Misadventures in Purple Tights

This is going to be long, and no amount of pictures will make it feel less long. I’ve tried and tried to figure out a shorter, punchier way to tell it, but to no avail. I thought of posting it in sections over several days, but whatever, read it all if you want, skim it all if you want, skip it all if you want.

I’ll try and condense some of the background story into snippets.

Fact 1: I was in Hungary for 2 very dear friends’ weddings, one on September 25 and one on October 2.

Fact 2: Friend 2 (Lídia)’s wedding reception/dinner was on October 2nd from 8 pm till 4 am.

Fact 3: My flight back to America was leaving October 3rd at 7 am.

Fact 4: It was determined that I should leave from Lídia and Gergö’s dinner for the airport.

Fact 5: Gergö’s apartment was very close (walking distance) to the place where they were having the dinner.

Fact 6: I was staying at Friend 1 (Krisztina)’s apartment while she and Balazs were on their honeymoon.

Fact 7: I’d been using an old phone of Krisztina’s dad’s.

Fact 8: I had to, upon departing Krisztina’s for Lídia’s, leave her dad’s phone and drop her keys in the mailbox, which once you drop in you can’t get back out.

Fact 9: There was to be an interval of undetermined time in which I would be phoneless and keyless.

There are still quite a few facts to go, but I thought I’d do a little fact intermission with one of my fav pics from my first week with Krisztina. This was during one of her dress fittings, and she was on the phone with Balazs.

Here’s is another pic to show you what I did for almost 2 weeks solid, besides tying bows with tulle and ivy.

Coffee . . . lots of delicious coffee in marvelous European coffee houses.

Back to the facts . . .

Fact 10: I had 3 HUGE pieces of luggage, HUGE (I was bringing home the last of my stuff that’s been in Hungary since I left in 2004), plus a camera bag, plus a purse.

Here’s a pic of all the books that didn’t make the cut and got passed on to Lídia’s library (which is probably one of the very, VERY few places I would be willing to pass them on to—a fellow bibliophile).

Fact 11: I was wearing a very short dress. (Work was CRAZY before leaving for Hungary so I bought my dress for Lídia’s wedding in such haste that I didn’t really assess its length.)

Fact 12: I was wearing very bright pink-purple tights.

Fact 13: I was wearing shoes that were a tad too big for me. (I can’t find shoes in America that fit me, so my shoes are typically a bit too tight or a bit too big.)

Fact 14: I had to be at Gergö’s appt. between 7 and 7:20 pm, from there we would leave for the dinner.

Fact 15: A taxi had been arranged to pick me up at Krisztina’s at 6:30 pm and it was supposed to take about 30 min to get To Gergö’s (traffic can be insane.)

Fact 16: Gergö lives on one of the main walking streets, meaning cars can’t go on it—it’s full of gorgeous architecture, street vendors, and tourists—meaning, I couldn’t get dropped off, with my bags, at his doorstep (this will be important).

Before we get to that here’s a pic of Lídia and her dad at the wedding, so beautiful, even if I didn’t understand a word.

So I was majorly anxious leaving Krisztina’s appt with all my stuff, because of the whole dropping in of keys and leaving behind of phone—it had a strong element of finality to it, point of no return and all that jazz. So I checked and double checked my stuff. Passport, yes. Tickets, yes. Heart medicine, yes. Xanax, yes. Three bags: first, oversized, and weighing 50 lbs (23 kilos); second normal size but still weighing 50 lbs; and third, carryon, packed full to 40 lbs (18 kilos), YES.

In my anxiety at the prospect of how many hours I was about to be up and the maneuvering of bags, etc., I decided to go ahead and start taking my stuff down early. I very inelegantly hauled my bags into the little room where the mailboxes are. It’s still in the building, next to the last door that leads outside. I looked, assessed, felt confident, and dropped the keys in the mailbox. Then I started hauling out bags 1 and 2. As I lugged bag 2 out, I let the door close behind me. If you’ve ever lived in Europe or probably any apartment building that requires a key to get in, you can guess my mistake and the wham with which my heart hit the bottom of my rib cage. My last, and hugest, bag was still inside, with the keys irretrievable in the mailbox. I muttered several inappropriate, yet so appropriate, words. I had no idea what to do, and just stood staring at all the Hungarian names on the buzzer that I could buzz and then in a language they wouldn’t understand try and convince them that they should let me into the building. Then I heard the elevator start in the building and someone came down and I hand motioned my predicament to them. They looked at me blankly but let me get my bag.

Fact 17: The taxi was there early, so we left early.

Fact 18: Instead of taking 30 minutes it took 10.

Fact 19: I arrived at the street at 6:30 pm.

Fact 20: Taxi guy unloaded my bags and zoomed away.

Fact 21: It’s just a bit of a walk to Gergö’s door.

So there I am on this street:

With this luggage:

In a really short dress and shoes that are too big (which there is no picture of). I stood there irresolutely for a bit, because there was literally NO way I could get down the street.

Fact 22: If you leave anything unattended, it will be stolen. If you attend it, it could still be stolen.

So all I knew to do was drag 2 bags 2 inches, go back, drag the 3rd 2 inches, and so on and so forth, ad nauseum. This, as you can imagine, was getting me nowhere. So I stopped again and just stood utterly uncertain of how to proceed.

Fact 23: No one passing me offered to help.

I finally realized I could strap the smaller-huge bag, to the medium-huge bag, but as they were all at their max weight and I was in a really short dress, it was very hard to finagle. After much awkward struggling and after probably flashing who knows what to who knows who, I got the bags strapped together.

So then I started pushing one huge bag in front of me and pulling the double decker behind me down the street. They were veering all over the place and the double one kept toppling over. People were having to move out of my way because I couldn't control the veering.

I wasn’t exactly sure where the apartment was, I’d only been outside of it once, so I of course passed it. In my effort to get turned back around, I was standing about 1 foot from a vendor guy who was watching me as in mid turn, while trying to guide the turn with my foot, my shoe flew off and my bags completely turned over. As I was trying to get everything righted and my shoe back on he said “Can I help you?”

Me: Well I’m just going to that door right there.
Him: But do you need help getting the bags up.
Me: No, my friends are there so they can help.
Him: You need to be careful, that bag is unzipped.

I then, again, in my short, short dress tried to get the zipper zipped. I finally struggled my way over to the door and realized I was 20 minutes early. They said they’d be making it back to the apartment around 7 pm, but I went ahead and hit the buzzer to their apartment, but no one answered. So I set up all my bags, in my short skirt and blazing purple tights, and waited. The vendor guy came back over.

Him: No one home?
Me: No. But they should be here by 7.

He then told me some really long story about how he bought his watch off some Muslim guy in Spain, and how it’s always slow but works decently well.

Me: (awkward laugh)
Him: What are you doing? You’re all dressed up, with all these bags.
Me: Yea, my friends got married and I’m going to their party and then after that, the airport.
Him: You got married to your boyfriend and are moving in?
Me: No, my friend, a girl, married her boyfriend.
Him: They are American?
Me (looking at clock tower; isn’t it 7 yet): No.

Here’s a pic of the clock tower:

Him: Well, would you join me for a drink? (there was a little outdoor restaurant directly opposite us)
Me: No thanks, they should be here ANY minute.

He went to drink and watch me, and I went back to trying not to look so conspicuous in my short dress, purple tights, and massive amounts of luggage.

Fact 24: I was standing on the step, slightly above my luggage.

Two sets of boys walked by and openly gawked at me. And by gawk, I mean intake of air, mouth hanging open, gawk.

Fact 25: I jumped off the step and hid behind my luggage.

The first set came back a bit later but I gave them the most withering of stares and they walked, chagrined, on by.

The vendor guy, as the minutes ticked by and my friends still didn’t appear, came back:
Him: Are you sure you won’t have a drink? You’ll be right there; you’ll definitely be able to see them.
Me (at now 7:15): No thanks, really, any minute they’ll be here.

Fact 26: My bags are old and well traveled, meaning they have holes and worn places.

As the vendor guy went and sat back down to watch, a very tiny little man from Spain walked up to me, pointed at my bags, and said, “How much?” I started, and trying not to laugh, said, “sorry, they aren’t for sale.” He shrugged and rambled off.

By this time it was after 7:20 (which is when we were supposed to leave for the dinner). I got to thinking, what if they are here and I just buzzed the wrong apartment earlier. I didn’t want to buzz again while the vendor guy was watching me because I thought, if they don’t answer, he’ll be back over trying to get me to have a drink with him. So I watched him closely and as soon as he got up and went into the restaurant, I high-tailed it over to the buzzer and buzzed, and LÍDIA ANSWERED. I was like, “WHAT?!!”

She sent Gergö down to help me get the bags, but before he got there a guy was coming out of the building and opened the door for me and I started trying to haul my bags in, and of course my shoe, AGAIN, went flying in the process. But I made it in.

Me: Sorry I’m late.
Lídia: We were beginning to wonder.
Me: Yea, I’ve been downstairs for the last 40 minutes. I lost my shoe several times, was asked by someone if he could buy me a drink, and nearly sold my luggage to a man from Spain.

The rest of the evening was far less bizarre and much more beautiful. I haven’t edited any of my pics of Lídia’s dinner, except this one, which I really like. (After midnight, Hungarian brides can change into a new dress, hence her black dress.)