There was, still is and always will be too much of everything. All those impressions both material and spiritual that greeted me along a decade of Eastern European travels. These left me with lasting impressions. Some were connected, most were not. The mind works to order things in a logical way. That is the way we make sense of life, but travel does not really work that way. Travel for me has nothing to do with itineraries, it is about being lost and trying to find yourself. At some point, I lost my way back home and the only thing left were the memories.
The iron gate of the Greek Catholic Church at Hajduboszormeny was created by the hands of an anonymous Hungarian just before the turn of the 20th century. I often think of that iron gate, the one I could not get past, either physically or psychologically. The gate haunts me like a friendly ghost. Appearing before my eyes, stored in my memory, captured through the miracle of photography. The image means everything to me, but so do many other things across Eastern Europe. They all add up to a sum greater than their parts. A representation of lived experience, an enhanced reality. I cannot name just one, in the same way I cannot name them all, but I will try to name a few of “everything.”

Crossover Appeal – A Matter of Perspective
There was Ampelmann at the crosswalks in Berlin, telling me when to proceed. Ampelmann walked through the wall. He seamlessly crossed over from the east and like so many before him, he refused to go back. He walked away from those had given birth to him, emigrated to affluence and became an influence. Ampelmann made a seamless crossing of the divide between East and West. All Germans should have been so lucky. If Ampelmann could cross that divide so seamlessly, then anything and “everything” is possible. Amplelmann was not communist or capitalist though he was co-opted by both. Instead, he was a symbol, not just of stop and go, but of a familiar figure who brought a sense of continuity between the past and present.
There was the Becsi Kapu (Vienna Gate) on Castle Hill in Buda. This was where the trek from Buda to Vienna either started or ended, depending upon one’s orientation. It was like a magic portal that played mind tricks on those who passed through it. For a few moments, I could imagine entering Vienna rather than Buda, or entering the 18th rather than the 21st century. The difference and distance in time and space between the two cities was compressed at that gate. Go north through the gate into the Castle District or southward to take the first step toward Vienna. “Everything” depended on the chosen direction. Going into Buda meant surging forward into the past. At Becsi Kapu, the past was not what it used to be. Royal processions and traders bearing the riches from far flung lands no longer passed through the gate. Instead, the march of progress has brought regress in the form of tourists by the thousands traveling through the gate each day.

Travel Costs – Taking A Toll
“Everything” includes roads, so many roads that I cannot differentiate among them. They all began to run together, threads of pavement or concrete that I took on my travels. Threads that led nowhere and threads that led to the middle of nowhere. I was the needle that guided the thread through rural landscapes such as the one that ran close to the Hungary-Ukraine border. A road in terrible disrepair, that seismically shook the car. Hitting the brakes to survive numerous quakes. These roads were memorable for all the wrong reasons. Roads in Ukraine that were not as bad as I imagined, roads in Romania which were worse than I imagined. These roads had meant “everything” to commerce and conflict. They meant even more than that to me, the roads offered me the opportunity to see it all. What that all was I still could not quite figure out, but I kept looking for it.
“Everything” included banknotes and coins. The indistinct Euro coins and the highly distinctive currencies of Bosnians and Bulgarians, Romanians and Ukrainians that still valued their fiscal freedoms. Heroes I had never heard of were presented to me on these banknotes. A pantheon of greats staring back at the spender. Reminding those who clutch these currencies of the people who made them possible. These notes and rounded pieces of metal allowed me access, opened doors, lifted gates, greased palms. When it comes to travel, movement is never free. It costs money. Every move I made depended to a greater or lesser extent upon money. I hated to admit it, but “everything” depended upon money. Some might say that is sad, but I know it too be true.
Everything included maps, the maps I bought to places I had been and to others I might never go. In one hand, maps of Hungary, Slovakia, and the Czech Republic. In the other, maps of Belarus and Moldova. A map is nothing more and nothing less than the art of possibility sketched out on exceedingly fine paper. It offers the viewer a relentless array of choices. The more choices, the merrier, at least for me. I could not have it all, but at least I tried. Those maps have a little bit of “everything” on them. Cities, towns and villages, monuments and historical markers, strange names, and spectacular landforms. Opening one of those maps opened a world of possibilities, it still does. “Everything” felt/feels possible with a map at hand.

Getting Lost – Less Than Logical
When it came to travel, I sought “everything.” I could not just visit one county in Hungary, I had to visit them all. One castle led to a hundred more. Was any of this logical? It was obsessive, it was compulsive, but was it logical. Is life logical? If not, then why should travel be any different. I tried to order and organize my travels so they would lead somewhere. Where was I going? I had no idea then and I have no idea now. I am lost amid “everything”. I always that getting lost would be frightening, but I have found it exhilarating. Confusion can be maddening. It can also be intoxicating. “Everything” became my passion, and I gave it “everything” I had. I would do it again, I will do it again.
Click here for: Looking Into The Mirror – Vysehrad Abandoned Railway Station (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #34)