I made a short pilgrimage to Cegled, a quiet little town about an hour southeast of Budapest, to see an old friend and her family, and to get a haircut, which I always like to do in small towns no tourist would visit with the oldest barber I can find.
By the way, Hungary is easily the only country in the world where I’ve met all my friends while in the country. It is rumored that Hungarians travel, but I never see them—and I am keeping my eyes and ears open.
This is the world's youngest Metallica fan, my friend's 3 year old. Every night he starts a Metallica DVD, sets up the pillows just right, and pretends he's Lars Ulrich. When he was 18 months old his first intelligibly uttered words were, "So what?" a Metallica song.
We went out to see her parents in the countryside and I ate her mom’s fantastic desserts, and it turns out she can cook any Hungarian dish I can name. Unfortunately, this is out of expediency through a hard life surviving in Ceaucescu’s Romania; you made do with what you could get your hands on.
My dentist is also next door in Romania. Last year I saw her, but I was hitchhiking and was late to my appointment. She was a little peeved, so my 2010 gift to her is to not show up.
