It was an inauspicious start to my two-week adventure in Europe. The driver assigned to take us to our hotel from the Budapest airport spoke very little English but used hand signals to communicate that he did not need my assistance loading our luggage into his car.
I smiled back, but confident he’d appreciate my insistence to contribute (especially after his loud grunt when he lifted my first suitcase), I wrestled the 2nd suitcase out of his grip…and in my enthusiasm, slammed it into the vehicle parked next to ours.
Personally, I thought he overreacted. Yes…I did hit the other vehicle…and yes…it was a new Mercedes…but there couldn’t have been
any damage. But all the same, he scowled at me, wrestled the suitcase back out of my hands while nervously glancing at the Mercedes…which is when I realized the driver of the Mercedes was in his car and recording us on his cell phone.
I learned my lesson…instead of wrestling the suitcase back out of his hands, when he turned his back to me, I just picked up a different suitcase (heaven knows there was no shortage of heavy suitcases…Katrina and I are not light packers). Recognizing not all the suitcases would fit in the trunk, knowing I was now being recorded… VERY CAREFULLY opened the passenger door to squeeze the suitcase into the front seat. But the suitcase was a little too big… so naturally, I just pushed harder. And it popped in… causing me to lose my balance, hit the open door, which…yep…hit the Mercedes.
The Mercedes’ driver rolled down the window to exchange words with our driver. Maybe I don’t speak Hungarian, but the glares both our driver and the Mercedes’ driver were giving me didn’t require an interpreter.
Not only were Katrina and I not allowed anywhere near our own luggage…once all of the pieces were loaded, our driver wouldn’t even allow us near his car until he had pulled out of the parking spot and waited for us in the lane where it sat safely from any other vehicles, and I could do no further damage climbing in.
It was an awkward drive to the hotel…our driver would chat amiably with Katrina but pretend he couldn’t hear me.
Both my behavior and interactions were better the remainder of the trip. For the most part. There was a language barrier issue while trying to find a nice pen. I had one purchase I hoped to make while in Switzerland…a really nice pen. The woman at the fancy store helping us wasn’t Swiss though. She was Asian and not only did she appear to speak very little English…she was insistent it wasn’t a pen I needed but a watch…or cuff links. Eventually, she accepted that it was a pen and nothing else I desired, so she reluctantly took me to the pens…the least expensive one priced at over $700.
I did not leave Switzerland with a nice pen. Also, I’m suspicious that the Asian lady who could barely speak any English, despite her claim, really was named Wendy.
There was another awkward misunderstanding. I had purchased a ‘Mammut’ coat…which, after purchasing, I had forgotten was ‘Mammut’ and not ‘Marmot’. One day, while walking in a group, I had it stuffed in the bottom of my backpack. The temperature began to drop and excited for an authentic excuse to put on my new jacket, I loudly announced, “Be prepared, I’m about to whip out my Marmot!”
It took 15 minutes to calm down the women in the group and convince them I wasn’t being vulgar.
Other than those misunderstandings I think it was all positive…oh…except when I insulted the ice cream server by mooing at her. Katrina is allergic to dairy and asked her if any of their ice cream was dairy-free. She appeared confused and so I assumed she didn’t speak English and crossed my hands back in forth in a “no” gesture and loudly said, “No Mooooo. No Moooo.”She looked at me and in perfect English said. “Yes…I understood…I was just trying to think of the closest place that sold dairy-free ice cream.”
It’s funny how similar her expression was to the driver’s agitated grimace at the airport in Budapest…I wonder if they’re related.
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