Familiar Tuesday

Tuesday was a day of familiars...by that I mean animal companions, harbingers of the fuzzy kind.  It began on the 160 bus headed for Krudy Gyula.

  I was staring out the window of the 160, on my way to pick up Aidan from school, longing for my cat in Portland, Steve Zissou.  I miss him so much, sometimes it hurts.  I know he misses me too.  

  On the way home I mentioned my yearning to Aidan, who also misses our big, black feline.  Both of us were starved of cat love.  We love our Cosmo dearly, but the dearth of meows, purrs, friendly rubs on our legs was starting to make us very sad.
  Our animal friends are not mere pets, they are our familiars.
  After Aidan and I left the bus and began the short walk toward our flat, we were shocked and amazed to be greeted by, of all creatures, one of our neighbor's many cats.  We had yet to meet a cat here in Budapest that was not terrified of strange humans.  Even our other neighbor's cat, Bono, is just now starting to accept our presence and has bestowed upon us the privilege of stroking his orange fur for a few seconds.
  This new cat, however, ran up to us as if she had been waiting for us.  She is a small, white cat, still very young, with golden eyes. ...to us, a little angel.  We sat down on the sidewalk and for about a half hour, this little creature took turns snuggling on our laps, enjoying our affection.  It almost brought me to tears.  We named her Attila....I have no idea what her humans call her.
 Later on, Aidan and I went into the blocks to do some shopping.  The blocks always offer, for me, new and wonderful surprises.  A new bakery here, a sweet little fruit shop there.  This time, we happened upon a pet store and we popped in to purchase some new toys for Cosmo.  Upon entering the tiny establishment, already delighted by the sight of poofy guinea pigs and the sound of little birds whistling, we were thrilled to find a very fluffy bunny hopping around loose in the shop.  Be still my heart.
  Familiar Tuesday did take a dark turn.  That evening, Aidan had gone outside and spotted Attila milling around outside the gate.  We simply had to go see her again and we wanted Boone to meet her as well.
  As Attila twirled around our ankles, we noticed a group of neighbors hovering over something.  We soon recognized the form of a dog, panting painfully and drooling, laying on our street .  She had been hit by a car on the main drag, Nád Utca, and the neighbors had carried her lovingly to a safe spot on our road, Ráby Mátyás Utca.  A word about drivers in Budapest.  They suck.  They are rude. They drive much, much too fast. They take ridiculous risks with their own lives and others as well.  And some asshole had smashed into this dog and sped off without stopping.  We all stayed with the dog, taking turns petting her, trying to comfort her with soft words, until her owner could fetch a cart to take her away to a vet.  We covered her in a ratty old sheet to keep her warm.  In the end, it seems her injuries were not life threatening...no internal damage, no compoud fractures, just a busted up leg that will most likely heal in good time.
  Here's to the animals...giving love unconditionally, taking punishment undeservedly.  I love each and every one. x

The Angel Attila

  

külföldi vagyok

i

me, at Kate and Matt's, about to become külföldi

 I am a foreigner.  Of course I am, right?  Expat sounds too glamourous, alien sounds too, well, alien.  An American in Hungary am I; have been for three months now.  It was made all too clear last night  at a party I attended with my friend Debra.
  Deb's boyfriend, Zoli, had a tri-purpose party last night, to celebrate his birthday, his brother, Balazs' birthday, and to bid farewell to a longtime friend, Sára, who is headed to London to seek employment as an au pair. I had been looking forward to this party with equal parts trepidation, curiosity, and genuine excitement.
  I do not yet speak Hungarian.  I'm not a verbal person anyway, not someone who speaks my own language with ease. This is because I am an anti-social introvert, truth be told, but a friendly one nonetheless. Human beings throw my mental equilibrium way the hell off, despite my love for them.
 Although I know a few key phrases in Magyar with which I can utter polite greetings, inquire as to one's well being, or find directions to a bathroom,  even these simple phrases sometimes become tangled in my overly nuanced brain.  What comes out may not be what actually went in.
  So I knew attending this party would be somewhat of a challenge, regardless of how nice, patient, and fluent in English people were. It was a party in Hungary...Hungarian was going to be the language spoken and it was up to me to listen, soak it all in, try to retain some of what I heard.
  Parties the world over, I have learned, tend to generate the same dynamic, same vibes regardless of where you are.  They tend to maintain a high school prom quality, with little cliques that cluster here, couples making out over there, a couple of loners observing and conversing way over there.  Those two loners were Debra and I, despite Deb's relationship with the host.  Zoli, for his part, did an excellent job of playing go-between for us and made me feel very welcome indeed.  This did not prevent me from feeling the usual awkwardness, which was definitely enhanced by one guest in particular and a few cultural differences.
  Balazs has a little girlfriend for whom I felt contempt even before I met her.  She had been described as a small blonde person who asked personal questions in English and then discussed them with her boyfriend in Hungarian.  This woman was, of course, very present at the party, a bit too present, however small she was...a tiny, bitchy dynamo freed from her workspace. The moment she entered the kitchen where we were all sitting, the dynamic changed.  We were no longer free to have pleasant conversation with Sára and her sister ZSófia, both of whom were happy to speak to us in their fairly decent English...how else do you get to know a person from another country without a lingua franca, which in this case, was English?  The blonde entered the room, cooed like an overly precious toddler upon greeting everyone (except Debra and me), and immediately began dominating the scene.  All talk switched to Hungarian, which is fine, I don't expect everyone to fall back on English just for this köföldi női. Besides, I wanted to simply listen for a while, see if I could pick anything up.
  The blonde did not get around to greeting Debra, whom she had met before, until she had finished catching up with the other guests, and when she did acknowledge Deb (and a bit later, me), she did so with a mouth full of onion bread, nose twitching and eyes rolling.  We were afterthoughts to her...if I knew more about psychology, it might be safe to say she felt uncomfortable around us and for that I feel sorry.  But, whatever...I found her mildly amusing, an archtype present throughout the ages.

 After filling up on fists full of pistachios and lemon wafers washed down with a few cups of Törley sparkling wine, we all moved to Zoli's living room where couples immediately paired up, girl upon guy's lap. PDA is omnipresent in Hungary...I'm not a prudish woman, but I tend not to indulge in PDA because it makes me feel like I'm on stage.  This is a major cultural difference and it was a lesson in just how American I really am.  But I'm open minded and I accept it.  I just refuse to join in.
  More cooing could be heard spilling out of the blonde's mouth each time a new guest arrived.  The insincerity began to both amuse and annoy me.
  Debra and I sat back and watched the scene with fascination...these people had known each other for so long, how could we even think to join in with our limited Hungarian and lack of history with them? A few guests did converse with us and I indeed felt welcome...just a little awkward and slightly ashamed that I could not speak more of the language. I was even tempted to bum a cigarette from one of the friendlier guests, just so I would have a small chance to bond with them.  My body warned me that this would not be a good idea by issuing a sickly shudder at the thought of inhaling nicotine, especially at my stage of inebriation, so I gave up the chance to chat one on one with these  particular guests. Curse of the külföldi.
   Deb and I were buzzed enough, thanks to several Törley bellinis, that we had ourselves a good ol' time indeed.   So good that I nearly forgot that the HEV only runs until just before midnight.  One of my new Hungarian aquaintances saved my saucy ass when he kindly pulled up the HEV schedule on the computer and informed me that I had about twenty minutes to get to Timar Utca to catch the train home. I hastily threw on my peacoat and pashmina, bade my hosts a jó estét, and trotted down to Timar Utca just in time to catch the last HEV, packed with other party stragglers, back to Csillaghegy where I would quickly fall asleep and dream about being a külföldi, being scolded by her fellow guests for neutering her dog.  Damn Törley bellinis...x

Rudas Fűrdő

Rudas Fűrdő, Dobrentei Ter, 9 Budapest, 1016

 Inside a humble, rather plain little building, tucked between the Danube and the white, limestone cliffs of Buda, rests a small gem the Turks left behind after they retreated from Hungary.  This steamy little paradise is the 500 year old Rudas Bath, an intimate and unique member of Budapest's bath network.

Beneath the cupola

Dark and dank, musky and sulphury...the Rudas is about as sexy a place as you could imagine a public bath to be. Underneath a cupola studded with colored glass sits an small, octagonal thermal pool, surrounded by smaller pools of varying temperature.  These range from mountain lake cold to almost unbearably hot...and inside all of them, couples could be found, teasing, embracing, making out.  I swear I could hear sperm counts rise and ovaries release eggs.  This place could get a girl pregnant.

  But only on the weekends, since the Rudas is reserved for men during the week, save for Tuesdays, which is reserved for women.  On Saturday and Sunday, the genders are allowed to mix and Saturday is when our fun-loving group of guys and dolls decided to visit.

  The Rudas offers mixed sex changing rooms as well, although privacy is ensured by the tiny cabanas that all guests receive.  Of course, the privacy depends upon closing the doors of said cabanas...I was treated to one or two glimpses of uncovered, unrestrained male members.  Oh well...it ain't nothin' but a thang.

  Of course, the Rudas offers sauna and steam rooms too.  The steam room could blister the skin right off of your bones if you are silly enough to remain inside for longer than a minute or two.  After a nice, cleansing sweat, it feels divine to stand under one of the overhead buckets, pull the rope, and release a lovely dose of cold water over your glistening body.
  All of this heat makes a person quite thirsty, and the Rudas has a drinking fountain out of which flows some of the finest drinking water in the city.  I filled my bottle up three or four times during my stay and it still was not enough to quench my thirst.
  The Rudas also contains a lap pool for those who want a little cool water exercise.  Swimming is huge in Budapest...every district has at least two or three swimming pools to choose from.
  It would be like comparing apples and oranges to do so with Rudas and the grand Szechenyi.  But I really love the Rudas and would choose it over Szechenyi for a few reasons.  Firstly, it is fairly close by, on my side of the river, easily accessible by tram, no need to bother with the metro.  I also prefer its smaller scale and the fact that everything, the pools of varying temps, the steam room, and the sauna are all just a few footsteps away from each other...nothing is outside.  The individual cabanas are also nice, albeit, a little cramped. At times I felt like a clumsy oaf banging around in the tiny rooms and more than once felt the creep of claustrophobia threaten to overcome me.
  And then there is the antiquity and the humid beauty of the place.  I felt as if I could happily float inside the octagon and stare up at the round, jewel toned windows, set into the dome like rubies, sapphires and emeralds, for the entire day.  I will be going back....probably on a Tuesday!  x

not a space ship landing, but the Rudas' bejeweled dome

Sad River Spirits

Danube River Bend, at Szentendre

By now you've perhaps heard of the toxic "red sludge" which burst from the holding reservoir of an aluminum plant.  So far no one from the plant will admit to human error and officials continue to downplay the toxicity levels in this poisonous mud. A criminal investigation is now underway. In the meantime, four people have died, homes have been destroyed, animals have perished, and "all life in the Marcal river, which feeds into the Danube, has been extinguished".
  The Duna's tributary, the Raba, is also threatened and dead fish have been found in both rivers.  The river spirits are now sick and very sad.  So am I.  Thanks a lot, Industrial Revolution...

for vivid and disturbing phots of the devastation follow this link: http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2010/10/a_flood_of_toxic_sludge.html?ref=nf

Szechenyi of My Heart

I woke up grouchy this morning.  Nothing new, a daily phenomenon, I'm definitely not a morning person. However, out of necessity, I have been forced to ignore my natural rhythms since moving to Budapest.  Oh, to sleep until ten a.m. and hit the sack at two a.m.

  The reasons for my ill humor are both definable and not so much.  Reason? Nem...sajnálom. I'm often fresh out of the stuff. 

  If I had my forint saved up, I would head, hovering black cloud and all, to the public baths at Virosliget (Hero's Square) and soak my cares, real and imagined, straight away.

  I would forgo a bath in my own fairly spacious tub, grab the plush, sunny yellow towel I purchased on my maiden visit to Szechenyi, and hop the HEV to Batthyanny Ter, where I would catch the red line to Virosliget.  At this point my mood might begin to lift in anticipation, or I might at least be distracted from  the prevailing ill winds of thought.
  The grand yellow building is enormous and private...you cannot see what is inside the compound from the outside, and as I first strolled along the grounds, headed for the entrance, I was filled with a calm anticipation as well as with a certain grave serenity  that came with the knowledge that I was about to partake in a very important, quite ritualistic, aspect of Hungarian culture.  The baths are not mere pools of varying temperature.  These pools have healing properties, their minerals great for the muscles and bones, as well as anything else that might be ailing a body.

   If I were again on my way to the baths, which, at 3000 forint (fifteen bucks) a person, could be considered a major splurge on my budget, I would remember to stay all day and use as much of the offered services as I could. As I enter the ornate foyer, I would immediately purchase on of the plush Turkish cotton robes that are sold there.  Emerald green?  Royal blue?  Depends on my mood, which would now be rising at a steady incline.

  Now, I am accustomed to bathing in hot pools completely naked, both men and women present.  During my years in Montana, I took many a trip to the natural geothermal pools (hot pots) in nearby Idaho.  Nothing sexual about this the nudity, it just seemed impractical and silly to wear a swimsuit in a hot pool hidden in the forest.  The Szechenyi Baths offer coed pools as well as pools for men only and women only.  I would stick to the coed situation, where swimsuits are mandatory (they even offer old, seventies era suits for rent if you arrive without one).  The hottest pools are here.
  After changing into my suit and leaving locker room, a stinky and humid chasm, where women of all shapes, sizes, and age mill around in various states of dress or undress, I would head for the main pool, towel and robe (and a few hundred forint to spend on refreshments).  Hopefully there would be an empty table and bench close by, where I could keep an eye on my beloved robe, but, honestly, I think the sense of fellowship and well-being these pools induce is so strong, the chance of theft is diminished at least a little bit.

  As I walk down the steps into paradise, my skin would enjoy a delightful prickle as a result of the cold air/hot water contrast. We all know that delightful feeling we get when we step into a hot bath after a chill. The first few minutes in the pool are the finest as the body warms up and the muscles relax.  Perhaps I would do a couple of slow laps around the circumference of the pool, do some people watching, enjoy a bit of semi-weightlessness.  There are plenty of interesting folks here in, blissed out, chatting casually, debating politely, embracing each other, playing chess.
  After swimming around a bit, I would head for Leda and the Swan, who overlook the massage fountain, and enjoy a watery neck massage.  A spot underneath this spout is precious.  If a space becomes available, you'd better occupy it quickly, because there is surely someone else eyeballing it.

In which case, I would stay underneath Leda for as long as I could stand, then search for an open space along the edges of the pool...these are also a "hot" (pun intended) commodity, not easy to come by.  Here, it is easy to sip your beer, engage in casual conversation, watch people float on by as well as keep an eye on your stuff.  No one seems to budge from here once they have laid claim.
  Assuming that I could not find such a space, I would instead leave the pool (it is recommended that you remain no longer than 20 minutes, but, who heeds such recommendations?), grab my belongings, and stroll over to the sauna/steam rotunda.  Here is where some real bodily healing can take place.
  Within this rotunda are three saunas and a steam room.  I would hit the saunas first.  I prefer the aromatherapy sauna, not as blistering as the regular sauna, and heady with the scent of lavender and eucalyptus.  The sinuses drain, energy builds, the mood lifts. After a few minutes, I would then walk over to the little cold pool and plunge into it...it may sound unpleasant, but it is so very invigorating.  I would probably forego the UV sauna, just because it is not as hot.  However, UV rays can be beneficial for skins suffering from psoriasis and small doses may help prevent skin cancer. I'd rather spend a few more minutes in the aromatherapy sauna myself.  My last visit in the rotunda would be to the steam room.  This proved to be an endurance test my first time, when I managed to stay put for about three minutes (which seemed and eternity), pores sweating, nose running the whole time.  I would try again for three minutes then after leaving the room,  plunge once more into the cold pool.  The skin loves this...I was rosy- cheeked for days after.

  The rotunda also features a pool that is body temperature...this way you can gradually build up your core temp after the cold plunge.  The really hot pool is also within, but, it is very often so crowded that movement is nearly impossible.
  So I'd head back to the pool outside to warm up again.  Maybe I'd finally score an empty spot around the perimeter.  If not, I'd simply swim around bit more, visit Leda again, hang out underneath her fountain away from the spout.  I'd probably grab a refreshment or two, enjoy them wrapped in my new robe, then step back into the pool for the last time.  Unless the company is stellar or I remember to pack a good book, I'd start to get bored and sleepy.  Dragging myself out of the pool, now limp and completely relaxed, I'd head back to the locker room, dry myself, pack my treasures, get dressed and mosey on home, under the river, via metro.  So close and yet so far.
  I'd return home still flushed from the experience and I would be in a much better mood... relaxed yet pleasantly alert.
  I have always loved being immersed in hot water, whether it is in the middle of the forest, in my own little bath tub, or in a big pool in Budapest.  Once upon a time, a wise Englishman advised a friend, a stressed out bundle of nerves...."Good God, man, take a bath!"  In times of trouble and personal disarray, I would advise the same to you, my dear friends and followers! x

Ballad of a Black Dog

Cosmo in the morning

I should have known.  I felt it even back in Portland.  Ever since the day we decided to move to Budapest, I had been worried sick about the well-being of my animals friends, Cosmo the dog and Zissou the cat.  These are my fuzzy children and we all love them to distraction. They are not mere pets but members of the family.  

I sort of went numb in the weeks before our move.  Why, I'm not sure, but I found it difficult to get much done, which was frustrating for Boone and even for myself. I blame this numbness for what was to come for my dear Cosmo. We went back and forth as to what to do with the furry creatures while we were in Hungary.  Leaving them with friends (all of who love them very much as well) meant putting those who rent in an awkward position with their landlord.  The idea also created a puzzle as to financing their care while we were away.  Do we leave the friends with an allowance for food and vet care or do we just depend on email and the postal service to discuss well-being and send needed money?

  There was also the problem of keeping Cosmo, a high energy pooch if there ever was one, as active as he needed to be.  All of our friends work very, very hard during the week...Cosmo was accustomed to two daily walks and rousing games of fetch per day with me, plus three to four runs a week with Boone and much time spent outside with Aidan.  We all took him on short bike rides and sometimes he pulled Aidan or Boone on the skateboard.  Our dear friends, with animals of their own who needed attention, could not commit to that level of activity. And Cosmo, of the two fuzzies, needed this the most.

  Ultimately, we decided to bring these two furry boys with us to Hungary.  In the end, we left dear, sweet Zissou with our pal Stacey in Portland....and as much as I miss his silky, purring, loaf-like body, he is better off in her "back 40" (our term for Stacey's 1/8 acre of garden paradise) than here in Budapest, where the cats all seem to be terrified of humans and the traffic is insanely manic.  Most dogs don't seem to like cats here either, and I have heard tell of dog packs roaming the outskirts of Obuda, hunting cats and ripping them to shreds.  As for Zee, he loves humans and does not automatically mistrust dogs since he and Cosmo enjoy a love/tolerate relationship in Portland.  At Stacey's, he sleeps where I used to sleep, can hunt and roam the back 40 without a care, and patiently awaits our return.

Sweet Steve Zissou in his garden

   Flashback to those days before we arrived in Budapest: we did a little research...what were the EU requirements as far as bringing animals from the States over?  How much would it cost to ship them?  We had so much to do, and the research we did as to these questions turned out to be too little too late. Each European country is different with their requirements...Hungary does not require an extended quarantine for dogs that have proper rabies documentation and a stamp from a USDA certified vet. We were under the impression that our vet was one of these certified vets (they told us as much) and that Cosmo's current rabies vaccine would be enough to get him into Hungary legally.  

  So Cosmo was on his way and would land here a week after we arrived in Budapest, on a Friday.  We were so excited to see him and give him all kinds of love after his grueling, 20 plus hour trip in crate down in the belly of a plane. The day he arrived, Aidan and I went with András out to Ferihegy Airport to claim him.  We knew it was going to be some sort of lengthy ordeal, as most official actions here tend to be, but we had no idea at all just how awful this would become.  After an hour of driving and two hours of waiting, we were told that there was a problem.  My heart sank.  There was a missing stamp and insufficient rabies vaccination record.  Cosmo was in the country illegally and should be sent back immediately, but, the vet was a kind man and an animal lover himself so he agreed to keep Cosmo over the weekend until we could obtain previous rabies records as well as the all important stamp.  If we could not find the records and could not come up with the money to send him back, the vet would have to put him down.  This was unacceptable, and my sweet boy dog had done nothing to deserve such a fate.  I would rather be put down myself, honestly.

  This made for one hellish weekend, spent at the internet cafe and Corvinus University on their computers, trying desperately to locate Cosmo's previous vaccination records and to figure out how to obtain this magical stamp.  The Humane Society back in Redmond Oregon, where we had adopted Cosmo, had no record of him whatsoever.  Their files dated only back to 2005, and we adopted him in 2004.  Screw that angle.

  The vet who neutered and vaccinated him after adoption claimed to have not vaccinated him at all, which was bullshit, because I had his vaccination tags as proof. But with no official record, we were feeling helpless and hopeless. Again, there was the stamp...where to get the stamp.

  In the meantime, we moved out of our hostel and into a new flat.  All of us suffered...Boone was a nervous wreck, overloaded with a ton of new and unexpected responsibilities, and worried sick about Cosmo.  Aidan was dealing with being in a brand new school, not speaking the language, missing his friends in Oregon and his dog desperately. He remained the stoic little soldier he has always been in times of distress.  I was alone during the day...unable to communicate with friends back home (no internet), writing sappy poetry, wandering around the city with my camera in an attempt to distract myself from this overwhelming situation.  I could not eat and had to force myself to do so.   I cried and cried and cried.  My eyes were so puffy and red I looked like a bloated stoner the entire week.  When we were all together, all we could do was pine for Cosmo. Much of our spare time was spent at Corvinus, checking e-mail for news of the document process...the time difference  between here and the States was maddening, making the process slow as cold molasses.  The customs vet had kindly offered to keep Cosmo at his office for 8,000 forint a day (forty dollars) until we could obtain the stamp or come up with a plan to send him back to the States, which ate away at our emergency fund.  We were all too aware that his job was in jeopardy and he was in effect hiding Cosmo from the authorities for us.  During this hellish week, we got photos taken at a photo booth at Batthyany Ter for our monthly transit passes...each photo captured our deeply troubled states of mind and lined up, these photos appeared to depict family of tragic, freshly busted criminals. 

  Back home, our family and friends were making calls to the U.S. and Hungarian Embassies, researching the situation as best they could, and trying figure out how to get the crucial stamp.  My dear sister in law even planned to keep Cosmo with her family in Florida if he needed to go back to the U.S., and, honestly, that was the scenario for which we were preparing ourselves.  I hated the idea, but it was better than putting him down for our stupid human lack of awareness.

  Finally, just as I thought I could just about deal with the idea of sending Cosmo back and putting him through another difficult journey (we had not been able to see him at all),  the dear secretary at Southgate Animal Clinic back in Portland volunteered to drive to Salem to obtain the blessed stamp.  Turns out, the state capital was the only place this damn thing could be obtained.  She drove down on her day off, asking only for gas money.  Good lord.  There is a special place in the afterlife for folks like her.  She singlehandedly saved our beloved pooch. I don't think I can ever  sufficiently repay her for her kindness. 

  As directed through our desperate e-mails, Sarah got the stamp and faxed it to the customs vet at Ferihegy.  Hajni called the following Friday to tell us that she would meet me at the airport to help with the paper work we needed to liberate Cosmo. At this point, all three of us were skeptical and could not allow ourselves to be elated just yet...we had to actually see him before we would believe that he would be joining us.  

  Hajni sent an airport taxi to pick me up Friday afternoon. Aidan stayed at home with Boone this time.  I don't think he could bear the thought of more disappointment.  Boone said to me with a stony face, "Call us when you have him."

  The whole way out to the airport, I shook.  I shook from nerves, from misery, from lack of food.  I'm the sort of person who prepares herself for the worst.  That way, if things work out for the better, I am pleasantly surprised.  Classic pessimism, and an appropriate attitude for living in Hungary.

  Everything slowed to a snail's pace for the next three hours and obstacles popped up here and there.  I felt like I was in one of those police training courses in which the cardboard criminals suddenly emerge in order to impede any progress.  I could not withdraw from the cash machine the money I needed to pay for Cosmo's boarding: this was one of the few times I was thankful for having a credit card.  

  Hajni, who was to meet me at the cargo area, got lost and had to talk to the shuttle driver for directions. I waited about forty-five minutes for her arrival, and when she did show up, still sick from the flu she had suffered the week before, I wanted to hug her warmly.  She was our Hungarian mother.  

  She moderated for me with the customs workers, who recognized me from the previous week, and appeared to have a lot of sympathy for this clueless American woman.  Forms flied (and filed), information was entered, I signed about five documents, all of which made me responsible for any future mishaps. If anythingwas amiss, the gendarmes would be knocking on my door with questions.  At one point, one of the worker's said Cosmo could only be released to Boone.  Again the credit card saved me, because I flashed it and that was good enough to prove that I was his wife and therefore his representative in this case.  Hajni and I then had to cross the parking lot to another large building to sign more documents.  They were closed.  However, probably at the sight of a kindly older woman and a shell-shocked younger one, the officials processed the paperwork.  "Just for you," said the kind young man, in English, with a wink.

  Back across the lot we trekked with an armful of documents, all stamped, all signed.  The last step was to pay for Cosmo's boarding.  I had two credit cards and, of course, the first one did not process.  The second one did and I began to feel some release of pressure. Would I see my dog?  Some nagging suspicion told me that the wrong dog would be presented to me and that I would have to snap mentally before this was all over.

  We made one more trip across the lot.  The cargo workers went to fetch Cosmo is his crate.  After about fifteen minutes, I heard the loading vehicle pull up with a crate and, to my absolute delight, within the crate was Cosmo, looking utterly confused.  I jumped up and down, clapped my hands like an excited child, and ran over to him.  He was shaking, terrified, looking at me with his googly eyes as if to say, "WTF!?!"

  Hajni, a dog lover herself, said, "Oh, Leslie, he is beautiful," and see cooed to him in her velvety Hungarian voice.  Yes, he was beautiful. And is.

 I immediately called Boone and Aidan..."I have him!"

  "YIPEEE!" cried Aidan.

The long drive back to the flat was serene.  I felt as if I had been shot up with Demerol. As we drove along the Danube, I was finally able to fully take in and enjoy the beauty of this city, which had been wasted on my tortured brain for the previous week.  What was gray and drab was now sun-kissed and rosy.  The river rolled along happily with me, past Parliament, past the pastel edifices of Pest and the hills of Buda.  Every now and then I looked back at Cosmo and spoke gently to him.  He was no longer shaking, now curled up and snoozing peacefully in the crate.  He knew he was home and that he would be with us at last.  Always living in the present, my sweet boy dog. 

Cosmo, in Obuda, ready for another toss

  Certainly, there is a song in this story somewhere, as well as a gripping tale within Cosmo's doggy memory!

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