After a horrible week of feeling taken advantage of by AIS parents, a getaway from the selfishness was just what I needed, and so to a friend’s restored wine press weekend house in Hungary a group of us gathered for good food, great wine, and fun at the flea markets in and around Budapest.  At dusk we were treated to bats swooping about, and even a den of fox flitting across the paths. Just what I needed.

Isn’t this a lovely place?  I returned home and told Tony that I wanted one, but across the other border in CZ because the little bit of Czech that I pretend to know is far more than the great deal of Hungarian I do not know.
I would so copy the style of the stairwell in my press house. Highest form of flattery, right?

The village is home to about 3.000 persons, and with about 300 press houses in one condition or another.

These houses fall into the, “other” condition. Thatched roofs! Wow.

Traveling to the flea markets was not without a little traffic along our way.

I am not a huge bric-a-brac fan, though I enjoyed tagging along for the sport of people (and bric-a-brac) watching, and was not disappointed on either front.

Don’t you wonder from where these items “went missing” during the Social Times?

Apparently I have good taste. Even with the tremendous currency exchange I still could not justify adding Hungarian porcelain to my collection. Even handpainted Herend porcelain this gorgeous.

More than just tchotchke at the market. Fuzzy ducklings, chickens, and at least a hundred kinds of Hungarian paprika plants.

Along with beautiful handmade linens.  Of course I purchased; I have a weakness for eastern european grandmothers.

I sent this photo to Tony, telling him that it would be the ideal stove for my Czech wine press house, and could sense the eye roll all the way from Vienna.
Egészségére! to my kind of wellness weekend.