From the pre-trip exchange of emails, I got the impression that Gabriella’s ‘friend’ had a house near the camp, which we could use instead of roughing it. But this, apparently, was stretching the truth slightly. Rather than being on the island, Istvan’s weekend retreat is on the edge of Szentendre, half an hour’s drive away via the bridge.
We drive to the edge of the town, through streets which get progressively smaller. At last, we pass the end of a single track road. He brakes hard, reverses to the entrance, than we go backward up the road for a couple of hundred metres.
We stop. On our right is a tall and impenetrable hedge.
Well, it looks like a hedge. But why has Gabriella got out of the car? And what is she doing with that key?
There is a gate there, completely smothered by vines, boasting clusters of embryonic grapes. I get out of the car. She smiles at my confusion, and gestures me forward.
Through the gate, down some steps. We are on the edge of the hillside.
The house is perfect, like something out of a story: ‘Through the Hedge, and What Melinda Found There’. Through the hedge, and into another world.
‘So, we can live here, I think ? What would you like to do?’
‘How will we get to the workshops?’
‘Istvan will drive us there and back. Or there are taxis’.
I love the house, but I’m really not comfortable with this idea. It’s too complicated. And poor Istvan, is he to be at our beck and call for four days?
‘I have to drive to Praga – Prague – tomorrow’ he confides to me.
‘I’ve always wanted to go there – how far is it?’
‘About 500 kilometers’.
‘Tell her what you do – I don’t know the English’ says Gabriella.
I don’t catch what he says the first time.
‘Freight forwarding’ he repeats, carefully and distinctly.
‘Aah. Logistics?’
He nods.
Gabriella has found the programme for the summer camp. The last ferry leaves at 8:30, but the evening activities look pretty fun. Tonight for example, blues band concert and palinka tasting round the campfire.
‘Palinka!’ Istvan rolls his eyes.
Could this be the elusive Eastern European nectar I’ve been looking for?
[Ed’s note: It isn’t, but see: http://melinda-in-surreality.blog.co.uk/2008/07/21/becherovka-4480376
‘It’s a spirit distilled from fruit, just fruit, nothing else. It’s distilled three times They just made a regulation that it can only be called palinka if it’s made in Hungary – like Champagne has to be made in Champagne’.
‘Sounds good to me!’ I say, to much amusement.
‘It’s no problem, we’ll call you when we want to come back, and you can come for us. Then you can take us back in the morning, before you leave’.
‘I’m leaving at 5:00AM’.
‘Well, we can walk to the ferry. Or hitch hike. It will be fine, don’t worry. This can be our home. But, it’s up to you’.
‘I think I’d rather stay at the camp’.
‘Well, we’ll see what the room is like’.
We drive back via the ferry station. There is nowhere for cars, but we get directions to another one, half a kilometre further upriver.
Istvan is getting tetchy. He’s very charming, but who needs to wipe their feet that many times in a day?
‘We might as well go by the bridge’.
‘No, it’s coming, look’.
We drive back onto land at the second ferry station we saw earlier, and Gabriella monitors the distance back to the camp. It’s 5 kilometres.
There is a fire going in the middle of the campsite, and the evening meal seems to be in preparation. A vegetarian barbecue – how’s that going to work? I wonder. A young man with long blond hair and a beard plays the guitar and sings ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’ in Hungarian to a bemused toddler.
We have the upstairs room we asked for, in building 7. There are four beds, but only the two of us staying there (for now, at least). A bed for the laptop, next to the power socket, and a bed for our suitcases. Gabriella installs the bottle of wine she brought from Istvan’s house in pride of place on the shelf. ‘The centre of our world!’ she says.
The stairs are on the outside of the building.
‘Careful on these stairs after the palinka tasting' says Istvan as he carries Gabriella’s case up them ‘At least you’re right opposite the shower block’.
‘The men’s shower block’ we say in unison. Hmmm, she noticed too.
‘How did you get the cabin next to the men’s showers? he asks.
‘Just lucky, I guess!’ I reply, and we all laugh.
la_spice
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Sounds like you had great girly fun!