Location: Budapest, Hungary
March 11, 2010
Adventure #8
Recently, I ventured to the US embassy in Hungary to pick up a new passport, which is no small process. I managed to secure an appointment, passed the passport screening at the embassy gates, walked past the thug-like clumps of police officers and security guards, entered the gray, bullet-proof door into the security screening room, passed through the metal detector, surrendered my electronic devices to the guard, entered another bullet-proof door into a waiting room, took a number, then waited to be called to a window.
While I waited for my number to be called, a frazzled, Hungarian woman walked by with her little boy in his car seat. She looked pleadingly at me and I smiled back. I guess I passed her good-people radar (or it was the fact that I passed all the security screens already), because then she asked me for a rather odd favor.
Frazzled mom: "Sorry to bother you, but could you watch my baby for just a minute."
Me: "Um, sure."
Frazzled mom: "It's just that I forgot my wallet in the car, and I have to pay, but I don't want to bring my son outside."
Me: "Sure. But, if my number is called, I'll just ..."
Frazzled mom: "Oh, please don't leave him alone in the waiting room."
Me: "Oh, no, of course not. I just wanted to say that I'll be at the window."
Frazzled mom: "Yes, ok. I'll be just a minute."
Then she ran out the door. Besides her accusation that I would abandon the baby as soon as my number was called, I was quite sympathetic to her plight. The weather was terrible - thick steady snowflakes and slushy streets - and she didn't want to bundle up the little boy just for a few minutes. Plus, I could barely make it through the security screening unscathed, so I can't imagine bringing an infant through the mess. So there I was, in the middle of the American Embassy, holding a baby that wasn't mine, and my number was called. I took the nameless child to the window where I had to ask for my passport.
Embassy employee: "How can I help you?"
Me: "I just need to pick up a new passport."
Embassy employee: "What's your baby's name? I'll go find it."
Me: "Oh, it's for me, not my baby. And it's not my baby."
Embassy employee, looking confused: "Are you babysitting?"
Me: "Well, not really, the lady who was just here left him with me."
Embassy employee gave me blank, weird stare.
Me: "She's coming right back. She just had to run to her car."
Embassy employee: "Ok."
Luckily, at that awkward pause, the mama returned, and the cashier recognized that she was the same woman that had been at the window desk before me. The lady thanked me profusely and then took her baby to the cashier's desk. My babysitting duties were finished.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Riding funiculars
Location: Budapest and Zagreb
March 2010
Adventure #7
In the time it takes to both wait for and ride Zagreb’s funicular, one could walk up and down the steps that flank the miniature train five times. But, in the lackadaisical logic of European vacations, this matters not. Over the last week, I had the gleeful opportunity to ride not one, but two funiculars in my dual home towns thanks to my guests who convinced me that, if given the option, always ride a funicular.
If you are an unfortunate soul who hasn't ridden a funicular or heard whispers of their tales, funiculars are inclined cable railways with tram-like cars that are usually used to tote tourists up to castles. This was the case for the funiculars I have ridden in Heidelberg, Ljubljana, and now Budapest and Zagreb. Apparently there is one in San Francisco, but all of my fun-incular adventures have been across the pond.
In Budapest, my cousins Laura and Brad and I decided to go crazy and spend the $4 needed to ride the funicular, which shuffles visitors from the castle district to the foot of the regal Chain Bridge that marries Buda and Pest. We sat in the first car and looked straight down at the 312-foot-drop – which almost gives you the "I’m about to plummet down the first steep drop of a roller coaster" feeling. Instead, the angle is just an affectation: it was slow and steady glide down the hill, leaving us at the bank of the Duna. Our peregrination was well worth it - another tourist activity to check off my list.
The Zagreb funicular was more comical. Its track is a mere 217 feet long and only operates every 10 minutes. The cute little line - which was built in 1893 - leaves something to be said for length of journey, but the ride only cost 80 cents. Upon exiting, you realize that it wasn’t just a smooth, lazy coast down a hillside: the car gambols, and certainly adds a little spring to its passengers' steps.
March 2010
Adventure #7
In the time it takes to both wait for and ride Zagreb’s funicular, one could walk up and down the steps that flank the miniature train five times. But, in the lackadaisical logic of European vacations, this matters not. Over the last week, I had the gleeful opportunity to ride not one, but two funiculars in my dual home towns thanks to my guests who convinced me that, if given the option, always ride a funicular.
If you are an unfortunate soul who hasn't ridden a funicular or heard whispers of their tales, funiculars are inclined cable railways with tram-like cars that are usually used to tote tourists up to castles. This was the case for the funiculars I have ridden in Heidelberg, Ljubljana, and now Budapest and Zagreb. Apparently there is one in San Francisco, but all of my fun-incular adventures have been across the pond.
In Budapest, my cousins Laura and Brad and I decided to go crazy and spend the $4 needed to ride the funicular, which shuffles visitors from the castle district to the foot of the regal Chain Bridge that marries Buda and Pest. We sat in the first car and looked straight down at the 312-foot-drop – which almost gives you the "I’m about to plummet down the first steep drop of a roller coaster" feeling. Instead, the angle is just an affectation: it was slow and steady glide down the hill, leaving us at the bank of the Duna. Our peregrination was well worth it - another tourist activity to check off my list.
The Zagreb funicular was more comical. Its track is a mere 217 feet long and only operates every 10 minutes. The cute little line - which was built in 1893 - leaves something to be said for length of journey, but the ride only cost 80 cents. Upon exiting, you realize that it wasn’t just a smooth, lazy coast down a hillside: the car gambols, and certainly adds a little spring to its passengers' steps.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Being a Woman on International Women's Day
Location: Hungary
March 8,2010
Adventure #6
Each March 8th, women in Hungary and in many parts of the world receive the lovely greeting of "Happy International Women's Day." I knew of the holiday when I lived in the United States, mainly because of my work at my university's Women's Resource Center, but here it's a well-recognized day in which men customarily give women flowers. In a country that never had a large-scale feminist movement and has a lot of work to do in terms of gender equality, it's nice to see these hard-working Hungarian women getting some recognition - even if it comes in stereotypical packages like flowers or discounted manicures and pedicures, as offered by my gym.
After doing some research, I learned this is actually the 99th International Women's Day. Its mission is to celebrate the economic, political and social achievements of women in the past, present and future, according to www.internationalwomensday.com. I was surprised to learn that the first National Women's Day was observed in the USA in 1909, was declared by the Socialist Party of America and continued being celebrated until 1913. The idea spread internationally in 1911, after a woman named Clara Zetkin proposed the idea at an International Conference on Working Women because she wanted a day women could press for their demands. Since then, the day has gone global, with myriad international events that highlight the triumphs and struggles of women.
Days like this make me question and deliberate on what connects all women and whether or not there are inherent qualities that bind half of the world's population. If so, I hope what women collectively embody are the same qualities behind this holiday: a drive to make the world more just and a desire to celebrate those who have.
March 8,2010
Adventure #6
Each March 8th, women in Hungary and in many parts of the world receive the lovely greeting of "Happy International Women's Day." I knew of the holiday when I lived in the United States, mainly because of my work at my university's Women's Resource Center, but here it's a well-recognized day in which men customarily give women flowers. In a country that never had a large-scale feminist movement and has a lot of work to do in terms of gender equality, it's nice to see these hard-working Hungarian women getting some recognition - even if it comes in stereotypical packages like flowers or discounted manicures and pedicures, as offered by my gym.
After doing some research, I learned this is actually the 99th International Women's Day. Its mission is to celebrate the economic, political and social achievements of women in the past, present and future, according to www.internationalwomensday.com. I was surprised to learn that the first National Women's Day was observed in the USA in 1909, was declared by the Socialist Party of America and continued being celebrated until 1913. The idea spread internationally in 1911, after a woman named Clara Zetkin proposed the idea at an International Conference on Working Women because she wanted a day women could press for their demands. Since then, the day has gone global, with myriad international events that highlight the triumphs and struggles of women.
Days like this make me question and deliberate on what connects all women and whether or not there are inherent qualities that bind half of the world's population. If so, I hope what women collectively embody are the same qualities behind this holiday: a drive to make the world more just and a desire to celebrate those who have.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Sinking
Sinking cities don’t need our weight,
but we come.
Invading waves 94 million high,
to lean exfoliating backs against crumbling walls,
stealing pieces beneath souvenir fingers.
Abandoning maps in coral-reef streets,
more forest than city.
more ambrosial than sea.
But Venice,
even your groans are sirens.
Smacking water against rubber boots -
a broom against an intruder.
Feigned blithe of a gondolier’s song -
striped prisoners frozen in film.
Cathedral clamor of flood alarms -
your sonorous rejections.
Venice, we have come to court,
as you descend from Hera to Amphitrite.
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