Gwendolyn was a part of most activities. From collecting data with Björn...
to entering data with Stefan...
...and analyzing data with Mango.
She had fun checking out Ivo's goofy hairstyle.
Receiving spontaneous, handmade toys from Toni.
Sporting cool hats with Patty.
Wading in her whale pool with Tess.
And curling up on Sara's lap to watch the Wiggles on YouTube. Yes, life is good!
Not only was the entire purpose of the station somewhat suspicious (to study bats?), it was technologically far and away ahead of the surrounding buildings, with ultrasonic recording equipment, high-speed infrared video cameras, respirometry chambers, a room full of bats, and - perhaps most useful! - high-speed internet (including wireless).
In her usual manner, the Wren took this all in stride and proceeded to make herself right at home. To all the bizarre station equipment, we added a high chair, some sippy cups and a plastic bin full of toys. Presto - a baby home! Here she is on one of the first days - high chair surrounded by car batteries, chargers, acoustic foam, and a camcorder or two. And she's already got Mango handfeeding her cheerios :).
We spent 2 months living in the tiny village of Tabachka.
We had the pleasure of living with a Bulgarian family - we rented the upstairs apartment in a house owned by Leyla Stefka and her husband Simeon. The Wren took an immediate liking to Leyla Stefka and made herself right at home. The affection was mutual. "Leyla" roughly translates as "aunt" and Leyla Stefka filled this role admirably.
Our Bulgarian is nearly non-existent and Leyla Stefka and her husband speak no English, but through pantomime, guessing, and general good will, we managed pretty well. By the end, we really felt like members of the family.
This phone booth was the first thing we saw after crossing the border. On careful inspection you may notice that the phone has been removed. This is certainly not the first time I've seen a phone booth with the phone ripped out, but it was a bit surprising to see that directly across from the border police station.
Here is the border police building opposite the phone booth. Note also the sketchy Italian guy--one of several bringing Italian cars of questionable origin across the border. They passed through quickly, while we waited close to an hour in the sweltering sun for the border cops to check our car papers.
The villages in Romania were quite colorful. I liked the tiled effect on this house we passed.
Bigger towns had residences more like this.
We got a kick out of this branch of Banca Transilvania.
It was right about this point that we learned the main highway was closed. A look at our map showed only very small lines as alternatives. Hmm.
The smaller roads had about as many horse-drawn carts as automobiles.
The drivers of this cart stopped at a bottleneck to check something out. Cars and carts backed up several deep on either side.
Here's another one, about to be passed by a police car. We didn't get a photo of my favorite cart-related sighting, however: a guy sitting on top of cart full of dried grass, piled at least twice as high as the one in this picture--and lighting a cigarette!
We saw a lot of people working in the fields, sans tractors or other modern equipment. I don't think I had ever seen hay bales made without some kind of machine. With a support structure made of sticks, they have a kind of Blair-Witch quality.
The most absolutely old-world part of the drive was right here, where the "highway" was actually made of cobblestones. Throughout the drive, I was quite stressed out, threading my way between horse-drawn carts, trucks with poorly-secured cargo, and potholes the size of a Volkswagen. Furthermore, we were not even sure where we were; our map was not completely accurate, and we were completely off the map of our TomTom "navi" (borrowed from the Max Planck Institute)--the screen just showed a car driving in the middle of empty, apparently roadless space.
In the back seat, however, Gwen Wren was quite wonderfully chilled and self-entertaining (or receptive to Rachel's creative distractions).
She read her book about Percival the Plain Little Caterpillar--I think the story is easy enough to follow even upside-down. I bet some of you can even guess the ending.... (Hint: on the last page, Percival is no longer Plain.)
She tried wearing her starfish as a hat.
She tried wearing an old ricotta cheese container as a hat.
Perhaps the most effective entertainment tool was the mirror Grandma Taisie sent us.
Turning south from Budapest, things started to look a bit different. For one thing, there were LOTS of wind farms. So much so that in my mind now, all of southern Hungary is pretty much one big wind farm. Note also the cracks in the road--you would never see that on a major highway in Germany or Austria. After being in Germany for 8 months or so, this actually seemed kind of shabby to us. Little did we know what lay ahead.
We started to feel really far from home when we saw this Bosnian truck. As the cars got shabbier and the landscape flatter, we started to feel a strange sense of kinship whenever we saw a car on the road with German plates.
Another sign we weren't in Germany any more: a car that was a) more than 5 years old and b) parked at an angle up onto the curb.
We had heard Romania could be pretty rough, so we wanted to spend the night in Hungary. We stopped in the last city before Romania--Szeged, near the point where Hungary, Romania, and Serbia come together. It proved to be a delightful town, with many beautiful old buildings contrasted with many young college students.
The town beach on the Tisza River was a favorite hangout.
There were also many lovely outdoor cafes, several with live music.
Our destination was the Hotel Tisza, named for the river.
Although it was a bit rough around the edges, it had a beautiful lobby, complete with marble columns and gilded banisters.
The hallways were equally majestic. The rooms, not so much, but we did pay a little extra to have a window air conditioner so we could get a good night's sleep.
On the way out of town the next morning, I spotted this street sign--clearly depicting a father and daughter! Oddly progressive for an old Hungarian city.
We sped through southeastern Germany and most of Austria. This view from a gas station near the Austrian border represents the drive fairly well. Alps in the distance to the south, lots of precision-engineered German cars, usually driving 160+ km/h.
We stopped around 10 PM in the town of Tulln, Austria, just west of Vienna on the Danube. It was a short day of driving, but after long days of preparing and packing, we were all ready for some solid sleep.
Over breakfast the next morning, we read that Tulln is proud of its Roman heritage. Hence the, um, Roman statue in the lobby.
We decided to take some time to explore Tulln. It seemed like a proud town rich in history, but struggling against the pressure of modernization. Here's our first view of the city center area--blocked by construction, a mess of signs and traffic signals, and a shirtless man.
In the main plaza, we found several bands of school-age kids playing traditional Austrian folk tunes. It was apparently some kind of festival. As far as I could tell, the only participants besides the kids forced to play in the bands were the parents, a few street vendors, and us.
Each band had one of these funky folk instruments. Kind of like a banjo crossed with a tambourine and then consumed by a puppet.
The highlight of the town was this funereal chapel adjoining the church of St. Stephen.
Here's the multi-arched doorway.
The celestial ceiling.
And crazy gothic paintings on the walls.
Then it was time to hit the road again. The song "On The Road Again", as sung by Willie Nelson, may go through your your head. The song "Time To Make A Pot Of Tea," to the tune of "London Bridge," went through mine.
