We're in Hungary.

We woke up Friday morning and this was the view from our window - The Budapest Parliament.

Here, too, snow covers the river banks and the streets.

We disembark to check out Budapest.

A monument to the founding fathers of Hungary.

This lake downtown serves as an ice skating rink in the winter.

Heck, I can't remember the name of this place.

Cool ceiling, though.

So, the dead guy the church is named after had his hand and wrist cut off to be on display.

The thing was, he died. They dug him up a hundred years later and saw that his fist was perfectly intact. Taking that as a sign, they cut it off and put it in a golden birdhouse.

Creative. And not at all tasteless.

Outside that church.

Possum Juice?

Weiner in a blanket.

Same church.

The Chain Bridge, which Jill and I walked across later.