Mike in Hungary

I know that this is really long, and I have already sent it to my family, but this is the reason that we have not posted in a long time. I did not want any bad guys to know that I was alone, while my husband was traveling the globe and abandoning his family.. Just kidding, we did not feel abandoned. Anyways we will post more soon.. And our camera was fixed and on it's way back hurray.

We arrived in Budapest at about 4am (South Bend time) and 10am Hungarian time time. Needless to say, it felt like a long day post-call. Because we had a 6 hour layover before our train left for our final destination, we decided to do a little sightseeing in downtown Budapest. Boy, was it hot and muggy! We found the train station and were able to check in our luggage while we ventured through Budapest .

We made our way back to the train station, and waited for what I thought was our final train. A huge board hung from the ceiling listing the many different trains coming and going. It was more than a little confusing, especially being in a foreign language. We were clueless and lost. And then, we found the Elders. Dr. Lavallee spotted a couple Mormon missionaries amongst the crowd, and they helped us interpret the massive train board. I love Elders! We were concerned that maybe we had missed our train, because we couldn't find it anywhere on the board or in the station. But, the print was miniscule and the train was a ½ hour late. Unsure of the accommodations on the train, I decided to make a quick trip to the bathroom in the train station prior to boarding. It was the first bowel movement in my entire life that I've ever had to pay for. $2.50 to poop. Can you believe it? And, to make matters worse, there was no toilet paper or resemblance of a role in the stall! Where's the money going? Before I became too intense about my "business", I searched the bathroom and finally spotted some razor blade TP conveniently located near the sinks. Mmmm. Maybe that's the reason Europeans don't smell so fresh.

The train to our first stop, Miskolc was 2 ½ hours. It was an old train, probably built in the communist era and World War II. Our train ran late and we missed our final connecting train to Kazincbarcika. The next train left in 6 more hours (about 4am Hungarian time). Talk about planes, trains and automobiles. With the help of some local policemen (who spoke no English and were booking a prostitute), we flagged down a taxi and made the ½ hour drive from Miskolc to Kazincbarcsika. We finally arrived at our destination hotel after a total of 30 hours of travel. Needless to say, I slept well that night, even though it was hotter than Haties and we had only a few hours before we had to arrive at the weightlifting event.

Kazincbarsika is a beautiful, small town of about 30,000 people. It lies in Northeastern Hungary, about 20 miles from the Slovakian border. Rolling, green hills flank the town on two sides. Most people live in tall, grey concrete apartment buildings.


The weightlifting competition was held at an old Hungarian weightlifting complex. Like most of Eastern Europe, it was made probably 50-75 years ago and made mostly of stone and metal. It had a very uninviting, unimpressive feel, but at least it trapped all the heat, humidity and body odor in well! The building did not have air conditioning, and only a few windows in the gym could be opened. And no fans. There was absolutely no air movement. We found a little corner of the gym, adjacent to the weightlifting platform/stage where we were able to set up camp. We were able to watch the athletes during their lifts and treat patients in our medical area at the same time. No medical supplies were provided by the host country or weightlifting federation, contrary to previous agreements. The only medical supplies we had were what we hauled half way across the world in two team physician game boxes. That was probably more supplies than the local hospital.

Being an international "Masters" event, athletes came from across the globe, ranging in ages 35 to 83 years old. Some athletes are current and former Olympians. The older lifters and women were the first athletes to lift. And, man, it was hotter than Haties! I think my body dripped with sweat all day, and I'm sure I smelled nice and ripe. I fit right in with Europeans…and the Iranian team.

I went running this morning run around the town. I thought it'd give me a chance to check out the local scene and neighborhoods and get a better feel for the area. Instead, I found a bird's nest about 5 feet in diameter (home to a stork) and got lots of weird looks from everyone in sight - a construction crew, every passing vehicle and even old men riding bikes with baskets in the front. I guess formal cardiovascular exercise hasn't really caught on in this small Hungarian town yet.

Many things I've grown to appreciate and enjoy about the local culture. But the toilet paper is not one of them. I swear it's 50 grit sandpaper. I'm sure it would sand the front wood entrance of our home better than our current supply of sandpaper. I'm sure it doesn't help the chaffing! One of the first things I'm going to do in the states is buy a Costco sized package of Charmin, triple ply.
I had the rare opportunity (or curse) to be very close to a sweaty, hairy Iranian weightlifter. After evaluating his various aches and pains, he shared his gratitude the best way he knew how. He planted a wet, juicy smooch on each cheek. Dr. Lavalle called it a moment of man passion, but I call it assault. I scrubbed my face for 10 minutes. I don't think I'll ever be the same again. Maybe I'm the reason the Iranian team has visited them medical corner more than any other team….?

We had dinner with some members of the USA women's team. As Tony and I completed our fine Hungarian course, we packed our things are prepared to walk home. (I'm sure I enjoyed a glass of Hungary's carbonated water with my meal). One of the lesbian weightlifters kindly offered to escort Tony and I home to protect us from the local riffraff. Is that one of the biggest insults to a man's ego? That's when you know you either need to pump some iron or hang things up – when a single women's confident she can protect two men better than themselves. My male ego has really taken a hit this week. First a kiss from a sweaty Iranian and now this. We politely declined the offer.