You Are Here (the gate hates Americans)

It appears I can come up with nothing original. First a repeat of Budapest now a post about lounging around in a huge house located on a mountain.

As far as I know, no one ever referred to this as a "cabin" but maybe that's because we're in Italy, not Austria. Here we're calling it a "villa." (or, alternately: the gorgeous house at the end of the deathtrap road but more on that later) What remains is the connotation of luxury and wealth and once again the Ionescus are spending a week living a lifestyle more glamorous than they can really manage. As we schlep around in hole-y t-shirts, unmatched socks and sweatpants circa 1990, I feel the ghost of glamorous guests past wincing and covering their eyes. In all probability they are responsible for tripping my mother on the stairs not once but twice. This is not to say she's the least glamorous of us all, merely that she's the most vulnerable to challenges to her center of gravity.

So here we are, out of our glamour depth but having a great time regardless.

But back to the deathtrap road part. There's a story there and in case you hadn't guessed, it involves being tired and lost (Linda we finally had an adventure that surpasses the Beauty Farm)

It began in Budapest. We spent the last day in Budapest overdoing it and consoled ourselves that we would have 9 hours in the car to rest until we arrived at our lovely Italian villa where we would drink wine by the pool until we'd fully recovered.
6 people and all of our luggage crammed into a car driving Italian roads (I won't bother to give details about the flat tire in Slovenia) did not turn out to be the day-spa-like experience we had in mind but we still consoled ourselves that once we pulled up to the villa and the pool/wine business began it would make up for all of the travel stress.

And that's exactly what would have happened if our navigation system could have found the place on the first (second or third) try, and if it hadn't been getting dark, and if the road wasn't a nightmare of hairpin turns, and if the inclines up the mountain had been 45 degrees instead of 90, and if the roads had been paved instead of not and if, once we finally arrived, we could actually have gotten the gate key out of the lockbox and if, when we finally pried the box open with a bottle opener, we had been able to get the electric gate to open and let us onto the property.

As we were carrying our bags past the pool and into the house, we were viewing everything through the eyes of frustration, exhaustion and hunger which meant the pool looked about as inviting as diving into a large toilet, the house appeared to be as warm and inviting as a white-washed cave and the view, well it was dark so we couldn't even see it.

But what some sleep and a full belly can do!

In the interests of keeping things real I will say that what they can't do is pave, level or widen the roads. Or get the gate to work properly. Or prevent a storm from knocking out the internet. Or make Italian internet repairmen change their work ethic (although they will have no problem getting in and out of the gate). So before you rush off and book a week's stay in this place you should first purchase a 4x4 vehicle no wider than the computer screen on which you are reading this, ween yourself off social media and take some lessons in pole vaulting so that you can get yourself over the fence.

What they can do is allow you to see the stunning beauty of the house, be awed by the view and appreciate the efforts of the concierge as she tries to arrange for the internet to be fixed, provides recommendations to wonderful local restaurants and then makes reservations for you. It's all included in the price of the rental. Except the pole, that you will have to provide yourself.

I realize this is a lot of photos for one place. However considering just how difficult and harrowing it was to get here, I felt it deserved a glut of photos. Just be glad it's not Budapest.
And once again I apologize about the comments issue. I have no idea how to resolve them and I don't know why a few get through and most don't.

Budapest

Budapest.
Again.
Oh yes.

I feel no shame, no matter what you might say (I hear the collective groan: this is the 8th time we've have to read about Budapest!) because it's been 4 years since the last post about this city and this time the circumstances are different in that we've never stayed on the Buda side, and we never stayed in this swanky apartment before.

Let's face it, I'll use any excuse to talk about this place.

Since our beloved but dumpy Casa Sol on the Pest side is no more, we've hopped to the other side of the river and upgraded (the toilet seats don't spontaneously collapse on us here Linda) and now we're a 5-10 minute walk to the market, Gellert baths and the alley with the gelato stand. (The alley has an official name but we are so food-oriented that we don't care.)

Other than the different accommodations, everything else followed our typical visit to Budapest: walking, food, gelato, baths, some touring, and repeat.

As of this writing not one of my friends has been to visit Budapest in spite of my passionate recommendations. It's still incredibly affordable, the food is wonderful, the people are friendly and English is as readily spoken here as any Italian city I've ever been to.

So check it out and book a ticket as fast as you can.

Off the balcony of our swanky apartment at dawn and dusk and while sipping coffee watching it rain. And by the way, this place is $130 a night. For a 3 bedroom, 2.5 bath apartment with washer and dryer . Try finding even a smoke-saturated, carpet-stained, polyester-coverlet decorated circa 1980 hotel room in San Francisco for that price.

Some scenes from our marathon walks: to the Castle District, to the market (once again there's an official name but we just call it the market so we don't look so ridiculous trying to pronounce the Hungarian names), and a couple of parks and restaurants.

I include this one because I realized this is exactly, right down to the shoes, the same outfit I am wearing in nearly every other Budapest post from 4 years ago. Hey, I find something comfortable and I stick with it obviously. (Do not let my lack of fashion sense make you doubt my taste in good cities).

I got a chance to spontaneously bust out my Romanian and didn't do too badly on the fly. Or else they were just too kind to admit they couldn't understand a word I was saying.

A word to the wise: we saw more tour groups, and tourists in general, this time around than ever before so get on it and book your flights while it's still cheap and relatively uncrowded. Apparently my recommendation has gotten around to the rest of the world.

We are still tired.