Sunday, 31 August 2014

Cupids Gatekeeper



Question: When does love become statistically relevant?

Answer: When a country’s immigration department notes an unexplained increase in the number of visa and immigration applications based on marriage between one of their citizens and that of specific other countries.

 
In this case, Germany and Serbia.
 
The keeper at the gate is based in Belgrade.  Her name is Susanne – she is a pleasant, bubbly though deep thinking person.  Having just finished her law degree and now on her internship at the German embassy in Belgrade, hers is an interesting role…weighing love. 
 
“How do you do that?”
“It’s not easy.” Clearly it’s a role that sits heavily on her shoulders.  While not mentioning any names, she runs me through some recent examples.  “Hard to call in some cases. “
“And how does a law degree prepare you for that.”
“It doesn’t, ”  she replies…then with a twinkle in her eye “Or about as much as any degree prepares you for life.”
While not the final arbiter, she writes up the case files and, in most instances, a recommendation.
We talk some more.  Love is safe with her.  She is young enough to still be an optimist, though intelligent and worldly wise enough to know when the bullshit factor is at play. 
The moral of the story…when it comes to love…have your story straight and pray cupid is aiming his bow in your direction at the time.
 
You can look but don’t touch
Vladimir’s eyes light up.  A package has arrived from his mother from the Serbian countryside.  He is debating whether or not to go and visit his parents for his upcoming 42nd birthday.  Son of a Montenegran father and Serbian mother he has seen a lot of change in old/new cultures (“…and the war we apparently needed to have to get there.” he comments drily.)
The package from his Mum is a food parcel.  Not that he needs it – but he loves her homemade baking and the national drink Rakia (tastes like a schnapps- just better).  He pours Susanne and I a glass, filling his last.  We do the triumvirate “Zeveli”, “Cheers”, “Prost”
Vladimir has the perfect job for his personality and type.
He is a fashion designer trained in Belgium at one of the more famous fashion houses in Europe  (“As regimented as the army” he complains).  In addition to this, he is a qualified and very good hair dresser.   His professional life is dedicated to making women look and feel beautiful.  Being gay, he insists, is the secret ingredient in this mix.  “They feel completely safe with me, they know I am not jealous of them and their looks, they know I can cast an appreciative eye over their body and not feel threatened that I am going to hit on them.  In fact, many of them flirt with me – and let me into their secrets.  Many become friends…I am safe territory and I am good at what I do.”
The last point is clear – he is finishing off a dress for a private client when I arrive.  He’s running late on it – but pressure makes the diamond.  The fabric is a dark blue silk – a plain dress with small red buttons on the mid length sleeves and a hem line two inches above the knee.
‘It is, by necessity, plain” he explains “This woman is tall and has a natural elegance that means the dress should complement her body and draw attention to her overall rather than drawing attention to the garment.”  He looks at it with some pride.  She arrives 20 minutes later – and is thrilled with it.
The drink and the company are warm.  I sit and while away the evening with great conversation and company with someone who helps cupid and someone who judges on his behalf.
Vladimir and Susanne - Belgrade
 
One day, two nights in Belgrade.  Tomorrow-  destination Istanbul.
 

When Telecommunications aren’t


Exec summary:

DTAC in Thailand great

Ortel in Europe bloody awful (don’t use them!)

 

Background

We live in an electronic world

Before I departed, I switched my Vodafone plan  to pre-paid and topped it up with NZ$20 just to retain the phone number “in stasis”.  Vodafone under my (Red) plan do offer a NZ$5.00 per day overseas rate for “all you can eat” data and calls.  Tick for Vodafone – though at >180 days out of the country and not on business (makes a welcome change) this option wasn’t really suitable.

 

Most people who know me will say that I have an innate sense of fairness.

The corollary of this is my Dad’s take on expecting fairness in life is like expecting the bull not to charge at you because you are a vegetarian! 

 

So when something is patently unreasonable – it should be called.  Such is the case with European “borderless” telecommunication and especially the service advertised versus that offered by ORTEL.

Since my travel in Europe I remain amazed at the relative ease of traversing countries and their borders.  Were it only so with telecommunications and data plans.

 With an exceptionally easy and effective service that I used in Thailand through DTAC (6 GB for the month and about 20 minutes of calls for around NZ$30.00, I was pre-programmed for hoping to find the same pan Europe. 

Arriving in Frankfurt as my first port in my European journey and my  first “Western European” stop-off before Eastern Europe, I visit the local telco shop just outside the main Frankfurt train station.  I enquire about SIM card for my iphone with a plan that allows pan European access.  I am showed the ORTEL package.  While in german with  no English translation  (and my German topped out at 5th form/year 10) with a little subsequent top-up through working with SAP, there is a brochure with all of the flags of the EU andsome additional European countries.  The byiine is “Wir Spracht ein e sprache” (even I can translate this as “we speak one language.”)

Cool…sorted.  I get the package that costs me a combination of Internet 5GB  plan for 20.00 Euro and an additional phone plan for 10.00 Euro for voice – having been told that this works across most of Europe and is  valid for a month.

Long story short –within a day of crossing the border (Germany to the Czech Republic) I get a server connection failure.  Calling the support number I get a pre-recorded message in German with no English option offered then get cut off.  I get a kind German couple sitting next to me in a pub in Prague to listen to the message and translate “You don’t have enough credit to make this call or your settings are wrong” – well that’s useful!

I finally get a WiFI connection and use Skype Out ( a wonderful service that has helped me out of a few situations where I need to call people) and get the Help Desk – finally a person to speak with. 

He was a sanctimonious git (code for not very helpful).  I relayed my issue of getting a PDP error/comms failure and he asked whether I had taken the SIM card out and re-inserted it when  I arrived in the new country?  No – neither do your instructions say to I say.  “Oh everyone knows to do that.”  Seems bizarre to me – and something that selecting the relevant network on my iPhone carrier settings would achieve.  I attempt to have this conversation with the “help” desk guy but he’s not having a bar of it (when it comes to my phone, nor was it!).  I don’t carry an iPhone sim card slot opener – finally found one and did the requisite manoeuvre.  Still no go.  I SKYPE the help desk and get a different guy.  Oh, says he, you need the correct plan for that.  OK, what is the correct plan and why won’t my 5GB work.  “That only works in Germany  We do have a plan for100MB of data for 5 Euro per week which you have to renew weekly.” 

So, Ortel, you speak one language…as long as that language is German.

Beware trying to find a pan European data plan…I’m sure they are out there (and I’m still looking)…but ORTEL is not it!

 

As a postscript-

It has been refreshing that every cafĂ© or bar (no matter how small or in what town throughout my travels in Eastern Europe thus far) appear to have free WiFi.  No matter whether it’s an 11th century building with someone serving you in traditional costume or armour and chain mail, one of the first things they offer you is the WiFi password.  I don’t tend to use these facilities for anything to do with internet banking or booking anything with credit cards however. 

 

 

Perast – Poetry (in pictures)


This is Perast, Montenegro.

 

Say it in a whisper as you would in any church – for that is what it is – a cathedral to natural beauty. Also, I really don’t want many people to find out about it.

 

If ever there was a Dr Who episode dedicated to seafaring – this is where it should be set. 





With one foot set in the 10th century as a city of the Byzantine Empire, an 18th century  naval training base and ship-building port and the other set in the modern era of a haven for super-yachts, the span of the feet encompasses a rich tapestry of history.  The jewel in the crown of the bay is Our Lady of the Rocks, the small church on the man-made island of rock in the bay.

 

It is the only natural fjord in the Adriatic.  A happy coincidence of geography that provides a port and safe harbour within a safe harbour and surrounded by hills that many would describe as rocky mountains.

 

The water perennially calm and warm, the surroundings reflect back a terracotta and limestone monument to the sea and the bay. 

 

 

Taking these waters is akin to the healing waters of a natural spa – just in a basin that is miles wide, the entrance to which is a hidden alcove a few hundred meters across. Average 240 days of sunshine per year and average temperature of 18 degrees Celsius.  It is the tail end of summer when I arrive and the temperature is 31 degrees.

 


our lady of the rock
The rock and surroundings are agnostic to those many cultures who have laid claim to ownership of it.  Whoever the stewards are of it, they add their piece of interpretation to the existing buildings and architecture.  Regardless of “territorial flag”, the constant is the sailors of many nationalities who visit here to pay respects and thanks for surviving a close encounter at sea with their maker to the Virgin Mary on the Rock, patron saint to sailors. This is attested to by the many tin or silver sketching's that can be found on the walls.  Legion in number these date back to the 17th century and are as recent at August 2014.

 

This is my ideal place – just being around here seems to charge the soul’s batteries. 


Inside Our Lady of the Rock Chapel
 
lion guarding Perast house

In fact, ignore this meander of mine.  Just be content to go to Dubrovnik’s old town – but if I’m anywhere in the vicinity, you know where to find me.

 

Montenegro - a hidden pearl in the Adriatic

What a place!

Come here!

This is like an unspoilt and quieter Riviera of Eastern Europe. 
A chance choice to cut short my stay in Dubrovnik and exchange 3 days in Montenegro was a good one.

A 2 hour drive from Dubrovnik including a border crossing and  Ferry ride and I am in Tivat, Montenegro*.   This is an ex naval port that has been converted (by an Irishman no less!) into a port for super-yachts.  So the story goes, as the super-yachts get bigger, the owners are starting to complain that the ports and moorings for their vessels are too small.  Given that this used to be a naval base, none of that problem here. 

A word of warning - for the return journey add an hour for the Montenegro border crossing into Croatia -and don't drive a late model black Mercedes (all of which seemed to get special attention for being searched - no problem for me - my budget didn't quite extend to a rental Mercedes)
view from my apartment in Tivat

Looking out from my apartment on the waterfront, this certainly is a toybox (of the bath tub variety).  The ships glisten in the warm and light blue water as the sun bakes the bay to a balmy 30 degrees.  It is a natural harbour sheltered from open waters and has a relaxed atmosphere. 

While I base myself in Tivat, having a car means I can go to some of the other towns.  In fact, having a car here is really a pre-requisite to making the trip worthwhile. I hired a car at Dubrovnik airport.  Including cross border documentation (which the rental car company charges an extra 29 euro for - and is a necessity for cross border travel) the cost of the opel is a princely 195 euros for 6 days (which include my days in Dubrovnik).  Driving for the first time in 6 weeks and the opposite side of the road doesn't take too much getting use to.  The roads are wide and good and the traffic light.  The view of the sea along the coast is breath taking.

While the currency in Montenegro is the Euro, it doesn't seem to suffer the same issue on prices as some of the other countries that use the currency.  As I write this, I am sipping my 1.20 Euro beer (interestingly, the same price as the [very good] coffee) - and cheaper than bottled spring water! 

Walled fortifications - Kotor


I have found my summer home.   OK, actually paying for it might take some negotiation...need to think about that.



Kotor walled fort - looking down on the town
Given I'm only here for 3 days, I have only scratched the surface.  The national parks here are meant to be beautiful.  They are inland and my hankering for warm, calm water trumps any national parks on this trip (and I think New Zealand is a bit of a Cathedral for worship of nature).  Instead, I keep to the coastline and some wonderful historical towns.  Tivat is modern and a good base as it is large, easy to navigate and close to the Croation border (for my return journey).  Nearby, within a 20 minute drive is the astounding town of Kotor.

 If fortifications are your thing, then that in Kotor dwarves the engineering of Dubrovnik.  It is probably the same circumference (bigger I would hazard a guess), but the Kotor keep is built straight up an almost-vertical cliff face. 

Kotor cathedral - built 890AD
The landscape along the coast is surreal.  A coastline with beautiful beaches and old houses, monasteries and towns  cloaked in rocky hills that go vertical very quickly and stretch up to <500 meters within 400 m of the sea.  A shop keeper proudly shows me a hand-knitted jersey and tries to explain to me about a very special wool they have over here...called Merino.  While I am on the coast, reading about the mountains and hills, it is no surprise that, in the balmy 30 degree heat, she is trying to fit me out for the inevitable winter.  Not me thanks...I'm looking forward to 2 summers in a row.


Montenegro is a bit of a quiet hideaway for some of the rich and famous (apparently).  You won't see them around Tivat - as there is a private resort further up the coast they gravitate to.  What is apparent is that Tivat's airport is the closest drop off point for them.  With 6 unmarked Lear Jets parked up when I drove past yesterday, and a runway that would rival some of the mid size airports in New Zealand, they certainly cater as an adventure playground here.  Surprisingly  the costs don't reflect that (yet!)

Lions at the gate of Kotor Wall 


Places

  • Tivat home base  - modern, comfortable and good driving times and conditions as a base.  Great swimming
  • Kotor - See earlier comment re amazing beaches, calm water and beautiful castle walls
  • Perast (my chosen summer home!).  An ex navy training base from the 17th century.
  • Budva - drove there (1 hour).  Took one look, turned around and came straight back to Kotor).Modern feel, busy, touristy...too much for this country boy.

Thursday, 28 August 2014

Dubrovnik - a port in a storm


The clouds roll in over the Adriatic and lightening is approaching from the sea.  Birds hover over the old town castle walls as if to shelter from the buffeting winds.  The storm should hit in about 20 minutes. 

Welcome to Dubrovnik.
 

The old town is a fortified city  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walls_of_Dubrovnik . 
Rich in history - dating back to the 7th Century and never successfully breached. Attractive in a functional way – the walls reflect the light due the sandstone they are crafted from.  The terracotta roof tiles of the buildings snuggled into the town make a nice contrast against the light stone. 

While a storm is coming, it is still a warm and dry 28 degrees.  

There’s something about the sea. I’m not sure if it’s just me or a Kiwi thing – but somehow being in sight of the sea is something I find incredibly calming and soulful.  I prefer to be on or in it – but satisfy myself for now by dining just outside the castle entrance, on one of the walls and looking down to a tumultuous sea that has turned from azure to black, matching the clouds overhead.

While it’s nice being near the sea again, there’s something that bugs me about Dubrovnik.  I am pleased that I have chosen an AirBnB apartment that is outside of the old city.  The location is high in the rocky hills and overlook the busy new port below – and a view of the old houses on the other side of the bay. 
 

So…what’s bugging me?  Have you ever got a beautifully wrapped present – so nice on the outside that  it heralds something amazing on the inside?  You can substitute the word present for anything really, a new car, a girlfriend/boyfriend, whatever you want.  Such was the promise of Dubrovnik.  So I found the Dubrovnik old town.  I guess I had built up such an image in my head that the reality was a bumpy landing.  The buildings and architecture are beautiful, in a functional way, not in an ornate way that was apparent in Prague or Budapest.  However, the buildings are really shells, now inhabited by various hermit crabs in the form of souvenir shops (mostly tacky and cheap) and eateries.  Anything left of the original culture of anything with a whiff of culture comes with an additional price tag for entry. 

I email Carolann my usual “arrived safely” message and head off into town.  As a postscript to the email I mention that I will keep an eye out for King Joffrey (of Game of Thrones fame given that Kings Landing and some other settings from the series are actually based in Dubrovnik Old Town).  In Carolann’s usual inimitable style I get  a one line response “If you do see him, kill the fucker.”

The best part of the location is walking the castle walls (which takes around an hour).  It provides a fantastic view out on the Adriatic and a smattering of nearby small islands. Look inward and you see the old town inside the walls – quite wonderful (you can’t see the “shopping mall” complex that it’s turned into from above – just a throng of busy people.  Occasionally looking down on the town you see a basket ball court (basket ball court Lannister perhaps?)  -  I saw two full size courts tucked away just below the interior wall. – on the outer perimeter of the town. 

 The other great locations for seeing the old Town are

1.       either from the cable car (definitely worth a trip up – I did it at sunset so I could see it by (fading) daylight and at night lit up by light, or;

2.       From outside of the walls.  I did this from one of the furthest beaches along the point (one that the locals tend to use) and from a Kayak.  Both really worthwhile.

 Dubrovnik is not just about the old town, so I go for a drive and check out some of the local beaches and go for a swim.  I am in love with the Adriatic (and the Andaman for that matter!).

I find Dubrovnik expensive and incredibly touristy.  Before I left, my itinerary was planned around 5-6 days in each of my chosen locations.  I have a hard start and stop for this leg due to flights.  Before I came, I took a chance that Dubrovnik was probably quite small and 3 days should do it – I split the difference (no pun intended – no, I did not  visit Split in Croatia) and hired a car so I can drive over the border to Montenegro and spend 3 days there.  You see plenty of tours advertised in Dubrovnik, one of which is a day trip by bus to Montenegro.  Having experienced both, my preference is certainly the latter and it would probably be better (in my books) to be in Montenegro and do a 1 day trip to Dubrovnik!  (some may burn me at the stake for saying that).


The night before I leave,  another storm rolls in.  Thunder like canons, the lightening arrests the sky.  There is something quite magical about watching a storm over water (or anywhere), particularly when you are tucked up safe inside or at least out of the rain.

 
Fond memories of the castle (and a bit of imagination to edit out through a virtual photoshop the modern mall it’s turned into)  and my first swim in the Adriatic, I hop in the car and head to somewhere that’s not well known and a bit of a hidden gem.

 
What about the people – meet anyone interesting?

As fate has it (and seems to on this trip) yes.

I don’t spend much time with my hosts at this location.  It is run as a semi-commercial B and B (though the booking was through AirBnB).  It is a modern apartment high on the hillside overlooking the harbour.  A 2 minute walk to the bus that leaves every 30 minutes and takes you all the way through town and finishes up at the old town.  The host was listed as Antonja (youngest daughter).  I don’t get to meet her, but instead meet Marijo, the son and his mother.  They are both great.  She doesn’t speak any English though is incredibly hospitable.  Marijo has all the maps of the town out and the bus timetable for me. 
 
I ask about the Game of Thrones tour – turns out he is an electrician and used to work on the set so gives me some insights as to where to go and what to look for. 
The next day I am talking to his mum.  She has a new guide for me to look at.  Flicking through it, she pauses on a page, a melancholy look comes over her face.  She points at a handsome middle aged man, a waiter in the picture then at her wedding ring.  OK, husband?  Yes, she shakes her head  “Gone, 2 years now.”  I automatically assume the divorce scenario, though  Marijo who has just come home looks over our shoulders.  “He died of a heart attack 2 years ago.  He was 56 years old.”  Marijo said his dad was put on a waiting list after they detected the problem.  They never got to see him in time.  They both quickly move onto another subject and the clouds clear and their smiles come out again. 

The apartment upstairs has a number of what I thought were props to make it look like a family holiday home. After our discussion, I take another look and they take on a new meaning.  They are not props at all but photos of a wedding and of two fun loving kids in their pre teens balancing on their Dad’s knee.  I look at the beautiful couple in the convertible on their wedding day – adding a few years and a lot of recent heart ache and I can see the lady I was talking to not 15 minutes ago, smiling back at the world with her life partner beside her. 

 On to the living

Another person I met on this leg has crammed a lot of living into her less than 30 years and is following her dream.   It is my last day and I decide to take a kayak tour around the castle and to one of the local islands.  It sounds great.  There are a lot of people on the tour, the kayaks are sit on tandems and I am paired with a young lady.  On this trip I meet many people from many exotic locations.  This one is no different.  “Hi, I’m Andrew”.  “Hi, I’m  Katie.” “Where are you from  Katie?” “New Zealand, from Queenstown.  Now living in London.”  The guides didn’t have a clue where we were both from  - so complete coincidence that we got paired up.  A great conversation with a great and talented person.  Katie can also paddle as she grew up around the water and used to do some down water river kayaking – good that we can both paddle as the conditions weren’t the best so nice to be matched with someone who knows what they are doing.


Katie has a double degree.  The one she is not currently exercising is her engineering degree.  The one she is exercising is her music degree.  Discovered busking by one of the original mentors of “The Chills”, she has been adopted by a record label who have sponsored her to London for writing and performing and pulling an album together.  Keep an eye out for “Katie Raven”.  In the year of our Lorde and given other contemporary doyen’s that hail from NZ (like Gin Wigmore), the fact she has a record label sponsor in London speaks volumes.  She is looking at releasing her first album around September (or at least in the next couple of months 
).

Wednesday, 20 August 2014

A Budapest local - making a world of difference


Every now and again you come across some inspiring people.  I have been privileged in my life that this happens with astonishing regularity (and it’s also helped by the fact I live with one on a fairly regular basis).  It never ceases to give me a fresh perspective on things.  This trip so far has been no exception. 

One such person I have met in Budapest is Agi Gyulavari.


A Budapest local, Agi trained in London and Edinburgh in dance movement therapy and movement analysis.  She also has a masters in psychology from Budapest.  She combines these skills in working with people with intellectual and physical disability to teach them movement and dance. 
She moves with the style and grace of a dancer that her students may never feel.  Her working principle is that the way you move and physically feel has a direct bearing on how you feel mentally.  She works with people with Asperger’s and with those in wheelchairs.  She gives them their bodies back in some small though very meaningful way. 
If they can unlock their physical burden and see the beauty in themselves then she is happy.  And it looks like she has achieved that through her association that she seems to be the manager, practitioner and spirit of-Artman EgyesĂĽlet


She is a little distracted at the moment – the flat needs to be boxed up as she moves from the Pest side of town (district VIII) to the Buda side of the river (“I miss wide open spaces and greenery,” she observes).  Her current flat is at the top of an old turn-of-the-century apartment building.  In the foyer outside she has a small raised bed in which she has planted grass – the only piece of greenery I’ve seen this side of town.  On the stair railings next to it are Tibetan prayer flags – a reminder of her 6 months  living in india and local travel thereabouts. 

We talk some more about her work.  It’s hard doing this and earning much money to live.  She subsidises the work occasionally through solo and duet dance performances and she has a contemporary piece she is working on at the moment – practicing for weeks if not months in the lead up – Agi strikes me as a perfectionist in her field.  “It can be tiring,” She has a smile on her face and a gentle way about her. 

She combines her work with the disabled with managing the administration and funding for the association and trying to subsidise the meagre funding they do have with enough dance production to pay the bills.  “We’re getting some recognition.  We recently have been asked to develop a post grad course in this work for the University.” 
“Who’s developing the curriculum?” I ask.  She shrugs, while free in spirit, the workload is telling.  “Me” she says. 

As if to think of some other avenues for her work I venture “Have you ever worked with any sports people?”  She is well ahead of me there.  “Many sports people don’t necessarily think of dance as a form of body work for balance.  However, some do and I have run some workshops for some Olympic athletes.” 

There aren’t enough Agi’s in this world and those that are do not really get the recognition, funding and freedom they need and deserve to make a positive change in people’s lives. 
Best wishes with it all Agi and remember, please, to look after yourself in addition to those you give wings to!

Budapest and artisans - forged in the fire


Pest (of BudaPest) comes from the slavic word meaning furnace.

It is the week of their public holiday (St Stephens Day – 20 August - commemorating the foundation of the Hugarian state – a bit like their 4th of July) and in the lead up to that there are a number of folk fairs.  Walking up to the liberty statue that provides an excellent view over the city, I continue to walk over the other side of the hill to the castle.  I go up to get a pass to see that Budapest castle only to be told that it is the Hungarian folk-festival week with all the displays at the castle and my entry is to pay the price for the festival.  This is not a disappointment to me.

 
Given the reconstruction of Budapest and the Hungarian folklore and farming heritage, in retrospect it should not be surprising that the arts and crafts are a thriving industry and capability in Hungary.  Still, I am awe-struck by what I see.  There are about 500 stalls/displays in total. The fact that they are using the grounds of the beautiful castle as a backdrop just adds to the magic of it.  I spent 6 hours thee on my second day in Budapest and a further 2 hours the next.  This was an unexpected bonus. 

The word artisan is an interesting one.  Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Artisan ) sums it up as a craftsman, a skilled manual worker who makes items that may be functional or strictly decorative.  It goes on to say “Artisans practice a craft and may through experience and aptitude reach the expressive levels of an artist.”  This last part is the key for me.  An artisan, to me, is someone who makes something beautiful (and preferably functional) with their hands that will last generations (and certainly well beyond the creators tenure in this world). 

To have this many of that breed assembled in one place not just showing and selling their works but also making them as part of the festival and display is, at one level ,mesmerizing and at another, quite humbling.  I could (and do) watch for hours.  The number of ironmongers/forgers here is legion.  One of our farriers for our horses back home is Hungarian.  He opted for the NZ lifestyle as he said it was difficult to make a living doing it in Hungary and there were too many in competition with each other.  Their loss, our gain.



 
On a knife edge

I am on a budget both in dollars and pack weight on my travels and I am only 6 weeks into my trip (though it seems longer!).  Logic and reason on one of my shoulders debating with appreciation of craftsmanship on the other; it is a pretty even arm wrestle and I watch them both fight it out.  The debate is over a knife. 

Janos Madaras is a well-respected and talented Hungarian knife maker from the old school.

 Every knife he makes is hand forged and his experience (he is a wizened and smiling character) shows.  He and his wife are at the stall; they have little if any English speaking capability and the discussion is carried out via pointing and a calculator.  I try to explain that I am not carrying that much money with me.  A young lady who is on the customer side of the stall helpfully translates.  “Which one are you interested in?”  I point at a hand-crafted blade sheath knife with a deer antler handle.  “The problem is, I need to go and get some money to pay for this then I need to ship it off to New Zealand.”   She relays this in Hungarian to Janos.  He exchanges some words, she frowns (as does his wife) and turns to me “He says you can take the knife now and bring back the money when you have it.” I understand the frowns now!  No, I wouldn’t do that.  While I appreciate the sentiment and I would happily honor my side of the bargain, he doesn’t know me and I’m sure he will be getting a lecture from inside the trenches until such time as I did return.
Janos Madaras - knife maker
 
 
 I thank the young lady for her help translating.  Turns out she is actually their daughter and she should be inside the stall working today but taking a brief break.  “Does your father teach knife making?” I inquire.  “No, it’s too dangerous to teach children and he does not really have the time.”  “I was wondering more for tourists or people like me.  Does he run any classes?”  She smiles and gently shakes her head.  “To do this takes years of training and practical experience.”  I understand the sentiment and feel vaguely foolish in asking the question.  I get the point now about teaching people from when they are children.  That’s apparently how long her Father has been learning his craft. 
Janos puts the knife aside for me and I scuttle off to find an ATM in the castle (which seems strangely anachronistic).  Soon after and I am the proud owner of a beautiful handcrafted piece that is both an art work and practical. 
A good knife comes into its own on a farm and I am forever frustrated by some of the mass-produced blades I have used over the years.  Time will tell but something makes me think I won’t be disappointed with this one.



 
Craftwork

As beautiful and intricate as the metal and ironwork at the festival are, the woodwork, carving and clothing is equally as exceptional.  The clothing is well made and of high quality cotton or linen.  Carolann will tell you that previous attempts at buying nice clothing for her from afar have had mixed results though I cannot resist some of the heavy cream linen shirts that (fingers crossed) should fit her. 

Around NZD$20 postage later the next day, my parcel (1kg) of goodies from Budapest is winging it’s way New Zealand-wards registered post and with promise of a 5 day delivery (we’ll see).


The artisan is alive and well in Hungary.  Long may that continue.  There are too many of us who think we are making a difference sitting behind a computer  but there’s something to be said for those whose passion is left behind in something that will last generations.  It is a pity they are not recompensed accordingly for it.








 
 
 


 

Budapest – a tale of three cities


 
The currents run strong in the Danube. 

Any mental picture of a calm and serene blue river between two parts of a city are quickly washed away in a turmoil of eddies and rips.

So, too, the history of Budapest itself.

 

Budapest (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Budapest) is an amalgam, a synthesis and reconstruction. 
Imagine what a castle may have looked like, before the Turk invasion and subsequent damage to it after munitions storage and fate.  Now reconstruct it. 


 







Imagine what the beautiful and historic bridges joining the low lying Pest with the hills and greenery of Buda   looked like, before they were blown up in World War II…and reconstruct them.

 

Imagine what the small and intricate streets and architecture of low-lying Pest looked like before the flooding in 1838 and then reconstruct it.

 

Imagine what a cathedral in the old style should look like…and build one of that style.

 

For a place with two millennia of history to it and its constituent parts, there is little that survives of that history and much has been built or reconstructed in the last 200-300 years .  Despite that you cannot help but feel the history and ambience as you traverse the two parts of the city.

Budapest itself actually only came into being in 1873 with the combining of the cities of Buda, Pest and OBuda (old Buda). 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
Arriving

I arrive at the central Budapest station via the overnight train from Prague.  It is 9.00am and I need to contact my AirBnB host, Agi, to arrange to meet her at her local train station. 

Having no local currency (HUF the Hungarian forint – at the stage I am travelling divide by 192 to get the NZ FX rate) and no cellphone, I need to get sorted.

 
I am still getting used to withdrawing amounts from ATM’s where the amount (were it NZ currency rather than local) would pay for a mortgage deposit back home.   I opt for the HUF 50,000 option (around NZ$250).  Paying for a train pass for three days I get some change in coins and attempt to use one of the payphones that happily takes my money and tells me there’s no such number.  The change/money is not refunded and the phone seems happy that it has done its job for the money in telling me that I must be a foreigner who needs to learn about how to translate local cellphone numbers for payphone use.  Lesson learnt. 

 
I ask one of the local shops at the station where I can find WiFi.  “Over the road at Burger King” Ah, some things are international!  I cart my backpack over, buy the obligatory drink so I can use their WiFi, cram my pack and self between a fixed seat and a plastic table the distance between which looks like it’s been calibrated to accommodate a fashion model or someone with an eating disorder (somewhat ironic given the actual location) and get my laptop out.  Thank God for SKYPE and its SKYPE Out service that allows you to call any phone.  I swear under my breath at Ortel (see separate post on Telecommunications that aren’t)  and dial Agi.  It’s now about 10.00 and she expected me in around 8.30.  She sounds a little concerned “Where are you.” I reply  “Long story but simple answer is I’m about to catch the train to Racozi” (her stop).  Turns out it’s 2 stops on from the main station I am at and she meets me there.  We walk the 5 minute leisurely journey to the apartment.
 

While I am sure that the Airport is somewhat more geared to arriving tourists, the central train station is not.  The actual trains and trams themselves are easy to navigate once you get tuned into them (took me about a day).  I bought a 3 day public transport pass (about HUF 4150 = NZD$22) which, turns out I only used for a day and a half, such was my central location and love of walking.  I l later rented  a bike for HUF 6000 for 36 hours (NZD$31.00) and got far more use out of that.

 
Getting around

I opt for one of the hop-on, hop-off bus tours that has two main bus routes in addition to a scenic river tour.  It costs be HUF6,000 and can be used for 2 days.  Armed with enough context both of history and geography from that I then rent a bike for the remainder of my stay.

Budapest is a cycling city.  Whereas Prague is dense in both population and much history in a small area, Budapest happily accommodates its 2 million population in a serene city that is comfortably spread out though not too sprawling.   That said, the old city is really my focus and the overall Budapest city spreads of 500 square km.  You never seem to see traffic congestion either of the car or pedestrian variety.  They are well geared for tourists here and have about 4.3m visiting every year. 

The best advice I can offer about getting a view of the city that reflects its true splendour is to do it at night.  I go around and get my bearings on the first couple of days.  The rhythm of the city seems to be from 10.00am until about 10pm (at least for catering for visitors).  Then the camera comes out at night.  The lighting provides the beauty of the buildings in relief of the night sky (and the hills on the Buda side of the river).

 

Taking the waters

No trip to Budapest is complete without visiting one of the spas ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spas_in_Budapest ) .  Agi informs me that the Rudas spa is closer to the apartment (just over the Elizabeth bridge), has more history (is older) than the more popular and tourist visited Szechenyi (near Heroes Square) and is where the locals tend to go.  They have a man’s day and a woman’s day and combine the two in the weekends.  There are natural thermal springs in Budapest that attracted the Romans .  Two hours later and two kg’s lighter I extract myself from the old-age Turkish baths of Rudas.  Whether it’s the steam room that seems to separate each layer of skin and singe your nostrils, the central pool under the beautiful Turkish dome or each of the natural thermal pools around the pool that traverse 42, 28, 32 and 28 degrees respectively, Rudas is worth a visit.  Your soul will love you for it.