Sunday

When I was a little boy I remember seeing my grandfather, who was retired by that time, at home polishing his shoes. This thing stuck in my mind that retired people, when they have nothing else to do polish their shoes. I guess in those days that was how retirees were noticeable: they had polished shoes.

So today, being home and have a few things to do but still time left on my hands, I decided to polish my shoes.

That is not a small job! I polished four pairs of brown shoes and one pair of black shoes. Now my place smells like a shoe shine parlor. But at least my shoes will look great when I will go out in them. The other thing is that with this wet weather upon us I was told the good polish or cream will protect the leather from getting thoroughly wet which happened to me the other day when there was torrential rain here.

But still, now that I am done it feels good. I will not do this frequently but should be doing it once in a while.

Something else.

I have a cousin, first cousin, living in Budapest. Week after next is his 80th birthday and I want to send him something. I do know what he likes and I am desperately trying to find it. It is a Christmassy Hungarian pastry with poppy seeds and walnut filling that every self respecting Hungarian pastry shop make and every Hungarian loves to eat.

If anybody thinks that is easy to find an establishment that would deliver and accept my American credit card that person is wrong. I probably would find a place much easier in outer Somalia than I can find one in metropolitan Budapest, world capital! I checked probably around fifty places by now and not a single one advertises that credit cards are accepted. They are so provincial while they are trying to maintain this worldly image.

But I am confidant that I will eventually succeed.