Buddha’s Pest

The past few days have been intriguing, beginning with the rain in San Miguel.  Then the dinner plan Max and I had went awry (a fire in a nearby apartment building shut down the block in which the restaurant was located). I managed to download malware onto my new computer which took hours to clean up.

The British Airways planes (both the Airbus and the 777) had no methods for adjusting the air temperature for our rows so it was sweaty-sticky for much of the time. Changing terminals at Heathrow was a challenge (my bag didn’t make the connection and I barely did). The Hungarian immigration computers shut down just as we arrived and the Americans (most of those who were waiting and waiting) kept asking the Hungarian immigration officials what “Plan B” was, and the concept of a Plan B was a mystery to the officials. I had the feeling that the Americans felt the immigration folks were there to serve the new arrivals, which of course is not why immigration officials exist:  they are there to protect the nation’s borders. The Americans wanted to be on their way and the officials wanted to … wait.  They have time.



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