Flat Expressionism

After weeks of looking at apartments or flats as they call them here, we had finally narrowed it down to two. This was further narrowed down for us when one of the two was sold while we were deliberating. Yet, just to make sure we were not making any rash decisions, we continued looking at additional apartments. The eye-opener here is that regardless of how lovely a building may look on the outside, it can harbor some damn ugly dwellings inside. Some of the things people are asking a fortune for are despicable, not only dirty, but strangely shaped rooms that are totally inconvenient. It makes me want to be a fly on the wall to see how they cope. It also makes me what to analyze their thinking to discover how they can fantasize asking for what they propose.

When we were certain we had found the place we wanted, we put in a ridiculously low offer, knowing it would be refused, but heck, we have fantasies too. REJECTED! Similar to my dating life from years past, so it came as no surprise. Three days later, we upped the ante. That was rejected also, even when we said this was not a game we were willing to play, so it was our final offer. What was proposed by the sellers was a face to face meeting. We being Americans did not understand what this could possibly entail if they rejected our 2nd offer. 

What they wanted to do was give us an itemized, very detailed list of all the renovations they made to the apartment. We had visited twice, so the wife had already shown me every nook, cranny, and nail hole in the entire place. I now knew this place better than her husband did, but he insisted on telling us how much money they spent on everything. All well and good, but the economy is bad, making this a buyer's market. I spent a good twenty minutes telling them what I didn't like; some of it was really true. What cannot be beat is the location. In real estate the mantra is location, location, location. And yes, sorry, but if we had remodeled, we may have made different choices. After an hour and a half of friendly dialogue, we parted ways without moving an inch or a forint in our offering.

Less than 2 days later, our realtor called to say that the owner's have budged. Yes, they were as stubborn as we were in sticking to our bank accounts, but they decided to try to meet us half way in our 'firm' bids. We thought it over, met with Peter our realtor again this afternoon and signed the papers with the new bid based on a new agreed price. Their realtor presented it to them last night and they agreed. Once their signature is on the dotted line, if we back out, we lose our deposit. If they back out, they have to refund our deposit, plus give us yet again an equal amount for the hassle. If we could only get people to back out of their contracts at the last minute, we could have a profitable business going. 

As of now, it looks like we'll be landlords. If anyone wants a self-catering option in Budapest during June, July, or August send an e-mail to info@budabab.com for more information.

Related articles

• Getting Started on Apartment Hunting (choiceofhomes.com)
• Guidelines When choosing an Apartment (thediamondringreview.com)
• Using Your Imagination While Apartment Hunting (apartmenttherapy.com)

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Someting New on the Side Bar

I just came across a site called Qhub where you can create your own Q and A web site. I created one for Budapest. Now anyone can ask questions and have them answered by myself or others.

You can ask a question in the box to the right or access it here.

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Passing Over

Once again, the sounds of silence were not to be had. Noise, noise, noise from next door. Six in the morning is an ungodly time to have eat breakfast. My digestive juices don't start flowing until 8am at the minimum even if we did get up at 5:15. Joseph would be waiting for us at 6:30 as we have a "long" day ahead of us, but he leaves us at the Tanzania border to be greeted and continue with a different guide/driver. The rendezvous was set for 10am, but that did not happen. For the first time, Joseph lost his way and could not find the right way to the border. Of course, since there are no street or directional signs anywhere, it is reasonable. He stopped 5 times to ask directions. People either seemed to not know or gave the incorrect information.

By 11:20, he finally had us parked in front of Kenyan Immigration Offices. The young officer had us fill out a short form and stamped our passports. A short drive across a lot had us in line at the Tanzania Immigration Office where we lined up with the rest. A young officer asked us where we were going. Duh, we are in the Tanzania office, we are coming to see you. He gave us each a short form to fill out and then told us to skip the line moving to the second window. After asking for US $100 for EACH of us, we had our one year, multiple entry Visa for Tanzania. Pointing out that there was some mistake, we were told it was $50 each and we only wanted a single entry Visa. No mistake, due to some treaty or other the US and Ireland of all places no longer get single entry, but only multiple. The cost is the same, so trying out a brogue would not have helped at all.

When we left the office, Joseph was antsy, ready to turn us over to Anwar, our new driver/guide. We moved our things from a room van to a less roomy, less comfortable jeep. Anwar showed me the sign he had ready. It showed "Run Shmitz and Ryan James". I asked Anwar if this were a transitional vehicle, but darn it all, it is all we get until we fly off to Zanzibar. Anwar is young, friendly and I am sure we will enjoy him. His English is moderate, so it takes some getting used to his accent. He was telling us that Tanzania has over 144 languages with Swahili the official one. Kenya has 44 languages with Swahili and English as the official languages.

So bear in mind, we left the lodge we had stayed at for three nights, at 6:30. We road the bumpy, rutty, pitted, roads until getting out of the car when Joseph had to fix his shock absorber, and then not again until we received immigration. Climbing back into the jeep at 11:30am, we were cramped in there until we stopped for lunch along the way. We had an hour of reprieve, before continuing onward. In Tanzania the roads are paved, a real blessing; however, there is a speed bump every fifty feet. If it ain't one thing, it's another. Ride, ride, ride, doze, chat, ride. We reach the gates of the Serengeti National Park. This is an extension of the Masai Mara National Park on the Kenya side. The two are separated by the countries borders. The Serengeti is the size of the State of Connecticut, so that will give you an idea of the size of the country. Tanzania is the largest country in Eastern Africa and includes Zanzibar, which is an island.

Once we reached the park gates, we said good-bye to paved roads and back to the bounce by the ounce. Anwar kept stopping to show us animals along the way to the lodge. We had to remind him we had been on numerous safaris this trip and others in the past. As much as we appreciated this, we really wanted to get back on two legs and out of a vehicle. Miles and miles away, we finally reached the lodge by 7:00 pm. I thought for sure if the park was the size of Connecticut, we started in NY and drove to the MA border in the time it took us to get here. We are staying at the Serona Wildlife Lodge. People here are not nearly as friendly as any of the places in Kenya. Even  driving here, we received nasty to hateful looks from those we passed on the street, but this was similar to our reception here. There was nothing warm or welcoming about it; in fact, they could not find our reservation. It finally turned out that it was due to Run's Shmitz's name being misspelled. After wiping some of the dust off with the wet towel given upon entering, it went from sparkling white to dusty brown within minutes. Later, jumping into the shower, another coating turned the tub into earthenware.

Interesting note, we found that all of the places we stayed at in Kenya as well as this one and a number of others are owned by Indians, India Indians, though the land is leased only. The properties here in Tanzania are still owned by the government, but Indians run the business and Chinese laborers do the construction. This place is huge, but still under construction. My eyes sparkled when I saw an Internet Cafe sign, but they lost their luster when I looked in the window to see there were desks, but no computers. The gift shop is empty and the fitness room has all of the newest equipment stuffed into one corner. 

We are only here for one night, so we will survive. Interestingly, for as upper class as this is portrayed, the buffet is the smallest of any place we have stayed. I also am curious how places in countries like this receive their star rating. Under normal circumstances, to reach a 4 or 5 star, certain requirements must be in place. These include a phone and a television in each room for starters. Not one place has had these, though a television would be rather pointless, but a phone would be helpful with wake-up calls.

At dinner, we had a funny event. Eating away, a young person of the staff comes to our table and stands between Ron and I. I asked if there was something she needed, but she moved her head in Ron's directions, but he was not paying attention to her in the least. When I said something, she  started in saying "Sir, you forgot to sign for your drinks from the bar." The receipt book she had in her hand had whiskeys on it and 12,000 shillings as the amount due. We both said we did not order any whiskey, nor did we have anything from the bar. She walked away confused and disappointed. You know how it is; all white men with white hair and beards look alike. Of course, she was confused.

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Readying Ron

We took the train to Vienna yesterday with Ron’s luggage. He has an unholy early flight tomorrow morning from here to go to the States. There are some disturbing things about sending Ron off alone. In the 12 ½ years we have been together, this is the longest we will have been apart. He will be gone for three weeks. All I had to pack was my toothbrush, toothpaste, and a good book. Since it was cold in Budapest, I had my coat with me thinking Vienna would be similar or colder.

The more worrisome thought is that Ron is a leaver. He carries a black shoulder bag that he refuses to keep close to his body when he is not walking. When we stop for a coffee off comes the bag and it gets set on a chair. The chair does not have to be in close proximity to him either. His ability to trust that no one will grab and run is beyond human comprehension. Other’s horror stories have not affected him in the least, so his habit continues. In our time together, I could probably recall a list of 300+ times when he left something behind: his bag, his hat, his cigarettes. His guardian angel is overworked and on the ball, keeping his goods safely protected until he has that “Aha!” moment of remembering something familiar is missing and he returns to find it untouched. As much as I trust his guardian angel, even angels may find it a valuable lesson to make you learn the hard way, so I fear for his passport and now his Residency Card.

Having been to Vienna a zillion times, this was not a particular treat, but a second homecoming of sorts. Ron wanted to visit the Belvedere Palace grounds again, so we did. We wandered aimlessly and went to one of our favorite restaurants for dinner. I am not sure we ever remembered the name of it, but we refer to it as the Purple restaurant since the building is a soothing lavender color.

We stayed the night at Hotel Pension Wild, which turned out to be an excellent choice. The beds were sumptuous, though Ron had much less time in bed than I. His taxi was due at 4:30 am to take him to the airport. I woke, dressed and set him off in the taxi only to return to bed until 8:00 am. After a shower, I went for breakfast and then back to the room to read until 10:00. Check out was 11:00, but I decided to take some tram rides to pass the time. I had checked on return trains to Budapest when we arrived, but had not written them down. I had a memory of a 1:38 train, but was not positive I was correct about it.

The weather was warm approaching hot and my usual nasal condition was acting up again. My nose was running like Niagara Falls and thoughts of investing in tissue stocks seemed like a good venture. After finding a quaint little café with outdoor seating, I ordered a coffee and sat immersed in reading my book.

At 12:30, it seemed like a good time to wander in the direction of the train station since having taken trams around, I was no longer sure of where I was or how far the train station would be. Dragging a coat in toasty weather was getting cumbersome and dissuaded me from further explorations, though my transport pass was included in my train ticket.

I found the train station like a homing pigeon, so there was more than enough time. After finding a seat, I tried being engaged in my book yet again; however, I was having difficulty reading/concentrating being worried about Ron’s travails. He had more flight and airport changes than most flight attendants do in a month of work. I could see his bag sitting lonely in some airport while he was in a panic wondering where he had deposited it last. He also mentioned that since he had an E-ticket, he was assured that he did not have to reconfirm the flights. I had hoped this proved true and had visions of him pleading to get on the plane or to be stuck mid-route with no seat assignment.

As much traveling as I have done alone, the thoughts of the difficulty in traveling single with stuff in your hands still bother me. Going to the bathroom is a chore, buying a cup of coffee, and so on when you are lugging all of the luggage and have no one to watch it for you.

As I was having these reveries, I happened to look up at the train board with the schedule only to spot BUDAPEST and the track number. The train was earlier than scheduled, but the thought that I had missed one when reading the schedule occurred to me, I ran out to catch it. The sign in the window had Budapest on it. What luck!!! A minute after I jumped on and found a seat with two women, the train left the station. I was praising my good fortune of getting an earlier train, getting home earlier than expected. Within seconds, the little inner voice was questioning my luck. On the empty seat across from me was the trip route and schedule often found on European trains. I looked at it and my heart dropped. I was on the train FROM Budapest on its way to Dortmund, Germany. I did everything in my spiritual power to have the train stop at the first station before the conductor came for tickets. The thought of financial fines shouted at me by an irate conductor made me break out in a cold sweat. I hid most of my Euros so I could plead poverty if caught. On the way to Vienna, the conductor did not approach our compartment for our tickets until an hour into the trip. My hope was that it would be the same this time. The first stop was St. Polten, forty-five minutes outside of Vienna.

Using every affirmation I could think of, my spiritual powers are not honed. The conductor arrived for our tickets 15 minutes before the first stop. Sheepishly, forcing an embarrassed blush, I explained my circumstance. With a sympathetic chuckle, he told me to get off at St. Polten. Where was this saint when I needed him? At St. Polten, I immediately went to the ticket office. The next train was 2:50 back to Vienna and then the train to Budapest was 10 minutes later. This was a narrow escape since if I missed it, there was only one more train that evening.

I bought a one-way ticket for 9 Euros and explored the town. It is a lovely little place and the entire downtown area of what looks to be about 10 blocks by 10 blocks are all pedestrian walkways. I returned to the station with 10 minutes to spare. On one schedule board the train said Budapest, but on the other it said Vienna West. I hopped on and hoped for the best. Once I arrived in Vienna again, I had to change tracks, but made my train back not getting home until after 7:00 pm. The positive was that I had a full compartment all to myself the entire trip and finished my book as we pulled into Keleti station.

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Photo Fiasco

I took over two hundred pictures and downloaded them to the computer. I separated Dresden, Leipzig, and Berlin into three different folders to do a batch rename. I used a program I have used hundreds of times in the past and started with the Berlin pictures. Tragedy struck. They all disappeared. It still is not clear to me how or why it happened, but they were all deleted somewhere. I did a desktop search, a deleted folder search, an attempt at undoing the previous commands, but nothing worked. I downloaded three different photo recovery programs and searched both the computer and the memory card from the camera, but they were not to be found. There was one lone survivor of over 78 photos of Berlin. Strangely and coincidentally, the only photo to survive was one of the Holocaust Memorial.

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Boldolg Szűlettesnapot

We celebrated a guest’s birthday on Sunday. It was a grand occasion for us to have a guest here for their birthday. This is the first time in our 2 year B and B history. His picture is not here to protect his identity. : )

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Thank you, Eleanor

Ryan,
I've have enjoyed your comments and travelogue tremendously. I know that I've seen you either on Travelzine or WWtraveler. I've been to Budapest twice. Once was in 1967 and the other time was 2003. I hope to return again and will certainly try to stay with you. I feel that I missed most of Budapest, after reading your Blog.

The first time we had a government guide, so saw what she wanted us to see. The second time I was so exhausted after 4 weeks in Europe that I only saw a bit. Next time it will be my primary destination and I hope to see much more. Keep writing the wonderful things you write.

Eleanor Donohue

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All good things

All good things…

I first inclination is to say that Patricia and Don are like family; however, each person has their own emotional connotation of family. Even for me it is contradictory, since their being who they are was more nurturing than my immediate family has been in a decade. We are feeling the loss and anticipated it hours before we awoke early this morning for our last good-byes. We tried stretching last night to greater extremes to ignore that shadow of gloom that was going to accompany the tugging pangs of separation. Yet, morning came too soon at 5:00 am.

It is astonishing to me that we met these people by accident, nevertheless, within a
week’s space at their place and a week at ours there is such a strong bonding friendship that will last over the moments in time we have shared. It was only by serendipity that Ron bought a copy of a 2001 travel guide for our 2006 trip to South Africa and found their apartment for rent in it. How the universe spins the webs of connections to bring people into our lives.

Saying good-by is not my strong point. All of my emotions rise to the surface exposing my vulnerable side to whoever is present at the time. Perhaps if I were a sufficient wordsmith, my display of sentiment would not supersede the turmoil that stirs within.

Tonight we will have to have strawberries and halva, a ritual initiated, established, shared, braced, and entrenched in our hearts all over a week’s duration with two exceptional people that we will dearly miss…until next time.

We love you two!!

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Comment from NiHao

This comment came in today from NiHao.
I am hoping to visit Budapest this year, so I'll have to add the Citadel to my list. Thanks for the great tip and the picture!

Please return to that blog. I found some other pictures I was looking for and will add them now.
Ryan

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The South Africans' First Full Day

Well I am following the adventures of the South Africans, via their tales when they return back to our flat. For some of the things, I would like to join them, but these are my last weeks of teachings, so I cannot.

On their first full day here, they went to the Citadel, the high point of Budapest on the Buda side. There you will find a white-stoned fortress from the 19th century. The fortress was built in 1851 by the Austrians to symbolize their dominance over Hungary after the 1848-49 Revolution and War of Independence. It sits on top of Gellért Hill where the 14 meter tall Liberation Monument is placed, a striking statue of a woman holding a palm leaf of victory, can be seen from most points along the Danube. The Russians placed the monument in 1947. The panorama of the entire city is spectacular from this viewing point.

There is a museum and an exhibit hall where they found a photographic exhibit. The theme was Children of War Around the World, not the most cheerful topic, but Patricia in particular was moved to tears with the theme as well as the beauty of the art.

After breathing in the fresh air of the higher altitude, they hiked back down the hill. This would be my preference too as once we did not realize there was a bus going up and hiked up. Half way up I was ready for oxygen, but at the top, I would have welcomed a Respiratory Therapist. The mistakes you make that you can share with guests are immeasurable.

Almost back down to street level, they stopped at the Church in the Cave before hopping on a tram to take the cogwheel for a ride. They had intended to ride the Children’s Railroad, but it was not operating yet.

Returning from there, they followed the Danube to the funicular taking them up to Castle Hill. They found their way into the National Museum where they spent the rest of their day. They were impressed with the number of huge paintings of Hungarian origin by artists, so few in the world have ever heard about. Patricia is hinting she may have to return for more time there.

When they returned there, they found the little co-op grocery store sufficient for their needs to assemble a dinner in our kitchen. We did this side by side and then ate together. We point out the five supermarkets within two blocks of our flat, but they appreciated buying from a co-op as opposed to a supermarket chain.

In the evening, we had an engagement to meet a Fulbright Scholar, a Professor of Nursing and her husband, for coffee. We invited Don and Patricia along to the Central Coffee House, one of the historic coffee houses in the city. The six of us had a lively and lovely conversation until 10:00 pm and then shared a bus part of the way with Beth and Bob before they got off at their stop.
On a personal note, this was the last full week of teaching. Next week is the last. I am so going to miss my sophomore students. They have been exceptional and I have appreciated spending time with them for the last four semesters. All of them have turned into exceptional writers and thinkers. This semester they had embraced the course with gusto, which adds to my being proud of them since I had suggested doing some ‘innovative things’ with them last semester for this semester and they were willing to be my ‘test case’. They not only met my expectations, but far surpassed them, setting the bar at a new level for those that follow.

While I am being the proud teacher, one of my former students who is now in the US on a scholarship, just had an article published in English Teaching Forum magazine, volume 44, number 1 - 2006. She wrote this as an assignment for my class and the secondary part of the assignment was to try to get it published. She and some others succeeded, but hers is the first to appear in print. This magazine is distributed to over 80 countries through the US Embassy.

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I received these two comments

I received these two comments in the ‘anonymous’ comments section, but I feel comments are meant to be shared, so here they are.

To the first person, you are welcome x 3, but for what are you thanking me? To the second person, I am so happy Gilbert is getting his art out there. I found three possible sources for him to sell his work here in Budapest, but darn, he does not respond to e-mails. If anyone reads this before seeing him, tell him Ryan needs to reach him.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Hi,Just wanted to second the opinion above about Gilbert Khumalo and his wonderful beadwork. We met him last Sunday at the Green Point Arts & Crafts market in Cape Town and bought a beautiful beaded elephant head from him. Awesome stuff!

I love the comments, it feels great being ‘heard’ and the only way I know for sure there is someone reading what I write is when you write a comment.

Thank you, thank you, thank you,

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Dear Debby,

I received this note through the comments of the blog. This person who I do not know took the time to send me this message. I was so pleased with this, I wrote her back to say this made my day. Although I can see how many people access the blog daily and weekly, it is rare that anyone comments. I thought by hitting 'reply to sender' I could thank Debbie for giving me a smile, but the e-mail came back to me. She sent it through the blog, so it could never reach her. Hopefully, she will pass by again and read this. I really appreciated hearing from someone. Ryan

Hi Ryan,
As usual you are entertaining, informative and educational! Many thanks. Have copied and pasted most of your info for my day in Amsterdam in August.
'Debby'

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