Closing your eyes and ears...yet sometimes your feet still don't hear!

I feel like I am a pretty lucky person, despite moments, days, even months of heart wrenching  debilitating pain.  I wouldn't trade this journey I have been on for any other.  Last night, while having dinner with my son, he informed me that he was an interesting person because of me.  Wow, I never even thought of myself as interesting.  What a compliment, what a laugh out loud joyous thing to be told by your son.  And then he told me why, "Mom, from the moment you had me, you never let me slow you down." Uh oh, that didn't sound so good.  "You just picked me up and took me along with you. " For the first time he acknowledged how much our travels had impacted his life in a positive way.   So my beautiful, philosophical child  this one is for you.

No matter where I travel in the world, as soon as my feet hit the ground they can hear it talking to them.   It is in a language unknown to me, so if I just close my eyes and my ears and feel the pull of my feet, I will end up where I am supposed to be. That pull, the pull of learning through exploration is as much a part of my being as breathing.  I have never needed a map, directions...even when we thought we were lost in the jungle in Guatemala, I told everyone, "Let's just follow my feet."  We were back where we were supposed to be in no time.  However, in Budapest my feet didn't understand the language the ground was speaking.  I found myself frequently lost, in need of directions, and still lost.  Traversing the streets, talking to the people, eating and eating again, finding the museums every adventure began as a comedy of errors.

Starting as a Celtic settlement that became a Roman capital, Budapest's history is a story of multiple invasions that included inexplicable savagery and subjugation that continued into the twentieth century. I am still learning about Budapest's history. All mistakes are mine, correct me where I am still in need of more information.  The Romans were pushed out by the Huns, and the Huns were pushed out by the the Magyar people in the tenth century . In 1241, Budapest was invaded by the Mongols (check out Dan Carlin's Hardcore History Podcast for a horrifying account of what a
Mongol invasion entailed) and then the Ottomans came and stayed for a hundred and fifty years.   The end of WWI brought about tremendous loss to Hungary itself, and WWII brought about occupation  by Nazi Germany. The end of WW II left  Hungary within the Soviet Union's sphere of interest leading to the Second Hungary Republic being established under Soviet control in 1946.

There are remnants of  the old Communist regime's existence that permeates everything and everyone you encounter, but it is overridden by the new...young people on their skateboards with iPods plugged into their brains, fashion, cars, restaurants, people wandering the streets from all over the world, everything you would find in any other post industrialized country can be found in Budapest.  So why did my feet not understand the language?

My visit to the history museum located in the Castle Museum may explain, in part, the reason why.  Upon entry into the museum you pay your entrance fee, and they give to you a map in what they assume is your primary language, to follow upon entry.  You are suppose to follow the map.  Right?  Well no-one told me, and what is a map anyway, a recommended path, not a this way only designator. Hmmm, wrong.  I opened every door, went down every pathway and plummeted to the very bottom of the castle, almost to the very beginning of this city's history.  I found the entry way to gain access to the battlements and walked the perimeter trying to feel and understand the complexity of this amazingly undecipherable place where I now found myself.  How do you explain the feeling of looking across a courtyard and seeing the destruction caused by a war fought 70 years before?  It was horrific, yet strangely captivating as I tried to grapple with all this city had undergone since it's very beginning.  Artifacts were strewn about everywhere, I suppose this might be why certain areas were not included on the map.  I lifted my feet over and around as I  maneuvered  through all that was strewn about.  I made my way back into the castle through yet another closed door.

It wasn't too long after my returning into the castle that I entered the exhibit on a star of the 30s that a woman in uniform, who was quickly accompanied by a man in uniform entered the room and
communicated through hands and voice that I was to put the reading back in place and follow them. Uh oh.  I was being led somewhere, and of course my over active imagination flew back to the days of the Cold War. I wondered where I was being taken.  Would my husband ever find me.  He will be so worried, I remember thinking. Not to fear, they just made sure I was put out of the museum, and I was no longer allowed entry into this beautiful, mysterious, broken into thousands and thousands of pieces world I had just left.  There was my answer, my feet didn't understand that in post communist countries, even now, there are things you still ought not do.

Somewhere on Facebook I recently read a post that said something to the effect of rules are put into place for a reason.  Follow them.  I am glad I don't typically follow the rules put into place in a sometimes seemingly random way by people perpetuating their control over others.  Yes, even with the intermittent negative ramifications. I never would have learned the secret to my feet's inability to communicate with the ground.  I love Budapest, the people, the architecture, the food, and the raucous partying till 4:00 am outside our window at the Intercontinental.  I loved everything, while knowing I knew nothing.

Why Can't We See The Wind?

It was during one of those summer conferences that teachers always attend. Everyone knows teachers don't work during the summer, right? I was seated at THE table, the one way back in the corner where no one can see you, and I thought I was safe. Suddenly,  I was surrounded by talkative, happy and not so exhausted people. The conversation, filled with the minutiae of the day, proceeded
forward as is apt to happen at these conferences. Suddenly, Steve, one of my colleagues, decides to tell us the story about his son asking him, Why couldn't we see the wind." His response to his son was, "Go ask your mom."  The story continues until we find out his son asked him this question over ten years ago, and he still doesn't know the answer.  I guess you had to be there at that moment on that particular day with those wonderful people to understand, but we were all doubled over laughing.  It was that joyous laughter that actually hurts and you know you are in a special moment and you better mark it in your memory.
Now I will tell you about my beautiful boxer, Bruder, and his inability to understand why he couldn't see the wind, also.  He would jump straight into the air and somehow manage to do a 180 degree turn to find out just what was this stuff was whenever it blew a little more briskly than usual.  He would then turn toward me with this perplexed look and shake his head until he found a batch of flowers growing that would allow him to stick his whole doggy face into them so he could inhale the aroma.  It would be at this point he would finally forget about this mysterious wind. He was a character, and I continue to miss him despite the many years that have passed since his death.  So for the people who made me laugh till I hurt and the goofy boxer that rarely left my side for twelve years, "Why can't we see the wind?"
Why do 18 year old girls get glioblastoma multiforme? While there is an answer to not seeing the wind; I don't think the answer anyone can provide will satisfy my heart, my mind, or my being for this one.
On Tuesday, I am leaving for Budapest and I will carry a picture of this young lady, The Warrior Queen, with me. Her dream is to see the world. She cannot travel right now due to the intensive treatment she is undergoing that will allow her to defeat this monstrous invader of her brain.  So, she will see the city through the eyes of me, my camera, my iPhone video recorder and a question.   Everyone I run into I am going to ask, "Why can't we see the wind?"  There really isn't an answer to the other question; so why bother asking?

Update: Our Warrior Queen died over two years ago.  I can finally write it and acknowledge that she isn't coming back.  The finality of death for those left behind is devastating.