrink in significance and a condition develops when one starts to feel the levitation of the past, holding in check the vibrations of the present in sweet harmony. Whether this romantic transition develops in us by admiring some smiling, child like Madonna in the museums, the moon lit Grand Canal, the sweet melodies played by the small saloon-orchestras at St Mark’s square or overhearing the animated conversation of some elderly Venetians on the Vaporetto, is hard to ascertain. They all help you to develop a new feel you have never had before to a City, a place which is dead and alive at the same time in a very unique way, through romance, that most of us miss with increasing intensity these days. The magic of Venice then is with you and it is hard to forget. Perhaps that is why we visited here more then a dozen times and still want to return again and again. What a blessing that automobiles which take so much time and attention from us everywhere else, are banned here. The Vaporettos fill the gap in local transportation and give us a little bit more contact with the surroundings, beyond a steering wheel, and the probably empty seat besides, and behind you when you drive a motorcar, as usual, alone. Here you are witnessing not only the locals and tourists but also the canal with all its surroundings, and what magnificent those surroundings may be in the form of the different palazzos and churches going back sometimes for 5-6 centuries. Then the water itself, once quiet, once turbulent, sometimes basking in bright sunshine, sometimes covered by mysterious fog, like during one of our trips, when the motorboat took us back at an early morning from the city to the airport, in secrecy of the daybreak. This was one of the many memorable encounters with this unique place, at that time still sleeping. With this trip we also recall many other memories visiting several sites dear to us. We silently acknowledge their existence, always with a bitter feeling of uncertainty . Will this be the last time to see the palazzos, churches, galleries, the bridges of the Sighs, of the Accademia and of the Rialto, masks of carnival in the shop windows, the smells of the thin sliced mortadella, prochiutto, cheeses and espresso coffee in the delicatessen stores, whose offerings we once, long time ago, consumed so quickly and with much gusto, together with our children while looking through the Hotel window facing the Canal. Yes, by now we have many souvenirs in our memory bank recalling the stays in small and large hotels, long walks that we preserved in a family movie once, depicting our steps and those of many others, Venetians and foreigners, continuous movements of the gradually tiring legs as the walk and the movements slow down ending either in taking rest in a Hotel room, on a seat of the Vaporetto, or a bench somewhere. We remember the many rides on the canals bordered by such magnificent buildings as the Ca d’ Oro, the Doges palace and the palace Vendramin where, beyond many Venetian nobility Richard Wagner also finished his earthly course, to the Lido, to the San Giorgio Island . Stray cats, walking at odd hours across small piazzas, searching for left over, and old priests marching toward the next church to start their services . …

The bells were ringing this year just as they did some 40 years ago when we visited here for the first time, when everything was new to us. Since then we were here many times, and always made a promise to each other and to the City that we shall return. How long can we keep these promises? And when we cannot any more we shall look at the old photographs, books or just search in our memories to recall the days and nights of Venice. Happy and romantic hours in a spot of the World, where everyone changes a little bit, and I hope for the better…Again the visit was short, merely two days and, as before we have left with a still remaining desire to see once more the sun to rise and set beyond those enchanting silhouettes of one of the seven wonders of the World…

Budapest

The Country and City in which one was born represent special places for most of us. As we age our childhood is remembered usually as a pleasant dream, with very few exceptions. Budapest and Hungary was our birthplace and it is hard to forget. A lot of good and a lot of bad happened in our childhood and by human nature we tend to forget the unpleasant times, and as we go back farther and farther in times the past remains as a sunny, happy and colorful aura bringing along a magic gown to cover us only with favorable memories, and it is how it should be, if for no other reason, just for the sake of helping ourselves with a positive reinforcement, bringing us through the turmoil and ugliness of our present world uninjured. We needed such reinforcement in the years Emmy and I got to know each other during probing times, during the darkest days of the Communist domination. Yet the times we spent together at that time and later, when other challenges in the free world surrounded us we, I believe, preserved our spirit by reminiscing about our childhood in Hungary, which even after nearly fifty years of immigration, at least for me, remains the sweet home, where our dear parents provided for us, sometimes only through limited means, but with a heart and love which only few mothers and fathers could and would provide. We never can forget them and we cannot forget Budapest either. That city, which during the same half a century, while we remained married, recovered from its deep wounds and now it shines again on both sides of the Danube. This river has carried, besides its fauna, rafts, boats and ships, and also the corpses and blood of its victims during tragic times. Now the scores of youngsters who swim in the river are unaware of these aspects of the history of the Danube and the town. For them the once ruined capital of the Magyars is without the same impact as it was to us who, by a strange luck of fate survived those dark times and continued to hope for a better life either at home or abroad. We have chosen the latter one at the first opportunity, and continued to remain fortunate, unlike so many of our relatives and friends. And finally here we are the two of us celebrating a milestone anniversary, again that of a relatively few fortunate individuals who could live together for fifty years. Of course we feel somewhat alone in our home country now, missing so much our long departed parents, and family members; and we also miss our children, who belong to us, through our genes and blood just like our parents did. Instead, we accept the fact that we will celebrate among a few friends and remaining relatives who live here and who are willing to come and spend few hours with us in our apartment, an occasional and temporary base rather than home, that has been made recently more homely by some decorative items. Those carpets and paintings transferred from our home in California will remind us here to our American home and will bring up the inevitable question where are we at home, here or there? We had the opportunity to talk, for a few minutes to our sons, whom we often miss, not only on an occasion like this, but even back in the States because of the busy, modern life which keeps us apart, and the size of the country we live in by a choice made also almost fifty years ago. The correctness of that decision still haunts me occasionally. Regardless however, we are here now to toast with each other to our long years together, blessed with good health and happiness, and to toast with our friends who came to see us on this occasion. Few days later, on Sunday, the two of us went to the church in which we exchanged our wows. It looked so strangely distant to recall the church service fifty years ago. It was not much publicized and held only in the presence of the family and close friends, since church weddings were discouraged at that time. But I remember two things, first that Emmy looked magnificent in a simple dark dress and high heels, and second, that she almost fell down on the stairs of the church leaving after the ceremony. Fortunately I grabbed her in time. Some felt it was a bad omen. It did not proved to be. Fifty years later we stay together as we did in good and bad times respecting and loving each other. Not much more can one ask for….

Our short stay of eleven days was intermingled with some visits to friends, attending an opera and chamber music concert through the courtesy of Laszlo J. my high school classmate, who was here from England. Of course we have had some chores to do also around the apartment often with the helping hands of our neighbors, Charlotte and Geza, friends from California, who last year decided to repatriate to Hungary and so far they seem to enjoy the old country. They are particularly involved in re-building their newly acquired country property at a beautiful location around Lake Balaton. Our other neighbors with whom we just got acquainted in the spring are Tibor and Eva Siki. They also turned out to be delightful people with old world charm. While Tibor, who is almost 90 years old and has lived in Argentina and the US, is wonderfully preserved for his age, and Eva, a retired Professor of Microbiology also looks and behaves much younger then one who is pushing the late sixties. She still works part time. Gabor and Elizabeth Erdelyi, our friends from Northern California also retired here last year and live not too far. An added benefit knowing these friends and having them close is that all of them are excellent bridge players, an important aspect of retired life anywhere. Emmy’ s cousin Steven, and his wife Eva, from Germany, both charming and lively, visit their beautifully situated luxury apartment, also in Buda, several times a year and represent a welcome addition to our permanently residing Hungarian friends. In contrast to these still active and mostly energetic friends my sister in law Zsuzsi who just turned 80 is another story . Her age shows now very much perhaps due to her personality, financial hardships or other problems. She is unfortunate having had lost her husband for a long time and continues to have a lonely, passive, isolated existence. The occasional attention and help from her brother certainly less than optimal. Besides, Zoltan is too much occupied with his own family, including his half grandchildren through his second wife and with his and hers, to us foreign, politico -social life concepts. We don’t have any common interest with Zsuzsi any more. Her sad life revolves around chores of her small modest household, short walks to a neighborhood simple restaurant-bar where she drinks her favorite beer and brandy more than she eats. Few of her friends, to our surprise still give her occasional company, but in essence she lives in her microcosmos, as my father used to say about the lifestyle of his mother in law. In her old age the activities of my grandmother consisted of re-arranging the position of pieces of furniture in her apartment and to save some food stuff in the windows during the colder months making a major occupation for herself from shuffling these items back and forth. Such life of course is only a vegetation of which the participant becomes unaware of, and only the outside observer seems to register as being very odd. Through those idle, unproductive hours, days and years one slowly becomes in essence already dead. Dead in spirit and that is a terrible recognition for those who see it.

The eleven days in Budapest have flown away rapidly and on October 5th the early morning we took off again for the long drive to our next destination, Dresden, with a hope to return again in next spring.

Dresden.

This historic City, formerly belonging to the German Demokratik Republik, alias East Germany, carries two deep scars. The first was inflicted on her some fifty seven years ago, when in February 1945 an allied bombing attack virtually eliminated it, leaving the burning skeleton of buildings and some forty thousand dead behind. Dresden’s historic buildings, mainly result of its golden age in the seventeenth and eighteenth century, when the wealth of Saxony and its ruling Princes culminated, have slowly been rebuilt, and now stay in their old splendor. However, a large part of the common apartment houses have never been reconstructed. City planning erected new tenements in the style of multistory, box like buildings typical for the socialist regime, with one advantage- green spaces between them. Thus Dresden has spread out and now gives an impression of a garden-city with many small and larger parks. Yet one cannot escape the feeling that these green acres in essence represent unmarked graveyards of ten thousands of war victims. Thus Dresden should be added as third to those two, most victimized cities of WW II; Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The second scar on this City came very recently in the form of a large flood from the Elbe river. So severe was this flood that at the time of our visit, several weeks after the event, many of it museums, most notably the famous collection of old masters within the Zwinger palace complex, including the largest assembly of paintings by Holbein, and the world-renown Meissen and Dresden porcelain exhibits were both closed, and our desire to go to a performance at the famous Semper-Opera also remained unfilled. We could visit only the Opera building with a guided tour, that revealed magnificence only in dimension but not in taste of design. In the beautiful German Baroque Zwinger palace only the wing of cartographic and astronomic sciences were open. We however could see the Albertinum museum, recognized primarily for the magnificent court jewelry collection of Saxony’s ruling princes of the 17th and 18th Century, rivaling that of the Topkapi museum of the sultans in Istanbul, and significant works of the German Expressionists painting school of the early Twentieth Century. Our delightful, small Hotel, the Bulow Residenz was a converted, some 270 years old palatial building, belonging to a historic Dresden family including Hans v. Bulow, the famous opera conductor of double fame, who besides his excellence in conducting and promoting operas of his contemporary composer -friend Richard Wagner, also lost his own wife, Cosima, (the daughter of another friend, Franz Liszt) to Wagner. Few of the guests of the Bulow Residenz know this background and tend not much to care about it, particularly when are so well fed at the Hotel’s excellent. Michelin- star rated Pavilion Restaurant. Accordingly we also had an excellent dinner there, and for the time forgot the Bulow episode. The weather in Dresden was not kind to us any more. Rain and wind was prevailing, so, except the City –tour, we did not spend too much time on the streets. Near the Hotel on a wide boulevard an Oktoberfest was attempted with different stalls and tents offering the typical German pop fair with beer, must, om pa-pa music and souvenirs, but due to the weather it never got into full swing. As an alternative, not as a substitute for an opera performance, we got tickets to