beetrock

Look at this perfect JJ offspring number 2! Born a little over a year and a half after perfect JJ offspring number 1! Can people stop having adorable babies for God’s sake?? I am baby loosing it!

This event is causing me to create a new category for this blog. Of course it will be called “beet babies.” Truly outrageous, people!

I realized the other day that I haven’t written anything on this fabulous web space in over a month and my last post could seem slightly suicidal. Well, I am still alive. I went to New York for the holidays and got my portion of Big Apple entertainment. I’ve been back to Pest for a little bit less than one week and the weather has been severely gloom-inducing. Google weather is obviously lying in this icon, because even a tiny ray of sunshine is yet to penetrate the thick skies over the Magyar capital. My favorite Pest clan is leaving for Vietnam tomorrow thus opening an opportunity for eye-stabbings and depression. But, despite these many reasons for killing myself, I’ve resolved to the healthy lifestyle. In no time, my many DVDs promise me, I will have a Pilates body, inhale and exhale joy, and rebuild my emotional and physical balance. Sounds exhilarating….

Stella Artois is still stellar, even in the alcohol-free version. Only 0.5% by volume, it is also drug free, I would assume. It takes a few gulps to get used to the sense that something essential is missing from the beer, but eventually, the taste of that familiar Belgian brewing kicks in. In my search for a proper image of the bottle, I found an article online that talks about the launch of NA Stella in Ukraine. What a failed campaign that must have been. Only people who have been “coded,” aka injected with medications that could (maybe?) kill them if mixed with alcohol, drink weak stuff like this east of here. Thankfully, the fear of death is not the only thing that stands between me and my vodka. Healthy cheers to all!

Pishechnaya
Bolyshaya Konyushennaya 25
Saint Petersburg, Russia
Map

This fried dough cake is called “pishka” in Russian. Whenever I have them or even think about them, Guy de Maupassaunt’s sad novella, which was translated into Russian with the same name (in French it’s Boule de Suif), pops into my mind. The novella disturbed me in my youth with the apparent injustice its other characters do the plump prostitute nicknamed Boule de Suif. This, however, had not stopped me from consuming a large quantity of pishkas covered in powdered sugar between the ages of 13 and 16. A trip to a Pishechnaya on Bolshaya Konushennaya off of Nevsky Prospect is mandatory during any visit to Saint Petersburg. Apparently, this particular cafe is an acclaimed Soviet antic.

I went pro on flickr. In addition to unlimited uploading capability I also got a red eye from spending about 12 hours in front of my Mac. But at least now if I die on my next transatlantic journey, there will be something to remember me by. On dying – I am not going to, but I might kill my neighbors who had a roof party last night that went well into the wee hours of the morning. On memories – so many flocked to my photo-inflamed mind – I will have to spill them out here.

Chicken, anyone? When in Bangkok – eat! Finding a place for a quick chow is never a problem in the Big Mango. At first, I didn’t trust the suggestions of the suspiciously Californian China Williams of Lonely Planet. And what is she, like, China White? But anyways, China means business. She said, in my Bangkok Encounter book, that the best food in the city was served by sketchy looking cart vendors and on plastic tables. Very true – there is nothing tastier then fried tofu on a stick, served in a plastic bag with spicy sauce and crushed peanuts mix. Yum!

There are of course meals that are not served in plastic bags. At Silom’s Tling Pling I got addicted to fish cakes and some relatively good green curries were had at, what we thought was, Ton Pho. China, like everyone else, warned against drinking tap water. So we drank bottled water and cold Thai Singha to avoid cockage charges.

I am a week behind on my travel diaries, but the memories of Bangkok are fresh. For one, I am still slightly tan after being in the Thai capital for just a week. Surprisingly so, because the tropical sun is stopped in its tracks by Bangkok’s heavy smog; the gloomy skies don’t help the temperature one bit and definitely blotch up scenic photo shoots. But scenery is secondary in Bangkok – people and food are the cities’ most appraised valuables and there is never a shortage of either.

Contrary to beliefs of evil onlookers, cool things do happen in Budapest. For example, sometimes this European cradle likes to dress like sin city New York. Why else would there be five yellow cabs lined up around the corner from the Hungarian Parliament and a Kosher Deli sign glued over the barber’s? Either Budapest was begging for a maker over, celebrating Halloween early, or… they were shooting a film! They were! Right next to my house for 5 nights in a row with streets blocked and taxies, New York news vehicles and an ambulance all lining the streets. Ah, nostalgia!