Thursday

I was in Eger today. Eger is an important city in Hungarian history and there is a famous castle there. I spent a few hours filming the castle. I wanted to make sure I covered all parts of the castle. I might have missed a few stones. Maybe. Maybe I was a little compulsive about it. I expect I will use about 30 seconds worth of footage for my film. Sometimes I just can't stop.

As I was walking down the street I heard the sound that only a band director can love: beginning music students. So I popped in to see what was going on. One thing led to another, and soon I was sitting in on a trumpet lesson. I exchanged e-mail with the brass teacher, and then the percussion teacher showed me around. He has a collection of old Hungarian instruments, so we had a nice talk.

I ate a very nice Hungarian lunch which included some of my favorite foods: fruit soup, and galuska.

I walked around filming Eger, getting lost, and met some kids who were fascinated with my camera and had a nice talk with their grandfather while they zoomed in and out on everything in sight.

While getting on the bus I make a little mistake. I put my bag in the luggage compartment under the bus.

The trip to Budapest was beautiful because of the evening light and I think I got some film of Matra mountain and the nuclear power plant.

I popped out of the bus thinking about how I would get home using the public transportation.

My mother used to say that she was glad my head was securely fastened to my body so I couldn't use it. After Andy was born they told me they thought I would be a good father to my children as long as I didn't lose them.

You know where this is going.

I forgot to get my bag from under the bus.

I didn't realize it until I had purchased a subway pass and was on my way. It hit me as if I were in the basement of the Twin Towers when they fell.

I prayed. Hard.

I headed back but the bus was long gone. People directed me to the "Service office." The door to the "Service office" read, "Entry forbidden" but the people nearby assured me I could go in.

I entered a small room about 6' X 8'. There was no light in the room at all, and at the other end was a grey-haired man with large glasses sitting behind a window. His room was dark too, except for a desk lamp.

As I appoached he was shouting at someone on the phone. He slammed it down with one hand and picked up a different phone with the other. After shouting into that one for the better part of a minute he slammed that one down. Then he directed his full atention on me and said, "Tess!" (What!) I should explain that in a semi-formal situation like a restaurant Hungarians say, "Tessek parancsolja" which translates as "May I help you?" Less formally they often shorten it to "Tessek." I have never heard "Tess!"

Well, if I had left something else on the bus I think I would have cut my losses and just left. But, remembering that all the film I shot for the film in Hajdubösörmeny were in my bag, I dared to speak.

I explained the situation, he hammered out a few strokes on the keyboard and told me the bus had already left back to Eger.

Somehow the dark room darkened.

I scooped my heart up from the floor and asked what I should do. He blurted, "I don't know."

For some reason I had expected help.

Since I didn't move, and he obviously had more people to shout at he wrote down a telephone number and sent me away.

If I could see into the future I would not have left the room. But, like a man who just ran over his own dog, I retreated from the "Service desk," carrying the feint glimmer of hope - 8 blue numbers on a small white scrap of paper.

I managed to find a phone booth, but 10 minutes worth of dialing proved fruitless.

I began to run through a mental inventory of my lost things putting them in two categories: replacable and irreplacable. The feint glimmer of hope was flickering. My backpack was heavy, but not nearly as heavy as my countenance. The phone booth became a boxing ring and I began pummeling myself with the gloves off. So Stupid. So irresponisble. So Careless. What was I thinking! When will I grow up! My work was interrupted by the sweat running down my back, and I stood there staring at the bottons on the phone. No bag. No help. No phone number. No hope.

As is often the case, at the end of the road, at the lowest point God sends help. There was a man standing outside the phone booth. God's "Service desk."

I asked about the phone number. The small white piece of paper was fine but there was a problem with the 8 blue numbers.

I esplained my situation. He closed hes phone shop and took me back to the "Service desk." He withstood the piercing glare behind the large glasses and we returned with a new number.

I didn't work. He suggested we try again in 15 minutes.

Then God sent his second helper. I called Zsofi. I confessed the self-induced catatrophy. At this point my bag was on it's way back to Eger and the bus was apparently in a communication black hole. I couldn't reach the driver or the Eger bus office.

Zsofi wondered if I knew anyone in Eger. Now the third God-sent hlep entered the story. This help God prepared a day ahed of time. Wednesday I met with Ilona and she told me Judit lives in Eger and gave me her number! I thanked God for Zsofi and her level head.

So I called Judit, the 4th helper. Yes, she said, she would gladly meet the bus carrying my bag in Eger and retrieve it for me. I would catch the next bus and follow my bag back to Eger.

I know, it wasn't an elegant plan but another two hour bus ride would be worth it if I could get my bag back.

Se there was a little hope for success. But I was pretty well convinced that someone had probably already stolen my bag and this trip was just following the air.

I had 10 minutes to catch the bext bus back to Eger. As I approached the bus I looked inside and saw the driver. It was the same gu who drove us from Eger! I looked in the luggage compartment and there was my bag!

The man in the "Service office" was wrong - the bus hadn't gone back to Eger - it was there the whole time!

I love stories with a happy ending.

tim

Black hole

Where should I start? The last time I wrote in reverse chronological order. It's late and I don't know how long I'll last, so this one will be in random time order.

I watched fireworks with almost the entire population of Hajdúböszömény during the "Children's Day" celebration. What a show! The best I have ever seen. Young and old we stood, faces lifted up and watched in wonder and delight - all of us children. Afterwards the glow in the sky was transferred to our hearts, and everyone lingered a while, beautifully. I thought about the coming day when we, with faces lifted up, will look in wonder and delight at the Light of the World.

I had not heard or spoken a word of English for three days until I arrived here at Lia and Zoli's house late this evening. I have stared back at people like a deer in the headlights trying to understand what they said to me. I keep having to fight the urge to say, "Honestly, I'm not stupid, I just can't hear fast enough."

Sometimes I try to fake it and then the other person will say, "You didn't understand, did you?" Sometimes we both get tired of trying and both of us pretend I understood.

But, everyone seems to find it amusing to watch me murder their language and we have laughed a lot, and, in the end, we usually communicate.

I spent the day at the music school with Bencé and Ádám. They have normal classes in the morning and music in the afternoon. I attended Math, English, History (twice), and music composition. All the students are very, very nice and act pretty much like any other teenager I have met. The teachers were nice too, and I could film during class.

For lunch today I had three pieces of bread and a pepsi. That's down a notch from the piece of bread with a slice of meat in it I ate in Paris. Actually, I very much enjoyed the French lunch, and the three pieces of bread today were zsemle - the best bread on the planet. But, Katy, it makes a better story the other way, no?

I'm pretty sure I have recorded some good interviews. I don't really know, because I can't really understand Hungarian. The parts I understood were good, and the people looked convincing.... I know what you are thinking, "Tim, Tim, Tim, how do you get yourself in these situations?

There is a Hungarian guy I took a film class with. Maybe I can buy him dinner and he will interpret the interviews for me.

Tomorrow there will be an informal concert at Ádám's house with lots of family members. They organized it for my benefit. It should be interesting. I didn't really understand all the plans, but it's possible I might be playing something too, after I film a bit.

Sunday I had church with the Kovacs'. They asked me to choose the songs and lead the singing from the piano. It was great, like old times. Then we sat out under the tree and had the message. Afterwards was the feast. If you have eaten at Erzsebet's house you will be jealous.

Sunday was children's day in Hungary. There was a huge festival with people selling things, and bands playing, a carnival, parachute jumpers. Everybody in town was there. Later we watched the video of Edina and Scott's wedding, and looked at pictures on Susan's website.

I am in Debrecen at Lia and Zoli's house. It was great to see them again. I arrived too late to meet their new son Áron, so I have to wait until tomorrow.

Some of you know I hope to make a second film here, telling the story of an amazing group of young Hungarians who came to faith as the result of a short-term mission, and are currently, or have been in full time service for the Lord. Lia will be the first of these. If you are following this blog currently, and are a praying person, pray that I can accurately capture the impact she has made here in Eastern Hungary. (She speaks better English than I do, so one hurdle is already crossed....)

I have no idea what time it is, surely it must be late. So that's it for now.

tim

(warning: this entry is in reverse chronological order)

Saturday night, May 19

I'm writing this from Eastern Hungary. I am filming a documentary about two young pianists, students I met a few years ago. I met with them and their families. Both of the moms insisted on feeding me, a lot. So I ate two lunches and two dinners. Two big lunches and two big dinners.

No one I was with today spoke any English, only very fast Hungarian. I spoke a lot of very bad Hungarian and listened slowly. It was a very interesting day, my brain is tired.

But, I have never met two nicer families! They have organized a party at which several family members will play and sing some original music and some Hungarian music too.

When traveling sometimes the smallest things take a long time.

For example, yesterday I had a simple task- phone ahead to tell my friends which train I would be taking from Budapest. What does it take to make a phone call? In this case 40 minutes, three phones (2 public, 1 borrowed from a stranger), a quarter mile run t0 catch the train, advice from three different strangers, and a boat-load of worry. I never did complete the call. As the train left Budapest I managed a call (dialed by another stranger) to a different friend from the to ask them to call my original target. Smooth, no?

I went to bed a little late and dreamt a long series of Hungarian conversations which I couldn't finish and didn't understand. It was a foreshadow.

I woke up around 3:00 AM and couldn't return to my dreams because my body can't believe that the time is different. At 4:3ö I got up and went running. After that I could sleep a little. I was awake for 36 hours straight during the trip here so I can use the sleep.

I have also connected with some dear old friends (they don't speak English either) and had a great time catching up and talking about old times.

I was late arriving in Budapest because the plane was delayed from Paris, so John and Zsofi had to wait over two hours in the airport. (I tried to call ahead from Paris but I lost that payphone battle too, in spite of help from two people and a borrowed telephone card.)

I paid 8 bucks for a hunk of bread with a slice of meat in it while waiting in the Paris airport, but I ate it with a nice couple from Ireland which made it worth the money. He turned out to be a professional bass player so we talked bass and Irish music for an hour. He gave me the name of a traditional band in Ireland and offered to help hook me up with some musicians there.

Before that I had lunch with Katy in Paris. (This was another hunk of bread with a slice of meet in it.) Actually we spent most of the the day traveling from one airport to the other. It was nice to see Paris. It was great to see Katy.

OK, more later.