Lyndie in Budapest: A Glorious Awakening

“The sun just rose, a great golden orb over Fisherman’s Bastion,” Lyndie said over the phone. “The castle is literally outside my window. It’s only 15 steps away! I could climb to the top.”

I advised her not to try this, having seen how fatigued she became after the long hike from the parking lot to the concourse at Denver airport before departure. (I regretted not dropping her off to wait on a bench by the departures doors while I parked the car.)

Now she was in Budapest, speaking from her hotel at 6:00 this morning (her time). I was calling on my cellphone from Wyoming, just past my bedtime last night, at 25₵ a minute.

“How was your trip back from Denver?” she asked.

“Let’s talk about that when you get back,” I said. “How was your flight?”

Although we had left plenty of time before her departure from the Denver airport, I was annoyed by the traffic jams. But Lyndie was philosophical as I drove. She talked about the protests that have been going on for months in Serbia over government corruption. She mused about the thousands of people living in the Denver-area subdivisions, each one with a life story of their own. She expressed the hope that this blog will help people to become more interested in what is happening in Eastern Europe, because what happens there affects our lives, too.

I called last night just to make sure she had arrived safely. Trying to set up an international calling plan or download What’s App, I learned at the last minute that she doesn’t know any passwords because someone else has always helped her with that kind of technology. So there is no easy way to connect with her directly.

Fortunately a Viking River Cruises representative was willing to give me the phone number of her hotel and her cruise boat, so I was able to reach her last night. I was relieved to hear her safe and sound, and clearly herself again.

In the weeks before departure, she had been worried that during her trip to Budapest she would encounter hostility, being an American, given everything that has happened since the election.

“Everyone else will be just as concerned with getting where they are going,” I reassured her. “People in airports hurry from gate to gate and then look at their cellphones. They stop at kiosks to get snacks and water bottles. They don’t generally talk to strangers. And besides, who would accost an older woman in a wheelchair? You’ll be fine.”

In the crowded airport concourse, I had seen her frowning while she waited with her suitcase as I went to an information desk to inquire about the location of the United ticket counter, so she didn’t have to walk any farther than necessary. Although she kept telling me that she felt fine, she was clearly overwhelmed.

But by the time she had her boarding passes, had met her friendly passenger assistance transport person (Tyler from Thailand) and was seated in the wheelchair, she was not just “fine,” but jubilant.

She asked Tyler the usual questions: Where was he from? Was his family here or back there? How many steps did he log every day during work? What kind of food did he miss from home? (None, not surprisingly, given the abundance of Thai restaurants in the Denver area.) Before we knew it, she was being ushered into security and I had to leave her.

“I’m not an outcomes person,” she had said while I drove. “I’m a process person. I don’t think so much about where I’m going as I do about how I’m getting there.”

But I suppose I’m an outcomes person, so already on the phone I was curious about the travel experience so far.

“Everything has been amazing,” she said. “I have felt so warmed, blessed, filled with encounters – with Germans, Serbians, Indonesians, Ethopians, so many more.”

Typical for Lyndie, she was concerned about my concern. “I love you,” she said just before we rang off. “You haven’t seen the last of me!”

If you’d like, from this point you can join Lyndie vicariously here, by viewing images and memories from my own experiences on that same cruise two years ago.

After she returns, as soon as possible, the journal she kept while experiencing the voyage will be the final entry on this blog.

If you have just come to the journey at this point, please start the chronicle from the beginning to learn the rest of her fascinating story. 

Lyndie sacrificed the experience of a previous journey on the Danube, for which she spent most of her life savings, to help a blind companion who had fallen ill. You can read more about this in Chapter 3.

Friends and strangers have raised nearly $3000 to help Lyndie (re)live her ruined dream of a trip to Eastern Europe. We are still working to restore her depleted savings. To learn more and (if you can) contribute any amount, please click here.