Pat’s Wildways: Bye Bye Hotel Moskva

Those of you who have been reading my recent columns know that I just had a work assignment in Serbia, my third such assignment in 10 years or so. I knew by now that I only wanted to stay at the Hotel Moskva, where I’ve stayed before, in the hopes that it hasn’t changed. Well, it hasn’t changed much since it opened as a hotel in the 1930s, so what did I expect? I knew for sure I wasn’t going to stay at a bland Hyatt or Hilton when the Hotel Moskva was available at the same price. And to sweeten the pot, when I reminded the hotel I had stayed there for two weeks six years ago, they gave me the best room in my pay class —a room on the top floor facing the main street. It couldn’t be better.

So here I was in the lap of luxury following exhausting days of taxiing to meetings with government, non-profit, business and academic stakeholders with an interest in nature conservation and biodiversity. Each morning for nearly two weeks, I woke up to the most complete breakfast buffet ever, with different types of fresh pastries, baked breads, full salad and fruit options, and all the eggs, bacon, and hot food you could ever imagine. And to top it all, a pianist played a grand piano all day every day, even for breakfast. In the evenings after work, I could sip a great Serbian Merlot and eat a deluxe pastry in the luxurious parlor filled with Serbians who flock to this place for the ambiance. And if that wasn’t enough, I could go into the basement spa and soak my cares away in a steam bath, sauna, or Jacuzzi, all included in the price.

While I was in Serbia poor Bucko was alone shopping for groceries himself. Don’t get me wrong, he does shop sometimes, but only for a few things he always buys, and always at Publix. Hard to believe, but he’s never been in Harris Teeter (HT). Until now, that is. Even though I was overseas, the HT emails were in my inbox, and we just had to get our 29 cents/pound turkey. Meaning, Bucko had to get it. So he dragged himself through this new-to-him store, found the turkeys and dug through the pile to find a small one to fit my beloved Crockpot. He had measured the Crockpot and had his measuring tape with him at the store. But none were small enough! He lugged this 10-pounder home, and positioned it on top of the Crockpot to take a photo to show me that at least he tried. But then disaster hit! The turkey fell into my Crockpot and broke the crock! He was devastated and sure I would be angry, but actually it was the funniest thing to happen to me all day, Bucko’s horrified email and photos. With Amazon at his fingertips by the time I got home there was a new crock in my pot, no harm done. And the turkey, butchered into two parts, cooked just perfectly in it as always.

When I got home it was right before Thanksgiving, and I sized up the supplies in the fridge. What the heck were all those carrots for? Three large bags of baby carrots filled up the veggie drawer. Bucko likes carrots, and on his first shopping trip, he bought a large bag. And on his second trip, he forgot he already had some, and it was BOGO at Publix, and he bought two more. We would never eat these, but I had an idea. I cooked up two batches of cheesy creamed carrots and delivered them on Thanksgiving morning to the Coalition for the Homeless/St. Peter’s Church Thanksgiving buffet where they were well received.

Then later that day Bucko and I sat down to our own Crockpot turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green beans and fresh cranberry sauce made by my friend Betty Duckworth. It was great to be home, and wonderful to settle in with Bucko and Dumela, our cat.

All that was missing was grand piano music in the background. Oh well, it’s time to get used to “real life” once again …

Pat Foster-Turley, Ph.D., is a zoologist on Amelia Island. She welcomes your nature questions and observations. patandbucko@yahoo.com