Budapest and Prague: pro/epilogue

I went into work on Friday--having returned stateside on Thursday afternoon--because I had to, for an external meeting. A coworker told me, hoping (correctly) that I wouldn’t be offended, that I looked like $hit. It was only natural; the trip kicked my ass. It was as exhausting as it was awesome. The number of stressful glitches were disproportionate to the trip's duration of not quite two weeks, but so was the number of miracles and other pleasant surprises. I wouldn’t change a thing.

The very first glitches came when my anticipated travel companions backed out (mom for health reasons, dad because he didn’t want to leave her alone, F. because we broke up). With each drop-out came, but also logistical complications, as I’d planned (and booked) the trip with their company in mind. You’ve read about my travels with my parents, so the "relief" part requires no elaboration; the "complications" part arose from having planned to take the night train from Budapest, the three of us sharing a couchette, to arrive in Prague the morning of the wedding. When my parents bailed on the trip, I bailed on the night train idea; I didn’t want to pay for a three-person couchette for myself, and I didn’t feel safe sharing one with random people, so I opted instead for an early-morning train that would get me to Prague just after noon the day of the wedding. I was cutting it close, but I wanted my two full days in Budapest, and (transnational) European trains are generally on time. F. was to get into Prague around the same time, and we’d head to the apartment we’d booked to clean up and then immediately to the wedding. When he dropped from the picture, Nina put me in touch with three friends of hers who were looking for an apartment for a few days—they’d get in Thursday (the day before I did) and leave on Monday morning—and suggested that I head straight to her place. The wedding would be in her garden. 

Before the trip, the new logistics were sorted and I managed to not really stress about the trip. I was too busy beforehand to give the it much thought, and I took the weekend before I left on Monday essentially practicing for the following weekend, i.e. drinking and partying. I was a little worried about a few things here and there, but had released them to the universe, if you will. At one of the pre-trip parties, I said something to a friend about not having packed yet. In response, she brought up a few things that hadn’t crossed my mind:

Friend: You haven’t met the people you'll be sharing the apartment with?

A.: No.

Friend: That doesn’t concern you at all?

A.: [Shrug.] They’re good friends of Nina’s. Besides, it’s just for a few days. I’ve shared rooms in youth hostels with total strangers for longer.

Friend: I know it might make you a little sad that the trip won’t be as planned, but it’s for the better.

A.: Oh, I know. It hit a few times as I looked over the directions Nina sent. I couldn’t help but think, “oh, yeah—he and I had planned on making our way there together. Oh, yeah, I remember that part of Prague from the last time I was there, he would have loved that bridge/view/neighborhood.” But then I realized I have no concept of what he would and wouldn’t have loved. He probably wouldn’t have given a $hit about any of it. The person I’d planned that trip with isn’t the person that he turned out to be. So yeah, I do think about how this trip, this wedding, will be a very different experience than I thought it would be a couple of months ago.

Friend: Oh, it’ll be okay to go stag.

A.: Oh, that hadn’t crossed my mind. I don’t care about that at all. I just meant that, it's been a mental adjustment.

Friend: It’s good that you’re still going. A lot of people would have canceled.

A.: Really? I was always going to go, hell or high water; it’s Nina’s wedding. Besides, you can have me shot if I ever turn down travel over a guy. Any guy. Actually, don’t have me shot—make my pathetic ass suffer. Find a painful way to put me out of my patheticness, if you ever see me back out of a trip because of a guy.

Friend: I mean, some people wouldn’t travel on their own.

A.: It’s true. I understand, in that I prefer to travel with other people—I’ve traveled alone and I’ve traveled with people, and it’s more fun with people—but I’d still rather go than not go.

My friend had more of a point than I’d realized. I meant what I said—drag me over some hot coals if I turn down a travel opportunity because some guy bailed on me—but I was a little anxious about feeling lonely for those few days before Prague. That had little to do with the absence of F.—he’d never planned on going to Budapest—but I’m human, so the breakup did affect me and what helped get me through those rough first weeks was that my friends really rallied. Also, it’s summer and people were having parties. Leaving for this trip entailed leaving a friendship-rich environment for a few days of navel-gazing (before rejoining another friendship-rich environment). I’m not normally one to turn down a few days of alone time—you may recall my balking at RM’s persistent concerns that I’d get lonely without him—but at the pre-trip moment, I wasn’t feeling the alone time. I admitted to myself that I didn’t feel like being alone, that alone was okay, but that I wanted this whole trip to be full of companionship. I thought of “The Easy Way,” Dar Williams’ great song partly inspired by an old break-up. There was one line in particular that rung true recently: “So here's what I took, I kept the wine and laughter.” But with the looming aloneness, the three lines that followed came to resonate as well:

So here's what I took:

I kept the wine and laughter

Until every path just grew up and ever after

Through the peaks and twisty canyons

I made many great companions

So it was that Monday, as I lined up for the bus to Dulles, the loneliness—or anticipation of loneliness—hit me. I hadn’t had time to feel it earlier that day; I’d gone to work (because I had to, but was able to leave on the earlier side because a friend graciously offered to finish what I’d come in to work on (working over the weekend wasn’t an issue; the delay was on the side of the people who didn’t get us stuff soon enough. But I digress)). I went home, cleaned, caulked the bathtub (yes, I had to do it then—I wanted the ten days for it to dry), finished packing, showed my wonderful neighbor how to give Gracie her pills, took a deep breath, and headed toward the metro and then the bus. I boarded the bus and headed toward the back, and as I positioned my bags by the seat, I looked up to see an old grad school friend smiling at me from a nearby seat. And that’s when I knew—when I really felt—that companionship would find me when I needed it.

***
“So here's what I took: I kept the wine and laughter.”

Oh, wine. The pre-trip training (drinking on roof decks) came in handy. When, in the course of the trip, there was insufficient vegan food to keep me going, wine served to make up the caloric deficit. [Disclosure: I did also have seafood a few times, even though these days my preference is to avoid it entirely. Had I been on my own, I could have stayed vegan, but at many of the restaurants we went to as a group, it was seafood or nothing. But I digress.]

The flight to Europe was rough going. I did have an aisle seat, albeit next to two obnoxious poster children for Aryan Youth. Before you accuse me of racism, let me point out that I have German friends. Just kidding (not about the friends, but about that being an absolution). Anyway, those of you who have come across German tourists or flown Lufthansa will understand when I say that these people think it’s their birthright to invade other people’s territory. Have they ever shoved you out of the way in a line, or at a tourist attraction? Reclined their seat so far in your face that you can see the back of their head? The girl next to me--perhaps the blondest in the world--not only took over the entire armrest, but proceeded to elbow her way into my seat. At one point, she pretzeled herself into her seat, shoving her feet into the space between me and my video screen (and at another point, right in my face). When her father stopped by, he shoved his arm directly in front of my face to adjust something on her video screen. Had I thought it, I would have weaponized the rock-hard “croissant” that was handed out for breakfast. It was much more suitable as a club than as a food, but I’d not thought to use it as either.

None of this bothered me as much as the fact the flight arrived just late enough to have me miss my connection and so spend an extra four hours in the crappiest airport in Europe rather than in one of its more beautiful cities. The FRA airport--at least the part I was in--was naturally devoid of vegetarian, much less vegan, fare. I was crabby for various reasons, and starvation was definitely a factor. Thankfully, European airlines serve food—and free alcohol—even on short trips, so I enjoyed a small Mediterranean salad (complete with beans and olives!) and a glass of wine on the way over. Doesn’t take a lot to win me over: food and wine will do it. More than that--or rather, before that--I kept coming back to the words of one of the flight attendants, who saw me looking dejected upon learning that I'd missed the connection. She said, "where ever you're going from here, it gets better." And so it was.