There are many places I've visited that I'd go back to in a heart beat, but certainly Budapest and especially the smaller town of Szentendre would be at the top of my list. Am not sure how many days my folks and I spent there, and it was in October of 1989 when Hungary had just lifted restrictions for traveling to the west, and the fall of the wall was just around the corner. It was an exciting time to be there, but in some ways, those were just ordinary routine days for tourists.

The hard part of that trip was finding lodging. Nothing seemed to be available, and the people at the city information center did not seem to be interested in helping.

But outside the center, citizens who were not by any means hoteliers and who had no sense of how to run a guesthouse, were standing outside offering their homes for overnight. They just wanted to make a buck and now had the freedom to do so.

We had no choice. It was already evening and we had no place to stay. So, here we go cramming ourselves into this guy's little trabi, three of us with our luggage, as the driver sped through town, taking us to his house, then running back for more guests.

The words apprehensive, hectic and chaotic come to mind. My dad, I found out later, slept with a knife under his pillow. All in all, the guy meant well. Perhaps he didn't have the best of accommodations, but he offered clean sheets and privacy. (He actually took the new sheets out of the packaging in front of us.) The guy spoke no Englsih, but he did know the words "No Problem," a phrase my dad held on to and used for many years to come, always with a grin and a chuckle.