My quest to find Marion Jack in Sofia, Bulgaria

I really felt like the main character in a Hollywood rags to riches story. A scruffy, dirty hitch-hiker in this 5 star room. Time flew and I unfortunately got drawn into the evil world of 150 stupid channels. "Reality" TV, soap operas, a cheetah mother who will die and whose cubs will die too if she doesn't make this next kill, etc. Most of these were dubbed into Bulgarian and a couple into German.

Seduced by all this luxury, I almost forgot why Sofia was a planned stop: to find the eternal mortal resting place of Marion Jack, a Canadian pioneer well known from Baha'i history.

photo credit: Bahai World News Service

I only had a few tips to go by. I'm thankful to Charlotte Dubec who gave me the idea and told me that her grave is in Sofia, in a British military cemetery. On internet forums, it was implied that it was in the North West corner of "the" Sofia cemetery. I quickly first discovered that Sofia has more than one cemetery. With hope and faith in probabilities, I concentrated my effort on Sofia's massive central cemetery, and took a tram there in the morning.

The first challenge was to decipher "NW corner". Although it's a square, the cemetery is rotated almost 45 degrees off the compass rose, so it has a N corner or a W corner, but not really both. And after I entered, its magnitude made me lose hope. A sea of stones in all directions. I found an area with english names but it had a huge wall around it. I actually climbed the wall and considered climbing down on the inside, but feared the guards I saw at the main cemetery gate, and thought that Bulgarian prisons are probably nasty. Then I saw a worker sweeping nearby. I climbed down, half worried he'd reprimand me. I tried to ask him if he knew of a British military cemetery, but we shared no words from each other's languages. So all we had to go by were physical gestures. I think I'm usually good at expressing and reading these, but one major obstacle made it almost impossible to understand each other: Bulgarians actually shake their heads to express "yes"! I think I had heard this years before, but I recognized it here suddenly when I saw him shaking his head and saying "da, da" which is also "yes, yes" in Russian. Then I realized that I couldn't trust anything I thought I understood from the last five minutes of our mime session! I acted out an airplane, a military salute, and a machine gun, and he seemed excited to finally catch one concept from me. He motioned to follow him. Progress, finally! Then he somehow conveyed that he should get some money for his trouble. I was so relieved that we were getting somewhere, so I gave him most of my Bulgarian money which amounted to about $3. He was disappointed and tried to get more but I had no choice and stayed firm. We crossed a great distance through this massive grave world, he on his bike and me power-walking beside him. He offered for me to climb on his bike somehow, but on that old clunker it seemed an impossible feat. After 10 or 15 minutes he stopped and with a big grin, he flung his arms up triumphantly in the direction of a gated grave area. He presented what was immediately apparent to me to be the Russian pilot's cemetery. My throat constricted, the background receded behind me like in a horror film when the victim suddenly realizes things are not as they seemed, and I felt like weeping with utter defeat. Although almost paralyzed with despondency, I tried to hide my disappointment and renewed hopelessness; so I tried to thank him and sent him on his way.

I now had about half an hour before catching a tram back to my hotel to check out, and avoid paying a late fee, probably 100 euros for an extra night, a staggering contrast to the 5 euro mistake I scored last night! And I had to leave for Turkey that day anyway, probably soon.  I had yet to research the train schedules. So I power-walked back towards the corner where I started, and begged the forces above to help guide me in the right direction. Perhaps they already had? Was I originally in the right place when I decided to ask that worker for help? On my way back, I saw another separated area, but this time the wall was only belly-button height, and it had a gate with no lock. Lots of small identical grave stones hinted that it could be military. I went in, took a few steps, and saw two very tall stones that really stood out. I heard that Marion Jack's grave is dignified, and I assumed distinct. But the inscriptions said they were some type of general memorials. It was about time to go. Depressed at the time lost in vain on this apparently hopeless mission, and submitting to failure, I turned to leave.

In front of me stood a grey granite headstone about 3 or 4 feet wide and not as tall, over a tidy grave adorned with green and red sedum. I walked right past it on my way in, but would've only seen it from the back. Suddenly, my eye caught an unmistakable carved symbol, painted gold: a nine pointed star, and at the bottom of a long quote it was signed "Shoghi". As my eyes fixed on "Marion Jack" inscribed also in gold at the top, they filled with tears and my knees buckled. My forehead rested on the dewy grass and, as I clutched it in both hands, I whispered "Ya Baha'u'l-Abha!"

Photo credit: Bahai World News Service

Shoghi Effendi had said that some day travelers from around the world would visit her grave and draw inspiration from it. I felt suddenly as if a prophesy had just been fulfilled. I was filled with a joy due to my sudden turn from hopelessness to great accomplishment. When I regained my composure, I knelt by her grave and offered a few prayers. Then feeling uneasy about having no flowers to offer, I found a cedar tree and snapped off a small clump to adorn her stone. I took some photos and then thanked God for the bounty of finding her grave, and for the new feeling it gave my soul: it was uplifted, and it felt truly grateful for existing in my physical body, on this mortal plane.


"Immortal heroine... Greatly loved and deeply admired by 'Abdu'l-Baha. A shining example to pioneers... Her unremitting, highly meritorious activities... shed imperishable splendor on contemporary Baha'i history..." Shoghi

See also the Baha'i World News Service article entitled: "Baha'i group pays homage to a heroine"

Bulgaria

From my $30 two bedroom flat with a kitchen in Bucharest, I caught a bus to the train station, and arrived almost an hour early, just in case, since it was Christmas day. I prided myself in avoiding taxis for nearly four months now, always walking or taking public transit, except for two times with my hosts from Cluj when it turned out cheaper than the tram anyway.

 The stray dog problem is so out of control here. I heard there were some in Hungary but I don't remember seeing any. In Romania I began to see plenty. And in Bucharest, so many, wandering through traffic, curled up sleeping beside pillars of majestic buildings. I saw several plastic containers around the city, filled with disgusting food scraps, left by residents for random stray dogs. And now, dogs lay sleeping all around the train tracks; a woman throwing scraps to half a dozen mutts at the next station; and three dogs fighting at the next.

My train was nearly empty. When I heaved my monster luggage up onto the rack, I noticed that both wheels were worn down and split, but apparently still functional. This weakened my taxi avoidance pride a bit.

We crossed the Danube River which marks the border between Romania and Bulgaria. Heavy industry crowded the banks on the Bulgarian side. It looked as ugly and frightening as Burlington Bay by the skyway in Ontario. Also, short cooling towers populated the countryside for a couple kms.

I didn't bring much for snacks and boarded the train a couple hours ago without lunch. It was very wishful thinking on my part that there might be a dining car or a food service of any kind on this 9 hour ride. My bad luck always seems to turn into very good luck: there were only four of us in this car of 32 seats. Me, an American guy, a South Korean girl, and a Finnish girl with a lot of food which she insisted was only going to be thrown away! The Ami and I shamelessly dug in, and although it was mostly stale bread and cheese, it hit the spot and I was thankful.

After chatting with them a bit, I quickly realized that compared to this group I'm no world traveler, that's for sure! Between the three of them, hardly a country in the whole world was left unexplored!

The Bulgarian country began to prove itself very picturesque, with green rolling fields for very long stretches and no houses, livestock, or people to be seen. I struggled and finally got two windows open and we spent most of the daylight ride standing in the windows, enjoying the view and the unseasonably spring-like weather of around 14 C, and chatting. Nami, the Korean woman, had already traveled several hours from Budapest on the same train, and the total duration of her train ride to Greece was going to take over 30 hours!

Around 10 pm, Marjo from Finland and I departed the train in Sofia and shared a cab, since my hotel was just before her hostel. I was quite anxious about what must have been an error at booking.com, since I got a deluxe double suite at what seemed to be a nice hotel, for $7, with breakfast included. Marjo's hostel was much more, without breakfast. But I got a confirmation from the hotel so they had so far missed the glitch. I imagined that it was a Christmas special, but I noticed that the same room online was over $100 the day before or after. Two bad, 'cause I would have tried to stay for two days otherwise for sure!

My worries increased when the taxi driver couldn't believe me. And I almost fell over when I saw the place. Marjo said bye and told me the location of her hostel, just in case. At check in, the young receptionist began to blush and said, it's a mistake, a big mistake. But it must be honored. I was torn between running circles around the lobby with my arms straight up, and crawling under a rock. But I just blushed too and said Merry Christmas, handing her 5 euros. Then we started to laugh as she began to list all the amenities and services: "included in the cost of this five star hotel (pause and subtle sigh) is free wifi, satellite tv, award winning buffet breakfast, a pool, spa, jacuzzi, sauna," etc. (at this point I had little stars in my eyes and started to space out...)

Unfortunately it was now approaching 11 pm and checkout was in about 12 hours. So I scrambled off to my room, still disbelieving, and began to do my best to take advantage of all the amenities, starting with using my iPod to brag about my luck on facebook!

Bucuresti (Bucharest)

My short stay started with a nasty scare. I decided to brave the dark streets and the estimated 20 min. walk to my booked "Best Flat Apartment". I successfully found the address, near downtown, but it was a tall concrete apartment building with no sign, and locked with no way in. My cell phone stop working the day before, some roaming issue. I was convinced that I could still get calls though.

I found a renegade wifi signal with my iPod and sent a snarky email to the "hotel", then called Dharlene with Skype which accomplished nothing more than sharing my stress and freaking her out. The "hotel" wrote back immediately and said they tried to call me but got some message in Hungarian. Apparently I can't even receive calls anymore either. They said they'd pick me up in 25 min.

George arrived in about 25 min. and drove me to the actual apartment, since I was at an office which was closed so late at night on Christmas eve. At the other tall apartment building, another guy, the key master apparently, arrived simultaneously by bicycle and handed me some keys after inspecting several different sets from various pockets.

My flat was huge and very nice. Too bad I wasn't sharing it with a few others since it had two bedrooms and two double beds. I dumped my stuff, cleaned up a bit, and went out near midnight to see this giant city.

First I walked back to the train station and purchased my ticket for my next day train to Sofia Bulgaria. Then I found the majestically lit parliament building, with an extremely bright glowing white fake Christmas tree in front. I only had about 7 Romanian lei left, and was pacing myself to avoid exchanging more and being stuck with a useless surplus.

I happily found an open corner store but it was in a shady area. I grabbed some fruits and yoghurt for breakfast before getting on the 9 hour train ride. The total came to almost exactly 7 lei, and I then realized I needed one more lei for the trolleybus to the train station in the morning. The clerk was a long black-haired, dark eyed Romanian girl who spoke English with an awesome deep exotic accent. I said I needed to put something back. She said it's not allowed and gave me back one lei and said: Merry Christmas, we have to be good today!

Sinaia, Romania

Experiences pour in so rapidly, and the world whizzes by so quickly when you cross almost half a country every day! Christmas eve was a particularly busy day, starting the day in the dark, catching a very full bus from stunning Sibiu at 6:30 am to arrive in Sinaia about 3 hours later. Sinaia is a very small town in the middle of a pass through the Carpathian mountains. It was a difficult stop to fit into my plans, even though it's roughly on the way toward Istanbul. I only found three couch surfers there, of whom two declined and one must be traveling. Although hotels exist, I couldn't find anything reasonable online.

So why bother with this little town? I wanted to find the Peles Castle - where the king and queen of Romania used to reside - for two reasons: one, it's apparently the most beautiful castle in Romania (and one of the nicest is Europe), and two, queen Marie was a member of the Baha'i Faith!

Because I was now lugging around my huge luggage, and since I had no directions to the castle, I considered taking a taxi, but this thought didn't last. I went into a car parts store and asked if they knew how I could get a bus ticket out, to Bucharest, since the last one I took was over filled and I didn't want to get stranded. None of three young guys working there spoke English, but they called to a lady in the back who could. She told me to find the bus ticket guy who wanders around the street outside. Weird. Then I asked about the castle. Take a taxi she said, since it's an hour walk up, up, up. One of the boys said 30 min. and explained, through her translation, the route. Outside, unbelievably, I found the wandering bus ticket guy who told me to be back to that spot on the road in about 5 hours. Perfect. But my heavy luggage... I got a brainwave and went back into the auto parts store and asked the lady if I could store my huge bag there, for a fair price. She said yes and refused payment. Bring me some chocolate, if you like, she said. Score. What a heavy burden lifted, literally.

It was a beautiful trek up the mountain to the castle, on stairs and then an ancient cobblestone path winding through dense forest, with a thick carpet of snow. It was an unseasonal 6C. Signs posted warnings of bears in the area! Tiny songbirds sang for me as I climbed.

The castle and surroundings were pretty impressive. The detail and ornamentation inside was unbelievable. Room after room, decked out so lavishly. And I only paid to see the first floor! One of the rooms was the armory, which I estimate had about 700-800 weapons mounted on the walls: swords, spears, rifles, etc. In a glass case on the mantle was a 6th century executioners sword, and I couldn't help but shudder to think that it looked well used.

Next to this castle was a smaller one, where princess Marie and prince Ferdinand lived until they inherited the throne. I kept imagining what it must have been like living here. It seemed so hard to get to and remote for me; what must it have been like in 1900? The forest surroundings and snow tipped mountains were very charming, but it must have felt so isolated. A mural on one wall at the main castle showed an epic battle between two soldiers, several dogs, and two bears. I think the bears were winning.

Queen Marie, who embraced the Baha'i Faith, passed away in 1938. I scanned the library room for Baha'i books but didn't find any quickly, and didn't want to spend all day in that one room. She was apparently well read in many languages, and quite an artist. A giant book of her poetry, written in semi-calligraphy over her own paintings was on display. One phrase really stuck with me as I began to wonder if her life here was very challenging: "If 'tis madness to remember, 'tis drearier far to forget."

On my way back down to the main road I bought a few Snickers chocolate bars. I found my luggage intact, kept one bar for myself, and waited by the road for the bus. The ticket guy appeared out of nowhere and assured me of a seat. I stood with a hitch-hiker who agree to ask any stopping autos if there's room for me too. Eventually the late bus arrived, the hitcher gave up and we all packed into a small mini-bus van. Yes, there was a seat for me, the last one, but not for the sweet old lady who came after me. I guess when you're a nice guy, there are no seat guarantees. But I didn't need to stand for long, as someone got out at the next stop. Bucharest here we come!

Sibiu, Romania

Gorgeous. Period.

Oradea, Cluj, and the road to Sibiu

Somehow I missed the news that Romania had become a member of the European union in 2007. Dharlene was here almost 20 years ago, but only very briefly because she said it was pretty terrifying. Apparently it has changed an awful lot since then. It's a lot like Hungary, but there are differences. Of course, I'm still in Transylvania, which used to be Hungarian. I was hearing Hungarian here quite often, and speaking it even got me through sometimes. Wow, the bus driver just locked up halfway across a bridge and everybody's stuff went flying toward the front of the bus! That's one difference from Hungary: driving chaos and general disorder is more commonplace here.

I'm approaching Sibiu, an old, cultural hub which comes highly recommended. So highly that I altered my plans to see. Plus I found a cheap Panzio there, but couldn't find one in Sinaia. As we approach the east end of Transylvania, the Hungarian language is disappearing and I think I am starting to see subtle differences in the building ornamentation. Most house tops have small orthodox crosses or minaret shaped lightning rods or pipe covers. But all the homes have gated front yards still, all of them are of a type of stucco exterior, and all are still various pastel colours, with rust or brown serious clay tile roofs.

On my way into Oradea by train I saw a Roma family in a random dumping ground beside the tracks, digging a huge excavation, looking for what? Recycling perhaps. I felt some pity for a family in that kind of poverty, driven to such extreme, dirty labour. It freaked me out a bit.

In Oradea, I really enjoyed my stay with Beniamin and Adi, two fun young fellows. On my only night spent there, I went with them to a rented room behind a beautiful cosmopolitan café, where a group of about a dozen youth gathered to practice singing Christmas carols which they will sing to their friends during the holidays. I found it so wholesome and charming! Adi, Ben and I went to this cool café after where they were very curious to hear about differences between Canada and the U.S.

After my tricky hitch to Cluj the next day, my next couch-surfer host met me at a giant statue in Cluj's main square. As I waited for her, a huge youth choir belted out carols in Romanian on a stage at the edge of the square to my right. (uga uga uga uga uga uga uga... The bus is crossing a very old cobblestone street... Big plowed fields surround me, sometimes flat, often rolling, with big hills in the distance on both sides.)

Laura, a Romanian, and Erik, a Hungarian, where wonderful hosts: very gracious, attentive, hospitable, and eager to please. They gave me a private room with a single bed in their small apartment. Ah, the sun is now shining and although we're climbing, there's almost no snow here on the ground. My two nights in Cluj were pretty laid back. We chatted a lot about religion and Hungarian Romanian differences, and they spent a lot of time helping me check bus and train schedules online. Last night we met with a big group of their friends in a pub where they planned an upcoming new year's party, in Romanian of course. I did some minimal chatting in Hungarian with some of that background, but spent most of my time on my iPod using the free wifi to take screen shots of maps for cities I'll soon be lost in, as well as downloading various free apps about Istanbul.

Now, we're passing through a village where the house colours are gradually getting a bit brighter and bolder. My bus is climbing a lot and dipping a little as we near Sibiu, a town which won a prestigious European cultural city award in 2007.

Hitch-hiking in Romania

I easily let Beniamin, my couch-surfer host, talk me into hitch-hiking in Romania. It's very normal here, and customary to pay the driver for petrol. But now it's seeming less and less like a good idea. With my basic command of the Hungarian language, I've forgotten how easy it is to misunderstand each other when you don't even have a basic command of the language of the land, and to thus get completely confused and lost.

We exited his flat and he said I'll catch a bus to the city centre and hitch at the crossroads there. He assured me that in 2 years riding this bus, he had never been checked for his ticket. I insisted I wanted one anyway. At a vendor, she had no change so we just left. We walked for a while and when we approached a big street, a bus pulled up and he said "jump on, it's your bus! Get off after five stops!" As the doors closed, I realized I had no ticket. This really stressed me out, partially because I thought I'd get caught, but especially because it was just morally wrong. At each minute I got more concerned about cheating the system. Then my phone rang. "Get off that bus, it's the wrong one! I saw it turn the wrong way. Sorry!!! Catch a tram to December 1st St." So I jumped off the bus, relieved that I was no longer free-loading. Then I saw that trams go at least four different directions from there. Ugh. In Hungarian, English, German, and mostly mime, some women explained that I need the negro tram. Another moment of confusion before I recognized that English's Latin roots can be handy! After 20 minutes and a yellow tram and red tram passed by, the black tram finally arrived. I had asked a teenager if I could buy a ticket on the tram. Yes. Great. I got on. No said the driver. Get it over there he pointed. Then it left.

(It reminded me of my train ride to Oradea. I couldn't always see the station names and the train was behind schedule. So as it approached a large station I gathered my things, and asked a young woman if this was Oradea. "Oradea, yes," pointing straight down. So I scrambled to get off the train. But I couldn't open the door! I panicked as the train pulled away. But then I saw what must have been the station name, a very long name starting with a P. Good thing I couldn't figure out the door!)

So back at the tram stop, I got my ticket, and waited as trams of various colours, except black, came and went. Finally I got my tram, found the road to Cluj, came around the corner prepared for a hitch-hiking adventure. My heart sank. There were already about a dozen people there waiting for rides. Ugh. So I went 50 m down the street, propped up my bag (by far the largest one in the group, unfortunately) with a big Canadian flag on it, and put out my thumb. I also had a sign that Beniamin made for me: CJ for Cluj. So I thought the flag and the sign would better my chances over the others. Then I noticed that two beautiful single women were in the mix. But they didn't get rides first. Is there a system here?? Then a nice looking couple arrived with a sign "CJ" and set up beside me. Ugh. I watched the dozen others get rides, 1 by 1 or 2 by 2. Others replaced them. I started to squirm. Hide the flag? Remove the outback hat? What if it starts to get dark?

I think it was about 45 minutes before a little truck pulled over beside me. What a relief. The driver was a really nice guy named Rodu?, and he spoke a few English and a few Hungarian words. He called his friends occasionally to ask how to say so-and-so in Hungarian so we could chat a little.

After a few serious hills and valleys, countryside and villages, traffic slowed and we entered Cluj. He took me directly to the city centre square where I met my next couch-surfing host. And this sweet guy wouldn't except any payment from me, despite the custom.

train to Romania

My train is crawling through dense forests, branches adorned with fresh fluffy snow. Slightly rolling hills offer a welcome change from the sometimes bleak, great Hungarian plains. I guess I'm in Transylvania, Romania.

Had a scare at the border. A police officer boarded the train, took my passport, said "give me patience" and left. A few minutes later the train crept forward a few inches. I ran up and down the corridors and it seemed abandoned! I whipped open a window, gazed out and saw the guy giving the ok signal to go. Where's my passport?!

It reminded me of crossing the Moroccan border from Spain when a guy started to collect everyone's passports in a big crowd. I saw locals sticking bills in theirs. Before I could determine what to do, he snatched mine and then disappeared for too long into a shabby building without saying anything. I did get it back that time and somehow crossed the border despite interrogations during which I was offered cocaine, accused of selling it, and back and forth like that for a while.

I found the ticket lady who said in Hungarian "relax!" as she rushed off the train. The police eventually returned after I squirmed for a while and said simply "we got you stamp."

Ack! Again! On the other side I guess. This one doesn't speak English OR Hungarian. I feel so helpless now! Great, he too disappeared off the train. Well, the view is bleak hear: just a run-down wooded station with broken windows, concrete steps turning to rubble. It's giving me time to type this all up on my iPod at least. Phew, what a relief; he just returned, winded and smiley, handing me my passport enthusiastically. But the train is still immobile. Welcome to Romania?

Ok, finally started moving, but back the way we came. That's confusing. Switched tracks, I suppose? This train is so creaky and clunky. Just tried two toilets, no water of course. Oops, here's the ticket guy. This used to be Hungarian territory, why doesn't he speak Hungarian? I felt so clever in Hungary, but now I feel dumb, and a little scared. Not knowing the language is disempowering! So I downloaded a "basic Romanian" app; I better start studying right now! La revedere!

on the road again, finally

It's been a fairytale wonderful stay here in Debrecen, Hungary.  When I arrived in Hungary, after only one day crossing Europe from Germany, I settled quickly in the Baha'i Centre in Debrecen.  I unloaded all my stuff, moved in, and got all cozy here. It has been my home base for exactly 90 days.  From here I've been on a few adventures within Hungary, but nothing over a few days long.

finally all packed up, almost

As my blog has described, through about 70 posts so far, I've had an incredibly rich experience here.  I've made an unbelievable number of friends, and really now feel that this town is my home.  I'm very, very sad to leave, but excited to adventure east.  It hasn't sunk in yet, but I imagine it will as I cross the border into Romania soon.

Tomorrow, since my visa expires, I must exit the European Union.  Also, my ultimate plan is to meet Dharlene in Istanbul in one week.  So in the morning I catch a train to Oradea, Romania.  I've been couch-surfing, which is an excellent travelers resource, "changing the world one couch at a time!"

Couch Surfing website

So I have couches lined up where I can crash all across eastern Europe.  Here's a brief itinerary:

*Oradea, Romania

*Cluj, Romania

*Sinaia, Romania (where I'll see Queen Marie's castle, who was a Baha'i!  This is apparently the most beautiful castle in Romania, and some say in all of Europe.  It's way up high in the Carpathian mountains, so may be a bit difficult to get to!)

*Bucharest, Romania

*Sofia, Bulgaria (where I'll visit Marion Jack's grave; I'm very excited about this!  The Baha'i World News Service has an interesting story about this spot: Baha'i group pays homage to a heroine.  Thanks to Charlotte Dubec for this excellent idea!)

*Edirne, Turkey (where I'll visit a Baha'i shrine: a house where Baha'u'llah stayed during one of His many exiles.)

*Istanbul, Turkey (where I'll finally meet up with Dharlene at long last!)

So I've got a week to get to Istanbul, with some long train rides along the way.  This'll probably be my first Christmas spent entirely in a train, from Bucharest to Sofia.

After a nice 2nd or 3rd or 4th honeymoon in Istanbul, Dharlene and I will continue to Egypt and then ultimately to the Haifa, Israel which is the spiritual and administrative centre of the Baha'i Faith.  It would be impossible for me to adequately describe my joy to be approaching this resplendent Spot, which contains the sacred Remains of Baha'u'llah, the founder of the Baha'i Faith.

It's very late now, and I have a big day tomorrow; so I better wrap up.  I expect internet access to be very limited, and opportunities to upload photos rare.  But I will try to keep you all posted as much as possible.  Viszontlatasra!

Baha'i activities (part III): Study Circles!

One of the community building activities that I've been trying to participate in, and trying to help establish is the "study circle".  Basically, these are circles of study, open to all, that enable people of varied backgrounds to advance on equal footing and explore the application of teachings to their individual and collective lives.  Baha'is have developed a sequence of courses that help us along various paths of service.  The first book is called "Reflections on the Life of the Spirit."

Below is the first study circle I joined in Hungary.  It was conducted in English, Persian, and a little Hungarian!  That's me, Kitti, Mina, Mahtab, and Mansoureh.  I think we were discussing how backbiting quenches the light of the heart.

At Mansoureh's apartment, I'm participating in a study circle.

And what activity at Mansoureh's doesn't end with dancing?

Here's a study circle I started at the Baha'i Centre (in my bedroom essentially!)  I'd like to thank (from left going clockwise) Ancsa, Veronika, Bence, Ildiko, Zoli, (and Tamas and Dan, not in photo) for all the beautiful, fulfilling, and soul-searching discussions.  Good luck as you continue this study circle without me!

We're discussing how the betterment of the world can be accomplished through good deeds.

A Christmas wonderland

Debrecen by night, in winter, is a wonderful sight to behold.

It's even that much more spectacular now that we have a little snow on the ground!  No photos of that yet though...

But I have to admit that it's cold!  Colder than I expected.  And every time I grab an extra scarf or shudder from the cold, a Hungarian always seems to say "come on!  you're from Canada!"  True, but today it's about 6 degrees colder in Debrecen than in Kitchener!  Ya, -9 C today, and only -3 C in Kitchener.  But that's unusual; I've been watching. Plus it's warming up next week.

And it's a good thing it's warming up.  I'm off on an adventure in a couple days, on Monday, to cross Romania, Bulgaria, and Turkey in 7 days by train with lots of stops.  So I may not have great internet access and I apologize now for infrequent posts; but I'll do my best!  Anyway, I'm determined to catch up a bit more before I leave.

Baha'i activities (part II): Feast in Budapest & the NSA

Every 19 days the Baha'is have a "Feast".  That doesn't mean that we eat a lot of food, but that may also happen.  We do this because the Baha'i calendar has 19 days each month and 19 months per year.  For more on the Baha'i calendar, or to see a pretty representation of it go to: The Baha'i Calendar

I usually forget to bring my camera to Baha'i Feast, but I have a few things to show nonetheless.  There have been 4 Feasts since I've been in Hungary.  For one of them, I was at the Baha'i Centre in Budapest.

a group of Baha'is still hanging around after Feast in Budapest

Inside this Baha'i Centre the National Spiritual Assembly of the Baha'is of Hungary also meet.  I really thought I felt the spiritual power of that institution lingering in the room!

a place where the NSA of Hungary consults

Speaking of the National Spiritual Assembly of Hungary: they came to Debrecen to visit the friends there and  meet with them.  I realize I'm on a bit of a tangent here, but let's run with it.

the meeting of the NSA of Hungary with the friends from Debrecen

This was a beautiful social event filled with great food and great conversations.  Later in the day the NSA members wanted to visit the grave of a previous pioneer who passed away here in Debrecen: Mrs. Afnan.  I mentioned her before.  It's in her old flat that I'm staying, which is now the Baha'i Centre in Debrecen.

gathering around Mrs. Afnan's grave

I was thrilled to tag along.  After taking the above picture we offered a few prayers for the progress of her soul.  It was very powerful for me to be with members of the NSA of Hungary, praying in a cemetery over the grave a powerhouse of a pioneer, Mrs. Afnan.

a "wild" train ride

"The hours grow shorter as the days go by."

But I did have the chance to stop and open my eyes. On my well traveled route from Debrecen to Vecsés by train, I'm asking myself how this adventure can possibly get any more like a fairytale. A strange winter mist is hanging over the Hungarian plains as the sun glows low and red between clouds, struggling through the mist to reach the frozen fields.

Small groups of dwarf deer laze around as if conscious that no natural predators remain. Oversized rabbits flee the racket of the train.  Stout raptors pose statuesque, keeping watch with feathers ruffled against the cold. I've always considered this intercity train expensive at $20 for the two hour ride. But how much would I pay to see the silhouette of a lone fox with a huge bushy tail, leap up and dive into the snow after a rodent?

Then, with my mouth still agape, I watch a pheasant with two dangling tail feathers that must be almost a metre long, swoop down to land in the snow outside my train window.

With some remnant of homesickness for my older home, I listen to the Bare Naked Ladies as I type this blog on my iPod. With only a few days left in Hungary, my adventure will soon enter a new era.

"Try to see the world beyond your front door..."

In a few days I'm off to Romania, then Bulgaria, then Turkey where I meet up with Dharlene at long last. Then together we adventure into the middle east.

an original poem I wrote on the bus from the Balaton to Budapest

Rest, fox  by Sheldon Valeda

Rest, fox.
A vision of you flashed by, resting finally, somehow still graceful
on unlikely grey ground, your Hungarian home,
your auburn hair still resplendent may fall like the oak leaves behind you.
Oblivious now to myriad parasites.
Halted sting of hunger. Halted quest for habitat.

Forgotten your misunderstood ancestors, stalked for sport.
Forgotten the unnerving cries and roars of crowded cousins
both shrill and deep, mutated,
snouts psychotically stretched to blindness.

On German ground in spring you woke me from nightmare
on moonless late eve you howled not,
but growled, struggling to drag me
on dewy grass into black forest,
my foot clamped softly through sleeping bag.
Unconvinced of consciousness, still connected,
we shared an absurd moment, before I sat up and gasped,
severing our physical bond.
You lept back, but less than a metre, and we stared,
exhilarated, eyes blazing both.

Would that I could drag you into the thin forest this autumn.
Me not growling nor howling, but whimpering.
No, my bus only flashed past, oblivious too.
No eyes blazing, neither.
Just mine staring inside after your message.

Rest, fox.

Baha'i activities (part I): a reflection gathering

Although I'm having a great time in Hungary, it's about time that I share some photos and thoughts about the true reason that I'm here: to assist the Baha'i community in Debrecen.  What is the Baha'i community of Debrecen trying to do, such that it needs assistance, you may ask?  All over the world, Baha'is are involved in "a process that seeks to raise capacity withing a population to take charge of its own spiritual, social and intellectual development."  If you haven't seen it already, it may be worth going back to a post called "community building" which gives a bit of background on the types of activities Baha'is try to help initiate towards these lofty goals.

Unfortunately, I often forget to take photographs when I'm at Baha'i events.  But I do have a few.  Let's start with a reflection gathering that happened a couple weeks ago here in the Debrecen Baha'i Centre where I'm staying.  This type of meeting happens usually every three months.  As the name implies, we gather together and reflect on the activities in the area and try to determine our immediate steps forward.

me and some of my Baha'i friends at our reflection meeting

At this type of meeting we usually share stories, reflect on experiences, and consult about future activities.  This time, we also studied some guidance from the Universal House of Justice, which is the supreme Institution for the Baha'is.   (Click here for more info about the Universal House of Justice.)
It was exciting for us to have Baha'is visiting from another part of the country, to help us with our study and to help put things into perspective in the whole country.  Most of the meeting was bilingual for the visitors like me.

more friends at the same meeting

We heard an exciting announcement at this meeting: Dan and Jeane, two pioneers from the States, held up their passports and displayed their new three year visas!  I'm only staying for three months, but these two are here for the long haul!

an exciting announcement

Congratulations Dan and Jeane!

Halloween

Okay, this post is obviously way overdue.  I don't think I have much to say, but there are some pictures to share.  In Hungary they don't do Halloween.  I did see some of the younger generation dressed up for parties, but only a few. Instead, they have the much more serious Day of the Dead, which I've documented extensively already.  But the American Corner here wanted to bring some essence of Halloween to Debrecen.  I'll let you decide if they captured it successfully, judging as best as you can from my photos and some I borrowed from the American Corner facebook page.

the beautiful hall

the judges

one team of my friends: Bori, Kitti (best original costume: Anne Hall), Meghan, and Anna

unconventional tools, very gruesome!

the doctors (they won best team costume!)

more friends: Veronika and Ancsa

the final contestants

one of the top prize winners

yay, Ancsa and Veronika won a prize! (No favoritism, let's hope...)

the whole group!

For more images feel free to visit the American Corner facebook Halloween album at:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=320554&id=38289193271

There isn't much for me to say about this event.  It was well done, and a lot of fun.  The responsibility as a judge was actually a bit heavy for me, but I survived.  There were lots of categories and plenty of prizes, so I didn't get any death threats for accusations of favoritism, although some of friends must have been wondering...

wildlife (part II)

A few posts ago you may have read my first entry about wildlife.  Well, I've seen a few things since, and want to include them for you here:

Now this first shot is a bit of a stretch, in terms of wildlife.  But I needed to put this photo somewhere because I think it shows the striking clash of the two worlds in Vecses, and perhaps in much of Hungary.  The beautiful, reliable old-school horse and wagon being overtaken by the modern auto.  It may interest some non-Hungarian readers that one of the few words in English that came from Hungarian is "coach" from the word "kocsi" (co-chee) which is a carriage, produced and exported from Hungary a very long time ago. Apparently they were sent as presents to royalty around Europe.  In Hungarian it's now also another word for car.  The pink house is my grandma's niece's place, where my grandma is currently staying.

classic Vecses scene

Let's get the iffy wildlife over with first.  Here is a pet rabbit at another relative's place.  Darn, I forget its name and gender.  Anyway, they were trying to prove to me that it has eyes.  (By the way, did you know that you can click on images to expand them?  Try it and see the one eye!  No doubt there's another eye on the other side.)

Csaba, Szilvia, & one-eyed rabbit

And I know pigeons are a bit of a stretch too, but I was mildly excited to see a pigeon coop in Vecses. (Hungarians: I know the second "e" in Vecses should have an accent, but I don't have a Hungarian keyboard  so it's just too hard to get it in.  I don't think this will devastate the Vecses tourism industry!  Everyone else: it's pronounced vech-eysh.)

Vecsesi pigeon coop

Vecsesi pigeons from that coop

I was excited to hear and then see a woodpecker in the front yard in Vecses!  I had to hang out the kitchen window to capture it.  This is only one out of about 30 awful photos of it:

woodpecker

young pigeons on my balcony, moments before a forced fledge

In case anyone was curious about the baby pigeons on my balcony in Debrecen, the good news is that they fledged from their nest recently!  The bad news is that I opened the door to get a better photo of them and really startled them, causing what I think was an early first flight, forcing them to flap desperately for the roof across the street!  Sorry little guys.  Don't you realize I'm the one who put those crumbs on the balcony for you?





Here's a billboard we stumbled upon in the "DEBRECEN GREAT FOREST" as the title says.  The next phrase has something to do with natural blah blah.  Hungarians, please feel free and encouraged, to comment with translations and corrections!

great forest nature billboard

I went to Veszprem recently (accent on the second "e", so it sounds like ves-pray m.) Near Veszprem is the great lake Balaton, apparently the largest lake in Europe.  Poor Europe, which in its entirety probably fits inside our great lakes in Canada, which are just a few of hundreds of giant lakes. Regardless, the Balaton is plenty beautiful and I had perfect weather there for scampering in the icy water and strolling and reminiscing. (Many years ago I lived for one year in Balatonalmadi where I taught Physics for the first time; yes, in English.)

water fowl in the Balaton

As you can imagine, by November the Balaton is very chilly.  It beckoned me into it, but I didn't bring a bathing suit (which hasn't stopped me in the past!) and I had the feeling that if I went all the way in, I wouldn't be able to get out and they would discover my popsicle body frozen in an awkward embarrassing half diving pose. Instead I just waded in a bit, the icy water burning my feet such that I could only stay a minute or two, then jump out and shake them and say "ooouuu ouuu ooou" really loud or if a Hungarian was passing I'd switch to the more understandable "huuuuu haaa, huuuu ha, huu ha!"

clams in the Balaton

I can't claim the fame of discovering this little gem in cedar shrub; a couple were on their knees taking macro photos of a shrub, so I had to see what was up.  There was a similar snake in the shrub on the left.

I have no idea what kind of snake this is; but it's pretty!

another nature billboard, this one at lake Balaton

On my way back on a bus, I spotted a pretty fox, laid out lengthwise on the side of the road.  Since it was somehow still graceful there, I thought, only for an instant, that it was sleeping; but it was obviously road-kill. It brought me back in my mind to an encounter I had with a fox in Germany: I was sleeping in a sleeping bag on the lawn under the stars beside a castle in Heidelberg when I was suddenly awoken by the feeling of being dragged by my feet.  Well, just one foot.  When I gained full consciousness, but couldn't believe that I had, I saw a fox and realized he was clamped onto my foot through the sleeping bag, painlessly.  And he was struggling to drag me into the black forest.  I know it wasn't a dream.  I made a pathetic cry aloud, in shock and he jumped back, still facing me, staring me down for a few moments.  I reached for my bag with my camera in it and he scampered off into the forest. I got a dark blurry picture in which can be seen a distant, tiny, faint rusty blur.

Seeing this dead fox on the side of the road in Hungary and reminiscing about my past encounter in Germany inspired me to write a poem during my bus ride back to Budapest.  I'm too insecure to include it here.  It might be a masterpiece, but more than likely it's crap. It's only the second poem I've written (as far as I can recall) and this is the only one I actually like.

Back in Debrecen one evening I had what was to me a mystical experience with an animal.  I was strolling downtown in the pedestrian square and heard the beeping of a bank machine as I passed someone doing a transaction.  Then I detected another layer of sound on top of that, something strikingly beautiful.  I circled around, perhaps a bit too close to the guy making his withdrawal, and saw him nervously look over his shoulder a couple times.  Finally I located the source of the sound: a smallish black bird in a small tree above me.  I could be wrong, but it seemed to be communicating with the bank machine beeps.  The guy scurried off with his cash and the machine fell silent, and so did the bird.  I whistled something short and random, and the bird seemed to immediately reply with a tune slightly more complex.  I tried to match it.  The bird added some impossibly complex gurgles and lengthened our duet.  This repeated three times, us taking turns, until the bird perhaps became bored and blew me away with a one minute symphony that I could never believe a single bird could achieve, if I didn't see it with my own eyes and hear it with my own ears!  Then it fell silent, its victory utterly obvious, and I strolled off, defeated by orders of magnitude, but delighted by the exchange.

In the last post about wildlife, I guessed that this black and grey bird was a magpie.  I've seen magpies in Australia but forgot that they are pitch black and snow white, not grey like these birds I see around here.  Thanks to Kitti for suggesting that it's a hooded crow, common in eastern Europe.  I double-checked and she's right.  Since then I saw a lot of magpies in the cemetery in Budapest after the Day of the Dead, no doubt rummaging around and finding lots of shiny objects to steal such as the lids to the contained candles.  They're clever and shy and so I never got close enough for a clear photo.

But these hooded crows are clever too!  At the same cemetery I kept hearing a loud, hollow clunk every couple minutes.  I followed the sound and found a hooded crow pecking at something on a marble patio in front of a tall structure in the centre of the cemetery. I saw that it looked like a walnut.  From a distance I watched the crow pick it up, fly to the top of the building, and drop it onto the marble slab below with a loud clunk.  Then he would fly down and see if it split sufficiently to get the contents out.  I approached to get a photo but it got spooked and flew off.  I felt bad because the cracked walnut was left behind.  Although I was hungry, no, I didn't eat it.

Here's the guy again who caught the pike.  In the close-up you can see that he's even more shocked than I was to see what looks exactly like a northern pike in Hungary.  It could be a musky but without the stripes or spots it's hard to tell.

It begs so many questions: how did he catch it? Why is he fishing naked? Why is he in a cemetery?

Ya, I know, this is really morbid.  But it really fascinated me to see that a crow died and didn't even make it to the ground.  Sorry if it bothers some.  It's just part of the cycle of life.  There's a lot of mosquitoes here and back home this could be a sign of the West Nile virus (we're told to report sightings of dead birds, and I think especially crows for some reason.)  Now I wonder if the West Nile virus is in Hungary, and if so, if I'm the only one who has considered that!

But to be honest, considering the multitude of crows that I later saw, the chances of seeing a dead one must be fairly high.  Apparently hoards of crows collect in Hungary this time of year from all over eastern Europe.  I was waiting for a bus for a while, to take me back to town from the big cemetery in Debrecen, and noticed how scores of crows where passing overhead.  After a while I realized that I unconsciously viewed dozens of large groups go by and became conscious that it would add up to a lot of crows!  Just as the bus was finally arriving, I beheld a giant whirl-wind funnel of crows over the cemetery across the street.  My jaw dropped and I staggered across the road toward the cemetery, oblivious to the fact that my bus had at long last arrived.

Unfortunately, once again, by the time I got closer, regained my presence of mind, drew out my camera and turned it on, they began to disband and settle into the trees.  Notice all the trees behind the cemetery building in the photo below, weighed down with dozens of crows.

Breath-taking or creepy?  It seems superstitious to find it creepy.  I do admit that if I was directly under such a volume of birds, I might find the high probability of getting splattered with some messy fallout rather creepy, indeed.

Day of the Dead (part III): visiting my grandpa's grave

It is understandable if people begin to worry about me, dwelling at such length on this theme.  I can assure everyone that I'm in a very healthy mental state, and enjoying life to the fullest.  The dead, no doubt, can help us with that. There is just so much beauty and wonder to be found in these cemeteries; I'm excited to soon share some awe inspiring experiences with crows in a future post: wildlife part II! 

But for now I'm streaming a somafm station called "Doomed: dark music for tortured souls", just to get me into the mood!  I thought of saving such music for writing about my halloween post, but it wasn't spooky either, and my soul just remains inspired, rather than tortured. (Okay, they were just playing a John Carpenter track with a lot of horror film screaming, so I switched to "Lush", a mellow and sensuous station.)

So on the actual evening of Day of the Dead, I traveled to Vecses, where my grandmother is visiting from Canada and where my grandfather decided he should be buried, at great expense, although he passed away in Canada.  It doesn't make it easy for my grandmother to visit him, that's for sure.

Vecses' cemetery, just outside of Budapest

We arrived at twilight, my favourite time of day (and perhaps least favourite movie series.)  You can get a sense of the beautiful vista I beheld at that time, shown above.  Without a tripod or professional camera, these ultra-low light photos were quite challenging.

Entering the cemetery was quite the experience too.  One thing that I didn't capture in my photos is the enormous crowd that was there: hundreds of families dressed up but mostly in black, carrying candles and flowers and wreaths.  We approached in a car, me in the back, my grandmother in the front, and Marika, my cousin and my grandmother's niece, driving.  There was no parking anywhere.  We went, with much difficulty through the monstrous crowds, to the front gate where a police officer was shaking his head and waving his arms in a clear "no way!" signal.  Marika put down her window and pleaded with him, stating honestly that my grandmother can't walk much at all.  My astonishment just grew as we entered the cemetery in the little car, the crowd gradually parting around us.  It became clear to me that this was the only car inside the cemetery gates.  Crawling at a slow walking pace, our headlights lit up myriad faces, all wide eyes and frowns, as they scurried between gravestones to let us through.  Although I wouldn't know anyone there, I nevertheless felt the need to crouch down in the back seat and hide. 

Peeking out the window, the spectacle of ornamentation drew me into the mystery of this time of year once again.

We pulled over behind a big trash bin filled with flower stems, near my grandpa's resting place.  If you look carefully at the photo below, you can see Marika placing a candle on the grave, on its left side, and my grandmother is a dark figure on the far left.

my Grandfather's grave, Ujfalussy Laszlo

I had no idea what would happen here. Marika tidied up the grave, re-lit some candles, and replaced some that had wept all their wax away already.  I helped, and tried my best to capture the moment on film.  Then we stood.  And stared.  Stood and occasionally shook off a mild chill. No words.  When you don't know what to do, or what's happening, it can be quite awkward, which it was for me. After a while, stretched long by awkwardness, I timidly asked in Hungarian if I could say a prayer.  Unfortunately, I don't know any prayers in Hungarian by heart.  So I said the only Holy writing in Hungarian I have memorized, the first of Baha'u'llah's Hidden Words: 


"Ó szellem fia! Első tanácsom ez: legyen szíved tiszta, jóságos és sugárzó, hogy ősi uralmad soha el ne múljon és mindörökké tartson."


("O son of Spirit! My first counsel is this: possess a pure, kindly, and radiant heart, that thine may be a sovereignty ancient, imperishable, and everlasting.")


Immediately after I finished, they both said "az szép" (that's beautiful), so I felt pretty good about the strange choice, my only choice really.


Then we stood and stared some more.

Not until well afterward did I begin to consider what my grandmother may have been doing; and perhaps I should have given her more time alone there than the few moments when I stole away to sneak some photos.  When we came to this grave a couple weeks ago, during the day, it was the same type of standing and staring.  A quiet way of mourning, I later considered?  But I couldn't help but think it was more of a paralysis caused by an inability to express oneself, or due to a lack of healthy traditions around mourning.  I've seen Italian women wail and beat the ground.  It may seem incredibly awkward or inappropriate in our culture, but it must feel good to really let out your emotions that way.


I've since been speaking with friends here about visiting cemeteries.  Ancsa (sounds like on-chah) is a Hungarian elementary school teacher who shared with me that it brings her peace in her heart to visit her grandmother's grave.  Ancsa talks to her, and feels like her grandmother is with her there.  I found that very touching and realized that my grandmother may have been doing that, but obviously not out loud with us standing right there.

my Grandmother's sister: Maria, who we called Keresztmama

And then there is my Czech friend Veronika who told me that for her a cemetery is a place of peace and stillness, where it is completely normal to hang around and cry.  You certainly won't be judged or draw attention to yourself if you cry in a cemetery.  So she would go there in times of difficulty and do just that: cry freely.  

the compulsory self-portrait

I love feelings of melancholy, wonder, and awe; so I often seek out these feelings.  Cemeteries seem to help me that way.  I never considered talking to those there that are eternally physically still and quiet, yet spiritually dancing and singing.

some more relatives

The next time I'm in Vecses, I'll try to initiate a conversation with my grandfather and see what happens.  Of course, I don't believe we need physical proximity to their remains to do this, but it might inspire us, and besides, it seems like it might be tradition.

cremation towers?

The Day of the Dead was a while ago, and I apologize for the lapse in posts.  I caught a cold.  But I'm feeling better.  Yesterday I got out into the unseasonally beautiful 19 degrees for mid November.  Where did I go?  Well I planned to go to the great forest, which boarders the cemetery.  Once again, the cemetery drew me in.  I realized I'd never been to Debrecen's cemetery during daylight!

this guys seems to have caught a pike with his bare hands; not sure why he's at the cemetery...

more cremation towers? (in Debrecen)

Last weekend the Debrecen Baha'i community had the great honour of a visit from the National Spiritual Assembly of the Baha'is of Hungary.  They met with the Local Spiritual Assembly and with some of the friends here, and to my great pleasure, they met with me as well.  Also, I had the great bounty of going with them to the Debrecen cemetery to visit Mrs. Afnan's grave.  It's her previous residence where I'm staying.

Hungary's NSA and friends getting ready to pray at Mrs. Afnan's grave

Standing by her grave and praying with members of the National Spiritual Assembly was very, very powerful for me.

the vendors out front

road to the Debrecen cemetery