Friends in Budapest

“Paris and London are sweet and I'd go there, but they aren't my number one destinations. Remote islands in Greece were sick, Hungary, Poland, Belgium were all amazing, so go to the big places just to go but if you are centered around those you are doing it wrong.”

One of my friends lived in Italy for a couple of years, and we began discussing where I should go during my time abroad well before I ever hopped on the plane. After he sent me this advice, Budapes(“h”)t, the capital of Hungary, was high on my travel list. Some classmates visited over fall break and raved. Instead of feasting at Sugah Cain, I packed all of my warm clothes and thanked God for my many blessings on a night plane from Rome to Budapest.

As usual, my friend Alea and I endured my rite of entry into any new place by getting thoroughly lost and walking all over the city. As we meandered, we admired the elaborate Art Nouveau facades on both average apartments and bank buildings alike. We also had a blast enjoying the unexpected Christmas spirit here – cold weather, decorative lights, chimney cake (basically fried bread) and mulled wine are a beautiful combination.

Chimney Cake = yummmm

I will always remember my weekend in Budapest, but it won’t be because of Hero’s Square or the Opera House or the shoe memorial for the Jews of WWII.

3rd Largest Parliament in the World

I tired of sight-seeing about halfway through the semester, and I have learned that it just isn’t what makes a trip. Rather than the tourist stuff, I will remember my last trip of the semester because of the great people we met there.

Jonah

As I took my first bite of hearty goulash soup, I heard an American accent ordering at the table adjacent to us. I glanced over to see an attractive young man sitting by himself. If you know me, you know strangers, especially Americans in foreign countries, don’t stay that way for long, and Jonah was no exception. A native of Los Angeles, he works in the entertainment business – writing, acting, singing, producing. He can do it all. He was traveling with his friend, but he had the last day to himself. After lunch, Jonah invited us to continue exploring Budapest with him, and we accepted the offer.

Jonah was a solid six years older than us with a real career, but we spent the whole day together and then met back up for a late dinner. When I think about hanging out with fourteen-year olds, I realize just how big that age gap and lifestyle difference is. His humor is dry, but it’s also witty. Our company may have been unusual for Jonah, but I think he really did enjoy the day with us. I certainly did. 

Tess
We returned to the hostel to meet a happy blonde chilling in bed with a backpack significantly larger than her small frame. Tess is 18, from Sydney, Australia. After saving up her money for a year, she is now on a gap year, traveling through all of Eastern and Western Europe. I was impressed. She had been backpacking with another friend for a while, but they had parted ways, and she was on her own now. Tess was supposed to leave the next day, but after talking together and planning on breakfast the next morning, she decided to stay another night and spent the whole following day with us. She even motivated me to go on a run with her around the loop on Margaret’s Island, a pinch of land in the middle of the Danube River. She had a kind, peaceful demeanor, and it is obvious Tess is growing up a lot. She went to an all-girl’s private school for six years, and she is over that culture. I think this year of traveling is helping her find her way.

Rebecca

When we returned to the hostel the next night, we were greeted by our fourth roommate. Also from Sydney, Rebecca graduated from Uni, got a big girl PR job for a year, and then set off to backpack the world by herself. She has already been gone for seven months, and has several more months to go. What an experience. I had so many questions for her, all beating around the main question I had cycling through my head – Can I just be you in two years? We shall see what is to come.

In less than a week, both Tess and Rebecca are going to meet up with us back in Perugia before we return home! I am happy to be able to offer my hospitality and show off an authentic medieval Italian town, but I am more excited to already reunite with friends I did not know less than a week ago.

The cool thing about the people we met in Budapest is that you know you automatically have something in common. Jonah, Tess and Rebecca were a little off the tourist track, too. Whatever brought them there, they carry some sense of adventure, the curiosity to explore the less known. The stranger the place, the more different the visitor will be, and the more likely one is to meet other travelers.  That formula creates something innate and easily ignited – the potential for great friendship.

Thank you for flying with Ryan Air

As I continue to travel, the modes of transportation I have used are increasing, too. Rome by train; private charter bus to Pompeii  and Napoli; Capri and Ischia by ferry. Of course, a plane was quite necessary to arrive in Italy. There is a big – I’m talking mammoth, colossal even – difference between an orderly international flight and the travel experience I had this past weekend. That’s right, I did it, I went to visit my Roanoke friend Evelyn, by my lonesome self…with Ryan Air.

If you are not familiar with this flight company, consider yourself blessed. For cheap college students like me, Ryan Air offers some bargain flight prices – often as lows as €15. With your inconceivably cheap ticket, you are also guaranteed a bumpy ride and no space. Tacked on fees, delayed flights, and head injuries are likely.

I’m being a little hard. After avoiding all of the rent a car, get a tour guide, reserve your seat financial traps online, I managed to buy a reasonable ticket a few weeks ago. I double-checked the airport bus pickup, woke up on time, all packed and ready to go. Good so far. I get to the bus stop, and then it hits me – I don’t have a ticket! This is a seriously elementary travel mistake, but I had become so accustomed to buying my train tickets at the station that it hadn’t crossed my mind. Because the primary ticket office was closed at 7 am, a ten-minute period of internal panic set-in.

I can’t even get myself out of Perugia! And I’m planning on going to Brussels?!

By the time I returned to the bus stop, a few more people had arrived, and they assured me that I bought the ticket on the bus. Whew.

Honestly, traveling by myself intimidated me more than I anticipated. If I messed it up, I was screwed, and that almost happened before I got out of Perugia. I learned that I am much more outgoing and confident with strangers when I have a group to return to.  At the airport and on the plane, I kept to myself, and it was lonely. Traveling solo no longer has the appeal it once did.

Italians haven’t quite overcome the anarchy of previous government systems. Today, this is most evident in their lack of lines. They swarm. All sense of civility and manners apparates just like wizards in Harry Potter. This behavior is further complicated by Ryan Air’s free seating policy. There is no consecutive, orderly calling of section one followed by section two. No, no. The airport gate was a giant mob, and my inner Italian came out and jostled by way as far forward (which was still very back) as I could.

Sitting in those seats with bright yellow plastic backs, we took off and flew and landed, and I am alive. The fact that I must announce the latter part of that sentence is reason enough to suspect this is no normal flying experience. I was resting peacefully until BAH-BOOM-BOOM-SCHREEEEECH! That landing was so unsettling. There was applause. And music that sounded like it could be from Barney celebrating our arrival. “Ryan Air is proud to have a 90% prompt arrival rate. We look forward to your next flight with us.”

I’ll be praying in advance for that.

I guess I didn’t pray hard enough, though. After a lovely weekend in the perfect college city (it can only boast beer, chocolate, and fries [and waffles]) with Evelyn, my trip back was horrendous. An anticipated five hours of travel turned into thirteen hours of…well, it wasn’t really travel. We weren’t moving very often. Pisa had bad weather, so we turned around and had a rocky landing in Genoa. We wait. Ryan Air announced it would provide a charter bus to Pisa. While other air companies board their detoured passengers swiftly, we walk to the parking lot and I meet some American students. We wait two hours. Finally! A bus! Three hours cramped next to an old woman who smells like mothballs. I am exhausted and frustrated. By the time I arrive in Pisa, I’m just worried about making it to Perugia.

Things began looking up, though. Not really because of the transportation, but, once again, because of the people. I spoke to a woman who helped me get to the right train track. Later on, when the train stalled because of technical difficulties, it didn’t matter so much, because an old Sicilian named Valentina and I were an hour into a conversation in Ita-lish. My head was hurting from speaking so much, but I could also sense myself improving. Before we arrived in Florence, she said if I already missed the last train to Perugia, I could stay in her hotel that night. I love the Italians. Fortunately, there was one last train, and she waited with me to make sure I had everything straight.

One two-hour train ride and a €10 cab later, at a quarter ‘til midnight, I finally made it home. Yes, that’s the word I want . Charleston is my forever home, but after all the travel this semester and the urban, standoffish feeling of Brussels, the quaint love of the town is an abode. I am settling in here in a way I never have at Roanoke. Sunday’s extended travel was not fun, but it was a first. I grew up just a wee bit more, I had yet another “first” in Italy, and I realized just how much I love Perugia. Your flight attendant may recite an automated Thank you for flying, but for these, Ryan Air, I must thank you.

Lessons in Rome

 When you stay in Italy for a long time, you have to obtain a Permesso di Sogiorno, a permit of stay. It consists of a hefty tax, pages of bureaucratic papers, and several visits to the chaotic Italian post office. Umbra students were told not to make any weekend travel plans until we received a permesso appointment. Besides my lighter school load, I and other students studying in Perugia occupy most of our time preparing meals (A side note: It never ends, I tell you. My stomach is always thinking of the next meal. Alas, this is blog for another time.), uploading photos and being a little too connected to Facebook, and planning weekend travel. This permesso appointment was seriously messing us up.

Last Wednesday, though, Abby walked into the apartment with an announcement.

“We’re going to Rome!”

Well, okay. Apparently the permesso, in typical Italian fashion, had been postponed to next month. We began planning our weekend travel in a spirit of spontaneity, booking hostels, buying train tickets departing Thursday afternoon, and consulting the dependable Rick Steves’ Guide to Italy.

Allow me to cut to the crux. I am not going to tell you about every single thing we saw in Rome. That is boring; I don’t even want to read that, much less write it. We cycled through the typical tourist’s “Rome in 3 Days” route. I did, however, gain some eternal perspective and practical travel tips. Those, I think, are worth sharing.

The millennia of history seeps through city stone, and the museums displays mankind’s most coveted pieces of historical and artistic creations. It is the ultimate fieldtrip, and one really must experience it for himself. I found myself retrieving tidbits of the history and Latin I had learned in school (thanks Mr. Duckworth and Mr. Wagner) and wishing those teachers could be there with me, allowing me to know and appreciated more. Even in my ignorance, though, I had some takeaways.

First, worship is part of the human DNA. Pagan, Christian, or political, I was struck by the historical tendency to worship and honor. There are so many masterpieces humans devoted their whole lives to creating: an ancient, massive temple to Jupiter; ornate tapestries running the length of walls hand-sewn by nuns; the more recent Victor Emmanuel monument commemorating Italy’s unification. We like big, impressive things, showing how great our devotion is. I think that speaks to the way God created us.

Second, I gained a new understanding of the brevity and unimportance of my small, meager life. Seriously, just living abroad has tripled my existential moments. I look around and realize that I am truly a speck. Over and over I admired statues and paintings, dumbfounded. All I could think was, Wow.  This is a masterpiece, this is old. It was here long before me, and it will remain long after me. Here I am, miniscule and temporal.  Then I walked down a hall with several hundred busts, and I would think to myself, These are the important, rich people. For each of these, there are billions more unrecorded lives in the world’s history. That’s something to chew on.

Third, I am thankful to be in Perugia. Speaking Italian (or trying to, anyway) isn’t a question here. In Rome, you can speak English to everyone. It is crawling with tourists.

And now for those travel lessons.

Learn military time.

Other than saving space on the face of a clock, AM and PM really is more conducive to error. It’s what I’ve used my whole life, though, and right now mistakes go the other way. I’m constantly subtracting ten and two to figure out the time, and my mental math – however simple – isn’t that accurate. Because of this, we ended up arriving at the stazione an hour after our train departed. We had to wait another hour to catch a later train. Sorry guys.

Plan and prioritize.

I left my passport in Perugia. I am not joking. And my phone charger and one less pair of underwear than I would have preferred. Thank goodness I had a copy of my passport, lax hostel receptionists, and friends that take lots of pictures to suffice for my dead phone/camera. We tried to meet up with the guys we met in Assisi last week. With the advent of cell-phones, the world has adjusted to last-minute planning, and you just can’t do that when you travel. We did finally rendezvous, and it was wonderful to see them again, but our delayed arrival and vague communication was not helpful. We didn’t think about where our hostels were located in relation to each other, or where exactly to meet. I also didn’t really check the weather. While Perugia is quickly turning to brisk fall weather, Rome was still hot and humid, and long-sleeved shirts were not the right clothing choice.

We did a lot. I’m glad we packed a lot into our days with a go-get-‘em attitude, but it was exhausting and not too fun.

Vatican city should be enjoyable, but it just wasn’t. St. Peter’s Basilica was so crowded with tour groups that I felt like we were defiling its holiness. I was so claustrophobic and frustrated that I couldn’t appreciate it at all. If you try to do everything, you will go from looking like this:

To this by the end of Day 2:

Exhausted. Let me sleep.

Not worth it.

Be bold.

Don’t be stupid, but don’t be afraid to start conversations with people. That’s one thing I’m not too bad at. All it takes is one question and a friendly face. As we enjoyed lunch, Abby could see into the kitchen and was eyeing the chef’s pizza-making skills. He invited her in; she was hesitant. “Abby, if you don’t go, I’m going for you.” She went.

The pizza dough is flying in the air.

I’m always the one talking to people and breaking group bubbles. I met a girl traveling around the world by herself, a missionary family living in Perugia that I hope to reconnect with, and these crazy Brits:

The result of a drunken bet two years ago. They all bought crazy hats and shirts and drew lots for who wore what. They then had to sport them around Rome for the day. Not a bad idea.

 Abby wanted to take a picture. They all looked to me. There is literally nothing to lose in a situation like that, so I went and asked if they spoke English. We got our picture and heard a great story.

Let your plan go.

There is a balance between doing the touristy necessary things, and just stumbling upon a memorable moment. I am such a list maker and achiever, that this is often hard for me to digest. While I have an agenda for each day, my parents have long held the philosophy that the only way to travel is without one. I am beginning to understand their wisdom. Unlike museums, the experiences you happen upon also tend to be more relaxed, enjoyable, and free. We finished our whirlwind checklist by Saturday afternoon, so we slowed the rest of the weekend down. We sat in a piazza and watched the street performers. We wandered to the Spanish steps, and low and behold a group of families were making a night singing American rock songs.

Sunday morning we meandered through Rome’s largest park, Villa Borgese. I loved this. It was my favorite walking of the whole weekend. Trees! Grass! Locals!

Rome is a big city, and it’s not to my liking. It gave me the chance to reflect, gain important travel lessons, and relax, though, and I needed to do that before I go anywhere else. I still learned  a lot from this Italian metropolis, and my whirlwind trip has transformed my travel style. 

Photo credits to Abby Wilson. Bring a charger for your camera...