I have just been kissed by a man. 

I don’t remember my father kissing me. I would have been terrified if my grandfather Evans tried to kiss me. My brother NEVER kissed me. But Czarba from Kecskemet kissed me, not once – but twice.

Czarba is a cello teacher at the Kodaly Institute in Kecskemet. He has taught some famous musicians (though, strangely, he had never heard of the Rosewood Renaissance Quartet). He has done workshops across the globe, and last year worked with some of Australia’s best at Fairholme, hence the connection. He invited us to share a restaurant meal in Kecskemet, and in doing so gave us all a lesson in true hospitality.

He had hopped on the train two stops before our destination so that we wouldn’t miss our stop, found us somehow, then escorted us off the rattler. There we met two of his past students – a Finnish couple who were on tour doing a series of concerts across Europe but who had taken time out to dine with Czarba. We were given a guided tour of the Institute before eating a traditional Hungarian meal – soup, goulash, pancakes and way too many different varieties of alcoholic drinks. He was the perfect host throughout the afternoon.

After lunch it was stroll/stagger to the station to catch a slow train back to Budapest. It was then he kissed me. Twice. Once on each cheek. As he only kissed Linda’s hand, I am taking this as a sign of how much he obviously enjoyed my company and that he immediately recognised the enormity of my prodigious, though somewhat untapped, musical talents.

The greatest of lessons afforded by travel are those that are unexpected. I didn’t realise how much I would enjoy a trip to this small Hungarian town. I never thought goulash tasted like that. I never imagined that I would ever dine in a Hungarian restaurant with a pair of Finnish concert cellists and their much adored 72 yr old master. And I didn’t expect to be kissed by a man, twice, in one day …