Budapest

Note- This blog post was written on scrap paper during my train ride from Budapest to Ukraine on October 22nd. So you're not quite up to date, but I will write about Ukraine soon! And I know this post is sort of a novel...except with a lousy main character and not much of a plot...but you don't actually have to read it! It's just that I don't get to express much in English anymore....

I'm sitting on the train right now, or rather a train. I can't really be sure which one, although I'm hoping it will take me to Zahony, the Hungarian border-town I need to be in to cross into Chop, Ukraine. Anyway, enough about trains for now...I thought I'd take some time to write about my weekend in Budapest, and post it in my blog at a later date.
I guess I should start at the beginning...My flights (Flint, Chicago, London, Budapest) were fairly uneventful. I watched most of game 4 of the Tigers-Yankees series in the Chicago airport before catching my flight to London. The large man whose seat was supposed to be next to mine caused some sort of ruckus before we took off and was kindly escorted to a seat at the rear of the plane, leaving me with an extra seat all to myself. A window and an aisle! Almost first-class. In London I had to go through security again (the most thorough pat-down of my life), and then it was on to Budapest. During the flight I chatted with a man from Boston about his family in the U.P., and memories of Mackinac Island.

GOOD NEWS--An official train person just came through, checked my ticket, and did not make me get off the train!

Where was I? Oh yeah, flights. I got my first view of the city as we flew into Budapest. It was absolutely gorgeous, with the winding Danube (although more brownish than blue), elaborate old buildings, and rolling hills of Buda. I proceeded through customs with no problems, then waited at the luggage carousel. And waited...and waited...no bag. Thankfully (was it wrong of me to feel that way?) two other people had the same problem...both Americans and one who lived in Budapest, had had the same issue before, and knew what to do. We went to a help desk, filled out some forms, and I tried to remember what color my bag actually was so I could give them a description. Green right? Or maybe blue... One lady would not accept my hostel address as a valid location to deliver the bag, and I tried to tell her (barely holding back tears) that I had no other place...no permanent address in Budapest. The American guy who lived in Budapest jumped in to help me, explaining that my hostel was actually in Budapest on Oktober Street, and I hadn't just written the month in English. Once that confusion was cleared up they gave me some papers for my hostel receptionist, and promised to deliver the bag sometime (no ideas when).
I exchanged currency and took a shuttle from the airport, fearing for my life and the lives of pedestrians as the driver whipped through streets, around corners, and over sidewalks. During the ride I chatted with the gentleman wedged in next to me, a retired doctor originally from Michigan. The driver delivered me directly to my hostel's front door, where I buzzed in and climbed a long dark staircase that felt like it belonged to an abandoned building. My hostel was a beacon of light at the end of the tunnel, though, and actually turned out to be quite cozy.
I checked in, then set out to see Budapest before it got too dark. My hostel was only a few blocks from the Danube, so I headed straight (okay well, it's possible I got lost...I don't remember now, but more than likely) for the river. I walked the beautiful Chain Bridge, crossing from the flat Pest side of the River to the hilly Buda side. From there I wandered up to Castle Hill, where I had a spectacular view of the river and city. From what I understand, there is no castle on Castle Hill, although apparently there used to be. There is a pretty awesome "palace" but I've heard no royal family ever actually lived there. Budapest can be confusing.
On Saturday I did a lot more wandering (and getting lost) in Budapest, and found Nyugati Station to buy my train ticket to Ukraine. Since I wanted to make an international journey, I had to buy both an intercity and an international ticket, from agents speaking no (or very little) English. The process took some time, but eventually I was able to purchase tickets, feeling about 55% confident that they were the correct tickets. During the rest of the afternoon I explored Margaret Island (like the Central Park of Budapest), did a free walking tour of the city, and walked around a bit with some Mexican girls I met on the tour. That night one of the hostel employees helped me figure out which tram line would take me to the church I wanted to attend in the morning.
On Sunday I woke up feeling exhausted. Every muscle in my legs ached from walking many miles Friday and Saturday, and I dreaded the thought of purchasing tickets and navigating the tram. But I also very much wanted to be at church, worshiping with Christians in this strange city. I forced myself to get up.
Yes, figuring out where and how to catch the tram was difficult, as well as finding the street I needed once I got off the tram, but I will spare you the gory details. I will just say that more than once I wanted to give up and go back to my hostel or sit down and cry. When I finally found the building where the church was supposed to be located, the front door was locked. I wandered around to the back, which was more of a parking structure, and in desperation started climbing a staircase. After about the first flight of stairs I heard music...singing! As I continued to climb it grew louder, and the louder it got the faster I climbed until I burst into a room with about 200 people worshiping and singing familiar songs, in English! I felt so relieved I nearly broke down and cried on the spot.
Toward the beginning of the service visitors were asked to stand, introduce themselves, and tell where they were from. When I said I was from Michigan, a nurse, and headed to Ukraine to work, a little cheer went up from one area of the room. At the end of the service I met the source of the cheer- two ladies, one from Michigan and the other an American nurse working in Kiev. The nurse, Pam, has lived in Ukraine about eleven years, and organizes and provides basic care and teaching, in a role similar to that of a home health nurse. She was incredibly supportive and gave me her contact info, telling me I could call her absolutely any time. She even told me if I ever had a long weekend free or wanted to get away for Thanksgiving, I was welcome to come stay with her in Kiev. What a blessing! The church service itself was refreshing, but meeting Pam felt like a miracle. On the train ride back into the city I met three other ladies who teach/student teach in Budapest. The student teacher, Natalie, was also very encouraging and said that if I ever wanted to visit Budapest again and needed a place to stay, I should let her know.
For the rest of the afternoon I continued to wander the city, checking out other major monuments on my way to Szenchenyi Baths, one of Budapest's famous thermal spring complexes. Szenchenyi is a huge place with indoor and outdoor pools of every temperature, saunas, and lots of old men in speedos who sit in the baths and play chess.
Getting to the train station this morning was the worst ordeal of this adventure so far. What should have been a simple trip developed into a nightmare related to some stupid wrong turns and a huge bag, necessitating an emergency trip on the metro (after frantically buying a ticket from a woman on the street because the ticket window was closed). I finally arrived at my train sweaty and out of breath, about five minutes before it left the station.
But God is so good...so much better than I deserve, and I think I've made it (so far). I'm still tired...tired of never being understood, of never knowing where I am, and of not knowing how to get where I think I need to be. But where I really need to be...I believe I am getting there. Budapest was beautiful, church was amazing, and this train ride isn't so bad. So for now I lean on this promise, painfully aware of my weaknesses but so deeply grateful for grace: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."