Hungary II: Szombathely - June 1999

I collected the computers from the CRO in Budapest and I was off west, direction Szombathely which was almost back to Vienna. The two sites I was setting up were Father and Son. Professor ‘I.’ was my next stop and his son Doctor ‘I.’ was in Pecs down south.
For the first stage of the trip there was an autobahn, but a very old one with crumbling concrete. The concrete blocks where about 20 meters long and badly joined with an excess of swelled-up black tar. We have a few sections of this type here in Germany but rare. This meant for the next two hours rumble rumble rumble, a mini hop, rumble rumble etc.....

I was now getting close to my first ‘drop off point’ a children’s clinic in Szombathely [Ed: 230 km and approx. three hours out of Budapest]. I had the address and a telephone number that I was told to call when I was in the area, so that the Professor would meet me at the clinic as it was his day off. I called the mobile number and he answered. He informed me that he needed a few minutes as he was up a tree picking apples. I took his word for it and drove on to the clinic.

His secretary showed me into the Professor’s office. A while later I was warmly greeted by an elderly gentleman with white hair and after exchanging pleasantries he asked me if I would like a coffee and as I hadn’t had anything since breakfast I accepted with thanks. The secretary was summoned there followed a short burst of unfathomable Hungarian and she left. I looked around and eyed a typical academic landscape, or to put it in the right text - a bookscape. Books everywhere, pilled up on, under and at the sides of his desk. The walls seemed to be wallpapered with books.
After we chatted a while he apologised that he had to go and see if the workspace for the computer was ready and would have to leave me alone for a few minutes. As he left his secretary came in with a coffee tray. She looked around contemplated somewhat and decided to give it to me to hold while she cleared a space rearranging a considerable amount of books on the desk. She then took the tray back and placed it on the exposed area. All this without a word. As she left I thanked her in English she replied in what I suspected was Hungarian, anyway I didn’t understand it.

On exit, I went for the coffee. Ah! black, ok and where is the milk? I scanned the tray and peripheral books, no white liquid in sight. I found sugar, but no recognisable dairy product attributed to have come from a cow. What I did find was on first inspection what looked like a tube of mustard. On turning it over there was a cartoon cow grinning up at me and then it clicked. This was the milk! I opened it up carefully and slowly tilted it in the direction of the cup. On reaching a vertical position nothing was going to come out without some help. I gently squeezed the tube and a worm with the consistency of horseradish appeared and plopped into the coffee disappearing quickly to the bottom. Upon stirring I studied the coffee, but the colour barely changed. Another worm but still no luck, it was somewhat lighter but not how I would want to drink it. But I was now committed, so in went access sugar, I stirred and tried it. It was very strong and now very very sweet! Again not how I like it. I want the taste not the effect of coffee. I hardly got it down. On telling H later about the encounter with milk in a tube, she laughed when I mentioned adding excess sugar. What I hadn’t known at the time was that the condensed milk was also sweetened!

The professor came for me and showed me the office where the computer was to be used. I unpacked and installed it slightly light headed due to the caffeine. I logged into the study server in Cologne, started the video link and waved to passing people in the office.
In the mean time the Professor had booked me a room in the local hotel. He told me ‘for a good price’. Seems he had some influence in the town. He gave me instructions on how to get there as well as presenting me with a bottle of clear liquid with a cork that was excessively taped up. He said it was almapálinka a homemade distilled apple brandy. This rang a bell of the conversation we had when he was up an apple tree. Now I knew why! I thanked him for the present, we said our goodbye’s and I drove off to the hotel.

I got my key following an over done extensive scrutinisation of my passport from the gestalt at reception. He reminded me of the character Riff-Raff from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. The main staircase was ‘over done’ in that you could have got six people going up it side by side without any elbowing going on.

The corridors where just the same, you could have driven a truck down them. The rooms on the other hand were small and looked like they were styled on the YMCA. It was too early for dinner so I went for a walk around the lake across the road from the hotel. On returning to my room, it was still too early but I went down to reception anyway. Riff-Raff directed me to the dining room with a minimised hand movement and an incoherent mumble.
What was getting to me was that I hadn’t seen anybody else apart from the weirdo at reception. Absolutely nobody since I had arrived, in the hotel or in the park - not a soul!

Maybe I’d have more luck in the dining room.
I entered and there was what I can only describe as a gigantic ballroom, if it would have been any bigger it would have had its own weather forecast. I hesitated before entering, hardly any natural light, and the artificial that was on, was having a hard time illuminating anything. Again nobody insight and you could hear a pin drop. I scanned the terrain, off to the left and in the far distance (I said it was big) was a suite of tables and chairs, the arrangement gave the impression of a dining area. I slowly wandered over and stood there wondering if I was really too early or the moon hadn’t yet risen, creepy!

I heard movement, turned and caught sight of a waiter making a bee line for me. He was smiling otherwise I'd had bolted. He indicated a table at random, I sat and was handed an over sized menu with gold trimmings and a cord and tassel bobbling about at the back. Thank Jupiter there were three languages to choose from, Hungarian, German and surprising enough English. I can’t remember what I had. The local red wine had been recommended by S in Vienna, so I had some, it had a punch.

I can’t remember anything more until the next morning. I suspect my wine consume had something to do with it. Breakfast was again solo. I must admit it was all a bit eerie, talk about out of season; it was almost out of this world..
I paid my bill to Riff-Raff. I had the feeling he hadn’t moved since I’d arrived.
Was I glad to get away!

In the car I studied the map and drove off direction Pecs [Ed: 240 km direction south east and about 3h45m to go]. I turned the radio on and spun the dial. The only recognisable tune that turned up was the last refrain of ‘Hotel California’ from the Eagles, it went..

Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before
'Relax' said the night man,
'We are programmed to receive.
You can check out any time you like,
But you can never leave!'

As said, real creepy!
[Ed: Continued here in Hungary III Pecs: ].