(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.