Wanderlust Heaven!

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Spent a half-day in Lviv getting ready to head to Budapest.  It was an achingly beautiful early autumn day and as usual I was running around doing things.  Looked for a gift for Bert and Vjera, whom I’d be visiting in Budapest.  Lviv has a string of bookshops in the center of town – I like places where you can find books and the people actually read.  Central Asia had been a bit of a wasteland in that regard.

Looked for a restaurant I’d heard was good.  A fellow I asked told me – then asked me if I was Polish.  Second person who thought that – the other was a guy I asked for directions to the cemetery I visited last week.  That guy, Viktor, told me he spent a year in Chicago – every English sentence he uttered was punctuated with ‘bro.’  Charming.

Found the resto, Amadeus, and inhaled a huge ‘gypsy shashlyk’ which was really just a few well-grilled chunks of meat with some potatos and sauce.  Perhaps the best shashlyk ever, although those two skewers in Bishkek still come to mind…

Got on the train to Budapest that night.  Was going to visit fraternity brother Bert, who relocated from New York City to Budapest four months ago.  He had sent me an email around that time, in typically cryptic style – my understanding is that he had met a Hungarian woman in NYC and went back to Budapest with her.  Good for him…Bert has spent the past 20 years, since graduating from college, dealing with some health issues, and he’d been in NYC for the past 15 or so.  He’s great musician and music is part of his essence…perhaps a change of scenery plus his music would be what he needed to recover and regain his previously awesome joie de vivre.  But I really had no idea; since college I had only spent a few days hanging out with him, this trip to Budapest would be the most time we’d ever spent together.  Homicide was not out of the question…

I shared a train compartment with two spry Welsh, Reese and Donna, on their way to Romania to do some volunteering.  They shared their beer with me – I vowed to pay it forward on my next train trip.  We eventually passed out – then were awoken by border guards who wanted our passports.  At least the people I dealt with during the ride were pleasant – the ‘train lady’ was positively jolly, a real rarity, and even the Hungarian border guard was amused by my fat passport.

But a long night nonetheless…they had to change the wheels as well as doing the border checks.  The Welsh got off before I did…I finally roused myself and we pulled into Budapest an hour or so late.

As I disembarked I realized this was my first cross-border train ride since I’d left Mongolia for Russia in late June.  That was an epic journey, and involved visa checks and all that – this time no visas required, and in general it felt pretty relaxed.  Good to be traveling overland again – flights are pricey these days, and dealing with crappy airports isn’t much fun.

Bert and Vjera, along with her nephew, met me at Keleti Station.  Bert looked pretty good – last time I’d seen him he’d been surprisingly heavy, mostly from various ‘experiments’ he’d been conducting to try to cure his condition.  I still had to needle him about being fat, but I mostly pulled my punches.

Dropped my stuff off at Vjera’s flat, an attractive space which is painstakingly decorated.  She’s a translator and has a nice lifestyle – has time for yoga and for hanging out with Bert.  He moved in there when he came to Budapest – seems to be working out pretty well so far.

We went out to Magrit Island to walk around and let Vjera’s nephew get some air.  We were eventually to meet his mother, Vjera’s sister, there.  To amuse the little guy (and Bert?) we rented a cycle-type vehicle, which could seat four, and took off around the park.  The nephew steered – with constant assistance from me – I pedaled in the front, Bert in the rear.  A lot of fun – dangerous at times, which was an essential aspect of the amusement.  I noticed that a lot of women, many cute, were looking at us and smiling (usually).  Interpretation:  a man (or men) accompanying a little kid passes the litmus test of paternalism – they’ve given in and are thus acceptable.  Whereas my usual practice of sitting solo at a bar is not.  Got it.

At one point Bert felt his back pocket, to check his wallet, which was no longer there.  Uh-oh.  We all fanned out to look for it – but had no idea where it might be.  Did it get lifted on the tram to the island?  We were targeted as soon as we walked away from the ATM we hit right before taking the tram?  Did it just fall out during a bump on the cycle ride?  Errah…

We looked all round the park – no luck.  Bert was philosophical about the loss – didn’t get too upset, not much angst.  We eventually met up with Vjera’s sister Anna, and walked around with her for a while before returning to the flat to call the credit card company and cancel the lost/stolen card.  Bert checked his online account, and found that someone had already withdrawn nearly US$4,000 from his bank/debit card.  Shit.  The transaction was linked to something called ‘Lixus Budapest,’ which Vjera looked into and discovered was a casino.  Hmmm.  Further Vjera calls to Lixus itself found that the transaction had taken place at one of its two casinos in town – and that apparently the card was used as a debit card and that only a (fake) signature, not a PIN, was required.  Incredible – first, that the miscreant moved so fast, second that no PIN was required.  That set in motion a series of phone calls to Bert’s bank – after much explanation the bank is doing an investigation but it looks like Bert will eventually prevail and get his money refunded by the bank.  Meanwhile, the casino operation sounds very dodgy and there must be a corrupt cashier/manager there who does this all the time…

Had dinner and drinks – Bert was still holding up well, despite the theft of a significant portion of his bank holdings.  And overall, today’s events aside, he seemed heartier than he’d been when I’d seen him in NYC over the past few years.  I think his mind and sense of humor haven’t missed a beat – he’s as perverse as ever, and can’t resist torturing those around him. I don’t know how Vjera handles it, he must be unlike anyone she’s ever met – he’s certainly unlike anyone I’ve ever met…

So if Bert can get his body back in good working order, and keeps playing music, he could become an ubermensch within the next, say, 2-3 years.  Good to see that this may come to pass, Bert’s been in the tunnel for a long long time.

We went to the local police station to report the theft (we tried to do so in the park but the station there isn’t equipped for that).  Waited a while there – a couple was in there before us, with a baby, to report some crime, and it turned out that the woman was actually wanted for a crime herself.  Talk about dim.  We finally got in there and Vjera did all the talking.  Bert and I stared at a poster on the wall – ‘Aliens vs. Predators 2’ – a huge poster which Bert and I posited was the Budapest police’s latest success; they brought both Predator and Alien to justice, so recovering Bert’s wallet would be easy, right?  We giggled perhaps a bit too much for a police station.

We could do no more on the wallet front, so Bert and I headed to the famed baths of Budapest.  There are lots of places, we started with the largest, Szecaenyi.  A bit hard to work out the procedures, but we eventually found ourselves in a warm bath.  We spent the next three hours moving between hot, warm and cold pools, inside and outside the building.  The pools outside were terrific, loads of cute locals frolicking around.  Very social scene.  Bert hadn’t yet been to one of these bathhouses so we were getting up to speed together.  Much better than the hammom I visited in Bukhara, which was really a cavern with water taps.  I prefer the hot and cold pools, much more refreshing.

Random bathhouse observations:

-There probably is an optimal algorithm for moving between different pools (and the sauna as well).  We tried all sorts of combinations – I liked very cold to very hot, that way the cold shielded you from the hot, at least for a few minutes.

-The water temps affect your organs – I felt incredibly hungry at several points, probably from the stomach expanding and contracting due to different temps.

-Besides moving between pools, there’s really nothing to do in there.  That’s precisely what I need, given my usual focus on doing tasks.  You just sit there and think, or talk, and stew.  Excellent, really.

Bert might have some other observations – I expect he’ll post a comment one of these days.  More on bathhouses and bathing a bit later in this entry.

We were starving after the baths, so found a Turkish place and inhaled a huge souvlaki plate apiece.  Then went with Vjera to hear some music in a university-type hall – decent rock band.  Had a couple Hungarian beers – not bad at all.  Walking home, Bert and I got a gyro – Budapest has more gyro places than I’d ever seen before.  A good preview for Turkey.

Vjera has a large set of Shakespeare books in Magyar (Hungarian).  Magyar is a weird language, it’s related to Finnish and unrelated to nearly anything else.  I didn’t even try to pick up more than 2-3 words while there…if I tried, I’d forget all the Ukrainian and Russian I’d already picked up.  I know the capacity constraints of my little brain…

Next day we all went to a fair in a park near the Danube, which is an impressive river.  I’d been to Budapest once before, more than 10 years ago, and had forgotten what a pleasant and attractive city Budapest is.  Good to be back.

No pics of our little gang – Bert is camera-shy.

After milling around the fair for a while, Bert and I peeled off and went to our second bathhouse, Gallert, which is next to a classic old hotel on the Buda side of the river.  Gallert is huge, larger than Szecaenyi, but is as a result pretty confusing and we spent a lot of time wandering around lost.  But it was a good session all the same – Gallert is probably the most ornate bathhouse in Budapest, and I’d seen pics of it in various magazines.  There’s one room with two pools, 36 and 38 degrees Celsius, and we spent a lot of time in pool 38.  This room is huge and is probably several hundred years old.  The Turks left some good stuff behind here…

Bert and I were becoming bathhouse aficionados, and planned at least one more stop before I left town.  The concept of an ‘Extreme Bathing Team’ came up – the idea of sitting around all day in a pool appealed greatly to both of us.  Note that there doesn’t seem to be any sort of homosexual aspect to these bathhouses, at least the ones we visited – I imagine there may be places dedicated to that sort of thing, although Eastern Europe doesn’t seem to yet be all that open to the alternative lifestyle.

Vjera, Anna and the nephew showed up outside Gallert right when Bert and I were checking out the outdoors pool there.  That was a bit funny – wasn’t sure if they wanted to join us, or watch us, or what.  We had agreed to meet around 7 p.m. to catch some music, back at the fair, so we were surprised by this rendezvous.

We wound up meeting just outside Gallert, and went back to the fair together.  Saw one of Vjera’s favorite local bands, Csik, fronted by a charismatic moustachoied fellow who survived an awful car accident a while back.  Great stuff  – the band had 3 violins/fiddles and a ‘eastern’ sound that is miles away from the latest western blather.

After that, had dinner at Cactus Juice, a fusion place with a vaguely Middle Eastern bent.  Stayed there for a while – Bert and I had a good talk about life and plans – not that either of us are particularly knowledgeable or skilled in those areas…

Next day, we had big plans.  First, lunch at Vjera’s parents’ place.  Huge meal – her mom is a great cook and she set out a fantastic spread of chicken, pork, mashed potatos, sweet cherries, cauliflower, and cheeses.  Bert and I didn’t hold back, much – but I had to be mindful of the second major plan for the day (more on that soon), so I only had 3 plates of food…

I started playing chess against the nephew, and tried my best not to checkmate him.  I once won, by accident, and redid that move to keep the game going.  Eventually Vjera’s dad stepped in – he’s an accomplished chess master and Bert has lost badly to him every time.  That tightened the game up right away.  Bert joined me, and we struggled to hold off the dad.  We did alright – mostly ran from his attacking pieces, but made a couple trades that reduced the overall power of both sides, and eventually the dad said that a conclusion was unlikely, the two sides were equal and weak.  So we agreed and I left the board feeling pretty good.  Of course, the dad would have crushed me if we’d had a normal game…still, I didn’t fold and that was heartening.

Second major task for that day:  a 10K run around Margit Island, part of Nike’s ‘Human Race,’ which is held in around 20 cities around the world and involves approximately a million runners, including, of course, Lance Armstrong.  We were joined by a friend of Vjear’s, and got to the starting point just before 5 p.m.  The run started – I hadn’t run any formal race in a couple years, so took it easy and paced myself.  Wasn’t sure how fast to take it early on, I just found a few runners who seemed like me, and stayed with them.  Got around the island once, it was two times around in total.  On the second loop my right hamstring really started bothering me – plus my left hip was sore – plus my stomach was stuffed from the huge meal.  Terrific.  My ego dictated that I finish the run…and I wanted a decent showing, given that I was theoretically in good shape and had been running semi-regularly.  My stamina was fine, at least.  I tucked in my chin and got going – and I plowed through the last few km.  I finished in 58 minutes for the 10K, which I later found out was really about 11K.  A bit worse than my standard 8-minute mile pace.  But good enough.

Really felt the pain that night.  Very humbling – one of these days I really need to turn on the juice and get this aging body in great shape.  Good thing my ego has remained in shape – i.e., small.

We just stayed in and had a light dinner prepared by Bert and Vjera.  Bert has developed deep skills in lassi- and smoothie-making – I had about 10 of these during my 5 days with them.  Vjera makes a great salad, sandwich, and much more.  I don’t think I’ve eaten such healthy food in a long time.

Played ‘Who Wantes to Be a Millionaire?’  I wasn’t impressive – but then again, I had some British television questions which were nearly unanswerable.  We teased Bert, who got one obscure question involved magpies – but who also got the question ‘how many years in a millennium?’  Hard one.  I think I prefer Trivial Pursuit – although there are annoying TV questions in there too.

Went to our third bathhouse the next day.  This place has high sulfur content, and radioactivity as well.  Not sure what that means, should read up on it sometime.  The furdo (bathhouse) is called Rudas and is right near Gallert.  Rudas was our favorite of the three we’d visited – the main chamber has nearly all the pools, the ceiling has some openings to let in a bit of sublight, and there are both freezing cold and super-hot (42 degree) pools – great temp spreads.  We festered in the mid-range pools, mostly, and fantasized about our ‘Extreme Bathing’ concept.  We agreed to start recruiting other members, starting with fraternity brother Tim in the States.  Living in Budapest…hanging out in the baths…having an inexpensive flat…lots of positives here.  Anyone who’s floundering in the west would do well to consider a move to Budapest or a place like it.

Saw the fattest Hungarian I’d seen yet – American-sized guy.  He waddled from pool to pool.  Another local insisted on diving into the pools, and warned others with an Indian-style puckering whistle – a sound often used in India to get the attention of waiters.  Annoying, really.

Rudas was excellent – we spent 3 or so hours there, which seemed to be the right amount of time to spend in a bathhouse.  Bert looked likely to continue this trend when I’d leave the city – good for him.  Between playing music and extreme bathing, he’d be feeding his body and soul and would possibly hasten his recovery.

Went with Vjera to a concert that night – there was a Jewish festival on in the city.  This was a Dutch Jewish klezmer group – not the super-ethnic klezmer stuff I’d heard before, much more folky.  Pretty good stuff.  Bert didn’t love it – he thought the bassist was a show-off, and the singer annoying – he mocked her occasional trill and hand movements.  Musicians are certainly critical of other musicians – no surprise there.

I was happy that Bert and I had gotten along so well, and had such good talks.  As I wrote earlier, his mind is as perverse and provocative as ever – he’s managed to shield it from the agonies his body has endured.  That alone gives me confidence that he’ll get all the way back.

He also makes me (and Vjera) laugh – his sense of humor is weird and not always easy to take, but it’s real.  At one point, mid-giggle, I realized that I need to spend more time around people who make me laugh, in any way.  Bert and I go back more than 20 years, so we have lots to reminisce about, but even a new friend would be fine in this regard.  And I realized that I’ve known very few women who have made me laugh – my Croatian girlfriend years ago had this ability, but I can’t recall any others who have.  Why?  Am I meeting the wrong women…or are women inherently more serious and uptight than men, perhaps because of socialization?  I can’t help but feel that the second reason prevails.  Reactions?

We called Tim that night, he was in New Hampshire.  We started the call with an appeal to join the Extreme Bathers Club – Tim might be in.  Bert told Tim, who’s at a life crossroads of sorts, that my travels have exceeded all my expectations and fantasies – that seemed to resonate with Tim.  Bert and I would love to see Tim chuck his American girlfriend (a long story) and come overseas to try something new.   We’ll keep goading him…

Watched some Democratic National Convention speeches on YouTube.  Glad speakers are attacking the GOP, in 2004 they held off and that proved foolish.  Was especially impressed by John Kerry’s speech – he remains a good speaker and obviously intelligent.  After watching his speech, I couldn’t help but (once more) feel angry about the knee-capping he got in 2004 from Bush & Co., that he would have made a good President, and that the U.S., because of political dirty-tricks like ‘swift-boating,’ is eating itself and bringing to power the meanest, not best, candidates.  American voters are about to choose again, and I fear they’ll make another mistake.

Got my mail from home, nearly four months’ worth.  Not much in there of note, except for a new credit card, and 3 IRS notices telling me that I owed about US$78.  Torture.  This is why I usually try to get my mail every 6 weeks…but given that I’ve been in some obscure countries, that wasn’t really feasible/cheap.  I called the IRS and dealt with this – they hadn’t taken any collection steps, which made sense given that I’d already paid over US$40,000 in taxes this cycle.  Sent a check and that was that.  Whenever I get my mail there’s one piece in there that serves to aggravate me – brings back memories of sitting at my work desk juggling a thousand annoying tasks.  But I’m not sure how to get around this, gotta stay on top of the minutiae of life.

Last day in Budapest.  Went with Bert and Vjera to the Castle Hill district, the oldest and most scenic.  Walked around listening to Bert’s faux description of Hungarian culture and history.  Very funny.  Felt some sadness that we’d soon part ways – I’d had a great 5 days with them, it felt in some ways like Bert and I were still back at Tufts, hanging out in the ‘cave’ in Zeta Psi, sharing observations on life.  We should have had a bath there, though…

Got ready to take a train back to Lviv.  Vjera went far beyond the call of duty –  she made me a large care package with two sandwiches, three beers, water, snacks, and fruit.  Incredible – she has an impressive maternal instinct, methinks.  They took me to Keleti Station, where I’d arrived days earlier.  The short trip felt symmetrical and that no loose ends remained, I was happy about that.  I promised to come visit again before long – and I have a feeling I might see them in Goa within the next year or two.  I hope so.

Got on the train.  Shared a cabin with two German lads who spoke zero English.  Not sure how they get by, even in Europe.  I had to help them fill out the Hungarian departure card.  I can’t remember ever meeting western Euros who spoke no English whatsoever.  I gave them one of my beers – they gave me a Lucky Strike.  I came to realize they were the German Beavis & Butthead – lots of dumb laughing and stumbling around, commenting on headsplitting music, etc.  Eventually they became annoying, but anyway I had a lot of reading to catch up on, Bert gave me ‘The Book of Fathers’ by Miklos Vamos, and Dad & Ellen had included in my mail package a few Sports Illustrateds and Boston Globe articles on the Celtics’ recent championship.  The final game, Game 6, was back in late June, I had watched it in Mongolia and memories of that morning came rushing back, felt so recent yet I’d been to many countries in the meantime.

As the train pulled out I stuck my heat out the window (just a little), and felt the wind rush by and the smell of the city and the fields reach me.  The essence of train travel – I could stand at a train window forever.

Read a few University of Virginia, Tufts University, and Darden B-School magazines that were in my mail.  Saw a great quote from President James Madison, a President evidently more wise than the current version:

“If tyranny and oppression come to this land, it will be in the guise of fighting a foreign enemy.”

Makes lots of sense to me.  Bert had tried to interest me in various conspiracy theories he’s researched, mostly around 9/11 but also other topics – including some House bills and Presidential acts which might be construed as giving one person (usually the Pres.) super-constitutional/dictatorial powers.  Somewhat concerning, certainly – I have a high burden of proof for these sorts of things, Bert didn’t succeed in changing my mind, but I do agree with him that the U.S. has lost some of its traditional civil liberties in the past 7 years and that’s a huge tragedy and problem.  At the end of the day, I agree with another quote, this one by Napoleon:

“Never ascribe to conspiracy that which can be adequately explained by incompetence.”

I don’t believe the government, or any secretive organizations, can long get away with grand plans and conspiracies, because most people are incompetent (look at the current US government’s breathtaking incompetence), and people can’t keep secrets.  That’s where I stand.

Read in the June 30^th Sports Illustrated that comedian George Carlin died.  That’s a bummer – I remember some of his great bits from years ago.  The downside of not getting the news is that you’re late to learn about these things.

Train spent the usual 3 or so hours at the border, passport checks and wheel change.  A woman was sniffling in the next car – wasn’t sure why.  Then she and her child got taken off the train – hmmm.  Reminded me of Thomas the Indian at the Russian border.  This border was fairly open, and we were exiting the EU, not entering it, so wasn’t sure what her ‘crime’ was.  Anyway, there she went.

Heard that Joe Liberman will speak at the GOP National Convention.  What a political vagabond/homeless bum.

Read in one of the school magazines that hair analysis can reveal our diets.  One analysis found that the average American gets more than 50% of his calories from corn, a food that is nearly devoid of nutrition.  Interesting.

Heard that Dick Cheney is visiting the Caucasus.  Well, that should clear everything up!

Slept a bit on the ride, but awoke exhausted.  Got back to the Hotel George, which, as I’ve written, is a great place to stay.  Checked in, and they had a room available before noon, that’s pretty rare and I was happy to get there, shower, and kick back.  That’s where I am right now, that’s where I’ll finish this entry.  Over and out.

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