kings and queens.

on my last trip back from latvia, which was a couple years ago, I had a stop over in Budapest. depending on where you are, a stop over can be an interesting eye into the outside culture. an older woman, who looked to be my grandmother's age, approached me and asked the time. she looked really eastern european old school, scarf on head, long skirt, colorful beads to waist, and galoshes. her english wasn't that great, but considering her generation, it was a surprise that she spoke understandable english at all. i showed her my watch, which must have meant "i am a dutiful helpful granddaughter", because through a wild concoction of words, noises, and gestures, she convinced me to help her find her gate. this came as a shock, because she didn't look to be from anywhere else, and certainly not someone who travelled by plane. But, what the hell. We began to trudge through the concourse (me with about five pieces of luggage, following her) and she evolved from this hunched over, weak mass, into a dictatorial woman on a mission. it was a wild goose chase of sorts, me not knowing where we were going, her clearly knowing, and purposefully making the trek longer. as we stopped at her gate, after 45 minutes of exploring the airport, she grabbed my hand and ran her fingers over a scar on the back of my palm. she looked up into my eyes, clasped my hand, and said "gypsy," nodding to elicit understanding on my part. when i nodded in return, she turned around and walked away, returning to her mystery.