Today is our last day in my father's city. It is a brutally hot day here with temperatures in the 90s.
We have breakfast and pack slowly and regretfully, picking up the detritus of our vacation: receipts, brochures, ticket stubs, each one carrying a memory or two.
Nori and Zsolt picked us up for one last excursion to a lovely Danube River recreation area with a famous fried fish eatery. It was almost too hot to eat, but we couldn't pass up one more Hungarian meal. (We'll diet tomorrow). We took a short walk along a stretch of the river, but Nori is five months' pregnant and Courtney turns red as a lobster in the heat so we turned back. They wanted to take us to another famous Hungarian ice cream place, but I could tell it would be too much for everyone. Nori should be home in her swimming pool, resting, and Zsolt looked uncomfortable in the heat, too.
So they took us to the Budapest airport and I cast one last look at the Danube as we crossed the lovely Dunakesi bridge and began a 20-minute trip on the beltway around Budapest.
I know how my father felt when we visited Budapest together in 1984. Back then, you needed a visit to visit this country, and my father's time here was limited to about a week. Though I had to persuade him to come back to Hungary after 40 years, once he was here, he didn't want to leave. Though this place was one of great sadness, it was, after all, his home, and when he left in 1984, he probably knew he would never come back. I hope that I will return, because, like my father, I leave my heart here with this city and my family.
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