You know you're in trouble when.....

You know you’re in trouble you go into the tourist office where they have all the maps and the internet maps and all the search engines and they are the experts and you ask them how to get out of Prague and onto the highway to go to another town and after fiddling with all of the above for 10 minutes they announce: “hmmm…..this can be very complicated.” Uh, yeah…that’s an understatement…if it’s difficult for you, what do you think it’s like for us…after a while she said: “Well, you need at least one hour to get out of the city…..but more on that later. Twenty-seven years ago we visited Prague on one of the Student trips that we led. To no surprise, it was lovely but seemed a dour place with few tourists, and those few that were here didn’t seem much different from the locals. No surprise since they were from other Soviet/Communist countries. No joy in the streets, just a very working class city with everybody going about their business. Now, it is just the opposite, a bustling, lively, vibrant city with tourists clogging the main street and tongues from many lands can be heard…mostly Japanese. For whatever reason, we’ve been told several times that this is a favorite time for them to visit…The place is alive with a vibrancy…Music can be heard almost in any area of the city as duets, trios, quartets, and quintets play classical, jazz, Dixieland and traditional Czech…they are hawking CD’s and we bought one for ourselves – a roma (gypsy) group that really rocked…there are concerts every night…choral, organ, orchestral, chamber and full, opera performances are all there for the locals and visitors. We arrived in Prague at 1:00 in the afternoon and actually made it to our hotel around 3:00. A combination of misdirected google map directions, Czech street signs, confusing highway signs, locals who were helpful but unknowing of our destination (“Follow the tram tracks,” they would say, but the tram tracks went in several directions and split off as well) and our lack of language skills all contributed to our confusion and delay. No matter, eventually we got there. We had chosen a hotel in an obscure area because our “granddaughter, Shah, had an apartment there and it made for easy connections. After settling in, we immediately headed downtown by Metro to find her place of work and emerged from the bowels of the Prague metro to a cacophony of music and marching demonstrators. Czech flags waved in the air in one area of Wenceslaus Square while a converging group of banner carriers came from down the street shouting slogans. I searched for young people in the crowd who looked like they might be English speakers: “Do you speak English?” I asked as I wove through the crowd….After a while, I was able to learn that there were counter demonstrations on the refugee situation…one group totally opposed to accepting them while an equally large group felt that there was a duty to help these people from war-torn Syria. Asking several times about the issue, I came to a consensus, in that there is no consensus..the people seemed to feel that the two sides were pretty much divided in overall support from the Czech people.

One problem is that there is such a well organized industry in forged documents…people from several nations who want to get to Europe pay large amounts of money so that they can have “Syrian” passports and documents. This problem is further complicated by the fact that many of the legitimate Syrians had to flee without their valid documents but are then viewed as suspicious. This was our first up close view of the problem which dominates Europe at the moment. It appears that public opinion is as complicated as the wretched condition of the refugees…there is now a growing backlash throughout Europe and there is no end in sight as the wave of people keeps washing onto the European mainland. Away from the square, life seemed pretty much business as usual, and business was booming. 25 years ago the only thing being sold was Czech crystal and that in the official government shop. Now, every other shop has “authentic Bohemian crystal” glistening in the windows at prices that match the glitter of the glass. The mood away from the square was festive with pedestrian streets brimming with what amounted to a huge fall craft fair….actual blacksmith forges worked banging, literally, out bells and door knockers. Carol collects bells from where ever we visit so this a welcome sight for her…beer, beer, and more beer was vended along with an array of different sausages, and full pigs were roasted in foil on a rotating spit over a bed of coals. “Chimney” cakes were spun on rotating spits. These doughy confections were a coil of pastry wrapped on a round rolling pin device then baked over open coals then dipped in sugar and cinnamon…yummy sweets for a snack indeed. We took Shax on a mini road trip to visit Ceske Krumlov, the second most visited city in the republic.

The place was filled with tourists, as Prague is, and we kept saying: “If it’s like this in mid October, what’s it like at the height of the tourist season. The city is a step back in architectural design…buildings dating from the Renaissance are the norm, not the exception. Situated on a bend of the Vlatava river (the Moldau, of Smetana fame) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oOxIbhqZsKc It was easily defended with its natural moat…a huge castle dominates the high ground giving even more protection to the marauding bands of would-be conquerors. It was lovely and carried us back to a simpler time. Our musical interlude in Prague was an evening at the Mozart Café. I wanted to do something special for our last night in Prague and with Shax…it could have been a little hokey what with the 4 piece chamber group in period costumes and white wigs, but the music was excellent and the food was even better. I was surprised that it wasn’t better attended but the maite d’ told us there were 30 concerts that night in Prague…talk about a music city. We had a great evening, left totally stuffed and with Mozart and other composer’s music ringing in our ears….on to Poland.

The Giggle Girl

Shakhlo and Malika are their names, Shah and Mali is how we call them. They came to me as friends before our second trip to Uzbekistan in 2013 through the usual channels of mutual Uzbekistan facebook friends…I received a request from the two lyceum girls, 17 at the time, and asked my usual questions: How did you find me and why do you want to be friends with an old man half way across the world. They answered intelligently and with light heartedness and we became friends. Over the months of conversation they began to call us “Granny” and “Grandpa” and they became like true granddaughters to us. On our visit to Uzbekistan several months later we spent more time with them than with any other people in Tashkent. They even accompanied us to our 35th Anniversary dinner.

They were best friends, study partners and were always having fun together. When they would try to send me a voice message they giggled through most of it and I began to call them “The Giggle Girls.” With all the silliness of high school girls they were both serious students and were able to carry on intelligent conversations when they could stop giggling. After graduation, Mali was awarded a rare, full-ride scholarships to a university, one of only 4-5 given each year and Shah applied for, and was granted, admission to a University in Prague and a Czech visa, which is difficult to obtain in today’s world. Her father had business interests in Prague and had an apartment so this made it more practical for her to leave the nest. She was excited about fulfilling her dream and headed eagerly off to Prague and a new life experience. Then the heavy THUD of reality set in. There is nothing in the upbringing of Uzbek girls to prepare them for the sudden change from the sheltered nest in which they have been brought up, a comfortable nest where everything is laid out for them and they follow willingly, but blindly. Right up to the point where many parents choose their mates and that’s a done deal. Shah was suddenly away from her major support system, Mom. She was in a culture she knew nothing about, a language she didn’t understand, different religious focus, no friends, and in short she was totally lost. She would write to me and I could hear the tears dripping on the typewriter keys. Her sadness was that palpable. Confused, afraid of failure, and basically alone, she struggled badly…she was ready to pack it all in and head home. But she didn’t…she stuck it out. Cut to one year later and we arrive in Prague to find this same teary, confused young woman a dynamic force who has taken charge of her life and is living it with gusto, poise and energy. She passed all her courses the first year and headed into her second year. Dad had issues that needed addressing in Uzbekistan and he left Shah to continue on her own. She got a job, then got a better job in a Turkish Restaurant at Wenceslaus Square and is a barista. The restaurant is a blend of Turkish, Czech, Ukrainian and Uzbek workers. She is 5’3 and 100 pounds and bulls her way through the waiters who stand in her way when she is moving from point a to point b. No hesitation, no deference, no holding back from noon until closing time which is around midnight. She now lives by herself and totally supports herself through her job and still attends university classes.

I can’t tell you how impressed I was to see this giggle girl with such a determination that I never knew she had inside…looking back there were signs which I saw as an anomaly two years ago but were, in fact, the seeds of the strength she would need to survive in her present situation. I asked her if she liked living by herself and she just looked with a deadpan expression and said. “This is what I have to do. It’s not to like or dislike. It’s just my life.” No bitterness, no frustration, she just does what I need to do…What a tough little woman she has become.

I admire her so very much. She didn’t wilt under the pressure and stress. She didn’t fade into the quiet life of what is expected of so many Uzbek girls reaching womanhood. She reached deep inside and found the strength not only to survive, but to flourish. She’s still sweet Shax, she’s just a full-blown, fully functioning woman now and living her life on her terms. No Grandpa could hope for anything more for his granddaughter..

See ya and Ahoy

One of my biggest objections to so many American travelers is when I listen to tourists enter a shop and immediately say things like: “How much does this cost,” or variations on questions that they might have…there is no attempt to acknowledge the fact that they are in a foreign country and that not everybody may speak English….I learned many decades ago that a simple “hello,” or “Thank you,” in the local language goes a long way…I will follow that up with: “Do you speak English,” and depending upon the answer I will proceed in the manner necessitated by that answer. So, In Budapest, to say Hello in Hungarian is pronounced: “see ya,” and it was strange to walk into a shop or a hotel and say a goodbye in English that was a Hello in Hungarian…the “Thank you” was a 5-6 syllable word (I never could count them) and I finally gave up trying and just smiled and nodded. Here in Slovakia to say “hello” is “Ahoy,” although I’m sure it isn’t spelled that way, and I have to resist adding “Matey,” to the Ahoy. Thank you in Slovak sounds very much like Requiem only with a “D” instead of the “R.”…again, I’m always pleased with the smiles I get when I use the local language for such simple gestures of courtesy. We got our rental car and headed out of Budapest on our way to our next stop, Bratislava. The road was excellent which was a good thing since we’re going to have several days of rain and I didn’t want/need to be fighting the prospect of poor roads along the way. I was once more quickly acquainted with European driving habits which seems to pour out of Germany into neighboring countries….simply stated it’s, pedal to the metal. The freeway speed limit is 120 kph, which translates to 75 MPH. However the only vehicles doing that or under are the long string of long haul trucks which from their license plates come from points south, Turkey, Rumania and Bulgaria since we were headed north. If you dare be in the fast lane and another car is coming, find a place to hide because they will come screaming up behind you at full tilt with lights flashing, stating simply; “Get the hell out of my way.” I was cursed very harshly even though the windows were rolled up when I refused to budge before I had passed a line of trucks where there wasn’t any room to get out of harm’s way. Just a good primer to things to come and to be aware of. I will try the back roads ,which is my first choice anyway, as often as possible, but for the heavy rain, I merely was going from point A to point B. Bratislava is much more compact than Budapest at just under half a million it’s only 1/3 the size and hence things are much more concentrated…the old city is small but very much what I have appreciated about the maintenance of historical centers of Europe. It has come into its own now that it has broken away from what was Czechoslovakia and formed its own independent nation. The Czech Republic is the other half of what once was.

Finding the hotel was a fun proposition…one way streets, road projects, and very heavy traffic resulted in the fact that we could see the hotel, but how do we get there, sort of thing…..eventually, we hit upon it quite by accident…going around and around, clockwise then counter clockwise, followed by north/south and then east/west, we finally looked up and there it was right in front of us…traffic is a real pain…from our hotel window on the 5th floor, we can see fully gridlocked traffic heading up the main thoroughfare at all times of the day…we’re scouting out our escape route for Saturday when we head to Prague. My disappointment in not seeing Swan Lake in Budapest was alleviated by the opportunity to see Turandot here in Bratislava. However, the experience was quite different…instead of the old style opera house with the boxes lining the three sides as is traditional, this was a modern performing arts center. Very classy, but definitely not old school. The red velvet seats shone brightly against the white interior walls and the seats were just the orchestra seats and one sloping balcony instead of the steep jump from one level to another of the traditional houses. However, the performance was first rate and was an interesting mix of old and new…set designs were very modernistic while costuming was traditional Chinese. All in all it was a great musical experience.

Fall color is just beginning to hit and the changes are subtle so far. I don’t expect a New England type of experience, but I do love Autumn and am hopeful that in the coming weeks it will treat us to an array of color which will be a unique experience. One surprise, and I must admit to disappointment, was the amount of graffiti displayed on any blank wall around the city…It looked like the New York subway trains in a stationary condition. I guess I’m just not in touch with how much this “art” form has taken over many parts of the world. I just thought it was a blight on our land…I don’t mind true art displayed in creative ways, but much of this was just “tagging,” and it did take away some of my enjoyment of the visual aspects, particularly in the old city…Maybe I’m just too old to “get” it.

Meals continue to be a delight as they are everywhere we travel, but old world European dishes are hearty and delicious. Goulash soup is still a favorite and we have it whenever possible and never cease to be amazed at how different it can be…Slovakian Goulash is not as spicy as Hungarian, but certainly delicious. At one dinner we talked with a young Slovakian man at the next table and as he got up to leave, he said simply: “Go, Bernie Saunders.” Certainly surprising but it also served as a reminder of how much more aware of our politics people around the world are compared to American’s knowledge of other places and peoples. But that’s another stoy.

Are you Buda or Pest?

Personally, I’m Pest…..which will be no surprise to people. Particularly my mother, on several levels. Budapest is actually the consolidation of two separate cities with very different class structures in their origins. After getting overrun by the marauding hordes which was inconvenient, to say the least, to the aristocracy, they moved their capital some 40 miles away to the hill section of the Danube where they could more easily protect their way of life as they knew it. This became Buda, while the “barbarians,” trades people, and merchants occupied the low, flat ground on the other side of the river known as Pest. Over the centuries the two began to merge and overlap yet even today the difference is distinct…the Royal Palace, castle and fine buildings of Buda are architecturally ornate and show the refined way of life that was common to that class of society. Pest, on the other hand, is down home. As the merchant class developed a more affluent level of life, Pest developed its own sophistication and wide avenues and luxury homes and town houses became abundant on the flat lands and not just a feature of the hill people.

It’s incredibly easy to get around Budapest. The city has a well developed transportation system that includes an underground subway, extensive bus system and modern trams any of which can zip you around anywhere in the city and its environs. It’s truly impressive to see such public transportation. It’s the second oldest underground, electrified system In Europe predated only by the London tube. It has a daily ridership of one and a half million riders, not bad for a population of 1.7 mill. Men in suits, women dressed to the nines, young lovers snuggling in the corner, the lady with the pug dog with the pink collar and the body blanket keeping it warm and a myriad of other personality and economic types are all to be seen daily on the system. The conviviality of Budapest life continues to be evident…lively conversations are heard any time two people are together, walking, in a restaurant, or just sitting together, there doesn’t seem to be dead air….it appears to be joyous and full of laughter and joy. The highlight of our visit was our stay with our Servas hosts, Anna, Tibor, 15 year old Andres and the 12 your old pistol named Masha who has her dad wrapped around her little finger. Tibor is a retired policeman and keeps the house running smoothly…fixing the meals, running the kids to school and the house work. Anna works for the US Embassy and does translating as a private contractor because, as she noted, if you want to have a decent life, you have to have two jobs. Andres is quiet but forceful…the kids go to an American private school which sounded very much like a Montessori type educationl system….expensive, Anna said, but the best head start for her kids….Andres objected strongly to changing schools since he had just made friends, not easy for him, and the hook was that he said: “If you make me go to this school, I’ll run away.” It was later decided that he would go to this school if they let him have a dog.They now have a dog named Zeus. Masha is a whirlwind and reminded us of Alex, our 9 year old grandson…sweet, sneaky, manipulative, loving and with a mind and will of her own which she is not hesitant to display even when strangers are in the home. Home is a two story flat which is so tiny and cramped…the downstairs is a 30x20 room which includes the kitchen, dining room, living room and two half baths. The kitchen is so small that I can almost touch the walls by spreading my arms. The upstairs is two bedrooms, the two kids share, and a small bathroom….They do not feel deprived or prevented from enjoying a better standard of living…they just accept that this is what they can do and they get on with it….the house is full of laughter and warmth. Affection is displayed both in the giving and receiving and it is a happy family. We slept on the floor on an air mattress which went flat in the middle of the night…that’s a requirement of air mattresses, I think. In the morning, they get up at 6:00 to be out the door at 7:00 and so they just quietly step over the guests on the floor and have some breakfast before starting their busy schedule. Two visitors got up close and personal with the transportation system as we went from our Servas hosts to town. They told us that the bus would take us downtown from the ‘burbs where we were staying. That was really helpful since reading the bus route in Hungarian was impossible for us…. but we happily climbed aboard and then rode and rode and rode until everybody finally got off the bus. The last lady to get off was a woman of roundish 60+ based on her well-lined face. With a babushka type head scarf, calf-length flowered dress, brown, heavy stockings and shoes that were simple but sturdy she didn’t say anything, she just looked at us until she had our attention and then just nodded to the doorway of the bus and then walked off and away, carrying her cloth bag carrying, who knows what, and her plastic bag with groceries sticking out in the other hand. She sort of swayed a little back and forth as she went. She looked very old school to me…not rural old school, but citified. I wondered what her life had been like living through such dynamic events and changes in her lifetime. We got off the bus confused. We didn’t know where we were, but we knew it wasn’t downtown. We’d seen that and this was definitely not it. …our confused looks brought a sympathetic individual who explained in English to return the way we came and transfer at the metro station and pointed us to the bus stop that would take us there…so we became two of the 1.5 mill that day. We roamed around town visiting the National Museum where we were told it was too far for us to walk and noted down all the bus lines lines and metro stops …..we just walked anyway. I had taken note of the usual locater points of reference, color of buildings etc., so we would sail on home with ease where we could catch the bus back to the house. We had this one down pat now. We got on the metro, got off the metro at the right spot and spotted our bus about to take off. I didn’t see my reference store sign, but I saw the correct name in the window of the bus and told Carol it was the right one and we hopped on board happily smiling that we didn’t have to wait in the cold and drizzle for the next bus in 30 minutes…A few stops down the line, Carol mentioned that she had seen a distinctive building twice now…I, knowing that wasn’t possible, authoritatively told her it couldn’t be….a few more stops along the way I finally caught a name I could understand on the speaker and told Carol. “We’re going the wrong way. Off we jump and waited in the drizzle for the next bus except we were further away than when we started. Carol, to her credit, didn’t rag on me, make me feel guilty….she just let it pass….until, a few minutes later she quietly said: “That’s the 3rd time I’ve seen that building.” As you can see we’re living large in Central Europe…Life is good.

The Magic is still there

I suppose that all of us could say that at age 19 we had no idea how our lives would take shape, but I think more so for me for as an aimless, physically and mentally lazy person I could never have imagined the incredible life which was in store for me. It began as a simple act of defiance, not unusual for me, even then, when I declared that I was going to hitchhike my way around Europe in 1961. I was so naïve, so uninitiated to the world, that each day was magic…there wasn’t a day that didn’t have something special to it in one form or another. Time warp 55 years into the future and that same magic continues to define my life. As I travel I still shake my head in wonderment at the way it has unfolded and I never can understand how such an ordinary person has had such an extraordinary life….one that continually teaches me as much about myself as the cultures I discover. Today, our first full day in Budapest was a perpetuation of that discovery and that fascination. We arrived at our hotel which is a typical old style hotel much as I used in the “old days.” It was a nondescript building with a small sign over the door which read: Hotel Metro. Pressing the button alerted the reception desk to buzz us in where we followed the sign to the “lift,” and ascended to the 3rd floor, which is actually the 4th floor, to the reception. The lift was just big enough for two people wearing backpacks and pulling suitcases to enter with a little basic organization of space. It’s a 3 star establishment and has all the requirements: free wi-fi, a halfway decent bed, and lots of hot water all for $50 a night. The shower is big enough to allow a person to actually turn around, but no hanky-panky in the shower, two will never fit. After a surprisingly restful 1st night we headed out to discover this exotic city which has fascinated me ever since seeing on TV the Russian tanks roll through the streets in 1956. Even for a sleepy and drizzly Sunday morning, the streets seemed unusually quiet and deserted. Further exploration led us to the discovery that it was Budapest Marathon day. We happened to be in front of the Budapest State Opera house and as the first runners began to run by, a band struck up the John Phillips Sousa March: “Washington Post,” followed by some Scott Joplin Ragtime. This was followed by a full chorus on the steps singing the “Hallelujah Chorus,” and served as our introduction to the Cultural aspect of one of Europe’s most sophisticated and artistic cities…Who knew?...not me, anyway. We did a hop-on-hop off tour and learned facts to back up the previous statement…over 400 book publishers in the city, over 60 independent theatre groups and literally hundreds of musical societies. Even decades of Soviet domination could not dampen the cultural side of the city. As the capital of an “independent” country within the Soviet bloc, Budapest was not subjected to the sterile buildings of that system as TashKent and Almaty were as “Soviet Republics.” Rather it retains the old world style as one of the bright lights of the Austrian-Hungarian Hapsburg Empire. Hence it is full of glittering, albeit fading, rooftops and domes while the buildings have a uniqueness, and not conforming to any individual style. Carol thought they looked more like Tallin and Riga in the Baltics.

First thoughts: PASTRIES: Oh my do they love their sweets…strudels, traditional chocolates of amazing variety and dozens of things like square doughnuts and a wide variety of “chimney cakes, “ and all kinds of pastries, of which I have no clue, but all look really good. They are sold in fancy, upscale shops, little mom-and-pops, and on the street after dark from little food carts which have disappeared in the morning.

ALCOHOL If I thought that pastries shops were ubiquitous pubs and clubs abound in the city and beer is on tap in almost any place that sells some food. The hop-on-hop off bus even provides a free beer at one of their stops. As the original developer of the Tokay grape used in the wine of the same name, this means that there are a lot of homeless people who sleep on the street with their wine bottle clutched in their hand. However, I wouldn’t say that it looked any different, or worse than walking down Market Street in my favorite city anywhere, San Francisco.

SMOKING I was truly amazed at the number of smokers there are from a wide, cross-section of the population. Young adults in a surprisingly large numbers can be seen smoking their curiously thin cigarettes. Male/female sophisticates and homeless, it all seemed the same. I was most surprised at the young smokers because in other cultures I have seen, smoking was more of a generational thing with more smokers who were older than otherwise. Many young choir-boy look-alikes and their sweet angelic counterpoints have the cigarette between their fingers. CULTURAL BIAS I always say that I check my stereotypes and preconceived ideas at the door but one area I can’t in is the overall friendliness of the people…I tend to judge the world on an Uzbekistan standard and nothing I have seen since can match the outward warmth and friendliness of the people. I know this is, in part, because they are just opening up to the world, but it goes beyond that. They are just a wonderfully warm people. Here in Budapest, you’re just another in the long line of tourists who have come here for hundreds of years….This is not to say that they are not friendly. We’ve not been met with any “coldness,” but you’ll be misguided if you come here and expect a warm greeting. It’s all business here in the big city. I think this comes in part from the overall sophistication of the people. They’ve seen it all. BRAND NEW WORLD It’s a whole different emphasis from what I’ve known before here in Europe. Here there are Bulgarian and Turkish institutes and the country aligns more with the other “Central” European nations: Poland, Slovakia, and the Czech Republic than they do with the traditional powers of Western Europe. GAIETY IN THE AIR This seems to be a place where people like to have a good time and there is a liveliness to the place…lots of clubs and watering holes. I think the Hungarians are a very convivial people when you get to know them. They like to have fun. No dour pall over the place…this is definitely not Scotland. So, here we are living large in Budapest and feeling full of adventurous spirit about what lies ahead…let it roll. Life is good. Sign of the day: “ALCOHOL, because no great story ever began with someone eating a salad.” Welcome to Budapest.

Fernweg

“Fernweh is the opposite of homesickness. It is the longing for travel, or getting out there beyond the horizon, what you might call… awaysickness.” This is my permanent disability which needs to be continually nourished and fulfilled. As soon as we return from one trip, I’m asking Carol: “Where are we going next.” I’m not totally comfortable, about my life until I have another trip in the offing…it may be a year away, but I have to take my Fernweh medicine, which is knowing that there is another trip on the horizon. When we returned from India In March, we decided that our next trip would be to “Central” Europe…what we used to Call “Eastern Europe,” until the Soviet bloc imploded and Ukraine and Belarus became the Eastern portion of what is considered Europe and the ex- Soviet satellite countries then became Central Europe. We’ve wanted to do a river cruise for some time…tired of the mega-ship experience of being with 5,000 of your nearest and dearest friends hurried along on to shore excursions with a cattle prod, a leisurely putt-putt down a European river with no more than 100-150 people seemed ideal. I wanted to take advantage of my travel agent perks and get the large discount offered to Travel Agents at the end of the season. We don’t usually do two big trips the same year, but since I’m such an old fart and not sure how much longer I will have my TA card, and my Fernweg couldn’t wait 18 months we opted to double down and go this year. Trying to decide on going to head out in October and November, our thoughts ran as such: “We can be in the rain in Budapest, Prague, or Krakow, or we can be in the rain in Battle Ground, Washington….hmmmm….let me consider that…not much of a brain twister, actually. So the trip was planned….a 15 day river cruise from Budapest to Amsterdam preceded by a three week rental car zip from Budapest to Bratislava, where our dear friend Maruska is from, then on to Prague where we have a dear “granddaughter” from Tashkent studying, and on to Poland, (where we have another granddaughter studying In Warsaw) to see the world heritage city, Krakow which has always on my list and then back to Budapest with a lot of national parks and nature in between the cities…. The caveat on this trip is that since we initially planned to do this trip, the refugee crisis which is engulfing Europe has now put a totally new perspective to the journey…the four countries we had decided to visit have formed an “anti-quota” bloc and that means that we are going to be dropping right into the middle of the crisis on an up close and personal level…not just headlines, photos, and sound bites….Hungary has implemented a new law which makes it a crime to transport any refugee, so I have no idea of what kind of emotional roller coaster we will be on in this trip….certainly changes it from a walk in the park smelling the flowers to a realization of the fragility of life. But I’m assuming that the spirits which guide my life have some lessons which I need to learn and I am ready for whatever lies ahead of me, literally and figuratively, on this road of life. So, let the medicine kick in….just a simple 10 hour flight to Amsterdam from Portland, funny how that seems like such an easy flight these days, and my condition will immediately improve…an extra skip to my step, a heightened awareness of my surroundings, a general improvement in attitude…all miracle remedies for my malady. Time to live large. Life is good