The story I am about to tell began 2 years ago (well actually 5 with Americorp, but for the sake of the story, let’s call it 2) with my first trip to Szarvas, Hungary to build houses with Habitat for Humanity. The experience was amazing and memorable enough that when the team leader Dennis emailed the group saying he was going back again this June, I jumped on the opportunity to go. Due to my travel schedule and planned trip home for my sister’s bachlorette party, I was only able to help out on the last 3 days of the 8 day build. However, Dennis thankfully allowed me to join the group halfway through.
Coming in late in the game created a completely different experience…I was the new girl amongst a group of fast made friends and whose relationships with the families were already established. And did I mention that I was the only American amid a group of 16 Canadians, my favorite neighbors to the north. Oh, and the ages of the group were either 22 or 42 leaving me smack dab in the middle (as compared to being the youngest by far on the last build….this new dynamic caused me a temporary mid-life crisis as I tried to make friends with everyone with out appearing to be in denial of my actual age. The last thing I wanted was to think I was young and hip enough to hang out with the college age group after hours. This fact was jokingly pointed out to me as I managed to talk about not only my 401k but also my current addiction to WWII and history in general with one of the youngsters… yes apparently I am an old fart, not an old soul like I had previously thought). That aside, the group welcomed me wholeheartedly both those I knew from before, the new additions to the team and the local organizers Gaby and Levy who surprisingly remembered me
The build was great, I helped to dig trenches for the plumbing on a new house and worked with a team to make a concrete sidewalk (including shoveling, framing, pouring concrete and leveling the sidewalk) to finish up another. But the best part was being able to see the completed house I had helped out on two years prior. Outside of the build, I was able enjoy Szarvas and explore different parts of the town that I hadn’t seen on my last visit, including the local swimming hole where we went to cool off after the 41 degree Celsius weather.
We ended the build with traditional Hungarian dancing and heartfelt goodbyes from both Gaby and Levy. Levy, the site foreman, summed it up the best (whether intentional or not) he said “when you are at home in your own bed, I hope you feel this (the experience) in your muscle, your heart and remember how much you did.” I left on Thursday with bruises and cuts on my legs, blisters on my hands and a promise to both Gaby, Levy and Dennis that I would be back again.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
The Bell Lady
Every morning at work, at approximately 9:30am, my enjoyment at work peaks with happiness and joy. For exactly at that time, the “Bell Lady” comes walking through our office, ringing her bell, signaling that she has arrived to provide us with wholesome and hearty treats. She is the office/adult version of the milk lady from elementary school. However, unlike the milk lady, the Bell Lady provides so much more. While the selection can vary depending on the day of the week and how fast or slow you can respond to her delightful ring, you are guaranteed at least a few croissants, butter pretzels, sandwiches, bread rolls, salads, and, of course, milk.
Yes, this one woman is the highlight of my day at work. So much so, that I consciously make it a point to be at work and available at 9:30…Big night out? Doesn’t matter, I will be there in time….Meeting between 9 ant 10? Don’t even think about it. On one occasion, after a significantly large night out, I still managed to pull myself out of bed and get to work in time, motivated only by the thought of breakfast from the Bell Lady.
She has become such a fixture in my life that I am at a complete loss when, on those rare occasions, she doesn’t show up. But more alarming than the reliance I have on a woman whose name I don’t even know is the fact that I have become more conditioned than Pavlo’s dogs…not only do I start getting hunger pains around 9:15, but every time I hear a bell (whether in the office or not) I immediately think of the Bell Lady and her delightful salami sandwiches with one slice of pickle, lettuce, tomatoes and mystery sauce.
Yes, this one woman is the highlight of my day at work. So much so, that I consciously make it a point to be at work and available at 9:30…Big night out? Doesn’t matter, I will be there in time….Meeting between 9 ant 10? Don’t even think about it. On one occasion, after a significantly large night out, I still managed to pull myself out of bed and get to work in time, motivated only by the thought of breakfast from the Bell Lady.
She has become such a fixture in my life that I am at a complete loss when, on those rare occasions, she doesn’t show up. But more alarming than the reliance I have on a woman whose name I don’t even know is the fact that I have become more conditioned than Pavlo’s dogs…not only do I start getting hunger pains around 9:15, but every time I hear a bell (whether in the office or not) I immediately think of the Bell Lady and her delightful salami sandwiches with one slice of pickle, lettuce, tomatoes and mystery sauce.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Wakeboarding in Germany
This past Sunday, a Hungarian (Atilla), a Brit (Tim) and an American (me, of course) all set off for Germany for a day of wakeboarding. I was particularly excited since I had just recently been researching my wakeboarding options when I met Tim who said he and a friend were going.
After a quick 1.5 hour drive and a flash of the passports we were in Pfullendorf, Germany, where there is a cable system set up on a small lake. It, being my first time using a cable system, took me a few times (ok, maybe 7 or 8) to get the hang of the dock start. During which, the dock worker kept trying to give me pointers in German. But after the few bad starts, I was up and running…err…wakeboarding. Thankfully, among the pros doing railings, 360s and tricks I had never seen before, there were a few other novices that I could share my pain of learning with.
For those not familar with the concept, wakeboarding on the cable system is a completely different experience than behind the boat, which is what I am used to. There is no wake, no spray on the face, no “pick-up service” when you fall, no music, and you wear a wetsuit (although the wetsuit might have been more due to the cold weather than the cable system concept). The worst part is that if you fall along the course, you have to get out of the water and walk back around to the dock to start again. The best part is that the water stays great all day long and you can go continuously, until you get tired, that is. Afraid of falling and having to walk back around, I didn’t do anything too exciting (that, I am technically a huge wimp), but I still had a great time practicing my technique and just getting back in the water.
After our 2 hours were up, Atilla, Tim and I sat down lunch and then began the trek back home. But before saying goodbye, we made plans to go out again either back to Germany, down to the French region of Switzerland to another cable system, or out on Zurisee behind a boat.
After a quick 1.5 hour drive and a flash of the passports we were in Pfullendorf, Germany, where there is a cable system set up on a small lake. It, being my first time using a cable system, took me a few times (ok, maybe 7 or 8) to get the hang of the dock start. During which, the dock worker kept trying to give me pointers in German. But after the few bad starts, I was up and running…err…wakeboarding. Thankfully, among the pros doing railings, 360s and tricks I had never seen before, there were a few other novices that I could share my pain of learning with.
For those not familar with the concept, wakeboarding on the cable system is a completely different experience than behind the boat, which is what I am used to. There is no wake, no spray on the face, no “pick-up service” when you fall, no music, and you wear a wetsuit (although the wetsuit might have been more due to the cold weather than the cable system concept). The worst part is that if you fall along the course, you have to get out of the water and walk back around to the dock to start again. The best part is that the water stays great all day long and you can go continuously, until you get tired, that is. Afraid of falling and having to walk back around, I didn’t do anything too exciting (that, I am technically a huge wimp), but I still had a great time practicing my technique and just getting back in the water.
After our 2 hours were up, Atilla, Tim and I sat down lunch and then began the trek back home. But before saying goodbye, we made plans to go out again either back to Germany, down to the French region of Switzerland to another cable system, or out on Zurisee behind a boat.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Lisa – 0, Taxis – 3
It has been noted and documented that I have a running battle with taxi drivers which began in Barcelona (See Easter in Barcelona). The current score is Lisa – 0, Cab Drivers – 3
The trouble began in Barcelona and continued with a hostile cab driver in Athens, Greece. After taking a cab home one evening with 6 passengers, we thought we would try our luck again and hopefully fit 5 people in one cab that next day. We (Jason, Braden, Anna, Angela and myself) had the hotel call us a cab to take us to the city center to meet up with the rest of the group. Upon arrival, the cab driver promptly informed us the limit was 4 people. After serious negotiations (through a significant language barrier) it was decided that Jason and I would take the cab and Braden, Angela and Anna would catch another.
So off Jason and I went, taking the “scenic” drive along the coast, followed by a severe traffic jam on the outskirts of town. About 20 minutes into the ride we got a call from Braden saying they had just gotten to city center and were wondering where we were…we, were still 45 minutes away (how that math works out, I am still not sure). Sensing our frustration, the cab driver got frustrated (or nervous, I couldn’t tell) and he “suggested” that we get out and take the tram, an alleged 10 minute ride. After contemplating our options and making approximately 20m of progress in the traffic, Jason and I decided to take the tram. So, we paid the EUR20, got out of the cab in the middle of the road and hopped on the next tram to city center. 45 minutes later we reached our destination to find out the cab for the other crew was only EUR15 and it got them all the way. Ah, the price of traveling...
So, with two strikes against me, you would think I would learn my lesson with cab rides…Which I did, sort of. While in Budapest the other weekend, before even getting in the cab, I kindly asked the man how much he thought it might be to get back to the hotel. He quoted the trip at 4,500 HUF or 30CHF. To put this in perspective our 30 minute cab ride from the airport to the hotel was 4,500; from where we were, it was no more than a 15 minute drive.
Using my powers of reasoning, I thought this seemed high, so I suggested we take a different cab. Another cab arrived and I asked the same question, to which I got the response “I don’t know, I run the meter.” Not seeing another cab and feeling pretty comfortable around the city, we hopped in. A short 10 minutes and 6,000HUF (per the meter) later we reached the hotel. Feeling scammed, I still paid the fare, but promptly asked the hotel concierge the appropriate rate, which turns out to be 3,500HUF. I was, this time, duped by a fixed meter… man, I can’t win!
The trouble began in Barcelona and continued with a hostile cab driver in Athens, Greece. After taking a cab home one evening with 6 passengers, we thought we would try our luck again and hopefully fit 5 people in one cab that next day. We (Jason, Braden, Anna, Angela and myself) had the hotel call us a cab to take us to the city center to meet up with the rest of the group. Upon arrival, the cab driver promptly informed us the limit was 4 people. After serious negotiations (through a significant language barrier) it was decided that Jason and I would take the cab and Braden, Angela and Anna would catch another.
So off Jason and I went, taking the “scenic” drive along the coast, followed by a severe traffic jam on the outskirts of town. About 20 minutes into the ride we got a call from Braden saying they had just gotten to city center and were wondering where we were…we, were still 45 minutes away (how that math works out, I am still not sure). Sensing our frustration, the cab driver got frustrated (or nervous, I couldn’t tell) and he “suggested” that we get out and take the tram, an alleged 10 minute ride. After contemplating our options and making approximately 20m of progress in the traffic, Jason and I decided to take the tram. So, we paid the EUR20, got out of the cab in the middle of the road and hopped on the next tram to city center. 45 minutes later we reached our destination to find out the cab for the other crew was only EUR15 and it got them all the way. Ah, the price of traveling...
So, with two strikes against me, you would think I would learn my lesson with cab rides…Which I did, sort of. While in Budapest the other weekend, before even getting in the cab, I kindly asked the man how much he thought it might be to get back to the hotel. He quoted the trip at 4,500 HUF or 30CHF. To put this in perspective our 30 minute cab ride from the airport to the hotel was 4,500; from where we were, it was no more than a 15 minute drive.
Using my powers of reasoning, I thought this seemed high, so I suggested we take a different cab. Another cab arrived and I asked the same question, to which I got the response “I don’t know, I run the meter.” Not seeing another cab and feeling pretty comfortable around the city, we hopped in. A short 10 minutes and 6,000HUF (per the meter) later we reached the hotel. Feeling scammed, I still paid the fare, but promptly asked the hotel concierge the appropriate rate, which turns out to be 3,500HUF. I was, this time, duped by a fixed meter… man, I can’t win!
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