Thanksgiving

The 2013 Christmas Season was upon us. I define the Season as commencing with Thanksgiving and concluding with New Years - this attempts, but fails, to explain the inclusion of Josep Llimona's magnificent, Passion sculpture found in Barcelona's Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Saint Eulalia - he is primarily knowns for his work 'Desolation,' one of Steph's favorite sculptures - this Passion one (name?) being my personal favorite. Within the context of said Season we were hungry for the comforts of home. These comforts came in the form of good friends and good ol' American culinary classics. How better to say "Happy Thanksgiving!" than with pumpkin cookies??

There are few people in this wide world who would drop all pre-established Thanksgiving rituals to wing their way across the blue Atlantic and join us for a slightly-contrived Thanksgiving celebration. Contrived only due to the complete dearth of pumpkins in Barcelona, and due to the holiday being kinda an American thing. But improvise we did, and the Heartys were the catalyst as they smuggled pumpkins into the country on our behalf...(okay, not really - they legally escorted one large can of pumpkin filling - but you really can't taste the difference).

The Llimona sculpture is housed within the courtyard of this impressive church, the Cathedral of Barcelona (not to be confused with Sagrada Familia)

You may recall the co-patron saint of Barcelona, Saint Eulalia, who was a Christina martyr under Emperor Diocletian in 303 A.D. This pictured chapel, housed within the Cathedral, is dedicated to her memory. The method of her torture and subsequent execution is egregious beyond belief, but the history states she was placed into a barrel full of broken glass and knives, and rolled down a street in Barcelona, only then to have her breasts cut off, then to be crucified, and finally beheaded. Don't let anyone tell you the world is getting worse and worse; it's always been a fallen and dark place.

Inspiring awe is the grandly-gothic Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Saint Eulalia

After swallowing much history and architecture it's always time for food and wine. This go around we wanted to introduce Ben and Lauren to one of our favorite genres - pintxos - buffet meets finger-food meets the marriage of Spain & France - better known as Basque Country's pub food. Grab and devour, keep the toothpicks; you're charged a flat rate per item. (The house vino turned out to be particularly good, too - more than we can say for the typical French house wine...)

Imaginative wine labeling - colored clothes pins!

Speaking of good wines, say hello to our all-time favorite find during our Spanish tenure: Bodegas Ateca's Honoro Vera, a Garnacha from Catalonia. Drinking like a $30 bottle, it could be had in Barca - if you know where to look - for only 6eur. Upon our arrival State-side it was with a mixture of joy and devastation that I found this very label at the Alexandria Whole Foods for ...gulp... $14. Well, it's still a great buy at that price.

Those are Ben's hands, carving the gobble-gobble.

Happy Thanksgiving (Barca style) from the Redfields and Heartys!

Budapest Finale!

St. Matthias Church. Look at the roof.

Alright, I know you're getting tired of Budpest, but there's one more day of awesomeness to aprise you of and you're gonna like it! And I know the question you are asking yourself, no these photos are not photo shopped. The sky actually  looked like that.

Fisherman's bastion around St. Matthias on Castle Hill.

View of the Parliament form Castle Hill

We heard from the guides of the free walking tour that there would be "Gregorian Chants" at the Matthias Church for morning mass on Sunday. Not sure what they consider "Gregorian Chants" but listening to the choir was a feast for the soul.

The heavens descend upon St. Matthias after mass.

Every inch of the interior was painted beautifully.

 

Looking out over the city with our duly purchased communion bread.

Fisherman's Bastion and St. Matthias

Cool looking dragon

Café across from St. Matthias Church

After mass and communion bread we ventured to the "Hospital in the Rock." This hospital is part of an approximately 6-mile (10-km) stretch of interconnected caves and cellars beneath Buda Castle Hill. This museum is dedicated to a former secret emergency hospital and nuclear bunker (according to our guide and wikipedia). We weren't allowed to take pictures inside, so you won't be able to see the wax figures and WWII era bandages, nor will you get to see me ring the nuclear siren which was rather successful. But you can see the entrance and our WWII lantern.

Entrance to the Hospital bunker with my lantern.

 With the Communist red coursing through our veins from the hospital (ok not really, but it did feel communisty) we got our catharsis in a French-type bistro on the other side of castle hill to great success.

Cafe Déryne. Delicious!

After much walking and hectic running about (ok, that didn't happen. but it needs to sound like we needed to relax) we decided to check out the legendary (again exaggeration) Hungarian baths. Again, no pictures allowed inside as the bikini clad patrons would probably mob the offender and throw the camera into the steaming pools, but, thanks to google, you can get a good idea of what it looks like.

Thermal baths at Rudas

It was a very interesting cultural experience. We had no idea how the locker system worked and were haphazardly attempting to unlock changing room doors at random when a kindly, elderly Hungarian man showed us how to use our fobs. Then there were the baths themselves: one central pool with four additional pools ringing its edge with increasing (or decreasing) temperatures. Two rooms off to the side housed the sauna and steam. Although the steam room was 20 degrees less than the sauna I felt like I would die in there.



One good thing about it getting dark so early is that you feel like it's 10 when it's really 6. So we got out of the baths with an hour until dinner and decided to explore the ruin bars we'd heard so much about. We made a pit stop on the way for what's called a "Chimney Cake," so named because the heat escaping from the funnel shaped roll looks like a smoking chimney.  They wrap the dough around wooden dowels and bake it rotisserie style. After it's golden they slide it off and roll it in sugar (or in our case marzipan shavings) and serve. It was one of the most delicious desserts I'd ever had. Thank you street food!

After partaking of that delicious morsel, we found the first ever ruin bar, Szimpla. It felt like stepping into Beetlejuice. "Ruin Pub" is the direct translation from the Hungarian appellation because the pubs are literally housed in tenement building once doomed for destruction. Instead of cleaning them up, white washing the heavily graffitied walls and throwing in Ikea staples, the pub owners leave the heavily marred interior the way it is and add in cool lighting, retro furnishings, and multiple bars to make this the coolest pub I've ever stepped foot in.

Walking into Szimpla

Beetlejuice

Right after the following picture we had an impromptu conversation with two elderly, proper English women on a walking tour through Hungary. It was pretty adorable to see them cradling their beers and admiring the dilapidated surroundings.

See what I mean about the graffiti?

To end the evening, we ventured past the Parliament building for a delicious dinner that rivaled the Versailles meal that was twice the price.

Finally, after culminating the day in Hungarian Goulash and Venison, I wanted to see the shoe monument. We hadn't had the chance before and it was our last couple hours to do so. Unfortunately we were on the wrong side of the Parliament. Construction blocked the walking path by the river that would have allowed us to reach the shoes. "That won't stop us!" I declared, climbing around the chain link fence. The construction cleared up as we passed the Parliament building, but sadly we were caught by a kindly Hungarian security guard who informed us the way was closed (as if we hadn't seen the blatant signage before). He made us walk back the dangerous route we'd taken instead of passing around the other side, which was maybe 10 yards away. So, sadly, we didn't get to see the shoes.

4:30 in the morning saw us off to the airport to catch our flight, but hey, through the mist even the frigid line for Ryan air looks good. The fog and outdoor loading dock harkens to the Eastern block that, from our experience, has been ousted by a resurgence of friendly Hungarians in the most beautiful city in Europe. (Everyone can have his or her own opinion).