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The last 24 hours (not sure about the exact number, but it certainly started at 12 pm Budapest time, and it is now 6.20 am Chicago time… I just did the math, and it almost accurately 24 hours) were so eventful that I can not hold it any longer and am about to document all the little events that happened to me during this important transitional day (I still call it day, albeit hesitantly, because days and nights were alternating  at irregular intervals)

So, at 12 pm Flora saw me off from my apartment in Budapest and helped to squeeze my 4 large and 1 small suitcases in the cab. It was quite a sight, especially one acid pink suitcase from Julia with broken wheels (this suitcase is a complete wreck, but that was what I needed – to make him take the full force of the blow=) The weather was great and I felt nothing, except for (1) regret that apparently my suitcases were not 100% packed (i.e., I had a few spare kilos in each of them), and I should have packed more things or food (since I’m paying for extra pieces anyway!!!!), but I had already gave away a lot of my things to friends to keep until either their (or my) visit… In that case I really should have bought some Belgian beer for Zach, from Culinaris. He says you can buy any beer in Nashville, which I believe, but on the other hand it’s more expensive .. and I’m not too sure about whether they have triple Karmelit! (I’m editing this a week later, and Triple Karmelit is nowhere to be found!...)

So I was itching to run to Culinaris in the morning, and maybe also grab a fresh ciabatta .. and a few packs of my favorite crackers from DM.. that could help me to survive the first withdrawal days.. and maybe some more food.. But I never did that.

(2) At the airport I realized I still have 1 100 HUF left, bad financial management! My inner Jew was whining.

Anyway, first surprise, which wasn’t really a surprise for anyone who’d lived in Hungary for a while, came at the check-in. One month in advance I emailed to customer service of LOT to ask about the price of extra luggage pieces (the info on their website is really confusing, and after all, they get paid to answer customers’ silly emails), and the girl responded it’s 100 USD each, and one can bring unlimited amount of them (unlimited amount of shoes.. books.. stockings… I even carried my German textbooks and the recipe book, and a bed sheet and a towel (with dwarfs on it) from Minsk. After all, there should be something that will make me feel like home!)

The girl at the check-in looked half shocked, half disapprovingly at my stack of suitcases (beautiful colorful stack,: pink, blue, sky blue and purple; I’ll upload a picture later) and told it would cost quite a bit. She made a call, and I didn’t like the numbers she was repeating in Hungarian!  Which made me not upset, but more like, oooh not again please…  

Here I need to give you a little historical background. If you want to survive in Hungary (especially if you are a foreigner) never take anyone’s word for anything. Ask people to write things down for you (prices, papers you would need to bring, the way things work, etc), preferably print it out, stamp  (Hungarians love stamps, just like Belarusians) and sign; they won’t do it most probably because no one wants to assume responsibility for their words, clearly; but you can also take down the name of the person. In this respect, phonecalls are least efficient, because you would never be able to track back the person who gave you inaccurate information.

So, in short, what happens is that you call or go to (really anywhere: immigration or post office, bank, hospital, connection provider, ticket office at railway station) or even at website (English translations of Hungarian websites are funny: there’s a whole page written in Hungarian, and when you switch into English, the best thing you find is a couple of lines (English is such a succinct language!) or ‘Page not found’. Sometimes they only translate the front page, and when you click on specific sections, it would redirect you back to Hungarian).  So you open a bank account and ask about the fees. They tell you that everything is free except X. Next month you find out that Y, Z, W and a whole bunch of things are not free, either. You ask the teller what is going on, and  that you had been told when opening the account that only X carries a fee. He’d tell you: ‘I don’t know.. sorry… I don’t know who told you that’. You might try calling customer service, which, despite their best efforts, will probably not be in English; finally you’ll get to talk to someone in English, and they’ll say: ‘Oooh sorry.. But probably the girl had made a mistake. We are sorry’.

Prices they tell you change arbitrarily. I called  to ask about the price of dental hygiene treatment. They told it would be say,  20, or 10, if there are no fossil remnants 10-cm thick on my teeth. When I showed up, the told it’s actually 70, but for some reason (today special, or for me specially, or today for me specially and only) it would be completely free. I decided not to ask too many questions, before they changed their minds. But that was a good example, oftentimes it would be quite the opposite.

Like this one below.

So the check-in girl told it’s 520 USD whereas the emailed price was 300 USD, which is a big difference and the fact itself made me really mad. 520 USD is a whole different deal. Check-in girl sent me to LOT office, which was not easy, with my 5 suitcases. I was literally steaming, trying to squeeze the cart into the elevator (apparently not designed for people with suitcases… It’s an airport,  and, according to Hungarians who built the airport, suitcases are not widely used in places like airports)  LOT girl told that she has to see the email from the customer service. I asked to use her computer to access my mailbox, which she refused (of course). I was really lucky I had my laptop and that there was well functioning wifi, which, you’d agree, is very rare! Or, say, if I had a better working phone with connection, but I just had cancelled my plan, so the circumstances were benevolent.. If you can call it that.

But I still think about how unfair and stupid the whole thing is: had I not had the laptop + wifi, I’d need to pay so much more for someone’s mistake! And then email angry emails to LOT all I want, all in vain. Anyway, they saw the email, the steam on both sides cooled off a bit (OK, still not on my side, I must admit;) Then there were endless calls to the customer service girl who screwed it up (I really hope they didn’t make her pay for that..), headquarters in Warsaw (or so I had been told.. I felt important), and then to American Airlines, as my last flight (Chicago – Indianapolis) was operated by AA, and they needed their agreement too.

It ended well for me, but the LOT ladies were clearly frustrated, and repeated a few good times: ‘Please understand that we normally don’t do that… It’s a one-time only thing.. Only because our employee had made a mistake… But we understand you situation’ etc etc. I thought it’s funny as it sounded as if she had been trying to make me feel bad for the loss I caused LOT, or as if she was making a huge favor to me. In a way, she clearly was, but on the other hand one should take responsibility for his professional and personal actions.. She explained that the girl who had emailed the price was new, wasn’t properly trained, and this office the customer service was working from was not even technically LOT office, and too much other information.

I really couldn’t care less. The lady at the check in was on my side, even though she was surprised I won the case=))) Funnier still, in Warsaw a random guy from the same flight walked up to me and asked how everything ended, and congratulated me on standing up for this. I was surprised to hear that; naturally, 220 USD is not a small amount and was well worth the trouble, but even if it were 10 USD, I still think it would be unfair to pay it. But the fact that the guy told me that made me think that Hungarians are perhaps used to this?... I don’t know.

Another peculiar thing was that I had never flown from a city as Eastern as Warsaw. Previously it had always been something on the (Western) verge of the European continent (Paris, Amsterdam, London, Brussels..)

This time it was a 10-hour Warsaw-Chicago, and boy was the crowd different!!! It immediately occurred to me that they call Chicago Polish/Ukrainian hub (not that other American cities lack Polish/Ukrainian descendants, but Chicago specifically stands out)

I hate saying that, but the crowd was so much shabbier, or it’s just that people really dress differently in Eastern and Western Europe, and yet differently in Asia, or, say, in Latin America. I don’t want to go into too many details, but women (especially elderly women) love fur coats and cut and dye their hair very differently, therefore one can immediately tell where she’s coming from. I had always thought that the Slavic phenotype perhaps ages differently, too, and recently read an article that proves it: we do age differently. Anyway, there was an especially large number of children and elderly people on the plane; some people came from Russia or Ukraine (emmm there was one from Belarus, for sure). I thought that perhaps not all of them spoke (good) English, and turned out that it was indeed that case.

I ended up in a very lucky seat: not only by the window (OK that one I chose when I got my ticket=), but there was an empty seat between me and this other lady.

*There was a Russian lady with a very, very spoilt kid. He was the only unpleasant part of the flight, because he was going nuts and his Mom thought everyone shares her opinion that it was cute. But maybe it’s too early to share my views on parenthood*

She was Bulgarian (Katina) 70 year-old petite lady, neat and cute in every detail: her haircut, her purse FULL of ragged Bulgarian   newspapers (I’m talking a real fat stack!): half gossips about Bulgarian celebrities, half ‘House doctor, or how to heal radiculitis with St John’s wort’, ’25 herbal infusions that will make you a centennial’, etc. Which made me think that we are all the same, in Eastern Europe.. It conjured up* memories of my Grandma who used to read such newspapers all the time.. All that folk wisdom, haha. I wish it had made her a centennial.

So me and Katina quickly made friends because she needed help with her screen, she asked to switch it to the mode where you can see where your plane is at. I love listening to other Slavic languages, they sound so tender and close and yet mysterious. Serbian and Bulgarian and Macedonian remind one of prayers in Orthodox church, that really really obsolete Russian and the words we don’t use anymore in everyday speech.

I figured Katina spoke no English at all, so every now and then I helped her to choose a drink (she had me name all the juices, and those were in Polish, so it was a multilingual exercise). She had a green card and was flying to her daughter, and it was her 7^th flight. I was not surprised, but still, it’s remarkable how neither she nor her family is worried about her (in the sense that she can get lost at one of the layovers, or won’t be able to answer immigration officer’s questions)  I kept thinking about how I probably worry too much about my Mom; after all, there is always a way to get along. Later I found out that at Chicago airport every other person is Polish or speaks Polish; maybe it was only in that specific section of the airport, but even those girls that order you around (‘Citizens and permanent residents – black line!!! Visas and the EU citizens – green line!! Whaaaa!’)  were all Polish. Very convenient. So in the worst case, they probably could potentially help you out, if you speak no English.

We arrived 1 hour too late, and I was given a replacement ticket, hotel voucher and all other things by a guy and a lady who also spoke both Polish and Russian (the guy’s name was Pavel). I felt that Chicago (airport) really was a Polish hub! But again, maybe they try to arrange the employees according to their language skills depending on where the flights are arriving from…

I also filled the customs declaration for her (for some reason they only had them in Polish, which is strange! On the other hand, I didn’t see any single American on the flight! Was very weird…) It was funny: I told her I’m not sure about a few questions, and she told that she knows that the answers are NO everywhere=))) She was flicking her tiny hand: ‘Just put NO everywhere’, and frowning in a very cute way. Then there was this question about total value of all the possessions you are bringing into the country, and she didn’t like the question at all: ‘Why do they need that? What is this question?.. Put 300$... No, better 200$’ Then she confessed she is bringing a few golden rings and bracelets and pendants, and fished out tiny fabric purses and showed me each piece of her Gold Fund. Then she couldn’t find a few pendants, she explained she sewed them up in a tiny purple piece of fabric. So we dedicated 10 minutes to searching our seats, she was very upset, explaining it was a very small knot of fabric.. Then she told she might have left it at home, which she hopes. Her 2 most used sentences were: ‘I don’t know’ and ‘I don’t understand’, but not in a pity-provoking self-excusing way.

I thought her attitude was dignified, but not defiantly so, and not helpless. I felt that she would get on by her own just fine, it’s just my presence made it easier. I think this is what they call interdependence as opposed to dependence.

Also, before I forget. I really like the option when you can show off and pre-order a meal that is different from everyone’s: vegetarian, low-carb, kosher, non-dairy, sushi (??? Will try this one next time…) etc. I only tried it once before, and it was cool: you get to be served first (nooom.. but then you finish first, too, and get sad because the others are just starting on their chicken-or-fish pasta), and the flight attendant is looking for you as if you were a VIP, very determined vegetarian, and follow a very special diet. What is more, this time I really liked my meal, lots of fresh vegetables, but I specifically wanted to mention a great design of their lunch boxes. I took pictures, but I can’t upload them at the moment. Anyway, I also feel that smaller, underdog European airlines try harder: Malev was a very nice airline I think, and LOT is probably my second favorite after Lufthansa (even though one of our professors at Corvinus, a Swiss, kept complaining about Lufthansa, how they lose your luggage all the time… I beg to differ)

I was a bit nervous about the immigration point, considering my last entrance into the country was not trouble-free, but at the end I was so tired that I thought I can as well just stop worrying (as Baz Luhrmann put it, Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum) At one point the line I was standing at closed, which put me at the end of a different line, eventually making me one of the last people going through. For the first time, I was asked not a single question at all, which is remarkable! Not even ‘how are you’, ‘where are you going’, ‘where have you been’ or anything, even formally. I thought that the reason could as well be that the guy was tired of all these people not being able to answer his questions anyway, so what’s the point, which was quite fortunate for me. Because I saw one lady being summoned to that scary room (it’s not really scary, sometimes they do spot checks that are more detailed about who you are and what is your visa and can actually call up a few numbers from your phone, but it rarely happens, even though I knew a few friends to whom that had happened), and my heart sunk.  

Anyway, like I said, everything was very lucky for me. Then I got myself a cart and started fishing out my 4 suitcases. First two were easy to place on the cart, but then I actually had to lift them on top of the cart, and Katina was the only man who helped me!!! The other men were just staring, oh wow look at all these suitcases.. Is she travelling alone?

Then we said bye, she told me a few nice things. However, my flight was late, so it was confusing at the beginning because the airport was almost empty, and at first I was invited to take a train to a different terminal to get my replacement ticket. Let us not forget about my enormous gigantic cart, therefore I had to turn down that proposal. There was a police officer who told: ‘Did they tell you to go get your new ticket to 3^rd terminal? This is wrong, they should not be doing that, look at all your suitcases!’ and let me back in that area where only checked in passengers can be.

 I was told that a shuttle will arrive to pick me, so I waited outside for 30 minutes. I was pleased to learn that it is already freezing in Chicago, and my warm coat and winter boots were  on me for a reason (other than them being very heavy.. I figured I should wear my heaviest boots on the flight, so as not to pack them in a separate suitcase;)  However, in 5 minutes it became less pleasant: I don’t know how many Farenheit it was, but for sure there wasn’t too many! I wasn’t very mobile with my huge cart, but I in 30 minutes I realized it’s time to get back in and ask where my shuttle was, especially because it was nearing midnight.

Then another good thing about the US: people often look to help you. They just ask you, if you look lost, whether you need help. So there was this guy Tim, in this nearly empty airport: ‘Miss, are you looking for something? Welcome to Chicago, may I help you?’ I explained what my problem was, and he was sincerely apologetic for me having to spent the pre-Thanksgiving night away from my family (well I didn’t go into details). He invited me to use this new cool device, a huge interactive map/digital screen on the wall, where a tourist can look up anything (hotel, cab, shuttle, transportation, attractions, car rentals, anything really) and what is more, call them from there for free, only hitting the touchscreen. So Tim went, ‘There are phone booths over there, but you need to pay for the calls. Let me show you where you can call for free. Free is good!!!’  He was very cheerful. Turned out, I had to confirm I was going to arrive (strange.. Hungarian strange), so they’d be there in 10 minutes. Tim went, so they had told you they’d pick you, and they didn’t? The person who had told you that is a bad person. I’m a good person!’, and laughed whole heartedly.

I wished him happy Thanksgiving and waited for 10 more minutes. It was real cold. A Mexican driver threw my suitcases in, hardcore, I was afraid that they would crack! On the way he spoke a little about how the night was really slow, and how ‘no calls – no tips – no good’. He was clearly driving at me tipping him, but something inside me rebels against being asked to tip, explicitly. Not sure why it is. Maybe because I can be greedy sometimes. But I resent when people insist on being tipped… They do it a lot in Budapest…

When we arrived at the hotel, I thought that I should have taken up Zach on driving from Indianapolis to Chicago and back, to pick me. I’m not being a diva, but the hotel was very very ugly; on the other hand, it was classic: funky cheap motel, and my 12-dollar meal voucher. Something from ‘Ugly Santa’.

The choices were different pizzas. I was in for the kill, I was really hungry, so after I arranged myself a little, I was enjoying a huge steak/salami/15 cheese calzone watching a stand up comedy. And thinking that it was my first night in the land of abundance, and that I didn’t even have a fork=) The funny part is (now a snob in me is speaking) that despite 10 ingredients in the pizza, one could only tell it by the texture. Cheap food in America tastes like plastic. They flavor plastic with salt, sugar, pepper and other seasoning, but essentially it’s tasteless. It will take me a while to stop missing actual flavors: even iceberg salad has flavor in Hungary, let alone rucchola, spinach and other greens.

The pickup was at 5 am, so the sleep was short. In the ‘morning’ (so early morning it was, that it was still night) I could see all the Christmas lights. The lights at the airport were quite tasteful, unlike some lights I saw on the way there. Again, there was this really convenient thing that your check-in suitcases get picked by a guy from American Airlines even before you enter the airport building. He was also surprised to see that many suitcases and couldn’t believe I paid ‘the fortune’  (guess what.. I tricked ya!!!) His colleagues were staring at me and the cart, until the first guy announced: ‘Yep.. these have been paid for.. Happy Thanksgiving, miss, let me take care of them for you’.

Long security check, coffee at Starbucks (this is the Starbucks appeal: with all the other coffee shops at the airport, only one of them would have a line in front of it, and it would be Starbucks). You know what you get, fail-proof choice, and in the US (unlike in Hungary or Moscow!) it’s also for fair price..

 I’m writing this sitting at the nearest Starbucks in Nashville=)    

You notice that croissants, scones, cake slices and other treats are double or triple in size… But more on that later.

The flight was short and very cozy, meaning that it was Thanksgiving, and even though it is not my holiday I felt that vibe of unity, how everyone is going home, and how Americans love going home for holidays. These traditions keep societies together, probably. We don’t have much of this kind of unity in Belarus, most of our traditions are forgotten and not practiced (I hope this is changing, slowly). The Indianapolis airport has just been renovated, apparently, and I thought that I’ll take a closer look on my way back (new airports are nothing like old established airports, they have so many cool features! For example, they try to use natural light as much as possible, so the one in Indianapolis, and actually in Budapest too, has very light, airy structure) .. only to realize that this time I have one-way ticket!

I’ll write more on what Indianapolis (and other part of Indiana) looks like (corn, corn, corn…) and some other things.. Too bad that it takes so long to take down all my thoughts, but in my head there is already War and Peace 1, 2, and 3 going on, and it’s not even been a full week! But I already have an iPhone (5C yeaaah… Such an upgrade!!!) , and a few other American attributes. I wouldn't insist on a car except for you can’t do much without one. Bank accounts, memberships and loyalty programs crawl into your life slowly but steadily, enchain you and make you a part of the whole social matrix.

Anyway, I need to stop here because there are quite a few things to do today. Most of you are now asleep, so I wish you sweet dreams. Also, I think that Budapest everywhere should be revived … emm Mafalda and Julia, that is specifically to you, and since I put it here for everyone to see, you now have no choice but to write a post, too!=)))

*A few days later we were in a car, and Zach’s brother told that conjure up is one of those words you keep stumbling upon in (high-brow) writing, but you don’t really every use it and hence are not sure how to spell it. Ironically, I knew this specific word very well due to one of my English classes, long time ago. For some reason, our teacher put this word forward as something that would help us to score tons of extra points in oral part of FCE/TOEFL. The trick is to memorize a bunch of (universal) extra fancy English words and pop them in here and there, to impress the examiners. They’ll turn a blind eye on grammatical flaws, only for the use of conjure up or epitomize, or one of those fancy tenses (Future Perfect Indefinite, or what are those…)