Rick and I

I think my most favorite things in life are those that are beautiful. A close second goes to those things that are absolutely, absurdly, wonderful random:

Next week, I will be a Rick Steves tour guide.

When Etelka, the wondrously-wonderful head of the English department, asked if I would like to join her in Eger, about 40 km up the road, for an evening of wine tasting, it didn't take long for me to say "igen." Eger and the Matra hills of the north are so ripe with grapes and full of wine that the sweet nectar nearly drips all the way to Heves. They are tauntingly close to Heves. On clear days, if I walk toward the sunflower fields north of town, I can see the hills in the north. And often I wish I was there.

Here was my chance! To see the metropolis of Eger! To taste the wine of high-regard! To live the Hungary of the guidebooks!

I didn't ask a single question, as if I was worried that she would retract the offer before I could say yes. "I would love to, Etelka, thank you for the kind invitation," I said with a smile, matching her English-influenced politeness step for step. Somehow I managed to subsequently clear my evening schedule with little difficulty.

We jumped in the car with a young teacher named Victor and set off for the north. Etelka had left the teacher's meeting early, she was now decked out in traditional Hungarian attire, heavy on the black, white and red, with beautiful crow-shay (you learn to appreciate phonetic spellings here) and em-broy-dur-ee work throughout. She told me of the many young people who had come to Hungary to teach or volunteer that she now claims almost as children of her own. The stories, how much they grew to love Hungary, made me smile. I still had no idea why we were headed into the vineyards.

Etelka is welcoming and heartwarming and accommodating in a motherly way, she makes me feel very much at ease. So I was surprised when she said that she will be gone for 18 days beginning next month, travelling to the Czech Republic, Poland, Slovakia, Croatia and Slovenia.

I asked if a substitute teacher will be coming in to take her place. She laughed and pointed at me. "No, you and the other teachers will be picking up the extra classes." It was news to me. But the big bombshell was still coming.

I asked how she's worked this, why she's taking a half-month's unpaid leave in the middle of September. She said she'd be working as a tour guide, which made sense as I looked again at her it's-a-small-world-after-all costume. Then she said that the wine-tasting group we were meeting today was a tour group from California. Again, more pieces of the puzzle, but still not that last clue.

"Perhaps you've heard of Rick Steves?" she asked with a smile.

Waa!! Of course I have heard of Rick Steves. Rick Steves is a legend! An institution! Herr Kohlhoff used to make us watch Rick Steves videos, even if they weren't on Germany. My dad has made me watch Rick Steves, too, he claims the man's words as some sort of divine truth.

"Ahh...Jeremy?" he used to call out, no mater what room of the house I was in. "You might want to turn on PBS. Rick Steves is on."

We stepped out of the car at a beautiful family-owned vineyard and wine cellar, 45 minutes from Heves. The spot overlooked the beautiful Egerszalok valley: brown roofs, tree-lined roads and rows of vines leading up to the hills above the city. And then it all become clear as a bus rolled to a stop next to us. Etelka was a local guide for Rick Steves, she is heading off to lead an 18 day trip of Eastern Europe next week, and was training Victor to be her replacement while she was gone!

The 30 adults gasped when I was introduced. "What? There's an American boy stationed in this beautiful outpost of high culture?" They were mostly recent retirees, some were on their third or fourth Rick Steves trip. They came from wonderful places, mostly out west, finished with wonderful careers that had earned them plenty of travelling money. They were curious to hear about my stay so far, mortified to hear of my Eastern European apartment, but envious of the experience. We tasted six wines, all of which in my opinion were fantastic. We started with the light whites and ended with the reds as the setting sun cast an orange alpenglow on the town below us and vines across the valley. We danced to the music and laughed at jokes. I translated the whole thing for a 90-year-old German woman who happened to be travelling through. Sadly, though, I don't think she got as complete a picture as everyone else.

We waved goodbye to the tourists as they loaded back onto their bus, content with their brief sample of just a taste of Hungary. They would spend the night in Eger and the next day in the Valley of Beautiful Women before heading down M3 to the lights of Budapest. Etelka smiled at Victor and I. He looked a little nervous. I offered to come along next week, if he'd like. He smiled with a look of relief.

So next week I will be a Rick Steves tour guide, offering just a sample, just a taste, of Hungary.