Remember that time I drifted down the Danube with my family and the Summit Choral Society Touring Choir? What I didn’t tell you is that my mom had found two paintings at a tiny gallery on Castle Hill in Budapest that she could not leave without. Well, obviously she left without them because she couldn’t take them on the boat, but guess who had to go back there and pick them up? My dad and me. Now, the drive from Hradec Králové, my mom’s hometown, to Budapest is only about five and a half hours, but is it worth two paintings and a parking ticket? Apparently, it is. And knowing my dad, he had to make a trip out of it. 

My dad and I set out one morning about two weeks after the tour, but we weren’t going straight to Budapest. We took a detour and spent the night at a castle in Bernstein, Austria. The castle sat on top of a hill, like they almost always do, overlooking a tiny village of Bernstein. My dad is fascinated by history and this castle was full of it. The rooms still had the charm of the medieval times and the multiple course meals we were served did, too. They carried out plate after plate, with soup and meat, followed by cake and coffee. I’m pretty sure I gained five pounds just by looking at it all. Maybe only about two from actually eating it, though… The next morning, with full stomachs and smiles, we drove off to Budapest. 

We made it there around lunchtime and of course, business first. We had to get the paintings. Now, the gallery was in the historic part of town, so parking was nearly impossible. My dad decided that we would park at the bottom of the hill and walk up. There was a parking meter there, but it was in Hungarian, which is very different from any language we had ever seen. So, what did we do? We took the risk and didn’t pay. We weren’t going to get caught, there are too many other places in the city to check. Within an hour, the ticket was on our windshield. At least we got the paintings. 

Originally, we had plans to stay at another castle-like building, this time in Slovakia, on our way back, but I made the executive decision that we would just head home. I don’t even know why; I just convinced my dad that it would be better if we went back. Before leaving, we got gas and my dad bought me a bar of Milka chocolate, which I finished as we pulled into our garage in Hradec. My mom was happy to see us and even happier to see the paintings. She asked how the trip was and we both responded with “good”. Did we tell her about the ticket? Of course not.