How I Spent My Sunday

I received this e-mail from a former student who is now in the doctoral program and is writing his dissertation.

Dear Ryan,
I know you are probably very busy with all of your projects and have little time. Still, I am asking for a great favor. I would like you to read two chapters of my dissertation, give me your opinion, and help me to correct the American English that I seem to have lost. It is only 35 pages total. Really, I appreciate your help with this.
Zoli

True, I have B and B guests, Ron is away, I have Frommer's research to do, I just finished a project for the NileGuide online at www.nileguide.com, and missed the wedding of two other former students due to a headache all day yesterday, so what else do I have to do? Guess I will read Zoli's chapters.

If the topic were interesting, it would have gone a whole lot faster, but it had as much interest for me as how snails produce their slime fluids to aid their locomotion. It literally took me four hours to edit, while all of the time I am not certain who I was more angry at. Was it Zoli for asking or me for doing it? At the same time, I was questioning whether it was my ego that was being stroked by his asking so that is what motivated me or if it was the fact that students get so little support from their own professors that I feel the need to model for them what a professor should be like. None of the answers have been clarified to my satisfaction.

Perhaps a reflection of part of the above is that just this weekend alone, I have received seven requests from BA students, five of whom I do not even know, who have asked me to be their thesis adviser for spring 2010. Learning my lesson from having ten to twelve MA and BA advisees in one semester and now with the university changing our teaching load to eighteen hours a week, I have had to limit myself to five. There used to be a rule that for every two advising students, you were relieved from teaching one class. I never took advantage of this, because there was never a class I was willing to relinquish. That rule has been made null and void; the offer is no longer on the table.

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Naughty Bits Part 2 Rated R

Thanks to Ray, a reader in New Orleans, I watched this comical commercial.

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Naughty Bits Part 1

I was hunting around for summer replacement shows to fill our entertainment needs over the summer and came across this one on HBO. What will they think of next? A gay marriage reality show?

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B and B Owner Holds Singapore Nationals Hostage

About noon yesterday, I was delighted to welcome three young people from Singapore into the B and B. For some reason, I had it in my mind that it was a husband, wife, and child, but instead they turned out to be three backpacking students. They are incredibly sweet, independent, and quiet. The usual modus operandi when a guest arrives is to offer them tea or coffee, give them the lay of the land, and then set them loose to explore the city. These three were ready to explore the minute they dropped their loads on the bedroom floor and I gave them key orientation. Later in the afternoon, two gorgeous young ladies from the US arrived for the other bedroom. They too were ready to rock and roll shortly after arriving. By 7:00pm, I had the place to myself, a sinking spell coming on, I decided a short nap was in order. I had been up since 5:00am getting the last guests off to hovercrafts and the airport. My friend Michael called after his meeting, asking me to join he and one other for dinner. In my dreamlike state, I thought I heard Chinese coming from the other room, guessing the three adventurers returned while I was sequestered in my room. When I left to join Michael there was silence throughout the apartment; I locked both locks on the door. When I met up with Michael and his friend, I jokingly shared that I hoped my Singapore guests were indeed out on the town, but if not that they remembered how to unlock the door from the inside. Being Italian, formerly Catholic with DNA induced guilt, the worry started in. Did they realize they had keys to escape their confines? They are young, perhaps they thought it was curfew time and they were not allowed to leave after a certain hour. Guilt, shame, horror set in, but still at such mild doses that I thoroughly enjoyed my dinner at a new restaurant Cactus Juice. It was such a pleasant experience, I will include it in my new book. The occupational hazard of a travel writer, every incident becomes a review either mentally or eventually in written form. After dinner as I walked Michael to the bus stop, the thoughts were running through my mind about my 'guests' feeling like prisoners on their Budapest stopover, while he expressed seeing the headline news "B and B Owner Hold Three Singapore Nationals Hostage". As I was chuckling at this, I had feelings of being a NYC sweatshop owner. We joked about them using a battering ram to open the door, SWAT teams surrounding the building. Walking into the apartment at 11:00pm, lights were out, even those left on as nightlights, the place was quiet as a Quaker Meeting and from the looks of things, they inflicted their own lights out curfew. At breakfast everyone was happy and content, not a sign of surliness. Hey youthful people you are supposed to be having a nightlife while you are still young enough to enjoy it. They, however, were up at 6:00am; my clock was set for 7:45.

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Life in the Boonies

Ron had arranged to call me today from Iowa where he is visiting his brother and sister-in-law. Before he left, knowing he would find it impossible to call, while slightly less possible to tell me when I should call him, I created a Jajah button on our website. If you are a slave to Skype, you owe it to yourself to check out Jajah. You do not need that annoying headset, because you use your own phone either land line or mobile. With the button on our website, anyone from countries that I have designated can call us during hours that I also have control over and we pay for the call. It is just a negligible amount, it is worth the cost if they are calling for a reservation. What I had not thought about was the outback of Iowa, where the entertainment of the day is watching the hummingbirds feed off of the red syrup set out for them. Ron called as scheduled, my phone rang, I accepted the call and was disconnected. This happened twice, but then I tried calling him. The line was busy. Fifteen attempts later, only to get a busy signal, I gave up thinking if he really wants to communicate with me, I am sure they still sell postcards with cornfields. He can send me one. The problem is that the ole family farm still only has dial up Internet service. What happened to the satellite system that was supposed to make every nook and cranny in the US enabled with high speed Internet? This is like time travel after you have put the machine in reverse by accident. Who can live with dial up 56kp in this day and age? The reason I could not get through was because the computer was on tying up the phone line, giving me a busy signal. The funny part is that ethnocentric Americans who continue to believe Hungary is still a communist country or better yet that it is a third world country, don't realize that we have had high speed Internet since 2002. Go Hungary!! He would probably have had better luck going to an Internet cafe, but then again that would be an hour's drive and he no longer has a driver's license.

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A Rose by Any Other Name Doesn't Get to Board the Plane

Coming soon to an airport near you

Travel Industry Today, Tuesday May 26, 2009

Here’s a new rule that you should know about. No longer reserved for just killers (Lee Harvey Oswald, James Earl Ray, John Wayne Gacey) and Hollywood (Mary Tyler Moore, James Earl Jones, Sarah Jessica Parker), middle names that are included on passports and drivers' licenses, will soon have to be reflected on the passenger's ticket when they fly within the US, and by December, if they fly overseas. The requirement from the Transportation Security Administration (TSA) is supposed to make it easier for travellers, airlines and the TSA to avoid ID hassles at airports. Because the master lists of questionable travellers are apparently in full-name format, the TSA wants to make sure that travel documents conform to its lists. The requirement was supposed to take effect May 15 for domestic travel, but has been pushed back a month or so. The new rule apparently stipulates that passengers must travel under their name as it appears on the ID utilized to board their flight. That typically means a passport or a driver's license domestically, and a passport or "enhanced" driver's license internationally. Under the new rule, when making flight reservation, each airline is supposed to obtain the full name of the passenger and pass it along to the TSA. The ticket and/or boarding pass should exactly match the identification used. The TSA has announced that it will be lenient in case of small differences.

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Where Am I Now?

I just added Google Latitudes to my phone. The map portion is better than the Nokia brand that is on my phone currently, because it will give me directions from point to point for free. Nokia requires you to subscribe to their premium service if you need to know how to get somewhere. With the Latitudes added, I have also added the Latitude map on the right sidebar. Presumably, as I move around the city, this will refresh and point out my location as long as my phone is turned on. We will see how well that works out. Yes, the picture is a bit silly, but I am not a morning person so deal with it for now.

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Poke Me Man

I decided to cancel my last acupuncture session this morning. There are three doctors that seem to rotate, though I have not been able to find the sequence of who is there when. The one doctor that took the time to communicate with me through an interpreter was the female doctor. It was at the end of her two sessions that I felt an enormous difference in the way I feel. One of the male doctors makes me feel like I am back to square one. Without the female doctor's interpreter, there is no one there to find out her hours, but being here alone with Ron in the States, it would be too difficult to arrange my times with her times regardless. They also insist that the treatments need to be spaced within days of each other further complicating matters. When I returned from my last appointment on Monday, one of my guests asked how I felt. I said "Holier than thou." His response was that I did not need to be needled to feel that way. Yesterday and today the weather has been less desirable for wandering the streets, but out I go again in a different neighborhood checking for vacant store windows that were once filled with delectable merchandise to catch the traveler's eye and imagination. My creativity is challenged by having to find a replacement offer for each one I delete. This is followed with prayer beads, novenas, mantras, and pouring out white light on these storekeepers to stay in business until my book is published.

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Street Walker in Budapest

Up one street and down another, but mostly in the Vaci utca area, the area most notoriously known for the Budapest working ladies, was my beat today. I was not hustler hunting, but store window shopping with no intentions of ever making a purchase. My goal was to update my SHOPPING section for the next edition of my book. This section of the city does not normally draw my attention unless it is for the Christmas market, being mostly tourist attraction, I have no real reason to venture here. When you return to a section of the city with a specific goal in mind, there are differences in what stimulates your senses. I became acutely aware of the tourist activity; how many were just strolling, how many were working their way into shops, how many were carrying shopping bags of newly acquired purchases. With my current book in hand, a pen, and a notebook, I started at the lowest end of the street. Checking my book for addresses, I stopped at each address along the way, while perusing what is new and different to see if something should be added this time around. What was interesting or disheartening was the number of places that are in the current edition that no longer exist. Even some shops that have been around since before our first trip here in 1998 are now vacant shells with "For Rent" signs plastered on the windows. In my book, I drew lines through the submission; in the notebook, I made notes on the page and the result. Those that were still doing business as usual, I went in to speak to them about their hours, any changes in credit cards, or other information of value to my readers. Most were so enthused about my having listed them, sharing how many people have wandered into their shop specifically because of my book. I thought one designer was going to hug me, she was so thrilled. She said she was listed for years, then was dropped, so was especially excited to see she has made a come back like a long lost silent screen actress returning the silver screen. Feedback such as this motivates me to move onward to the next shop. What chuckles me is when I tell them that I will return with a "Recommended by Frommer's 2010" sticker to put in their window, telling them this will draw people who have not seen the book, but know Frommer's. The perpetual question is "How much will it cost me?" Unfortuately, the stickers have not been printed yet, so when my publisher sends them, I will have to backtrack to distribute them, not a time saving system.

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Hungary Tightens Childcare

Americans would love the reduced benefits, let alone what they are until May 1st. Then again, we don't need breeding incentives. Hungary tightens childhood benefits. By: Hungary Around the Clock

2009-05-26 10:15

Parliament yesterday voted to reduce the duration of childcare allowances from three to two years for children born after next May 1, with 199 affirmative votes, 164 dissensions and three abstentions.

Instead of the present 180 days, one year of paid social insurance will be required for parents to be eligible for childcare benefits. Meanwhile the limit for collecting family allowances will be lowered from 23 years of age to 20, effective August 31, 2010.

Family allowances will not rise next year: at present monthly payments are Ft 12,200 for families with one or two children, and Ft 16,000 per child for those with three children.

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$64. for a Lei

Here is your brain teaser for the day. What do Hawaii and Romania have in common? I can hear those synapses firing for some of you; others are just trying to read on to see if I share the answer. The clue was in the title of this post. In Hawaii, you get a lei at the airport if you are lucky. In Romania you get a lei in your wallet. Lei is the currency of Romania. What the hell has that to do with the title of the post you ask? A week ago, we had these two guests who where leaving here for Romania. They were concerned about not having any currency when they arrived with the train arriving late in the evening. In my box of currency from many nations that we have left over from trips, I had a 20,000 Romanian Lei bill and offered to sell it to them for American dollars. Ron was about to leave for the US; this gave him starter cash. In the back of my mind, I knew that Romania had changed from the old lei to the new lei. At my stage of life, I don't think about new leis or old leis, but had thought best to Google it with visuals. All of the pictures showed this bill was a new lei, so I sold it with good faith for $64. Last night, the guest called to say they had a great time in Romania, but guess what, his lei would not get him a lay or anything else. I apologized, reiterated that I checked it online and the pictures for a good lei matched the lei I had laying around. He remembered I had done that, but still he was told his 20,000 leis would not get a good lay or a bad meal. I offered to have him sent a check by my CA bank and apologized yet again. All he has to do is send me his address and I would like the lei back to at least make into a bookmark if it is just going to lay around again. Personally, I still think it is a good lei, but if you ever want me to be your currency broker from now on, all deals are final!

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Taxi Drivers Love Tourists

If I had kept track over the years, I could write a book about the things guests do that are bordering on funny. Well here is another one. The same guest who called in a panic for a room, was going out today, but wanted to be back at 5:00 to catch his train to Stuttgart. He reserved a sleeper. When he went out he told me where he was going and asked for directions. Three tram stops, just three tram stops, no more. Fine, he got it. At 5:15, I was wondering where he was, but his luggage was still here, so he did not disappear. At 5:40, he comes in furious. When he returned on the tram, he accidentally got off at Blaha Lujza ter, one stop too soon. He said he knew he was close, but could not find way from there. He jumped into a taxi. For the unknowing, we are 1 1/2 blocks from Blaha Lujza ter. The only reason we do not recommend it is because you have to go under the street where the metro is to cross the street and it is confusing. His taxi ride cost him 4,500 Huf ($22.58). He said he kept yelling at the driver that he knew they were going in the wrong direction and that he was being cheated, but the driver did not speak English. I had all I could do not to laugh. The moral of the story is read our website. I advise against taking taxis from the street.

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The Price of Celebrity Minor

Four o'clock this afternoon, the home phone rings. I am adjusting to the sound now, since it seems to be in use much more these days then ever in the past. When I answer with just a hello, the questions come in rapid fire "Is this Ryan? Is this BudaBaB?" When I confirmed they had indeed reached the right place, my nerve cells rose to the surface faster than a swimmer with a shark in pursuit when I heard "We have been up and down your street, but we cannot find you. I think we have the wrong address. Where are you exactly?" I send a summons to Vesta, the Roman goddess of hearth and home (or Hestia if you prefer the Greek version) for assistance thinking I have guests checking in, but no room for them. In a state of tension, I hesitantly ask if they had a room booked. They did not, they had tried e-mailing numerous times via their iphone, but never received an answer. Perhaps because I never received them. They "just wanted to stop in a say hello". Though I have never been much for drop-in company, I gave directions so they could stop in. We convened at the kitchen table for an hour long confab discussing my chapter of the Eastern European book. What? The EE book, not whole book I slaved on? They did not know that book existed. After I made them give me a blood pledge that they would buy the next edition of the full book, I toured them through the apartment and let them on their way. Life is full of surprises.

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Persistent Caller, Surgery, Persistent Caller Again

After close to eight years here, our phone has rung only a handful of times with legitimate calls. When telemarketers call, all we have to do is interrupt their spiel by saying "Do you speak English?" They either hang up or have the courtesy to say no, before hanging up. When we return to the States and for those living there, you should learn some short phrase in an obscure language to use this trick. Yesterday, I felt like a switch board operator with the number of calls that came in. "Have you got a room?" was asked by a minimum of six callers to the land line, two e-mail requests, and the guy who tracked me on my mobile. For the curious, he showed up at 9:00 am as I had requested.

An American from CA, Randy is about my age and rather a hottie. Seems he got off of the train in Budapest and was bombarded by the throngs of people offering a place to stay. He chose one not having any plans and then thought better of it after he was escorted to their domicile. It was the guy from the home stay who allowed him to use his mobile to call me, but charged the poor guy 3,000 Huf for the 3 phone calls. Randy paid it not knowing better. Our professional photographer guest was leaving the room at 10:30, but I had an acupuncture appointment for 10:00 and then a medical appointment right after. Poor Randy would not be able to get in the room until I returned early afternoon. He was complaining about being exhausted, not sleeping well the night before, so I offered him a siesta on the sofa while he waited, gave him keys, and he left. There was a minor mishap on the way to the doctor. The acupuncturist was unusually fast today so I set off to meet Laszlo who had to go to my doctor appointment with me to translate. We had to run to to catch the doctor his hours were over, but when I left the acupuncturist, I realized I had forgotten the address of the hospital at home. Trying to call Laszlo was futile; my mobile battery was dead.

I ran home, charged it for ten minutes, while using the time to clean the room for Randy and change the sheets. I did not have Laszlo's number anywhere, but on my mobile. When finally getting through, he met me at the bus stop, but said he called the doctor's office. Since it was Friday, the doctor may be leaving early, though his hours were only until 1:00 pm as it was.

When we arrived, a young woman came in after us, but said the doctor was not taking any new patients. She was trying to pull a tricky one over on us to shorten the line. Within fifteen minutes, I been told to strip in front of the doctor, two nurses, and Laszlo, without the aid of a screen, a curtain, a wall, or an amour plate. The doctor proceeded to do a sonogram of my parts, first guncking them up with sonogram lube, telling me to wipe myself off like I did the spilling, and continued on to another area. I did get a souvenir photo. By they way, it is going to be a boy.

Most parts cleared inspection and some did not. I have to have surgery, not my favorite word in the English language. Having Googled all possible combinations, I knew that I should expect this. What I did not expect was that what is an out-patient surgery in the US, will keep me hospitalized here for overnight or for two days. Procedures are important. I need to get all of my labs done a week ahead and then surgery can be scheduled. This whole thing will have to wait for Ron to return, but I can plan the lab work toward the end of his vacation. Ron goes on vacation to the States, I go on vacation to the hospital. Is this equality? When I was a medical social worker, I used to have a female patient who used to call her hospitalizations a "poor woman's vacation". Actually, this is most likely my penance for Ron's having to spend nine days at my father's house moving our things.

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Ron Arrives in Denver

Sounds like the name of a book for children, Ron Arrives in Denver, or a really unimaginative name for a bad porno flick. Either way, he is there and e-mailed me. I had tried calling, but the machine picked up. I had thought that would be the case, his not wanting to answer their phone. He arrived safely; I can rest easily. Perhaps now the crazies in my head will stop plaguing me for a day or two now. Here is part of his note.

Hi... I'm here... barely, as far as I feel this AM. Had a good sleep, but the quiet house, w/ R and M at work, is calling me back for a napbefore heading out for a walk.

All went very well until Toronto. LOT was fine- enough space I could move to better exit seat. Good service, OK food too. Into Toronto with 2 hours to transfer to United. Found the one and only International carousel within minutes. All incoming thru to US are to send bags there, then I'd take to United bag check. After waiting 30 min, I checked with Air Canada (only desk thereabouts). She was nice, said "You have time, just wait a bit more". Meanwhile others were coming in and getting theirs within minutes. At 1 hour, I and young guy also on LOT persisted. Finally, an agent went away, probably to LOT on the other side and found them. United got the board pass quickly and there was time to spare. So, on board shuttle plane, c. 30 seater. Pushed back, ready to fly, when they announced 'computer problems', and went back to gate. Lots of announcements to keep us docile, watered us once when cooler was down, mechanic who checked was new so wouldn't clear security paper and had to call in another guy. 90 minutes late, we took off. Fortunately Mark was checking on line and came just before landing. So I arrived in Denver at 6 AM our time, 24 hours after waking up there. A few longish cat naps, but I think I'm lagged a bit. They're all out, so I'll rest, take a walk later, then get my head working. We were able to speak later this evening. He sounded like it would be a multi-nap day, but all is well.

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The Calendar is a Liar

I am standing in a Rossman store, like a drugstore without drugs, trying to remember what motivated me to enter to begin with. I know I had something in mind when I walked through the door. My mobile phone rings. Unknown caller. "Hi, do you have a room available?" is what I am greeted with. Instead of saying "How did you get this number, I respond instinctively with how many nights?" Phone reservation request, autopilot response system, but then my surrounding come out of the fog and I realize none of this matters. The calendar is home and I am not. I ask him to call me back at 4:00 so I can continue to peruse the aisles to jog my memory of what I needed and then run to buy bread. At 3:50, in front of the elevator door in our building, the mobile signals a call. "Yes, hi, I called you about a room." I would have placed money on the fact I would never hear from him again and would have lost. "Okay, listen, I am standing at the elevator and need to get upstairs, unlock the door, throw the bags somewhere and run to the calendar. Give me five minutes." The guy must not have a working watch. He gave me three, but I was faster. "Okay, when did you need the room for?" "Tonight and for two more nights." "Sorry, I am full tonight, but I can give the room for the 23rd and 24th." "But I need it for the 22nd and 23rd." "Today's the 22nd and I am full." "No, today is the 21st." As I am sitting at my computer desk with the Google calendar in front of me and my Page-A-Day Booklovers Calendar sitting to the right of my mouse, I keep seeing the 22nd, so I insist it is the 22nd. In the background of the call, I hear a heavily accented voice saying today is the 21st. "Look, I am staring at two calendars and both of them say that today is the 22nd." "Well I am at the TourInform office and the man here says today is Thursday, May 21st." My mind jumbles as it has another meltdown. Why is he calling me from the TourInform office. Did they suggest us or did he wander in needing a phone. As I stare at the Google calendar on the monitor, reality sets in that looking at a full month calendar expecting it to tell you the day is like looking up a word in a dictionary that you have no clue how to spell. Someone at Google must have had this experience once. The curreent day is colored yellow, but for my instistance, I am colorblind. Finally, I concede the day. Ron has only been gone 30 hours? I could sworn it has been two weeks already. No wonder I have not heard from him yet. "Okay, you can have the room for Friday and Saturday night, but you have to come over early. I have an acupuncture appointment in the morning." "I can be there by 9:30." "I have to leave here by 9:30." "Well, I guess I can set my alarm and be there by 9:00." He was ready to end the conversation with this person whose reality seemed to be in the Twilight Zone, but I insisted on giving him the address. He mispronounced the name of the street three times. I wonder if he will ever show tomorrow.

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How To Show You ARE an Ex-Pat Idiot

Stress is my middle name, but can I place the blame on poor stress for making me a complete idiot? Getting up early to get Ron down to the shuttle to say our last good-bye for a month, I returned to my computer to work on a travel writing project. Later in the day, when it occurred to me that dinner was not going to cook and serve itself, I had to drag my butt out again to forage for food. Fried onions are my weakness and Ron never cooks enough of them to satiate my desires. When he is gone, my opportunity to get a whole bad to fry up is top priority. Off to Plus Grocery store I go thinking I will pick a roasted chicken, a bag of onions and be set for two meals at least. There were still lovely crispy succulent chickens in the display, teasing my taste buds in anticipation. It has been some time since I came here for one, so was surprised the price had gone up yet again, now a staggering 1,100 Huf. Plucking down my money in exact change, I take my bird and go into the grocery area. Inspecting the onions like an FDA inspector, there is finally one bag that passes my quality assurance tests. On the way out, I grab a bag of some potato rolls or something that once had a potato substance and is now hashed and formed into anemic logs. When I reach the cashier, it dawns of me that I don't have a shopping bag to bring the things home in, phase into mental planning strategy mode. The cashier says something, while I robotically hand over 5,000 Huf. As I come out of my altered state, I hear her say '3' in Hungarian, but missed what followed. She hands me my change, but my subconscious takes notice that there is never a smile or nicety on her face or voice. As I juggle my goods, I look at the change: 4,520 Huf. She gave me too much change by 1,000 Huf, causing my evil side to argue she deserves the loss due to her attitude, but my upbringing kicked in and I turned back to return the money. It was a struggle getting her to understand and she at first thought I wanted more, having been shortchanged. Finally, she took the 1,000 Huf Feeling the rush of good deeds done from Boy Scout days, I walked out of the store, thinking one giant step for ex-pats in the mind of at least one Hungarian.These thoughts lasted for at least twenty-five steps down the street when they all faded away. As my good Samaritan deeds were rolling around my brain, I looked again at what was in my hand. Then my stupidity kicked in. My change was indeed 4,520 Huf. The reason is that I had paid for the chicken before getting in line for the groceries. Now what will haunt me is whether or not the cashier was smiling from gratitude that I saved her from being short on the register or if she was thinking there is another idiot ex-pat making me 1,000 Huf richer. Gotta love them. bill I was waving in her face, gave me a big smile with a bonus thank you tacked on.

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Credit Card Fees When Traveling

At one time, it was a cost saving measure for travelers to use their credit cards when out of the country. Credit card companies receive discount rates for currency conversions, which when calculated, a credit card purchase was less expensive than say converting cash or the now blurred memory of a traveler's check. Times change, companies get greedy and new fees are imposed. As ex-pats, each credit card purchase or ATM transaction is considered a foreign transaction with American Express, Diners Club, Visa, and Bank of America. However, have you checked your statement carefully lately? I just happened to notice on my Citibank Visa card that the annual percentage rate is 89.4%. Is this possible? I will never know since I have online banking set-up to pay the bill in full as soon as the bank is notified a statement has been issued. Credit card companies also have instituted other hidden fees. Diners Club for instance has to be paid in full each month, however, each month that I have used it, the statements shows a "finance charge". How can this be when it is paid off in full each month? When I called the company, they said "It is really a foreign currency transaction fee". As ex-pats, we are plagued with these fees for as long as we stay out of the country, so why continue using them? Well, for one reason, Ron is traveling to the US on frequent flier miles. In December, the two of us are going to Ethiopia on frequent flier miles. Why don't we get credit cards issued here in Hungary? Have you ever looked for hen's teeth? Yes, they do exist, but are much less ubiquitous here than in the US. Add to this the fact that Bank of America gouges us twice. They charge a $5.00 ATM withdrawal fee and add a 3% currency transaction fee on top of it. They do have cooperating banks in some countries where the $5. fee is waived, but Hungary is not one of them. Connecting to this point, I just read in Christopher Elliot's column that Congress is trying to close some of these fees, yet, there are still gaps that allow leakage. For example, the currency in Ecuador is the US dollar, but if you use your credit card in Ecuador, the credit card companies can still charge you a currency transaction fee for a foreign purchase. For Christopher's article and to learn what Congress is not doing to assist travelers go here. http://www.elliott.org/blog/credit-card-bill-has-an-enormous-loophole-that-could-hurt-travelers/

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You Have to Love Ellen

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Doctor, Doctor Give Me a Cure

Yesterday, after procrastinating for a long time, I tried to see the doctor. Okay, my brother is not the only procrastinator, but in my defense, I only do it where medical issues are concerned. I would rather not know and be taken by surprise than to know and suffer the treatment. Perhaps not the most intelligent thing to do, but... My other defense is that it took the university five months to straighten out my health insurance coverage giving me plenty of time to be an excused procrastinator. When they finally had it in place, it was the busy season at school, with lots of classes, thesis student to herd, and life was just too busy. To see a doctor, we go to our district clinic, which is just around the corner. The doctor is in 4 hours a day, but different hours Monday to Friday. When I finally pushed myself into going, I found that the English speaking doctor had left Hungary for London and a better paying job. This added a new twist, I needed to bring an interpreter along. Not wanting to discuss my personal issues with a student, I had to arrange a mutual time with our friend Laszlo. When we went to the clinic, it was the wrong set of four hours. The doctor had office hours from 8 to 12 on Mondays. We also discovered that the district is broken down further and although there are about ten doctors at this clinic, you have to go to the one to which your street is assigned. We now have this little old lady doctor. I am not showing her anything on this body. When the other doctor asked Laszlo why it took so long if this problem has been on-going, my first reaction included fear of showing up. However, afterward, it occured to me that what I forgot to include is the fact that I did not have a working health insurance from early November when I went in for a flu shot until the end of March. To complicate matters, I have to arrange an interpreter. The English speaking doctor was far from fluent making it uncertain how much I could explain clearly and thoroughly. We are trying again on Friday, but this time we will go to the specialty clinic. I had better have a good book handy and the book in Laszlo's hand had better be an English/Hungarian medical terms dictionary.

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Say It Ain't So

Last night, my student Balazs wanted to go out for a good-travels dinner since Ron leaves for the States on Wednesday morning. Using a frequent flier ticket, he had to go from Budapest > Warsaw> Toronto > Denver with all but the last leg on Polish Airline LOT. He will Amtrak from Denver to Iowa and when he leaves there, will be flying from Cedar Rapids > Chicago > Newark. On the way home, he is routed on TAP the Portuguese airline Newark > Lisbon > Budapest. I have him primed for the NJ stint, working on the storage POD from here as much as I can and putting as much in place as possible. I have been trying to arrange for a disposable mobile phone for his arrival too. This morning, I found this e-mail from my brother: Hi, We had some excitement over the weekend, we had the cops over to daddy's house. Stuff was ransacked, the door was busted open to your storage room. I don't think any of your stuff was stolen, but whoever it was cut open boxes looking for something. We padlocked the back door and locked everything else up. We're going back next weekend to start the cleaning up process. We'll call you guys this Thurs - last week was very busy for me at work and it got away from me. Talk to you later.... The fact that Ron is leaving for the States on Wednesday has totally escaped him. My greatest concern now is Ron's sleeping at the house alone. We will have to see what we can work out.

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Friends = Relatives

My friend Daphnee go way back to the point where we just refer to each other as sister and brother. We first met in a Comparative Religions class when I first decided to return to college for my BA degree. It was a summer course and my partner at the time had gone to FL to visit a friend. This was 1976 and we have been close ever since. Daphnee has always been there for me regardless of the distance between us; I have been there for her when she has opened up and let me know she needed me. We spoke on Sunday about Ron's returning to the States and making his way to NJ to do something with our storage at dad's house, so the house can be sold. I have been looking into a moving POD, where they bring the storage unit to you, you fill it, and then they take it away to the storage place. This seems ideal for Ron. They can place it in the backyard and he can fill it as energy allows. Daphnee had a better idea. She contacted and plans to pay her college-aged grandson to be Ron's driver and mover helper. Neither of us have a driver's license, so renting a car is out of the question. Her other idea is to check out flights; if there is a reasonable one, she will fly back and meet Ron to help him. My great concern was that he will not transportation and will be stuck at my father's house without a computer or Internet access even if he had one. Her generousity over the years has been amazing, but I cannot pass this over without saying that her partner Ellie is just as supportive with finances. Ellie has been just as generous with coming to our rescue when needed without a moment of hesitation. This is a prime example of where friends become family.

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Procrastinators Anonymous

My brother ranks high in the list of world's greatest procrastinators. He has thought about attending meetings of Procrastinators Anonymous, but they keep putting off having a meeting. Two weeks ago, he called to give us an update on our father's condition. We had a conference call so that Ron, his wife, and I could all listen in. At the time, he shared the news about his venture over to dad's house to get something and found people in the house. They presumably were given permission to crash there by our father. Kevin, I believe had them leave, but then again, Kevin is not the assertive one in the family. He is a chip off of our father, I am more like our mother. My immediate reaction was to get the locks changed and he agreed. There are three entrances to the house. One will only get you into the front porch, another into the basement, and the third into the outer pantry leading to the backyard. After entering any of these areas, there is still another door to negotiate before entering living space. All six doors have locks on them. Our mother was paranoid. Our father used to work nights. Changing locks can be expensive, but hey, the old guy has $40,000 he needs to spend down to be eligible just to apply for Medicaid. Kevin has the power of attorney to access his funds. No brainer. Off of the dining room, there is a wasted little room that never was declared utilitarian because is lacked a radiator or heating vent. The whole time we were growing up, the old chest freezer lived in there and the rest of the space was a throw-all junk room. When we moved our things from CA, this was cleaned out and stores our life belongings, minus all of the furniture we sold. Mostly, it has our kitchen appliances, china, thousands of books, and memorabilia from dozens of trips abroad. Our thinking at the time was after a year away, at least our kitchen will not need to be restocked with essentials. The padlock on the door survived seven years of having the scheming slut whore who stole thousands from dad during her days of leeching off of him. Kevin said the door was barricade with the china cabinet, a formidable piece of furniture. At the end of the call, we all agreed to speak each Wednesday for updates on dad's condition. We were still waiting for the neurological report due the day after this call. The next Wednesday, I e-mailed Kevin about calling. He responded with "Nothing has changed, no need to call." Nothing about the report and a follow-up e-mail was not responded to. The following Wednesday, I wrote again, but did not get a response until that Friday. Giving him his due, he is a manager at an IT company, from what I gather is head of an extensive team, so does have a lot on his plate. Adding the needs of our father is a burden that he has to deal with with little help from me.

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A Reader Connecting

Hi Ryan,

Again so much thanks for getting back to me with great tips! We have been using your guide prolifically and it is great. We will be in Budapest for two more days, leaving very very early on Tuesday. Perhaps you have some time so we can take you to lunch or coffee tomorrow. We are staying at the ArtOtel 14879487 Rm XXX. *Stephen H. and Eva K. Although we might not be in, please leave a message where and when, if you are free, and a way we can get in touch with you. Hope this works out but if not, thank you again.

Sincerely,

Eva

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Budget Airlines = Breaking the Budget

After having to pay extra when we left Prague, by not reading the fine print on our ticket, therefore, not having our boarding pass pre-printed, it seems we are not alone. The wave of ingenious or disingenuous ways for airlines to connive more money from us is escalating. This snippet is taken from http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/money/consumer_affairs/article6295745.ece "From next week Ryanair will charge £5 to check in online and impose a £40 fine per person, each way, if you fail to bring your boarding card to the airport." If budget airlines are in your travel plans, read the rules and regulations carefully before hitting the purchase button. You may find some surprises after it is too late.

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Pizza Party

As an end of the semester treat for my first round of Journalism students, I had all of them over to our place for a pizza party. One of the students took orders, but was supposed to call in the order and have it delivered to our place. Being frugal, with my money, he placed the order, but instead, had it delivered to the university so there would not be a delivery charge. The university, though, twelve minutes away, is in district eight. The pizza place does not deliver free to district seven. They were all due at 1:00, so when 1:30 came around, I thought the joke was on me. At 2:00, my mobile displayed an apology and the reason for their being late. Pizzas take time to cook and be delivered. At 2:15, when the doorbell rang, I was reassured that they were indeed planning on our little festive gathering. Two of the young men were carrying three 62cm (24.5 inches) diameter pizzas. After reimbursing him, we settled into eating and sat around the living room with the sofa, love seat, and the kitchen chairs. As thrilled as I was to have them here, they were so quiet, there was a continual fear that they were not enjoying themselves. They gave me a box of Oreo cookies, a can of Dr. Pepper, and a jar of peanut butter that they found at the high end gourmet grocery store. They thought I may be missing some things from home. After sharing the Oreos, I had remembered how good a simple cookie could taste. Later, I drank the Dr. Pepper. It tasted better than ever. I won't have them next semester, but they will always be my "kids" just like the 150 other students who I have had in the past for other classes.

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On a Happier Note

I discovered a graph of where my readers are from.

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Almost at the End

Tomorrow is the last day of school for this semester and then SUMMER vacation starts and lasts until September. Glory be, I thought it would never get here. Burn out is when you take on too many new classes, too many thesis students in one semester, and then have to chase after them. The chasing was my choice, hoping to avoid last minute disasters. Hungarians are major procrastinators. Three of my advisees really did exceptional work on their thesis. One student did excellent work on Information Technology in Education, but unfortunately, it was read and graded by my office-mate, a young Hungarian. She mentioned to me that she only gave it a B grade or a 4 in this system. It took self-control not to lunge over the desks at her throat, but I asked why. She said that "Everyone knows that information systems are taught in the Hungarian curriculum" so it was not relevant since he did not state where this type of education should take place. After I relocated my jaw, with tact I responded that since this is an American Studies degree and since this is an American Studies thesis, it should not be relating to Hungary at all. If there is so much technology in the Hungarian school systems, why do student come to the university not knowing anything about it? Then I went on to say that the only division of the university to use Moodle for online teaching was the Psychology Department and when I wanted to teach an online course, no one in the department knew what I was talking about. She said "Moodle? What is Moodle?" If she had indeed read the thesis, she should have known what Moodle is. Teaching with Luddites is getting on my nerves. One of my former students who will soon be graduating with her MA came to ask me if I could supervise her for the doctoral program. While trying to explain that although I am on the doctoral faculty, I would not have time to do it with the new MA course I will be teaching come fall. She said if I couldn't do it she would not even apply. Although I was flattered, this is not the way to make life decisions and I told her so. She responded with the fact that all of the other instructors would make her conform to doing what they wanted her to and not give her the freedom to pursue her own interests. After the confrontation with my colleague, I was reminded yet again that this is the sad truth.

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Networking

Being social worker, an educator, and having had multiple businesses, I know the importance of networking. I am casting the net and hoping some reader somewhere will be able to point me in a direction or know someone who knows someone... I am seriously considering and starting to look for opportunities to teach online courses. There seem to be a few decent books on Amazon.com, which I will order for Ron to cart home from his trip to the States; however, it never hurts to ask. If you know something or know someone who could give me some direction for getting my foot in a door or multiple doors, please share the information with me. Needless to say, online teaching is not geographically dependent, so the place does not matter.

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Fly Air New Zealand

I am uncertain what the point is that they are trying to make with this, but it would certainly get my attention during the safety routine review. I just wonder how many flight attendant call buttons would need replacing after being used and abused if they pulled this off for real. Fun idea regardless.

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It is a Small World After All

Dear Dr. James, I have a nice story for you, I am sure you will smile as I tell you. You know I just arrived in Portsmouth and started my internship at RMC. As I was spending my first week in office, introducing myself to everyone, a nice lady came into my room and said she has been to Hungary and had a great time there. I was happy to hear that, so we started to chat about Budapest and her experiences about the city. She said she and one of my other colleague stayed in a B&B in the Pest side of the city, a nice, cozy place owned by two Americans, one of them is a collage professor... Then, all of a sudden, it occured to me that I read about your B&B in the intro of your Frommer"s Budapest Guide, so I asked whether his name was Ryan. She said yes, so I immediately logged on to facebook, showed your picture to the lady, and she smiled, "oh, yes, that's him." The women are called Susan and Kim; they spent some 3 nights at your place around December, 2007. They also told me you might remember them as "they were pretty good guests":) and they also brought some presents with them from the States, a book, titled Water for Elephants and some maple syrup. They were both excited to hear that I was one of your students at the University, and they gladly recalled their fond memories about the two of you with Ron and about staying at your B&B. We were all overjoyed by this little nice coincidence and smiled about how small the World actually is. Isn't that great?! After all, I told them, without you I might not even be here in this office right now since you gave me one of my recommendations, a really strong one that helped me to gain this opportunity. Thank you again for that and hope this story made your day as it definitely made ours the other day! Best regards, Viktoria

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Pig Humor

Bad word alert: This cartoon has been going around; there is a naughty word in it. Read at your own risk.

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Needles and Death

I have been victimized by Vasomotor Rhinitis after my first few years of living in California, though it took years to diagnose, partly due to my aversion to doctors. By the sixth year of suffering, it behooved me to make use of the medical insurance for which I was paying dearly. As with any HMO, you see the the doctor for such a brief moment, heaven help you if you ever had to identify him in a line up, you would be hard pressed to do so. Therefore, I have been prescribed every sinus medication known to modern pharmaceuticals.

After a few years, I noticed a correlation. The almond trees bloomed, I became as stuffed up as a toilet in a college fraternity hazing scheme. Come February, I did not even need visuals; the nose knew. Finally, my primary M.D. was shamed into losing some of his residual profits by succumbing to a referral to an allergist. After the most basic allergy test, it was determined I did not suffer from allergies, but they did not test for flower blossoms, let alone for almond flower. That would have required prior approval from the insurance company and no one aside from me thought it was necessary.

With yet a new prescription in hand, I was sent off, screaming that I was leaving the country and could not get it refilled once it was gone. As the allergist strolled off into the sunset of his hallway, he shouted back without turning his head "Use any over the counter med you can find."

Do you know that Sudafed, one of the only meds that works for me is now controlled? In Australia, I had to convince a pharmacist why I needed it. Here I need a Rx from the doctor. Do I look like I need money by making illegal drugs with it? Isn't my lack of a voice enough to convince you?

Plan B: Go to an Acupuncturist. I had been to one in CA for a hiatal hernia and it worked before I opted for the surgery the medical doctor offered instead. Through my massage therapist, I found a Chinese doctor who makes a habit of needling people. Yesterday, was my second appointment.

The day was lovely and rather than take the tram to the metro for two stops, I decided to walk along the narrow sidewalk along the tracks. From one tram stop to the other was a reasonably short distance so I continued onward. As I was walking, I noticed a number of police to the right of the sidewalk up ahead. There was a man with a camera snapping pictures like some tourist, but there was nothing of eye appeal apparent. As I edged closer, the word 'police' was visible on the photographers T-shirt. Then I looked down at the object of his attention. There was a corpse there. After sixteen years as a medical social worker, who spent much of it in the trauma unit, scenes like do not affect me. It was obvious that it was a dead person as they draped the body with a black plastic bag, with the feet sticking out. Newish, clean white sneakers, white gym type socks pulled up to mid-calf with those long shorts everyone wears now. When I was a kid, we called them 'clam diggers'. Anyway, the impression was that this was a male, most likely not a homeless person or if so, one who had access to a laundry. The rest is a mystery for now.

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