Happy Halloween

In case I should get busy and forget, I want to wish all a Happy Halloween. It is not celebrated here, unfortunately. I love the holiday.

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The Newest Invite

The last invite was for me and a guest. This one is for me and my spouse. Is the Embassy broadening their mind?

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Invites of Note

Interestingly, I have been getting some impressive invitations lately. One back in September and then some more recently.

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The Faculty Meeting

We had a faculty meeting today to learn the state of affairs of our department. The university is bankrupt and the administration is trying to cut corners everywhere. Like most large organizations, they are penny wise and pound foolish. They cut the minor things while letting the large expenditures continue needlessly. This is not only evident to me, but to my Hungarian colleagues who are just as helpless to do anything about it. Government at its worst, the country does not matter.

We are still fighting to maintain a department at all, the university wants to combine departments, thus lessening staff at the same time. Our American Studies major has been reduced to a concentration within the English Department as of this September with the advent of the Bologna Plan instituted within 44 countries.

We were informed that the perception of the public as well as the administration is that we are just another glorified language school without any other purpose. Therefore, we must do whatever is in our power to change that perception. We are after all, a program to teach about American culture, history, and literature in the English language, not a language school. The options for my colleague and I are limited since neither of us speak Hungarian, but we will brainstorm what we can do in the English press.

The other unfortunate news was that our teaching load will increase starting next semester. Although I am one course short this semester, due to the new programs, it behooves me to have to add yet additional courses. Needless to say, the lower the rung on the ladder, the harder hit one becomes. We lectors will have to teach 14 hours a week, the associate professors 12 hours a week, while the professors have 8 hours a week. Now, I do understand that this is the same way in the States, but it is lop-sided. Those at the bottom need the extra time to do the work to move up the ladder. With an added burden of extra classes, this does not give them that luxury to fit in the needed research and writing to be upwardly mobile.

The real shocker was that one of our classes would be a lecture and could conceivably be up to 150 students or more. This lecture will be divided between my colleague and myself, but there are 300 new students this semester. In reality, the scales of equity could be unfavorably tipped by the time offering of the course. One of us could have 200 students, while the other has 100. There is no way we will require papers due for this course with that many students. Added to this course, we will have six other courses to teach at a higher level than freshmen. This is going to have a dramatic impact on the quality time I am able to spend with my students.

Next semester looks like this.

American Culture Survey lecture

American Culture Tutorial

Language Practice IV – A cultural themed based class

Ethnicities in the US II

Critical Thinking

Gay Films in the US

On top of all of this, I am supervising six teaching thesis students and two Masters thesis students. I will be praying for summer break starting in March.

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New Courses

I received permission to teach some new classes next semester. They are Gay Films in the US, Gay Literature, and an online course of my choosing. As far as anyone knows, no one has done an online course at the university, so this will be groundbreaking here. The issue is that the university does not have the money to buy a program for doing an online program, which is probably the reason. However, someone had recommended Moodle to me. This is a freeware program for just such purposes. I downloaded the program, but it seems overwhelming now and I had not done a thing with it. Most likely, this will be a summer project and I will create the course for the fall semester.

In preparation for the Gay Film course, I have been collecting films and information about gay films. Who would have thought it would be so extensive. I have over 30 US films and another 30 plus of international ones ranging from Canada to China. For as many as possible, I have been collecting NY Times reviews and planning the course in my mind. This has kept me busy along with correcting the first papers that were turned in by my current Pop Culture class.

What I had not anticipated was that all of this research was going to decimate my bandwidth for the month. I started receiving e-mails from my Internet provider that I was getting close to using my maximum of 60 GB for the month and they were going to reduce me to 20% of normal service once I went over this limit. Hmmm….that is going to be a problem with an online course. I have a free website with the Internet provider that I have never used; however, if students are continually checking the online course, this is going to be a major issue of bandwidth abuse each month. Another hurdle to jump over, just when I thought I was coming in to the finish line.

If you do not see me for periods of time, it is because my bandwidth is too slow to post anything.

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Another Eye Appointment

I finally received another appointment with the eye surgeon with the correct office address. I had an appointment at 6:50 pm or so I thought. I checked it a couple of times, but 6:50 was ingrained in my memory. Tonight when I looked one more time, it was 6:20, not 6:50. There are some pluses for being compulsive. I shot out the door and still made it on time to the building I need to be at. However, when I reached the building and looked at all of the buzzers, there was none for my doctor. I immediately called Ron to have him check the e-mail once again, but there was no further information in it. I stood there wondering if I should just keep punching buzzers until someone let me in and then go door to door of the five story building until I found her. It was now 6:18 pm.

As I stood there contemplating my next move, double checking my mobile to make sure I did not have her phone number, a gentleman used a key to get into the door. I asked him in English if he knew this doctor. He responded in English “you have two choices and they are both on the first floor.”

When I went to the first floor, there were only two doors, giving me a 50-50 chance of choosing the correct one first. I lost that bet and went into a waiting room full of people for a doctor who was not mine. The male receptionist took me to the second office and told my doctor I was there.

After another full exam, the doctor gave me the good and bad news. She had just performed this surgery on someone else who only had double vision for three years. He turned entropic, I believe was the word she used. His vision went outward for ten days before it normalized. She warned this may happen to me or not work at all since my problem has been 30 years in the making. With this information, it was not a surgery I could do over a weekend like she had originally suggested. We decided to wait until the winter break and she only does surgery one day a month now that she is a new mother, so it would be the end of January. This works well with our being on vacation until the 12th.

She did suggest and prescribe prism glasses. They are non-prescription glasses that have prisms in them to draw my vision together. This is to develop the muscles while waiting for the surgery. I am having second thoughts about this whole thing.

She also discovered that the bifocal contacts the other doctor ordered were finally in and waiting for me. They can only be picked up on a Monday and this coming Monday is a national holiday, so I have to wait yet another week.

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Eye Surgery One of These Days

If you read my blog, you may remember that I was a guinea pig for a Hungarian eye surgeon who was studying double vision. She offered me surgery to correct my double vision when she returned from her pregnancy leave which to be in September. Not wanting to rush her, I waited until October to send her an e-mail. She responded promptly and gave me the number for the receptionist to call for an appointment.

Today, I went to my appointment at 4:50 pm, but I arrived at 4:30. I went to the waiting area where I was the last time for the experimental visit. The exam room door was ajar, but I did not want to be intrusive and waited reading my book. The absence of a reception area was not helpful in determining what to do. When four people eventually left the exam room and I no longer heard voices, I knocked on the door and entered. Sitting at a computer was another female doctor. I cautiously stated that I had an appointment with Dr. Doumas for 4:50, not knowing if she spoke English or not. She responded “I don’t think she is here yet, but please wait.” Being grateful that the insurance would cover this without any expense to me, I sat patiently and waited.

At 5:40, the doctor who originally told me to sit, came out of the office and with surprise asked if I was sure I had an appointment. She then went in to call Dr. Doumas. When she had her on her mobile phone, she came out and handed me the phone. Dr. Doumas said she was waiting for me, but that her office is in the 2^nd district on the Buda side. She explained that she thought for sure the receptionist would have told me this. Well if she had, I certainly would not be waiting in the eye clinic at the medical school in the 9^th district. We made another appointment for next Monday and she is going to e-mail me the address.

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Blast from the Past

When still in CA, one of my contracts was with the AIDS Case Management program for Stanislaus County. I had contracted with them for over ten years, but during the last two years I was there, I worked with two nurses, one was Ruth.

Ruth and her husband Henry visit Germany often since Ruth is originally from Munich. When I heard they were coming this year, I convinced them to come visit us for a week. They arrived today. Henry and Ron tuned us out for the first few hours as we rehashed the county days, the clients we worked with as well as co-workers, catching up on gossip. How I miss gossip! Without Hungarian friends and without the language, gossip is hard to come by.

It is great having them here, a touch of home, coming to us for a change, so we will enjoy our visit, even if we cannot play tour guides. Ron is suffering with a bad back and I am suffering with a bad back that is affecting my leg. Then there are B and B guests to tend to, papers to correct, work to go to, but we will enjoy the sharing time.

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Lunch With Frank and Jean

As I have mentioned in the recent past, one of the added benefits of blogging and posting on travel websites is that interesting people contact you for more information. About a month or more earlier, I had received an e-mail from an American named Frank. He and his wife were considering living in Budapest for part of the year and he wanted to pick our brains about how we coped. We set up a lunch meeting for the time they were to be here and today was that day.

We met at Café Eklectika, my choice since we were meeting after I finished teaching and it is easy for all of us to get to. Ron went along and we had a lovely lunch consumed in conversation to the point that we neither Ron nor I realized our B and B guests were directly behind us eating as well.

Frank and Jean have one major advantage that we did not have. Jean’s parents were from Hungary, allowing her to apply for citizenship. With Frank as her spouse, this limits the red tape he will need to go through to stay here long term legally.

Frank is a retired teacher and Jean hopes to retire next year. Then they will be free to follow their dreams to come and go as they please. Ron had to leave after lunch to do some grocery shopping, but I stayed and continued talking, something I thrive on. When we finally said our good-byes, it was difficult to comprehend that we had been there for four hours. The time flew by as it usually does when one is engrossed in a pleasant activity.

Later that evening, I received a call that the founder of the Central European Teachers of English as a Foreign Language was in Budapest for the IATEFL-Hungary conference. We wanted to know if I could meet with he and another teacher. My back was kicking up, so to go out yet again would have been too much, so I had to offer my regrets. Another time, another place, perhaps.

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The Vagabonds Are Here

It is rare that I blog about our B and B guests, but sometimes it is worth writing about. Melissa and Julie booked our place months ago, but we had no idea at the time that they were beginning a great adventure. I had many e-mails back and forth with Melissa’s mom, Trudy. It was Melissa’s birthday and she wanted to pay their room while here.

The day before they were due to arrive, I received a panicky e-mail from Trudy. The airline did not want to let them travel out of Portland, since they had no return ticket to the U.S. from any destination. They had a connecting flight in Salt Lake City, so they were to call her from there if there was a problem. They were able to continue their travels to NYC and then to Budapest without incident, but were ready to crash on arrival.

When they had regained their energy and they were back to their perky selves, we were able to get the scoop on their plans. They both quit their jobs, sold their house, and set off to travel for six months. Wow, ladies, this is how we started out, so be careful. Julie was up for an out of the States long term experience, but Melissa was nervous when the idea was mentioned.

So while they were touring around Budapest, these were their plans. When they left Budapest, they were going to Eger on a Servas stint. “What is that?”, I can hear you asking. Well directly from their website, here you go.

What is SERVAS?

With every true friendship we build more firmly the foundations on which the peace of the whole world rests. Mahatma Gandhi

SERVAS is ...

• ... an international, non-governmental organization.
• ... based on understanding, tolerance and world peace.
• ... an organization of hosts and travellers.
• ... based on volunteer work.
• ... founded in 1949.
• ... non-profit.
• ... divided into nine areas around the world. Each area has its own coordinator.

http://www.servas.org/index.php?id=InfoCenter%3AWeb+sites%3AInternational%3AWhatIsServas

They contacted their host. He and his family were moving from one place to another and his home was not yet ready, but he was going to arrange accommodations for them. I cannot wait to read that story.

Their next stop after Eger will be Prague. It is Julie’s birthday on the 14^th, so she got to choose her destination. Then this adventurous duo will be doing Conversational English in Spain for two weeks. Each day, they trade their English conversation with Spaniards in exchange for room and board at one of five English schools in Spain. Before your mind starts working overtime with opportunities, know that you are committed for 12-15 hours a day, talk, talk, talk with no time to tour, shop, or tour and shop. They also have two weeks working on an organic farm in France as part of a free labor project. If you want to read more about their experiences, their blog is in the link section of this post.

When we have guests who have a birthday while they are with us, we get a birthday cake and celebrate with them. We were able to celebrate two at once since Melissa and Julie’s special days were only a bit over two weeks apart.

I cannot wait to continue reading your travel adventures women and I will not be surprised to find out your home in the future does not have a U.S. address. Calm down Melissa, it will be fine. Oh, and lest I forget, they had business cards made up with their blogsite, their names and e-mail addresses and Vagabonds in bold letters. Great idea! www.wegougo.blogspot.com

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Books, Books, and More Books

Dawn went to help a friend of hers pack up to move to London. She and her friend Sarah came over with huge bags of books. I LOVE books. 99.9% of them were books we did not already have. I am in literary heaven.

Dawn took the four of us to Indigo, an Indian restaurant. It was lovely and the food was some of the best we have had here.

Ron's back has been bothering him and my leg is being a problem stemming from a pain in the back. Kate, a Fulbrighter suggested we try the Alexander method for some healing. She is going to get us a number of someone who does this. Here is hoping, it is getting worse.

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Dawn and Nicole

Our friend Dawn came to stay with us. She and I went to USF together and she does consultancy work in this region. One of the Fulbrighters wanted to meet her, so we invited Nicole over for dinner. Nice evening! Ron has perfected meatloaf, which may be strange to some, but his is excellent. Leftovers are a breakfast treat for me.

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In the Evening, Ain't We Got Peanut Butter

I am an avid note writer for Frommers.com and especially for Budapest. Loving this city, I have to share my enthusiasm with others and invite them to ask me questions before they visit. With the past riots, I posted the news as I knew it so that those planning on coming were not daunted by the happenings to the point of canceling their trip. There were about thirty e-mails from people far and wide asking me for updates and I was thrilled to be able to soothe their fears. One young woman was amongst the many and wrote a number of times, creating a pen-pal situation. She was a delightful correspondent who had a heart-warming story to share. She was a Desert Storm vet, who had to be in a wheelchair. Budapest is not wheelchair friendly, so I had my doubts about her ability to fully enjoy the city. After a number of e-mails back and forth, she asked me if there was anything I would like from the States. I never refuse peanut butter, but I also include that it is not necessary for my e-mail friendship. Cyndi and her husband Dennis arrived in Budapest and gave me a call. We arranged to meet at their hotel due to her mobility concerns. I went to meet and visit them this evening. I never expect any rewards when I post on travel sites, but when I meet special people such as these two, it renews my faith in the human race. Cyndi shared some of her history as an Army WAC and as a vet. Her stories nearly brought tears to my eyes, but she shared them with such courage, my heart swelled with empathy. Her cheerfulness and willingness to cope with the obstacles of travel with an electric wheelchair are beyond my scope of imagination. Of course, it was obvious to me that she has a fantastic support system in Dennis, her husband. His robust laughter interspersed with the trials and tribulations they have had definitely de-stresses any situation. They are a remarkable couple and I feel honored to have met them both. All good deeds are rewarded at some point, but Cyndi and Dennis gave me immediate gratification with a bag containing four jars of peanut butter. Each and every time my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, I will give a silent "Thank you!" for the gift.

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The Second Coming

Friday morning: We had a guest leaving today, a Peace Corps volunteer in the Ukraine. Wonderful guy and fun to speak with. Ron was cleaning and then went shopping. I had a coffee meet up with a young woman from the U.S. here to do some research. We were meeting at 10:00, but I was home by 11:30. I was doing some cleaning and computer work, neither Ron nor I were paying too much attention to the time and he was still out at the store. At 2:00 with the big hand straight up in the 12 and the little hand assaulting the 2, my mobile rings. It was Gabor to tell me that Istvan the plumber was at our door. As the cliche goes, you could have knocked me over with a feather. Istvan came in and went to work. He said he was going to flood our bathroom. He filled the tub to see if this was the leak. Then he flooded the floor to see if the drain in the middle of the floor was the problem. He was up and down into the neighbor's apartment. He believed that with the quantity of water, the leak should appear almost immediately. Neither one had an effect on the their ceiling. Ron had a brilliant notion to look out of our bathroom window. There is a drain type pipe that starts just below our window and continues down past the neighbor's window. It is rotted in some part. His idea was that the rain water collected in this pipe and leaked into their place. Istvan filled this with water and had a successful epiphany. This seems to be the cause of the problem; he bent the pipe so that rain water could not enter it, thus solving the mystery. The crux of this whole situation is that the pipe does belong to the building, but since we had the work done, it was on us to foot the bill. Three plumbers and one solution for 20,000 Huf. This fries my butt, but at least the situation should be under control and we do not have to deal with nasty SMS's any longer. If this is not it, I am going to blast the people downstairs with the advice that we have done all we are going to do and it is now up to them to pay for diagnostics, something that has not been forthcoming yet.

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Ron's Brainstorm

Ron had a clever idea. Gosh, my vocabulary is becoming so British. He decided we should call the previous owner of the flat. He does after all have a contracting business and therefore should know a plumber. Though the gentlemen in question does not speak English, Ron called his son-in-law, Gabor, who does with some fluency. Gabor was quick to say he would call Ron back with some information and we were prepared to wait a week for this to happen. Shockingly, Gabor called back in 30 minutes with the information that the plumber was outside our door. It was like a magic act; it happens before your eyes, so you think it must be real, but you are never really sure of how it happened. There in front of us was Istvan and he spoke English. Two miracles at once, could our hearts take the excitement? Istvan looked over the bathroom, then went down to look at the neighbor's bathroom ceiling. When he returned upstairs with us, he said there were three possibilities off of the top of his head. This was two ideas more than the other plumbers had, so we took an immediate liking to him. He said he would return tomorrow to test each idea and see which one panned out, arranging to be here at 2:00 in the afternoon. This was convenient with the neighbor's wife, so all were in agreement. Personally, I wanted to chain him and stuff him into a closet until the appointed time. I know how these little leprechauns can lie their way out and you never see them again. When I dragged out the chains, Ron caught on to my motives and stopped me. Fingers are crossed for tomorrow. In the meantime, we had tickets tonight to a dance performance at the Trafo Theater with Kate, Philip, and Nicole, another Fulbrighter. It was a modern dance and other than the movements of their bodies, it was not interesting at all. Kate hated it and she is a choreographer. The two men were good-looking and the fact that they had their bodies almost completely exposed did lend something to the evening, but the woman rolling in 'blood' all over a canvas at the end did shock most of us.

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The Plumber: Continuing Saga

Ron has been persistent in calling the building manager arranged for us by our attorney. The manager said the plumber would come after 7:00 pm tonight. We decided not to exercise hanging by out thumbs waiting, but Ron has so much more faith in all areas of life than I do. He was almost willing to hold his breath while waiting. The messages from downstairs keep coming. I, being the faithless one, made the decision that we should watch some television shows we have on disc. After four episodes, it was 11:00 pm and the doorbell rang. Could it be the plumber at such an hour? No, it was the neighbor. He wanted us to come down to see the new bubble that had appeared in his bathroom ceiling. Not really a good time of the evening for home art appreciation, we went anyway. Yup, that is a bubble in the ceiling. Lovely how symmetrical it is. Okay, I can understand his frustration with this situation, but he did have the ceiling ripped out once already and just had it replaced without trying any productive resolutions to the situation. This should be a give and take on both sides, but he does not seem to know how to play the game even after we explained the rules a dozen times. We shared yet again that we cannot make plumbers materialize out of thin air, even if we were in our home environment. Here, we do not seem to know the magic words to make it happen. Dreading nightmares about our whole bathroom being ripped out to find this leak, we went to bed.

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Mystery Night

We had tickets to the theater with a group of others. One of my students tried corralling a group of twenty into going to get a 500 Huf discount, but it did not happen. Still, 2,000 Huf for just over $10.00 is not bad for a play. The venue was the Merlin Theater, which used to have a number of plays in English and is the 'international' theater in the city. When their long time acting troupe of three Brits abandoned them due to conflicts in artistic rights, their quality and quantity of English theater went into the pit. This play was performed quite brilliantly by two Brits. The play was "The Murder of Irma Vep". One stage set, multiple costume changes in the audience view, these two young actors portrayed eight different characters. On a scale of high school play zero to total professional 10, these two ranged about a six. Their performance was intriguing, but they projection left much to be desired in this small theater with limited seating. Being in the third row, we had difficulty hearing; those in the back rows must have had to read lips. As we all agreed upon leaving, it was an entertaining evening out, but it ended there.

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No Plumber

7:30 pm came and went, but no plumber who was due at 7:00. Ron called, but did not get an answer. Welcome to Hungary.

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An Afternoon with My TA

One of my Teaching Assistants wanted to go to lunch with us today, but not being from Budapest, he had no ideas as to where. There is a vegetarian restaurant on the Buda side we have heard great things about, so decided on this. However, when we arrived, they are closed on weekends. At that metro stop, Batthany ter, there is a church of some historic interest, but why escapes me. The front door was open so we went in for a peek. The actual doors to the church were locked, so we were only able to see the church through the door windows. It is not terribly impressive, but our curiousity was satiated. When we turned to leave, in the vestibule on the step was a plastic cup with a note. I suspected that the person begging when elsewhere for a pitstop, but left the cup just in case. My TA read the note and then translated it. It was a prayer to some saint regarding charity, then he confidently explained "and the rest of it is asking God to hear our screams for help." I almost choked to death on laughter with the word 'screams' which probably was cries. When we walked out, I could not hold it in any longer, and exploded into rioutous guffaws at the change in wording as I mentally pictured people screaming at God for help. I quickly reassured our young translator that I was not laughing AT him, but how the words could be misunderstood. He was a bit self-consious for the next half hour, but soon seemed to get over it. We finally decided on the palacsinta place across the street, four filled crepes for 900 Huf. They were delicious. On the way home, we stopped at the Kossuth ter metro stop. There was statue installed in the lower level of a blind looking man seated with his arm outstretched and pointing. In front of him is a dog. We have been curious about this for some time, but were never with a Hungarian speaker at any time to read the inscription. The TA said it was the name of the artist and gifted by the BKV, the transportation company and the name of the statue. We were still in the dark. My brilliant TA said he thought the title was taken from Greek mythology, a muse of some sort. We had no recollection of this at all. When we returned home, Ron Googled the name and sure enough, the TA was correct. A very obscure mythological figure that looks over government institutions to keep them honest. Kossuth ter is the metro stop for the Hungarian Parliament building.

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Attorneys and Plumbers

Friday, we had an appointment with our attorney regarding the plumbing problem. Why would someone seek a lawyer for a drip? Simple, the drip downstairs is stressing us out with demanding SMS messages. That is correct. He is too fearful/anxious/angry/pathetic, (circle your choice of adjective) to speak with us in person. His SMS was three messages long and hostile. In a foreign country, you have no idea what credentials one needs for the job they perform. Are the plumbers here licensed for example or can anyone with the knowledge call themselves a plumber?

The second plumber dug out all of the caulking and redid the whole tub. He thought this would solve the problem, but it has not. We contacted our attorney for a couple of reasons: A) We did not know how legal this situation could get. B) He could advise us on a professional who could solve this situation for us. C) We are still unclear on what responsibility is the buildings and what is ours. Who owns which pipes?

After hearing the whole story, he said we did not have a legal issue and doubted if it would turn into one. That was a relief to hear. He has a friend who is a building manager for five different apartment/office buildings and per chance lives across the street from us. He called him to come over and advise us. This gentleman has a professional plumber on contract for the buildings he manages and he has agreed to assess the situation. He explained that under the tubs there is a basin. This basin may have filled with water and is now dripping. He seems to believe that he can determine this by taking out two tiles in the wall. He is coming over on Monday evening. We will have everything put into writing in English and in Hungarian, though the drip downstairs does speak English. I have to question the neighbor who had his ceiling redone knowing the drip was still happening.

We are holding our breath until Monday at 7:00 PM.

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My Reaction to the News Around the World

There seems to be a variety of stories about what is happening here in various news sources around the world. I have read reports in different parts of the US as well as the UK and have received many e-mails from readers who are strangers, concerned about our welfare. One US paper has the streets 'littered' with burning cars. This is far from the truth. From what we know, mostly through students, is that the riot happened on Monday night when citizens heard of a leaked tape by the current government that his party lied extensively to win the election. He promised lower taxes, we now have tax hikes, making Hungary one of the highest taxed countries in Europe. The riot was at the Hungarian National Television building where they broke into the building, set things on fire and destroyed equipment. Presumably, there was another demonstration by skinheads at Blah Luiza ter, which is two blocks from us. We had our windows wide open until 11:00 pm when we went to bed, but did not hear a thing. We later heard the street was closed as a precautionary measure. Demonstrations are continuing at the Parliament, mostly peaceful, to try to get the Prime Minister to resign. As I have said to others who have written me, I have taught each day this week, students have shown up for class, and life around all that I need to do has been normal. The transports are all running, people are busy shopping, working and carrying on with their daily lives. If you come visit and had your heart set on a Parliament tour, you will be disappointed for now. Otherwise, things seem to be status quo.

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Budapest Riot Updates

Update on Budapest demonstrations (Thurs., 11:00 CET)

By: CaboodleNews:10:00

Following are the most recent important developments relating to this week's unrest in Budapest:

• Following a series of confrontations last night between rioters and the police, 55 people were taken into custody and 17 needed to be hospitalized. "Accelerated" legal proceedings have been started against detained protestors.

• As of this morning, only a few dozen protesters remain on Kossuth tér, in front of the Hungarian Parliament. Some of the protestors confirmed to the media that a few "agitators" have been responsible for the violence and tension. Last night some of those protesting peacefully decided to send a delegation to State President László Sólyom to propose a "National Round Table" (Nemzeti Kerekasztal) to deal with the country's political unrest.

• An English-speaking woman who brought several kitchen knives to Kossuth tér was led away by police this morning. She said she had come to Hungary to protest for the removal of Prime Minister Ferenc Gyurcsány.

• Despite earlier plans, neither former US President George Bush nor Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice are likely to come to Hungary for the 50th anniversary of the 1956 revolution next month.

• Local sporting goods stores have sold their entire stocks of baseball bats, state news wire MTI reported yesterday. MTI had surveyed stores because footage of some protests in Budapest showed rioters hitting a police car with baseball bats.

• A larger than normal contingent of bodyguards is accompanying Prime Minister Ferenc Gyurcsány, and his home is being secured by police officers. He was also offered a safer vehicle than the current, but he did not accept it.

• At least two agitators were apprehended last night in Pécs trying to cause trouble at an otherwise peaceful demonstration. Meanwhile, unknown perpetrators broke the glass door of the local headquarters of the governing Socialist Party (MSZP) and painted "Death to MSZP!" on another of the party's office buildings.

• Budapest's Eastern Railway Station (Keleti pályaudvar) was closed this morning at 7:45 due to a bomb scare. Service returned to normal a little after 9 a.m. as no explosives were found.

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Bad Blogger Man

Okay, I admit it, I am a bad blogger person, not having posted for a over two weeks. Lack of things to blog about is not the issue, but just the opposite. There has been so much activity, getting time and mental energy to coincide to blog has been the problem. The university started yet again on September 5th. This year, we do not have any freshmen due the the new Bologna Plan that is changing university systems in forty-four countries. Yet, even without new students, the beginning of school entails creating lists of students, getting e-mail addresses and mobile phone numbers for communication, pairing them off into teams for oral presentations, regrouping them into a second pairing to lead class discussions, and finally a group of four for a CARE team, to teach them responsibility for each other. Many of these are concepts they only encounter in my classes. In addition, I am teaching two new courses this semester: Critical Thinking and Ethnic Issues in the US. Each class only meets for 1 1/2 hours a week, so to further their thinking skills and sharing with each other, I created a blog for each class. I post a question each week after class based on our discussion of the reading and they have to respond to it. This is an entirely new concept for them, so it took over a week getting all of them prepped for becoming a blog member and how to post to the respective blog. Creating a pictorial Over the last two weeks, we have had a second plumber come to inspect our bathroom. The downstairs neighbor had been complaining for some time now that there is a leak in his ceiling. This started last year, we had a plumber look at our bathroom, but he could not find any problems. He advised the neighbor who was intending to have remodeling done, to have it checked from their ceiling upward when the ceiling was ripped out. The next thing we heard, the neighbor had his ceiling replaced and complained about leakage again. We have yet to become aware of the result of their workers investigation. They are putting the pressure on us to do something. Logic demands that if you have the ceiling ripped out, you correct any and all problems and concerns before you proceed with putting in a new ceiling, but no, this did not happen. We had a second plumber who came and suggested the grout around the tub was leaking. He ripped the grout out and re-grouted the tub. The problem continues. Then there is the issue of responsibility. If the problem is in a main pipe, it is the building's financial concern, but if it is own of our pipes, it is ours. Our insurance will pay for the neighbor's ceiling, but not for the repairs of the pipes. The joys of home ownership continue from country to country. We have an appointment with our attorney on Friday to discuss the matter and to try to find a qualified professional that will finally make a recommendation that everyone has to live with. The neighbor is great at complaining, but not working with us. Though he speaks English, he will only SMS us or send his wife up to speak with us. Amongst all of this chaos, I had a crown done over a root canal. God, I love my dentist. The cost for a crown was 24,000 Huf or $113.00. This is what I paid for a teeth cleaning in California. Hungary is known for its quality dentistry and people come from all over Europe for dental care due to the cost. On the positive side, Ron found that the Traf0 theater was issuing season tickets for 5,500 Huf ($26.00) for five performances. This is the experimental dance theater, so language is not an issue. We went to the first performance on Saturday, the 16th with friends. It was a troupe from Belgium who presented a play/dance combo with amazing body movements. All of us were mesmerized and could not stop discussing it over coffee afterward. This is the crux of happenings in a nutshell. The museum quest has been put off for the last fifteen I have yet to visit, but it will happen. It is strenuous to try to commit to them when there are so many other things happening around us. tutorial helped enormously in making them independent. The first two classes were excellent and beyond my expectations. If they continue in this vein, I will be one happy instructor.

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Our 13th Anniversary

As difficult as it is to believe, today is our 13 year anniversary. During the day, we did not do anything special, but in the evening, we met up with Kate the Fulbrighter and then another Fulbrighter, Chris. The four of us went to see "Click". The plan was to continue on after that to Bombay Express for the 'All-You-Can-Eat' Indian foof dinner. The movie was out so late, Kate begged off. She had given a video of "Dirty Dancing" a tongue in cheek joke since she is a professional dancer. Chris stuck it out with us and we also met up with Walker and Bill at the restaurant. It was a great day in the neighborhood.

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Schizoid Day

It was a glorious day, warm, but not excessively so making it the perfect day to do something different. A friend of ours, another ex-pat suggested we try the chair lift some time, claiming the scenery from the top was like none other in the city. We called one of my students, Balazs, who likes to practice is English with every opportunity. He admitted he had a severe fear of heights, but would join us anyway. This is a different Balazs then the nephew Balazs. We call this one "Junior". The nephew arranged for this Balasz to be our year 'replacement' interpreter/translator/friend/nephew while he is in the States for a year.

Taking a detour, we have booked another trip to Africa. This year, we are going to South Africa, then Namibia, Botswana, Zambia, and then back to South Africa. For all of my travel knowledge, I screwed this up badly. Our friend in South Africa had suggested a trip that starts in Victoria Falls on the Zambia side and then ends in Cape Town. When I contacted the agency, I was warned that a decision needed to be made soon, since it would be over Christmas and bookings are fill fast. With this in mind, we went to the travel agency to book our flights. Fly into Johannesburg from Budapest and then out of Cape Town. For my entire Internet searching, manipulating, and coercing, I could not beat the fare the travel agency had found so we bought the tickets. Here is where the first blunder started. I should have checked more tour companies before buying the tickets. As it was, we did not like the tour suggested. It was short, more than we had planned on spending, and most nights were spent in sleeping bags on the ground. My last days in a sleeping bag were in Boy Scouts and I vowed then, never again. Prompted by foreseeable back pain, lack of sleep, feeling grubby and grumpy, I surfed the Internet in search of other tours. What I could not and still cannot justify in my mind is how poverty-stricken underdeveloped countries can be so expensive to tour through. Many of the agencies I tried contacting sent a responder message. "We received your inquiry and will respond as soon as possible." For some, they fell into that black hole, I never heard back from them. Others did the hard sell, but still with sleeping bags on the ground for hundreds more dollars than the first tour suggested. Now we had tickets and no tour within our budget, what to do? More hunting, more searches, more pleading for cooperation and a reasonable cost, but to no avail, we had to rethink this situation. Here is where my travel IQ went plummeting. All of the other tours we checked into started from Cape Town and ended in Johannesburg. The complete opposite of the airline tickets we had purchased, based on the first suggested tour. Searching, hunting, inquiring, networking, and bribing, was no use. All of the other tours were backward for our flights. After flogging myself with wet travel brochures, we groveled, gave in and booked a 21 day tour that exceeded the cost of any trip we had ever taken, putting my moniker budgetnomad on probation. We booked a tour that starts in Cape Town the day after we arrive, goes through Namibia, then Botswana, and on to Victoria Falls in Zambia, leaving us there. Unless we intended to hitchhike from Victoria Falls to Cape Town, we had to book another flight . We also had to book a flight from Jo'burg to Cape Town at the start of the trip. I can handle the sound of lions roaring outside my accommodations, but the sound of a cash register cha-chinging in my head makes my blood run cold. Many, many dollars later, a hefty balance on the credit card, and raw nerves we were now set to go. We have tickets from Budapest to Johannesburg, tickets from there to Cape Town for the same day, one night in Cape Town and then we start our 21 day tour. We end in Zambia, where we have a flight back to Cape Town and two nights there before flying home to Budapest. Since we have lovely friends in Cape Town, this hardly seemed like a reasonable amount of time to spend there with them. Originally with a nine day tour, we would have had so much more time. We returned k to the travel agency to see how much it would cost to extend our time in Cape Town. I had a bad omen when she asked if we wanted to pay for our tickets today. While holding my breath, I said they were paid for already and have appeared on my credit card. Clearly and slowly, I enunciated we ONLY wanted to check on the cost of changing our return for a few days later. She asked which date we were thinking of, but there was no 2007 calendar around. Using our mobile phone's calendar function, we arbitrarily stated January 15th. Again, I reiterated, we do not want to make any changes until we know the cost and give it some thought. Her fingers were flashing over the keys of her computer's keyboard, faster than a jaguar after its prey. She rose from her chair and walked away, returning with two sheets of paper that she handed to us. "This is your new itinerary." She pleasantly utters. With this, I asked "How long do we have to decide on this before we actually make the changes?" The difference was $311.00 for both of us. She looks at me quizzically and states. "I made the changes." What? What? I told you twice that we did not want to do anything, but gather information. What was going on in my head is not printable. When she realized her mistake, she tried backtracking to the original reservation. Opps! The seats were gone. We would have to be waitlisted if we wanted our original flights back. Now we have worked with this agency long enough to know this is not a scam they pull. This woman's English was not suitable for dealing with English speakers. It was obvious by her co-worker's face that he was disgusted with her performance. Acquiescing, we went with the flow of fate and paid for the changes, will concerns that any further negotiating, we would not have seats on any flights at all.

Back on track again, we traveled the metro to the stop where we were to meet Balazs, and then the three of us took bus 156 to the end of the line arriving at the chairlift. Tickets are only 500 Huf each way, making this a bargain. The lifts are just like you see in the movies at ski resorts, but since I do not ski, I have never been on one before.

Balazs and I rode together; three to a seat was impossible. The scenery downward was treetops and bushes. We kept estimating how much bodily damage we would have with this breaking our fall. It was peaceful once we could beyond fear.

At the top is a lookout spot, which Ron was determined to climb up. The road was about a ½ mile up on a ninety-degree incline. It kept me from having a cigarette on the way up, but had one at the top to celebrate making it. Once at the top of the hill is a memorial building which is 100 years old. Balazs was not translating the many word-filled posters with photos of years gone by. Ron had to climb to the top of this too for the view. I thought the view was just fine, but followed anyway. Flying ant like creatures filled the air at the top. When they landed bees or wasps, I am not sure what they were, attacked them. This kept the bee things from leaving me alone. They must have liked the smell of my shampoo; they kept going for my hair.

We had choices for the way down, but I wanted to do the chairlift again, this time riding alone. It was so peaceful. We then took the bus to the cogwheel and stopped at an out of the way café for a coffee. An excellent day! But a bit of disaster was to follow this evening.

Apart from spending more money than we had anticipated, it was a day to live in our memories for some time. I have some air shots of the chairlift ride, but have to download them from the camera yet.

Tonight, we were watching a show via the laptop computer. I had the laptop plugged in, but could not figure out why it was not showing on the television. One of those “Duh!” moments, I did not have the cable from the TV into the computer. However, the screen looked dim to me and I bought this computer specifically for the high density lighting for photo and video editing. Still in my “Duh!” phase no doubt, I could not figure what was wrong, but since we were watching the TV, it did not matter.

After fifty minutes into the show, the balloon popped up on the computer screen warning the battery was running dry. That was why the screen was dim, but it was plugged into the socket, so it should not have been running on battery juice. Vroom, the computer went out like a date on rohypnol. Ron went to check the plug, plugged it into another outlet, the lights came and went with the movement, but then hiss, spark, sizzle, snap, crackle and pop. The power cord was shot. The computer is only 4 months old, but in Hungary, after 3 days after the sale, you are in the hands of the WARRANTY people. I have the number for Tosiba’s authorized fixer upper, but was assured they do not speak English. Tuesday is coming and classes start, so I have ready access to translators once again.

There is no way to tell at this point if it damaged the computer or not. It is one of those wait and see games. The middle of the day was so great. I have to remember the chairlift peace and drift baccccccckkkkk.

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Three Birds With One Stone

Ron and I went to Obuda today. I missed seeing the Varga Imre Museum when I was there due to lack of small bills for the admission. The small museums could not change my 5,000 Huf note that I had on me at the time. This was our first stop.

As we entered this unassuming building pawning itself off as a museum, a gracious woman attendant walked us to the cashier’s desk and then spewed off Hungarian. Ron said in Hungarian that we spoke English. She then said “Free” and waved us on. Puzzled by this, the sign on the wall shows the tickets are 500 Huf, but we took advantage of our good luck.

Imre Varga became an artist by accident. He was a graduate of the Military Academy with a degree is aeronautics. He served in WW II, where he met the sculpture artist Pál Pátyai. Due to this accidental meeting, he applied to the College of Fine Arts, launching his career. His sculptures range from the size of coins to greater than life. His work is mostly done in metals and exhibited in public places in natural environments. The work is exquisitely executed with various metals, some flat, but bent areas while others parts are hammered to create designs.

The museum has an extraordinary collection of his work, considering he has other works decorating many parts of the world. I was told he is one of the most important current artists in Hungary and now I have a great appreciation as to why. Strangely, the only reading available was in Hungarian, but the titles of each piece were in Hungarian and German or Hungarian and French.

The second stop was not as impressive. It was the Kassák Museum. Located on the first floor of an old palace, when we entered we were received, not greeted by a dour faced woman who looked upon us as intruders. After she regretfully accepted our 150 Huf each for entry, we toured the large room we had entered. Most of the paintings and sculptures displayed in this room were reminiscent of American Folk Art, being very crude and rustic in style. There was nothing to read to explain the works. Being that I appreciate American primitive art, I did have a sense of appreciation for some of the pieces. The second room, however, was more modern art leaning toward Pop or Op art styles, which leave me cold.

To the right of the major room one first enters is the reason for the museum’s existence. It is the collection of Lajos Kassák's own works. We were given a laminated sheet to do a self-tour, but the explanation of the importance of having a museum was absent. Kassák it seems was a rebel who started an avant-garde journal, but had to flee the country. He recreated his journal in Austria and later returned to Hungary. He was a writer and painter, but with the absence of meaningfully explanations, the displays were just a collection of old journals sitting behind glass shelters. Even after researching this author/artist, I could not find much in English to sweeten my impression of the museum.

As we left, we thanked Ms. Sourpus with syrupy sweet smiles, but we might as well have been the last Russians leaving the country for the response we received in return.

The final straw, oops, I mean the final museum visit of the day was the Óbudai Museum. It is diagonal to the Kassák Museum. The sign outside shows the hours as 10 – 6 Tuesday through Friday and 10 – 2 on Saturday. Today was Thursday and it was only 2 pm. There is a buzzer to ring to enter, but after doing so, we realized the door was already open.

Standing behind a desk stood a startled looking woman and a man appeared from somewhere on the left with a suspicious look on his face. If the desk were not covered with brochures and the walls with seemingly exhibits, I would have run out to check if we were in the museum or if we had broken and entered someone’s home. The woman asked us in Hungarian what we wanted. I responded with “museum”. She immediately became flustered and dug threw her desk drawer looking for tickets. For some reason, we needed two each, though we were the only visitors. Since they had nothing in English, the man volunteered to be our guide. With his 20 words of English and our 40 words of Hungarian, we managed.

To state a theme for this museum would limit its scope. The general theme was Óbuda and all that represented in the past. In one area, old Roman ruins are visible, yet next to them are old pieces of ceramic dishes that date to the 1800s. If hodge-podge were a theme, this would be it. He took us into a room and said it was a German family’s bedroom. The next room was a German family’s kitchen. Along the long corridor we walked down to enter these rooms, there were assorted artifacts of naval pieces, coins, and other assorted things. There were also more rooms to visit, but our guide suddenly said “Finished” and motioned for us to leave.

We had the sense that they were planning to play hooky today and we disrupted the escape. He saw us to the door. By this time, we were on sensory overload, so we were grateful, but we still wanted to see what was behind door number 3. Perhaps another time!

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Dental Surprised

There is nothing I hate more than dental surprises. I made an appointment to get my teeth cleaned and three days prior, I was flossing and broke an old root canal. As three dentists in two different countries have told me, I missed the good teeth gene somewhere.

As I sit in the waiting room of my dentist, anticipating what he is going to say, I think of the worst-case scenario. Well my worst case and his differed sharply. Not only did he have to redo the whole root canal, he has to do a crown too. The cost of the root canal… $32.00. The cost of a crown… $110.00. This is WITHOUT dental insurance since it does not exist here. I love Hungary for this reason. Dentistry is widely acclaimed throughout Europe, which the Austrians and Germans have known for a number of years. Now the Brits have caught on too. People from all over Europe now come here for dental holidays. There are even travel agents who specialize in making flight, hotel, and dental appointments for travelers. Hungarian dentists are amongst the best with dental implants.

I also love my dentist. He is kind, gentle, and look like a young version of Robert Redford.

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Budapest Parade

Kate, a new Fulbrighter this year, our returning friends Walker and Bill, plus Ron and I joined forces to see the Budapest Parade today. This is modeled on the Love Parade in Berlin, but seems like a far cry from it. Last year, Ron and I went alone. The techno music was so loud, the vibrations alone could move you two feet back from where you where standing. This year, the theme was to include Mardi Gras and Roller Blades, so we attempted to give it another try.

The parade was to start at 2:00, but nothing in Hungary starts on time. We arrived at Liszt Ferenc ter at 2:30 to be surprised that the beginnings of the parade had passed us by already. We patiently stood waiting for over an hour watching the crowd and the um, parade if it can be termed that. In the hour of expectation, three huge flatbed trucks did roll down the street covered with humungous stereo speakers blasting noise, what some may call music. Now I cannot attribute this to age, as Kate is twenty years my junior and a professional dancer/choreographer and she was just as flabbergasted as the rest of us. The snail’s pace of the ‘floats’ was more tiring than exciting. We worked our way through the mobs heading toward Deak, but the upcoming parts of the celebration were just as colorless and eardrum shattering as what we had observed, so we by-passed it all for a coffee at Vista Café. When will this city learn what a parade is all about?

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Good-bye and Good Luck!

This seems to be our week for saying good-byes, one sadly anticipated and the other unexpectedly soon. On Monday, we took our adopted nephew out for a good-bye dinner. He was leaving today for Trinity College in Hartford, CT. Balazs earned a full scholarship provided by the Kellner Foundation who will be paying not only his room, board, and tuition, but also a monthly stipend, a new Dell laptop computer, and a travel stipend as well.

As exciting as this was for him and we were thrilled he would get this opportunity, we were also psychologically devastated at the thought of his being gone for a year. He had been our rock in dealing with all thing Hungarian that we have not been about to circumvent on our own. He has shared dinners with us at our home as well as in restaurants; he attends classical music events with Ron, because I will not. He is closer to us than my own nephews have been. He calls for advice, stops over just to chat, and there is a close bond that I have not had with any of my relatives in over thirty years.

Trying to put on a brave face, we took him to one of our favorite restaurants in the city, Troffea. Troffea is an all-you-can-eat restaurant with class. You are able to select your beverage from sodas, mineral waters, beer, wine, or champagne. The selections of food range from a choice of five soups, to dozens of salads, five prepared entrees, a refrigerated case with marinated meats that they will grill on the spot for you, a dozen vegetables, and as many desserts. We generally reserve this restaurant for special occasions since it is easy to go overboard, but this was as special an evening as they get.

Balazs was to leave Friday morning. We all knew it would not be appropriate to have all of us bawling at the airport as he waved good-bye, so we thought Monday night was our chance. Alas, he teaches through our business, so he had to return on Thursday night to give us his time sheet, so once last chance.

On Thursday night, we received a call from Angela, the former Fulbrighter who was here doing research and studying Hungarian. Due to a family emergency, she had to leave for home days sooner than planned. She was leaving on Saturday. Now we had to prepare an abrupt good-bye with someone we had spent quality time.

Balazs spent a few hours with us on Thursday night, all of us postponing the inevitable. There were no tears. We all refused to own up to our emotions. Truth be told, he is planning on returning to Hungary for Christmas and spring break. I have told him as strongly as I would my own, this is a mistake. He should be making friends and spending the holidays traveling and soaking up the US culture. I told him that I hope that what would be ultimately best for him is what would be.

We were going to go for one last dinner with Angela tonight, but our other favorite restaurant Paprika was hopping and without a reservation, it would have been a long wait. We returned to Troffea once again. Now I have to recite ‘diet’ 1,000 times before I can eat again.

Angela, sorry you had to leave so suddenly, but thanks for the good times we shared while you were here.

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A Shocking Day in the Neighborhood

If you have read any prior posts recently, you will know that I attempted to visit the Museum of Electrotechnics last week only to find it closed except for Wednesdays. I ambled over there again today, since it is not far from home. The guard, who tried to converse with me last week, spotted me, surprised that I returned and punched in the code for me to enter. He bla-bla-bla’ed me in Hungarian, but the gist of what I understood was I was to go up the staircase. When I reached the second floor, there were three doors on that landing, none of them open and no sign of a museum. I went to the third floor in search of a display, but found more doors, all locked. Back down to the second floor, I heard voices. I opened the only unlocked door where some electrical items were displayed. Not being an engineer, I thought this was a waste of time and was ready to scoot out just to check it off my list. Been there, done that, scratch it off. Some electrical force drew me back to the third floor where I was just about to approach a door as it opened out to me. There was a woman standing there looking as startled as I felt, but I managed to utter “Hol van museum?” I thought she was going to take me by the hand, but she led me downstairs, through some doors, and to an older gentleman who was giving a tour in Hungarian. He offered to start again with me when he was finished with this trio. With me as a single guest, he asked me how much time I had as a tour could take up to 2 hours. Whoa! Let’s squeeze it to forty-five minutes and you will still have my attention; after that I will be visiting never, never land. Ten minutes into his lecture, another visitor enters the room. The new entry does not notice me, but the guide asks if he speaks English. I jump in with the answer that he speaks it perfectly. He was one of my students from 2 years ago and his English is flawless. So we go through the various inventions of electricity with the beginnings of unipolar generators to direct current on to Bláthy’s alternating current consumption meter (1889) that is still used today. I also learned that three engineers, Károly Zipemowsky, Mkisa Déri, and Titusz Bláthy invented the transformer, enabling the transmission of AC current over long distances. This in turn led to the extensive application of electric power. There were other things that I would need study guides to remember. From here, we move to from one room to another room with other inventions, things electrical, and pictures of the Hungarians who invented them. The inventor of the hologram was a Hungarian who happened upon it accidently while working on a physics problem. Although the presentation kept my interest, I retained the information for the same time as a Chinese dinner. Science has never been my strongest area, but when I left, I had greater appreciation for Hungarian scientists. I asked why the Tour Inform website has this museum listed as being open 6 days a week, when in fact they are only open on Wednesday. He explained that their website is three years out of date. My forty-five minute request went closer to an hour plus, but I was engrossed and did not notice time passing by. This is an excellent museum to bring children to and a must see for any science teachers. From here, I wanted to finish off the museums on Castle Hill, so this meant getting to the Telephone Museum, the last one in that district. This was another museum Ron and I had attempted to visit, but arrived too late. Note that on weekends, the entrance is on the opposite block, not the address given. Weekdays, you enter through large doors into an archway, then into a courtyard. The museum is on the left side. There is a bell to ring for entry, so I did…and waited, and waited, and waited so more. I did not want to make three attempts the charm, so I waited about five minutes before ringing the bell again, thinking the staff was in a huddle gossiping in a corner of the place and did not bother with the first ring. After a few minutes of the second buzzer alert, the door was flung open by a short grey haired lady with a scowl to kill. If she were wearing a habit, she would have reminded me of the nuns that taught catechism and threw us over desks when we got out of hand. Feeling like a bad five year-old, I greeted her and waited to be invited inside. At the same time, I could not help but wonder if I dragged her off the toilet or woke her from a nap on the desk. Either way, she was a force to be reckoned with, but she locked the door behind me, so I had to tread easy or else. This was her domain and she held the key to my escape. I handed her my 1,000 Huf bill for the 200 Huf admission fee, forcing her to scrape up the change for me. This did not make my unhappy camper want to break out in song. Looking around, it was just the two of us. I spent considerable time looking over the old phones, the switchboards, and other displays which all had an English translation. I was in awe. Many decades ago, when I lived in Florida, I was hired as one of their first male operators and the prospect was thrilling. Being the first of anything is another check-off list I maintained. Sadly, it never came to fruition as the training date was postponed many times; I could not afford to continue living there and had to move back north. However, I did work as a switchboard operator for the railroad for a stint, so I could relate to some of the displays. As I perused the displays within 5 feet of the desk, I was fine. Once I moved farther away, my charmer was at my side like a small dog who was not sure if she was going to bite my ankle or not. It made me insecure about making any sudden moves, so I made visible signs that I was reading each display, while ever so cautiously moving to the next one. She must have eventually, been enveloped by the charm oozing from my aura or she has multiple personality disorder. Her mood shifted without warning and she started pointing things out to me in English, like we were the best of buds. After the large room you enter into, there are two other rooms. Each one had something of interest, even the huge connecting relays. It had never occurred to me that voice has to be changed into an electrical current and then recomposed on the other end. By the end of my personal tour, I felt like giving her a csokolom (kiss your hand), but fearful of another personality change, I settled for a sincere “Thank you” and was grateful when she unlocked the door.

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Museum for Vexillology

If this banner stumps you, then flaunt your new gained knowledge when you unfurl your body, hoist yourself out of your chair, and strike out for the dictionary. All of the words in italics are clues to the type of museum, though in a different context. They are all words used in association with…FLAGS.

Yes, I ventured to the Flag Museum. This is the first of its kind I had ever heard of, but here it is in Budapest. Though the address states it is at Jószsef körút 68, the only thing I could find at that address was a bar offering a lesbian sex show. I knew immediately this was wrong since I have such skill with deductive reasoning. I checked the address again and again, but this was the correct number and street. I walked up and down the street, and then crossed over to number 70 on the other side. Nope, not there either, but as I turned to come back, I happened to notice a banner of flags draped across the street on Nap utca. Sure as shoot’in, the entrance was there.

Walking down the five steps, I noticed the sole person I was to see sitting at a desk eating sunflower seeds while screaming at some poor soul on her mobile. Her desk looked like the bottom of a parrot’s cage, but she did have the courtesy to hang up the phone when I strolled up to her with money in hand. She looked a bit astonished to see someone enter her domain. The admission is 400 Huf. There was nothing listed for a photo ticket, but I did not bring my camera having a hunch it was not going to be needed.

The museum is the collection of Lászlo Balogh, obviously a vexillogist, a flag collector. If there were a sign stating how many flags were on display, I would not know noticed since nothing is in English other than the facts in the previous sentence. At first glance, I though the museum consisted of one large room only. When the bird-chow woman turned on the lights, there was a room overwhelmed with the colors of thousands of rainbows creating the pride of the countries of the world. They are divided in sections according to the globe. The first section is the Oceanic area, then South and North America, and so on.

Each flag has some information pertaining to the country it represents, though in Hungarian. My first and lasting impression of the layout was one of a junior high school geography project on amphetamines. Not only are countries represented with their flag, but parts of the country are as well. On a large map of the USA, there is a small representation of each State flag in the respective State. The same goes for the districts or counties in Germany, Spain, Argentina, and others.

Balogh must have written to an official in each country to receive a flag. There was a letter from the secretary of the King of Albania stating they do not keep flags on hand, but directed him to where he could purchase one. The letter written in English also hoped that he would enjoy the photo of the Royal family.

Whether or not a museum appeals to me, I try to be respectful of it when visiting. I spend what I thought was a respectful amount of time looking over the flags, but the attendant was back on her mobile ignoring me completely. This was fine with me; I don’t crave the attention. When I thought I had done my job and turned to leave, I realized there was now a second room lit and another display to gander at. This other room was devoted to the flags of Hungary, the cities of Hungary, the wine regions of Hungary, and anyone or any group that had a flag or banner to display.

Although I am not enamored with flags per se, I did find this interesting for the mere fact that someone has such a hobby. For an hour’s entertainment, it is an interesting place to spend an hour. I could have spent more time there if I could have read the little signs that were glued to the colorful construction paper by each flag to gain some insight, but alas for 400 Huf, you cannot have it all.

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