This morning I get a message from Robi: news from Csákvár. The rutting season hasn't started yet, and the weather at the foot of Mt. Vértes is warm and dry. So far, no bul has yet fal en, not even in the neighboring hunting grounds. I hope that soon the forest will be ringing with the deep bellows of the bulls!
Autumn in Hungary!
According to Széchenyi, there is no more beautiful place to go hunting in than the forests of Hungary! So, even though I'm enjoying every moment of every day of my trip, if I had a superfast jet I'd happily whizz home, just for a couple of days, to go hunting in Csákvár. It wouldn't even matter if it wasn't the rutting season; I'd just sit by the Wolf Pit - that's my favourite hide - and wait for the young boar. They would be bound to come just when I thought nothing would appear that day. And then I would drink a glass (or more) of the incomparable local schnapps, eat a large piece of venison sausage, and finally have a good night's sleep in the hunting hut.
It would be a really nice thing to do.
This morning I successfully checked out of the Hilton. It might not sound like a big deal, but if you'd seen what I had to go through this morning, you would congratulate me on my achievement. The whole of the Chinese Delegation also chose today to leave. According to my informers, the Prime Minister has already gone, but all the staff are leaving now. I've never experienced such chaos and anarchy as in the hotel that morning. For a while the security guards tried to keep the delegates apart from the Hilton's other residents, but they weren't very successful. All hotel residents, including me, have the right to go anywhere they like in the hotel.
The hotel guests knew this, and, despite all the requests, warnings, and mild threats, they persisted in swarming all over the lounge. Hunters mingled with policemen, bodyguards with visiting grandmothers, and misbehaving children with ministers. It was in the middle of all this utter chaos that I was trying to organize that the clothes I was leaving behind would be laundered ready for my return - and to ensure that the hotel staff wouldn't lose what's left of them - and to put my excess luggage safely into storage. The hotel staff and management appeared to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown, sweating profusely while trying to placate everybody; the street was partially blocked off, policemen were busy on their radios, and the Chinese delegates were yelling orders at each other.
Chapter VI.: Return to Alaska
Page 6
I reach the airport, praying that the bag containing my binoculars has somehow been placed in this taxi, and is not on its way with the luggage belonging to the Chinese Minister of Economics.
The delegation has arrived at the airport with - I'm not joking - truckloads of bags.
They seem to be travelling with everything but the kitchen sink.
Bearhunting Spike Camp