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.