A Very Hungarian Christmas

The Budapest Christmas Festival is magical.  Honestly, I can't say enough good things about it.  The weather is appropriately frigid (I'm talking toe-numbing cold, here), and there's even a little snow on the ground.  The little wooden stalls, the food, the mulled wine, the music, the shopping.  And on top of all this is the delightful mix of people from all over the world.  Hungarian, French, Dutch, American, German.  There was also English with an accent I can't place - maybe Australian or Kiwi?  It was amazing to exchange smiles and apologies in the crowded outdoor space with so many different people.

I munched on spicy sausage and potatoes with paprika as they cooled rapidly in the frosty air.  I ate bread topped with bacon, onions, cheese, and sour cream, and I marveled at a Hungarian funnel cake as long and as big around as my arm from shoulder to elbow!  I drank mulled wine and krampanpuli in my Festival mug and wandered among the craft stalls.

I swear that Christmas music is dosed with something to make you spend money (or maybe it was the wine?), because I found myself frequenting the ATM to refill my supply of forints.  Who knew that within this sensible person beat the heart of a spendthrift?  Leather purses and suitcases, ceramics, jewelry, and Christmas ornaments, Hungarian liquor, candies and elaborately decorated cookies, wooden toys and woolen socks, household items of every kind filled the wooden stalls.  A dizzying array of beautiful things made Christmas shopping a delight.  I also picked up a few things for myself - a nativity ornament fashioned inside a large seed-like pod, a small, painted ceramic ball ornament, a pair of earrings, and a gorgeous leather purse (my splurge).  I wish that I had gotten more photos of all the vendors, but apparently my camera was drawn to the colorfully arranged cookies and candies!

As I approach the festival - anyone need a slipper-shaped shoe scraper?

Or perhaps a tiny bathtub for your ice tongs?

Festival!

I have spotted lunch!  I believe I will pass on the testicle stew.

My spicy sausage, potatoes with paprika, and mug of mulled wine.

They are finishing a giant Advent Wreath the two days that I am there.
Too bad I won't get to see them light it!

Christmas-y music.

Chestnuts roasting over an open... grill.

Dried fruit, blocks of strange honey, and sweets.

Marzipan candies.  I buy some at a different stall before I leave, and then munch
on them as I stress about the possibility of missing my flight!

Many of the Christmas cookies for sale look like edible little pieces of art.
There are even entire cookie nativity scenes!

An example of a Hungarian funnel cake.  Hungarian women at the
festival rolled out hundreds of these for the long line of hungry customers -
the funnel cakes start as long strips of dough that are wrapped around a
fat wooden dowel, covered in sugar, and finally baked, rotating over coals
until the dough browns and the sugar crystallizes.  Lastly, they are dipped in
coconut, walnuts, cinnamon, or cocoa.  This one is about a third of the size of
the one that I enjoyed at the Budapest Christmas Festival.  Delicious!

Budapest, I Love You

I have been a seriously negligent blogger as of late.  And, as my sister pointed out, I have failed to provide a blog for all of those procrastinating exam-takers out there.  So, here you are.  A blog about my Thanksgiving adventure in Budapest.  Enjoy :)

On the evening of Thanksgiving, after a nail-biting late arrival at the Athens airport, I start a trip that will land me in Budapest, Hungary.  Budapest marks my first international venture outside Athens, my first stay in a hostel, and my first serious solo international travel.  Even though I flew to Athens alone in August, I knew that there was a support system waiting for me on the other end.  In Budapest, all that's waiting is a taxi at the airport and a hostel reservation!  I take the time during the flight to look through a couple of guide books that I checked out of the library, and I make note of what I'm interested in seeing and doing in this beautiful Hungarian city.  I booked my visit purposely during the Christmas Festival that the city has, so I know that's going on my list.  There's also outdoor skating, the opera house, the thermal baths, and museums; my aunt, who loves the city, adds the Historic District, the zoo, Parliament, and the bridges.  

When I arrive in Budapest around 11 pm with my backpack stuffed to the zippers, I am happy that I booked a taxi to take me to my hostel, about 30 minutes from the airport.  The taxi driver, though he speaks only a little English, is very nice.  Here, I must sing the praises of the hostel that I stayed in, because it was amazing.  Seriously, if you're ever in Budapest, book a bed at the NJoy Budapest hostel.  Right in the center of the city, staying in this hostel feels more like hanging out in somebody's exceptionally clean, brightly decorated house than anything else.  They provide free lockers, a communal kitchen, copious amounts of information about the city, and a truly friendly and helpful 24-hour reception desk.  I've booked a bed in room of six, but I have it to myself when I arrive.  I snuggle into my green polka-dot bed for the night.

My nook under the loft.

Home Sweet Hostel
The entrance is the door
with the fern.

The next morning, my first adventure is of a decidedly mundane nature - I need to find soap and shampoo.  I didn't check any luggage, so I had no way of transporting large bottles of liquid.  Luckily, there's a convenience-type store next to the hostel, and I amuse myself browsing through the foreign items.  I settle on a small bag of pretzels, a brand of shampoo I've never heard of before, and a Nivea bar of soap.  The bar of soap is labeled "Happy Time," so it's clearly the right choice.  

Armed with a map, I head out to tackle the public transportation system, which actually proves to be much simpler than the one in Athens.  My figuring out Hungarian, I fear, is hopeless during my three-day stay.  My guide book says that since it is not an Indo-European language, English is actually more closely related to Hindi than to Hungarian.  Like in Athens, however, a lot of signs are in English, and many people speak some, as well.  Never have I been more relieved that English is such a widely used language.  

The metro in Budapest has really long, steep escalators that make
me feel like I'm leaning forward.  I think that it's deeper underground
so it can go under the Danube River.

Gyros, anyone?  I guess this is foreign food in Hungary!

Soon, I'm strolling through the historic district, admiring a church and the view from the Fisherman's Bastion.

Me, posing with a small bronze model of the church.

Unfortunately, I spend most of my afternoon stubbornly trying to find a restaurant that my guidebook recommends, despite the fact that it's not on my map.  I finally settle on a different one that is easier to find.  I eat a delicious, if awkwardly solo dinner, complete with apple strudel and a serenade by several musicians. 

Three kinds of Hungarian stew plus yummy gnocchi.

Apple strudel and cinnamon whipped cream. 

To keep this blog from novel length, I'll devote a separate one to the truly amazing Christmas Festival where I spent the next two days of my stay in Budapest.

In the Footsteps of Phidepeddes

October 31st was the Athens Marathon, an event held in emulation of the messenger Phidepeddes who ran from Marathon to Athens to deliver the news of victory over the Persians at the Battle of Marathon in 490 BC.  Though I did not run (to give the others a fair chance, you see), I did take a turn cheering on the athletes.

After an unsuccessful attempt to find an English language church in Omonia on Sunday morning, my bus took me past the runners as they rounded the corner onto Kifissias, one of the main roads in Athens.  I stopped and joined the small crowd that was strung out along this section.  Though they were mostly reserved in their cheering, there were a couple of enthusiastic fans, including an older Greek man who cheered "Bravo!" (Imagine this with a Greek accent - roll your "r" and put an emphasis on the first syllable.)  I clapped, and after a while, I added a Greek "Bravo" or two of my own.

Do you think I qualify?

The best part was the runners themselves.  From all over the world, over 15,000 runners participated, whether in the full 26.2 miles, or the shorter 5K and 10K versions.  Many runners wore jerseys to match their team, sometimes with the name of their country: Italy, Germany, China, and Denmark were all well-represented.  Some participants carried full size flags, and one wore his as a cape!  Others got into the spirit of the host country, carrying laurel leaves (the symbol of victory), tucking them into their headbands, or wearing them as a head wreath.  Some enthusiastic participants dressed as gladiators - one carried a shield and sword and wore a plumed helmet; another sported full regalia and ran barefoot!  A couple of Chinese participants were running - I kid you not - with large zoom cameras in hand.  The Texans came out, of course - one with a bumper sticker across his chest proclaiming his love for the state, and another with a large foam cowboy hat.  I took a picture for a couple of participants from Virginia, and I watched as two little girls greeted their dad's arrival at the stadium with handmade signs.  (I found out from my Greek teacher later that the jerseys the athletes wear don't necessarily reflect where they're from - bummer.  I really hope those guys were from Texas, though!)

Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera at the corner of Kifissias, but I did go back and get it before I headed to the Panathinaiko Stadium to watch the athletes reach the very end.  It was such a neat thing to see all the runners who had finished walking past with their medals around their necks - one of the finished athletes walking by even commented on this after-race sense of commaraderie.  (You got a medal just for finishing, which I think is a great accomplishment!)  The time I saw posted near the stadium (and what I assume to be the record for the route) is around 2 hours and 11 minutes.  (Think about this time: it's like running 26 consecutive 5-minute miles.)  The runners I saw arriving had been running for 7 hours!  I felt that their applause was well deserved.

Outside the stadium.

Don't know what this building is usually used for -
for the Marathon, it was set up as a museum with exhibits
explaining the Battle of Marathon and the cultures
of ancient Greek and Persia.

Inside the museum.

I really wanted a t-shirt that said "In the Footsteps of Phideppedes," like I saw many of the runners wearing after the race, but I assume that they were reserved for participants.  By the time I got to the tent, even the other t-shirts in my size were gone :(  But, it was great fun to be there.  Even as I was excited to see all of the runners from the US, I felt very Greek compared to the visitors!

Take a look at the Wikipedia article on the Panathinaiko Stadium: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Panathinaiko_Stadium.
Thanks for the history and details, http://www.athensmarathon.com/ and the Marathon museum exhibits (in the building pictured in the article).

Aegina: The Second Greek Island

      

The first Greek island that I ever visited was Hydra, the weekend after I arrived in Athens for the first time.  Though this nearby island is picturesque and beautiful, with steep little staircases, white buildings, and tavernas ringing the harbor, I was tired, lonely, and new to the people and country around me when I visited.  Needless to say, I enjoyed my October trip to the island of Aegina considerably more.  For this trip, Claire, Eleni, Lizzie, and I traded the type of enclosed speed-ferry we took to Hydra for a considerably larger one.  Unlike Hydra, Aegina does allow cars on the island, and this ferry was equipped to carry them.  You could also go up on deck.  Witness me painting my toenails on the way there, and take a look at the view:

I have no idea why you would want a car on the island of Aegina.  Here's an idea of its size: we wanted to visit the ruins of a temple to Apollo, but according to the map at the dock, it was on one side of the island, and the port was in the center.  It took us about 10 minutes to walk there.  Aegina does not have the striking geography of Hydra, but I found it a more approachable, friendly island.  Lucky for us, the small museum was free on Sundays, so we walked through on our way to the actual ruins.  From the ruins, we staked out our beach for the afternoon.

To my delight, we shopped our way back through town, and we stopped at this cute boutique-like shop that an older man was supervising.  I bought a gray cotton dress with a cowl neck and pink and purple drawings of an apartment down the front - it looks much more Paris than Greek island to me, but it is very cute!  Then, we settled in to eat lunch at a harbor-side taverna.  The cod with tomato sauce and the grilled octopus proved delicious, plus our usual bread, tzatziki, and horiatiki (Greek salad), and some grilled zucchini.  And, yes, that is octopus you see hanging on the line in the window.

Finally, the beach!  The water, though cold, was perfectly fine for swimming, and I was relieved that I thought to wear my bathing suit.  We bought some pistachio products, as the island is famous for such.  (I purchased a gooey divinity-like candy with pistachios that I ate on the ferry home, and little jar of pistachio honey that I later ate with a spoon.)  Then, a look in the harbor-side church before we boarded the ferry for home.  Cue awesome sunset photo.

Oxi Day

Oxi Day as defined by our friendly Wikipedia:

"Ohi Day (also spelled Ochi Day, Greek: Επέτειος του «'Οχι» Epeteios tou "'Ohi", Anniversary of the "No") is celebrated throughout Greece,Cyprus and the Greek communities around the world on October 28 each year, to commemorate Greek Prime Minister Ioannis Metaxas' (in power from August 4, 1936, until January 29, 1941) rejection of the ultimatum made by Italian dictator Benito Mussolini on October 28, 1940.

This ultimatum, which was presented to Metaxas by the Italian ambassador in Greece, Emanuele Grazzi, on October 28, 1940, at dawn (04:00 am), after a party in the German embassy in Athens, demanded that Greece allow Axis forces to enter Greek territory and occupy certain unspecified "strategic locations" or otherwise face war. It was allegedly answered with a single laconic word: όχι or no. In response to Metaxas's refusal, Italian troops stationed in Albania, then an Italian protectorate, attacked the Greek border at 05:30 am. Metaxas's reply marked the beginning of Greece's participation in World War II (see Greco-Italian War and Battle of Greece).

On the morning of October 28 the Greek population took to the streets, irrespective of political affiliation, shouting 'ohi'. From 1942, it was celebrated as Ohi Day."

Today, I celebrated Oxi Day with Rooibos tea, lemon tart, and Greek homework at Le Petit Fleur.

  Happy Oxi Day!

A Day of (Hitch)Hiking

Trying to make up for lost time, as promised.  I wrote this the day that we came back (two weeks ago on a Sunday), so if the timeline confuses you, that's why!

            This morning, four of the fellows set out to hike Mt. Parnitha, which sits about an hour and a half bus ride away from Athens.   Our day started out eventfully: after meeting up and unsuccessfully attempting to take a cab (you can only take the metro to Omonia, he told us), we took a bus in an attempt to reach the metro station.  About five minutes into our ride, we were puzzled to see the entire bus emptying at a single bus stop.  None of us speak Greek, but I heard the phrase "work stoppage," and we figured it out.  It was 10:40 am, and strikes usually start at 11:00 am.  Everyone had been asked to leave the bus for the work stoppage.  So, a long procession of people wound their way to the nearest metro station.  At Omonia, we exited the metro station and followed our Lizzie, our leader for the day, to a bus station served by the correct bus to take us to Mt. Parnitha (thankfully, a bus that belonged to a different system than the one on strike).  But our transportation woes were not over - we had landed in between the departure times of our desired bus.  Having missed the 8:00 am and being unwilling to wait for the 2:30 pm, we were blessed with a helpful bus driver who told us that the end of his route was as close as we could get; we could hail a taxi from there, or undertake a 30-minute walk.  Given that our objective for the day was to hike, we were undeterred, and boarded the bus.

The cable car (teleferik)
 Me, Mandee, Robyn and Lizzie

            Central Athens faded behind us as we headed into the north suburbs.  We could see the mountains topped with fog as we began our walk.  The cold weather meant that temperature-regulation was a problem - my fleece plus NorthFace shell was too hot, so I unzipped the two.  After a while, even the shell alone was warm, and the scarf came on and off all day.  Before we left the town, we stopped for lunch at a taverna that Mandee deemed "magic" because they brought the appetizers on a large tray for us to choose from, rather than simply ordering them from a menu, to which we were accustomed.  After devouring small plates of beets, Greek salad, sausage, bread, mountain greens, and fried zucchini and eggplant, we were ready to tackle our hike - after Mandee bought trash bags at a small convenience store, fearing rain.

            Walking along the shoulder, peering around tight turns, and avoiding cars, we arrived at the cable car station, which is run by the casino that is situated at the top of the mountain.  We slowly ascended into the mist until we could no longer see the buildings below us.

         Failing to acquire a map at the casino and being warned of the dangerous conditions caused by the fog, we followed the road, periodically veering off to explore the rocky terrain and then returning to the asphalt.  The fog muffled the noise on the mountain and gave the scenery an eerie, otherworldly appearance, which was only accentuated by the burnt trees left by a recent forest fire.  We thought of Edgar Allen Poe, Waiting for Godot and Wuthering Heights, and Lizzie described it as "a post-apocalyptic wasteland."  Still, it was strangely beautiful, and we had the distinct feeling of complete separation from the world.

          We stumbled across what we decided was once a hotel and restaurant, probably destroyed in the fire, and it occurred to us how much of our day could be included in a horror movie: 

Four girls hiking foggy terrain in a foreign country...

"I know I shouldn't open this door, but I really want to.." 

"At least we're not lost."

"Maybe we should split up."
Hmm.

                  We passed up the bus stop near the ruined hotel and a piquant little church, but we began to worry when no other bus stop came into sight.  A map along the trail made it clear that hiking to the bottom of the mountain would take several more hours.  After sighting mountain goats (we had seen large deer earlier in the day), some of the girls decided: we were going to hitchhike down the mountain.  Too self-conscious to participate, I waited as Mandee successfully flagged down a driver, and we all piled into his car.  We learned that he was traveling with two friends (in cars behind him) into Athens, where he lived.  We stopped with him and his friends to eat a quick dinner at a kiosk (think gyros, etc.), and he took us all the way to the AB bus stop in Athens - only 10 minutes from home!  We were very thankful, as we noticed during dinner that it had begun to rain, and we thought of the possibility of our tired, soggy selves up on the mountain.  Hot chocolate, cookies, and a hot shower should round up the weekend nicely.