nawl

Well, I failed at salsa dancing tonight, or rather, salsa dancing failed to exist when I went, so I'll write.

Yesterday was Hungary's national holiday, which celebrates (I believe) a failed revolution in 1848. Pesti Est (an event calendar magazine thingy) had ads saying something about tram 2 and szabadsag something-or-other, which turned out to be a "walk of freedom" along the riverfront with, uh, gigantic rotating cylinders with pictures of people's heads on them and recordings of speeches and/or discussion of freedom and who knows what else in Hungarian. There was a bewildering barcode/modern art theme. Everyone was wearing these little round ribbon pins with the color of the Hungarian flag.

And that was about all I saw of the national holiday thing. I expect many, many people got trashed, because that's the most patriotic way to celebrate your country.

It was a fabulous, sunny day. Spring really has appeared quite suddenly and unexpectedly. And it's as if a huge veil has fallen off of me, and suddenly I'm seeing a whole new city I'd never had the stamina to explore before.

Today was my bureaucratic maze. I showed up at the American embassy at 9, as instructed. American embassies seem to have this thing about fencing off and policing the street in front of their door. I guess it makes sense if you're afraid of car bombs, but it completely removes any possibility of doing that whole racing-into-the-embassy thing they do in movies. Pity.

I convinced the guards outside that my not having a passport less than 24 hours before a flight to the US was an emergency, and they let me inside the gate so I could wait in a second line to be let in the door.

Then the steps went as follows:

1. Be let in the door by nice Hungarian security guy.

2. Empty bag of electronic objects, get x-rayed, metal-detected.

3. Go through second door.

4. Walk through sea of Hungarians applying for American visas to windows 8 and 9 in an empty room in back for Americans who lost their passport.

5. Fill out one (1) passport application form, one (1) declaration about losing/getting stolen one's passport, and receive one (1) map to nearest passport photo place, and one (1) instructions for reporting a lost/stolen passport to the Hungarians, a requirement for leaving the country. American forms now have this long declaration about the time it takes to fill out the form, which often seems to take more time to read than the form itself takes to fill out. Give up ID card.

6. Pay $97 at window 7, except that card doesn't work so I'm instructed to go find an ATM.

7. Leave embassy, follow map to passport photo place, get passport photos. 800 ft. Get cash at ATM.

8. Return to embassy, repeat steps 1-4. Meet a pair of guys from Kentucky there to replace a passport stolen out of a car, chat. Give up photos.

9. Wait for the consul to appear to take my oath that I haven't lied about anything. She's young, makes a comment about me being from Los Altos, and I find out she graduated from Berkeley in 2003.

10. Realize that the backside of the fourth form from step 5 above contains a requirement about two more photos of a different size, so return to passport photo place and buy two more photos. 550 ft

11. Return to metro stop, fail to find Moricz Zsigmond korter on the metro map. Note that districts are not labeled on the metro map. Blue metro to red metro to home to get city map. Note fashionable pre-teen on metro with army-colored shoulder bag that she's written all over in classic disgruntled teen style. It says "Rockerek!" with round exclamation point.

12. Red metro to tram 47 to Moricz Zsigmond, note that I probably could have taken tram 4/6. Bus 3 to some weird stop. Realize I have forgotten paper with address at home. Try official-looking building across from bus stop. Sign says it's closed on Wednesdays. Guys are waiting outside. The man inside doesn't speak English. The guys in line translate for me. He asks if I'm a student and tells me to go down the street. I am skeptical, but do.

13. Down the street office of immigration and such-and-such has two rooms. One has a door with a window that is shut and covered in signs saying "don't knock" in English and Hungarian, some signs in Hungarian, and a sign in five languages about reporting lost travel documents. But the door is shut. It opens periodically and someone's name is called to pick up a small gray folder with pictures in it. I'm guessing some sort of visa. Then it slams shut again. People also walk up to the window to deliver these small gray documents. I attempt many times to get the attention of someone behind the window and fail. The room across the hall is also full of miserable-looking people, but also contains flyers about refugee services, so I determine that it's probably not where I belong. A counter labeled Informacio is closed.

14. I settle down to wait.

15. I finally shove my way to the front of the window when it opens and attract the attention of the woman currently there. She tells me I have to have pictures. I show them to her. She tells me I need to fill something out. I say ok. The window slams shut again.

16. I wait some more.

17. At some point many, many names are called and the room's occupants all get their documents and leave. The window slams shut.

18. I doze off in the sun.

19. Hordes of border guards walk through on their lunch break.

20. They walk out.

21. I realize that an hour and a half has passed since I arrived. I was somehow under the impression that the people in the room had noticed me, but I think not.

22. I bang on the door. It opens. I tell the guy who opens it that I've been waiting for an hour and a half and that I just need to report my passport is gone. He asks me where I'm from, and when I say America, he gives me one form to fill out. It asks for my "family name", "surname", "mother's name" (but not father's), and many other pieces of information that I can't remember, such as my address in Budapest. I am amused that an official government document has mistranslated the name words, note that "family name" is csaladi neve in Hungarian, and decide that that one is correct.

23. My official document is a printed sheet of paper with my name, birthdate, a title in Hugarian, and my picture glued to the front. It arrives in 15 minutes. By this time it's already 2 pm.

34. Bus 3 to tram 47 to blue metro to the American embassy.

35. It's now open hours for American citizens, and a huge line is out front. Cute guard recognizes me in line, motions me to the front of the line, has me open all the pockets of my backpack, then lets me in.

36. Repeat steps 1-3.

37. Walk through small sea of Americans.

38. Lady behind the counter recognizes me, gives me my temporary passport and a sheet explaining procedures to get a real one.

39. Blue metro to red metro to school. It is 3:30 when I arrive. I was supposed to take a midterm at 2.

40. Midterm. The sun sets pinkly outside.

I missed all of my classes, was late to my early midterm, and what do I have to show for it? A weird-looking passport and a document I could have made with MS word. Phew.