HELLO: Hungary

Meet Bogáti Bogáta… HELLO! I met her while olive picking in Italy and after hearing about my trip she said, “If you are coming to Budapest, then you can stay at my house.” Eager to save a little cash, I answered quickly, “Okay! Send me your information.” Sometimes these types of arrangements don’t work out and you spend most of your time trying to get away from your host. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case here. She’s quirky, easy to talk to, and quick to smile or crack a joke; my type of person! We had a great time hanging out and she showed me modern day Budapest her way.

Bogáta has two little girls, Katerina and Agata… HELLO! They are precocious and sweet.  Agata, the eldest, wants to travel like me someday, so she begs her mom to hurry and teach her English; apparently Italian, Hungarian and German aren’t quite enough for her. The youngest, Katerina, is an absolute clown and loves to get dressed up and star in her sister’s plays. I adore these kids and we spend our time surfing YouTube, going through my coin collection and trying our best to understand one another; I speak in broken Spanish and they try to understand what it means in Italian.

While in Budapest, Bogáta introduces me to her friend, Erika Sólyom… HELLO! Erika is an author and director of The American Corners (AC) program at the Pest Side Campus of Corvinus University. There are American Corners all over the world; nevertheless, AC is an U.S. State Department program that makes correct information about American culture, history, current events, and government readily available in foreign countries. “I am being interviewed by a few exchange students about Hungary and the history of Communism. You should come and sit in on the interview. You will learn quite a bit of information,” she offered after we had coffee one afternoon. Eager to learn, I agreed quickly. While listening to Erika’s interview, I learned about life behind the “iron curtain.” She talked about standing in line for food, about being a “little drummer” and later “a pioneer”. She also discussed the 1956 Hungarian Uprising and how life changed after communism fell.

The next day, I was able to take the Free Budapest Walking tour and connect many of Erika’s stories with actual places. There are two different walking tours in Budapest; one that focuses on faith, terror and communism and another  that focuses on Pest and the basics of Buda; I took the latter, but I wish I hadn’t taken the first. The tours cover the Inner City, Saint Stephen Basilica, the Parliament, sites of the Communist dictatorship and the 1956 revolution, the Danube bank, Chain Bridge, and the Buda Castle with Matthias Church. I’m amazed at how much history is in Budapest. I’m also amazed by the horror that exists in their past.

Before communism and the Soviets had their way in Hungary, the Nazis were there. The cruelty that the Hungarian people suffered during both occupations is presented with great detail at the House of Terror museum, which I also visited. This museum is heavy. Walking around actual cells where prisoners were interrogated and beaten and listening to the firsthand accounts of people who were held there is pretty heady stuff. I couldn't help but cry at a few stations and at the end I left that museum gunning it for the nearest “fluff” I could find to balance my emotions; Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 1. Please don’t judge me…

While in Budapest, Bogáta wants me to join her for a new class she is really excited about. She is a fan of Afro Beat music and there’s a new African Dance class she wants to go to. African Dance in Hungary? Umm… “Yes, Budapest is a multicultural city. It will be fun. Let’s go!” We go and while there she introduces me to Cheikh Ibrahima Fall… HELLO! Cheikh is the master; the dance and music teacher with many, many, older musicians under his tutelage and he’s only 26 years old. Since this dance class is relatively new and hasn’t been advertised yet, we are the only “dancers” there. As such, the other musician packs up and head home and Cheikh decides to bless us with a personal concert of sorts. Picking up nearly every type of instrument in the room, he proceeds to play song after song and I’m floored by his talent. “Come to the concert tomorrow night,” he says in French. Eager to hear good music, we quickly agree.

The following evening we head to the concert and the place is packed full of people. The musicians (Abdul Azis, Saïd Tichiti, and Cheikh Ibrahima Fall) are on fire and I’m enjoying myself immensely. I don’t recall ever having been to an Afro Beat concert and I’m excited to be experiencing it in Budapest.

Mid-way through the set, the musicians call up Jalalu-Kalvert Nelson (J.K Nelson) to join them on stage. Jalalu is a New Yorker, now living in Switzerland, and he has flown in for the concert. The fact that he’s a New Yorker piques my interest, so after the concert I approach him and say … HELLO! We begin talking and suddenly he stops and says, “Wait. You live in New York now?!”

“Yes,” I answer and he fires back, “So what are you doing in Budapest?”

Taking a deep breath, I go into my spiel – 33 years old, 33 countries, yada yada yada. His eyes light up immediately.

“So how do you know Cheikh,” he continues.

“Well, I met him through my friend, Bogáta. She is Hungarian and she lives here.”

“And where did you meet her,” he asks incredulously.

“Well, I met her while olive picking in Italy,” I simply answer.

Boisterously laughing, nodding his head with approval and slapping me on the back he says, “This is what travel does… It opens you up. You are becoming too big to fit into little boxes now.” Running to his gear, he pulls out a cd with his information on it and handing it to me he says, “Everywhere you go, I want you to take a piece of me with you! I want to hear about all your new experiences.” Taking a deep breath, smiling, and looking me in the eye, he says, “Wow, child, look how many people you’ve met all over the world. See... sometimes all it takes is ‘Hello’.”

Who I am: Slovenia

I’m moving pretty quickly through the next six countries; essentially changing countries every four days. So, I have to use my time wisely in each country and choose transportation and sightseeing options that make the maximum impact.

Ljubljana, Slovenia is my first stop after Italy and upon arrival I’m shocked at how drastic the weather has changed. I was just in the countryside picking olives and now I’m freezing. There’s absolutely no way I can do any decent sightseeing without the proper winter gear, so I immediately ask about the nearest shopping center. “BTC,” said the hostel worker, “you’ll find loads of stuff there.” Slovenia is a small country with a population of just over 2 million. There are more people than that in Brooklyn alone, so I figured that the shopping mall would be some random selection of home grown stores and I could shoot in and out in a few hours and do some sightseeing afterwards. Boy was I wrong…

The next morning I looked up directions by bus and started to scan the BTC website in order to get a “plan of approach together”.  My eyes immediately stopped at the words “over 450 shops.” 450 WHAT?! What the hell?! Who puts 450 of anything in the same space? Think about having 450 flavors to choose from when you walk into Baskin Robbins. That’s too many choices, especially for a person like me.

You see... For some people, ice cream is their thing. For others, electronic gadgets or betting are their vice of choice.  I, on the other hand, am a shopper. Like a super hero, every instinct that I’m naturally gifted with comes alive in shopping malls and bazaars. I have never, ever, gotten lost while shopping and can sniff out a good sale from a mile and half away. Sometimes I’ll even forget that I haven’t eaten until the mall is closed! Hyper focused on trying to make a decision in a world of too many choices. Funny, but I have long given up being ashamed of it, instead turning my weakness into a career.   

“This should be interesting. I’ll take pictures so people back home can see how insane 450 stores look,” I thought before heading out. I updated my Facebook status telling friends and family, where I was going and that if I did not update my status again by 6 pm to send someone in to get me because I would be in the corner of the hottest shoe store, grappling bags and shaking in shock. 450 stores are going to be a problem for me…

The first hour was okay.  The place is massive and consists of a water park, car wash, sport center, casino, movie theatre, entertainment Arena, and quite a few bars and restaurants in addition to the 450+ stores. Regardless, of the size, I picked up gloves, hats, and scarves and was very proud of myself. “Oooh fur coats…. NO! You are not Apollonia!  Stay focused.” The second hour crept up on me and I still needed a coat and boots, but I managed to pick up a few other “necessities.” By the third hour, it was getting bad…You know that scene in New Jack City when Pookie, the reformed junkie, starts losing his marbles while undercover in the crack factory. Well, that’s how I started to feel.  450 stores?!

What was supposed to be a one, maybe two, hour excursion became a full on hunt. I was on a mission and I worked that mall like a job, building up a good sweat and miles and miles of road time from 9 am to 9 pm. I finally left because the bank thought someone had stolen my credit card and they placed a fraud alert on it. Proof positive that God knows his children; this is who I am!  I have problems and those with the same disease should not attempt BTC on their own. Go with a friend, go with a spouse, go with a sponsor, but don’t go alone!

Loaded with bags I went back to the hostel feeling guilty that I had spent an entire day of my limited time in Ljubljana shopping. To top it off, I forgot to take even one photo! Shameful! Thankfully, Ljubljana doesn’t have a ton of major tourist’s attractions. So, the next day, I headed out to the city with a vengeance and made the Ljubljana Castle my first stop.

Ljubljana’s center city is gorgeous and romantic. Situated around the river Ljubljanica, the cobblestone streets are lined with chic boutiques and pubs where hearty stews are served in order to heat you up. Small, jazz clubs and lounges, cafes, old churches, and farmer’s markets make up the remainder of the picturesque scenery. However, the Ljubljana Castle in the backdrop looking down over the city center completes the fairytale-esque look of the city. This place is made for lovers strolling hand in hand and the locks on the bridges, which are seen all over Eastern Europe, are a testament to the many couples that pass over the Ljubljanica.

As I weaved through the farmer’s market making my way to the funicular, which is an elevator of sorts that takes you up a steep slope, I couldn’t help notice all of the people in USA scarves and colors. “Where dey do that at?!” Who comes to Europe rocking red, white, and blue and advertising their love for America from head to toe? “These people must be Texans or something,” I thought and continued on my way. Turns out that the USA and Slovenia soccer teams were playing that evening. I thought that I might go to the match, but I’m good on soccer for minute due to my Croatia experience.

As I toured the castle, I thought that it was really lovely, but not what I expected. I had become accustomed to ruins and such and Ljubljana is not that type of city. The castle looks like a classy, ultra chic, loft right out of the pages Architectural Review. It has an executive center, a white table cloth restaurant, as well as a 3-D historical presentation in its theatre. Uber-modern! I left the castle and headed directly to the Ljubljana city museum where I had already contacted photographer and author Bojan Brecelj .

When traveling alone, you don’t get many opportunities to take photos of yourself and I wanted to find a professional photographer to capture me in this moment. I read about Bojan’s Selffish studio which features live self-portraying and thought that that would fit the bill in terms of unique. So, I emailed him and he said that his studio is now setup at the Ljubljana city museum for an exhibit entitled, “Who are you?” Come by on Wednesday and you can take photos, he replied. By the way, since it’s an exhibit now, it’s free. SCORE!!! I’m there.

Bojan Brecelj

The exhibition is unique in that visitors are invited to the studio in order for them to create their image and tell a little about who they are. In “creating your own image”, you stand in front of a large mirror with lights built in and looking at yourself, you determine when the shot will be taken by pressing the camera button at your foot. At the end you have to offer a statement about “who you are” and then you become part of the exhibit. Bojan and his assistant showed me the ropes and I hopped right in. It looked really fun, but much like the shopping at BTC I had too many choices and ideas running through my head and couldn’t figure out what to do or where to begin. This was a problem.

This situation I had found myself in was so similar to my shopping excursion and to many of the conditions I find in life, that I began laughing when writing my personal statement. This is exactly who I am! I wrote:

“I am a plethora of choices wound tightly together…. A lovely, hot mess.”

Golden Moments: Italy

Picture this. Montelone Sabino. 2011…

(I’ve always wanted to start a story like Sophia from the Golden Girls!)

Having missed the grape harvesting season, I still felt compelled to roll around in leaves and bask in the fresh air of the Italian country side. It was olive picking season, so I searched high and low for opportunities on someone’s farm. I considered “WWOOFing” it, but I didn’t have a week to devote to farming. So, I checked Couch Surfing for activities in the area and found the Ozu Cultural Center. Their post offered the opportunity to pick olives, make olive oil, and learn to cook with it during a weekend in Montelone Sabino. It was a 3 for 1 type of deal so I signed up and scheduled a pick up at Rome’s airport.



Good Morning, Sunshine! - Ozu in the morning.

When we met at the airport and I realized it would be all women, I knew I was in for a treat. One of the ladies, a writer from England and mother of young children, has taken the weekend to de-stress and do some research for her next project. Another woman, a land conservationist and empty nester from Washington state, has taken three months to explore Europe and forget about work. The last, Paola, is Ozu Cultural Center’s director. She and her husband set out to build an artist’s retreat in the absolute middle of nowhere. We drove for two hours, telling stories, laughing, and getting to know each other. When we finally make it to Ozu I get out of the car, take a deep refreshing breath and smile, knowing that this will be a weekend to remember.

Getting our water for lunch!

See... something happens when women get together. I think this is one of the reasons why the Golden Girls stayed on the air as long as it did. People recognize the complexity, drama and absolute comedy that can occur when women come together and it strikes a chord. They remember sitting around the table while mom was cooking and talking to her girlfriends. Or they remember sitting in a salon and laughing their heads off at some off the wall story. Coming from a large family of mostly women, it definitely strikes a chord with me.

I understood early the power of women working together. As a child, I recognized the solidarity and the capacity to both build and destroy. As an adult I acknowledged that when mature women get together, we harness the ability to restore ourselves, while simultaneously nurturing each other. Beyonce understands this concept; Oprah understands it; and the Golden Girls definitely understood it. So now, when I get involved in group activities and notice that there are going to be a lot of women, I get excited because I know I’m in for moments to cherish and an opportunity to learn. This time, however, I was surrounded by married women, which made me take an even deeper breath and send up a silent thanks.

Olives almost look like grapes...

You see… During the planning phase of my trip, most of the responses I heard from people were that “married women aren’t supposed to do these types of things.” I really became discouraged at one point, but thankfully, while shopping with a friend in a second hand store, she noticed a book entitled "The Marriage Sabbatical: The Journey that Brings You Home.” “You have got to get this,” she exclaimed handing it to me. I read it and the timing couldn’t have been any more perfect.

The Marriage Sabbatical by Cheryl Jarvis is about women who leave their families for a period of time to explore their dreams, rejuvenate themselves, and simply take time. For some of the women interviewed in the book this time of exploration consists of taking a weekend course in another state, going on vacation solo, or taking an extended trip away. There are many examples of how women are taking marriage sabbaticals; however, the point of the book is that women, especially married women, must take opportunities to go and rediscover who they are.

The author’s theory is that, adhering to all of the cultural mores attached to being a “married woman” can create a lot of pressure and cause women to lose themselves to the responsibility of upholding their role. So instead of being a person with personal dreams and goals, you simply become Mrs. So and so and the family’s dreams and goals eclipse that of your own. Layer on the added pressure of working, raising children, taking care of extended family and trying to stay sane, and now you are Mom, Cook, Cleaning Woman, Geriatric Caretaker, and Therapist.  The author acknowledges that many of these jobs are a labor of love and she does not refute the importance of the role and responsibility of wife. She does, however, discuss the issues that occur even in a happy marriage. These are the things no one else wants to talk about: depression, weight gain, feelings of being loss, etc.



Tired? Olive picking is hard work!

The book is a good read and I enjoyed it, but the thing I got out of it the most was when the author discussed how our society has a tendency to reinforce the view that married women shouldn’t leave their homes or families and vacation alone. In the books, the author says that when married men leave home for an extended period of time, it is deemed acceptable; they are working, hunting or doing whatever it is that men do. No one bats an eyelash. When women leave, however, red flags go up. To highlight her point, the author points to movies like Thelma and Louis. Two women vacationing without their husbands will most definitely end up in trouble and have to commit suicide. Nothing good can come from it! There are very few if any positive examples of women leaving their families, going way to take me time and then coming back rejuvenated and whole. This example, this concept, really helped me understand what I was up against in terms of resistance and it helped thicken my skin and reinforce my mindset. “I’m going to go!”



You missed a spot!

Like finding that book, there have been all of these moments throughout my journey where I wanted to step back and say, “Hey God, I don’t want to remind you how to do your job, but you’re supposed to work in mysterious ways.  All of these outright lessons, directions, and blessings are really starting to scare me.” Meeting all of these married women, who were essentially doing the same thing I was, was also one of these moments. I hadn’t met many married women who were traveling while I was out and I was starting to feel like a unicorn. Where are all these women taking marriage sabbaticals?!

The answer is that they are picking olives at an artist’s refuge in Montelone Sabino!



Enrico can burn!!

Walking into Ozu we were wowed by all of the “stuff”, so Paola offered a tour and presentation. What is now Ozu Cultural Center use to be an abandoned candy warehouse before her and her husband, Enrico, “pimped” the space out. Now it consists of several very large studio spaces equipped with tools for every type artists: painters, photographers, videography, ceramist, dancers and writers. The place is also filled with computers, records, magazines and art books from every generation used as inspirational resources for the artist. Sleeping accommodations on sight include a dorm, two private bedrooms, as well as the family’s living quarters. With all of this space, it’s interesting that the nucleus of the entire place is still the kitchen. The kitchen… wow! Enrico can cook his butt off and his kitchen is designed for this purpose alone. Large pots, homemade wines, olive oils, and jams line the open cupboards and an enormous dining table repurposed from old wood sits on wheels in the middle of the kitchen waiting for large groups of people.

Someone tell the baby that he's not going anywhere.

Then they started to come…

After getting acclimated and comfortable, Paola mentioned that she didn’t get enough volunteers to help with this season’s first olive picking, so she invited friends. Over the next few hours, many more people started arriving. Families, some with children, begin filling the place and English, Italian, French and Hungarian could be heard all around. It was a very homey feeling and at some point I kicked off my shoes and really settled in. Of course the women congregated in the kitchen around the table and we ate, we talked, and enjoyed each other’s spirit immensely.



Eat and talk! Eat and talk!

Over the course of the next few days, this same feeling and scenario would be played out over and over again. The women talked incessantly while picking olives and laughed openly when people fell, rolling down the hill.  We gabbed during breakfast over cereal, toast and homemade marmalade. We shared deeper stories during hikes along the lake and gushed while cracking walnuts for homemade pies. Most importantly, we actively listened and nurtured each other’s soul in between big forkful’s of our first and second courses of dinner. Something happens when women get together…

I left Ozu one day earlier than everyone else because I needed to see the Vatican before continuing on my journey. However, I will always remember this period as a golden time when women of all ages, races, and nationalities got together and communicated words of encouragement and inspiration in a language only we could hear.