This article was published in the October and November 1974 issues of CQ magazine. It contains some additions and corrections.

   This year we had to go to Europe. I wanted a nice DXpedition to far away places, but with our one-year-old Diane, this would have been quite difficult. I apologize to all those who hoped we would show up from Sikkim, from Iraq, from South Yemen, or from whatever they still need to get on the Honor Roll.
   So we let KLM take us comfortably to the Balkans where we left Diane in Romania with my wife’s family, toured a few countries, visiting amateurs and operating where it was possible.
   I’ll describe our journey to Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, Greece, Yugoslavia and to Hungary, which isn’t in the Balkans, but was on our way back to New York.

                                          ROMANIA: An Improved Situation

   We usually go to our native city of Timisoara via Belgrade, Yugoslavia, instead of Bucharest, because it’s easier and cheaper. Bucharest if farther East, so the airline tickets would be more expensive. From Belgrade we can take either a train or a bus and in 4-5 hours we are home.
   Three years after our latest trip, here we are again entering Romania. The officer checking the passports and the customs officials are friendly and polite. We got the visas right there at the border, at no cost.
   In our train compartment the customs inspector is amazed seeing so much baggage. Confirming Murphy’s Law, he points to a large piece of luggage asking me to open it. Now, I know how difficult it would be to explain the presence of a microphone to somebody whose profession is suspicion. In his mind a microphone is connected to a secret transmitter which is connected to a spy network. And even if he searched all our packages he wouldn’t find a transmitter. This will only increase his suspicion. If he finds that we carry 5 microphones, we are finished. Who will believe us that we are just taking gifts to radio amateur friends? And what is amateur radio after all?
   I try to lift the luggage out from the rack. It’s very heavy, and I’m getting weak. I cannot do it. The inspector helps. I wish he wouldn’t. When he pulls, I push. When he pushes, I pull. The luggage doesn't move. Finally he points to another bag. It’s a pleasure; it’s full of clothing and no suspicious looking electronics.
   Then he had three questions for me:
   “Do you have guns?”
   “Do I look like a cowboy?” I answered with another question.
   “Do you have pornographic books?”
   “Would you like to learn something new?” I continued the tactics.
   “Do you have religious books?”
   “God forbid,” I said and I crossed myself three times.
   Soon we arrived to Timisoara; Eva’s family was waiting for us at the railroad station. They grabbed our one-year-old Diane and ran to a taxi leaving me with 9 pieces of luggage. I had to disappoint them and call them back, loading them with our bags. If you think I gave the heaviest to my mother-in-law, you are so right.
   Later we heard to good news; Eva’s father Stefan, who passed his amateur radio test and applied for a license more than a year ago, finally got it. He is now the happiest YO2BGP I ever met.
   I meant good news for him because now I have to send him a transceiver. “So what,” said Eva, his daugther, “it’s only money.” That’s true, but it’s my money!
   Three years ago, on a previous trip, we had unpleasant experiences in Romania. Most of the local hams were afraid to meet us - the foreigners. The same with relatives; they came only once to pick up the gifts we brought them and never saw them again. Those who did meet us later were invited to “securitate” the secret police headquarters and had to do a lot of official explaining.
  I was not admitted to the radio club. The order from the secret police to the chief of the radio club was brought by a known collaborator of the Romanian KGB (securitate), also an active ham.
   Now we found a much-improved atmosphere. We were invited to the radio club and many hams took us to their homes. We saw the well-known DXer George YO2BB, who for his special achievements in amateur radio, was awarded with the “Master of Sports” title.
   Fred, YO2FP, with whom we had many QSOs from New York and from our West African DXpedition, has a most practical set-up: a special piece of furniture; below, a desk for the rig and accessories and above, a full bed for the tired operator. His excellent rig is all home brew. Also homemade is the rig of Oscar, YO2BF, a much better ham than I am because he put into his station a lot more work, knowledge and creativity than I did. When I installed my station, all I had to know was how to write my name on a check.
   I was invited to see the shack of Anton, YO2BL. He is a professional broadcaster and a skilled technician but he has a “rich uncle” in America, so ... he’s using Heathkit equipment. Costi, YO2BU, an old timer, brought a Japanese transceiver from Germany, and now is installing a quad antenna.
   The radio club has a full time employed manager, Florin, YO2IX, a station YO2KAB, a QSL bureau (P.O.Box 100, Timisoara), a classroom for courses, meetings, etc. and is in the center of the city, just across the street from the new and modern Intercontinental hotel.
   We met many friends at the club; old and new. Poly, YO2BX is an enthusiastic 2-meter builder and operator. Aurel YO2BS is the chief engineer of the local radio station of the Romanian Broadcasting Company, (also using Heathkit). We met Puiu YO2ALS, Victor YO2BCO, Rudi YO2BW, Traian YO2BEO, Costi YO2BC, and many others.
   Later we left for Bucharest where we were invited by the Romanian Television Company to see their ultra-modern facilities; they have much better equipment than we have here in New York at my place of work: WCBS-TV. There are many American made movies and serials on Romanian TV to the delight of the public.
   We were made welcome at the Central Radio Club by Iosif YO3JP, the General Secretary of the Romanian Amateur Radio Federation and by a large group of YO3s: personal friends like Gigel YO3FU, Dan YO3ZA, Doru YO3GM, and on-the-air friends like Andy YO3AC, Bebe YO3RG, Tavi YO3JU. Although everybody was cordial, when I said that I would like to photograph some of them at their home stations, they declined for various unconvincing reasons. I had a feeling they were following instructions.
   The “big brother” was present, watching and observing silently. Among the people at the radio club I noticed a man who always seemed to manage to stay behind me, listening, but not talking with anybody. When I had a chance I asked a couple of hams who was that man; nobody seemed to know him or admit to know him. I distributed some color photo QSL cards showing my wife Eva WA2BAV and myself at our station. At one moment I turned around and gave a photo to that mysterious man saying quite loudly: “perhaps you want to attach a photograph to your rapport.” The audience laughed, each one how much they dared. The man evidently got nervous but he took the photo QSL card.
   We also visited the club station of the Pioneers’ Palace located in one of the former royal palaces. This station is mostly operated by children under the supervision of two instructors: Sandy YO3AWC and Nicu YO3CB.
   I recommend a visit to the YO land, meeting the local hams but it is advisable to write in advance to the Central Radio Club so the proper authorities could schedule somebody to watch you.
   In Bucharest, the Village Museum is a rare beauty, worth visiting.
   I don’t recommend any dealings whatsoever with the local Gypsies who are constantly approaching foreigners offering to buy hard currencies, clothing, etc. These dealings, besides being illegal, usually end up with the Gypsy getting everything and paying for nothing. Besides, some of these Gypsies are working for the secret police and they try to provoke Westerners to do something illegal so the authorities can have reasons to intervene.

                                           BULGARIA: and Its Friendly Hams

   From Bucharest we took a train South, and crossing the Danube River, which contrary to the folklore isn’t blue at all, we entered Bulgaria. But before that, we had problems with Romanian customs. The inspector wanted to confiscate 3 balun transformers I was taking as gifts to Bulgarian amateurs. I brought them all the way from New York, I entered with them in Romania, now he won’t let me take them out.
   I tried to convince him that they were very innocent parts of an antenna. He thought they are bombs and said when he was in the army they had bombs just like these. That doesn’t say too much about the Romanian army, does it? I told him that if he takes them away and if they are indeed bombs, they may go off in the customs house and that will not earn him a promotion. After two seconds of deliberation he said I may be right because the bombs he had in the army were black and these are white; he returned them promptly and left the train as fast as he could.
   The Bulgarian customs inspection was easy; they couldn’t care less about my “bombs.”
   In Russe we changed trains and we boarded the slowest train we ever used. That train was so slow that I saw a cow passing us, and I don’t think she was in as much hurry to get to Varna as we were.
   We chose to visit Varna, located on the Black Sea, because we had QSOs with Hristo, LZ2HK, who lives there and speaks perfect Romanian. Besides, Varna is about mid-way from Bucharest to Istanbul, the highlight of our trip.
   We finally arrived in Varna and settled in a hotel, and as usual, we tried to locate local hams. With the help of a Callbook and a phone directory, we found Totu, LZ2FM, a professor of electronics who came to our hotel. To our surprise Totu also spoke Romanian. It was already late in the evening and we agreed to meet next day, Totu promising to bring Hristo.
   Bulgaria is the only country I know where the head movements for Yes and No are not like in the rest of the world. For example nodding up and down means No. Inclining the head left and right means Yes. Isn’t that confusing? For me it is.
   The next day, around noon time, we met Totu, LZ2FM, who brought Hristo, LZ2HK, and a third Romanian speaking amateur, Belcio, LZ2BN, who is the chief operator of LZ2KST club station.
   We began visiting at LZ2KKZ, a club station where Hristo is in charge. Everything is homemade and this is quite a miracle because there are very few radio parts one can buy there. Eva guest-operated LZ2KKZ, indicating in every QSO that she was WA2BAV. Then I made a few contacts using the station’s callsign, but indicating that the operator was WB2AQC.
   Letting us operate was a nice gesture. There was no need for bureaucratic forms, approvals, licenses, etc. Many other countries and many people could learn from these friendly Bulgarian hams. We filled out the QSL cards for the contacts we just made, took some photos and left for some sightseeing. They took us to the seashore, the famous Golden Sands. Compared with Miami Beach, Golden Sands isn’t too much, but for Eastern Europe it is quite a place.
   Later in that afternoon we all went to see Dima, LZ2FD, a radio technician for the airport. Part of his station is homemade; the other part could win first prize at an antique show. Amazingly enough, everything was working fine.
   Looking for a way to continue our trip, we learned that there was neither direct flight to Istanbul, nor a direct train or bus. Fortunately we heard of a Russian liner, Bashkiria, and we bought two tourist tickets for it.
   On the board of the Russian ship we met two Polish tourists and decided to dine together. We entered the restaurant and sat down at one of the many empty tables, but a huge 300 lb. waitress quickly came over and said we could not sit down, that we’d have to wait outside because no decision had been made where to sit down. I asked if that table was available. She said it was, but we still have to wait for a decision. I said, OK, make a decision. She declined saying that it is not under her jurisdiction. We waited about 15 minutes. The restaurant was empty; we were the only passengers, but who would argue with a 300 lb. Russian waitress in the middle of the Black Sea? Finally the waitress returned taking us to the same table we were not allowed to sit before.
   I understand the Big Brother has to make all the important decisions, but why can’t the little sister take some initiative? The word “little” I am using as a figure of speech because she was everything but not little.
   I thought that they may needed more time to connect the hidden microphone. I kept talking to the ashtray, and an ugly vase with an artificial flower, because I was not sure which one is connected, saying how beautiful our waitress was, hoping that it would speed up the service, but it did not.
   I recommend visiting Bulgaria but Sofia, being a larger city with more interesting sights, would be a better choice than Varna.
   If a pretty Bulgarian girl invites you for dinner, or for anything else for that matter, don’t nod frantically; you may never get a second chance.

                                           TURKEY: Where No Ham Has a License

   Istanbul is an amazing place even for an experienced traveler. There are so many things different from the rest of the world; we had to stay a little longer.
   In Turkey, the authorities did not recognize amateur radio, and they did not issue licenses. More than that, from time to time the officials cracked down on hams, confiscating their gear and even jailing some of them.
   Before our trip I wrote several letters and collected a lot of information about the TA amateur radio situation. I contacted Turkish amateurs, QSL managers of Turkish hams, Americans who operated in Turkey and Turkish officials working at their New York Consulate. Their Consul General said if I intend to operate there, better not come at all. My letters sent to the Turkish QSL bureau wound up in the hands of the authorities that controlled it. The conclusion was that it would be impossible to get a TA license.
   When our ship docked in Istanbul, the four passengers who got off were taken to the customs house. There we had to put our bags on tables. A customs inspector came and with a frightening voice ordered: “Open.” They mean business - was my thought - and I opened everything wide. For about half an hour, the four passengers and five customs inspectors waited, but nothing happened. Finally a chief inspector walked into the room and quickly, without looking in the luggage, marked everything with a piece of chalk and said, “Close.”
   Then I understood why the five inspectors could not inspect our luggage; they knew only the word “open” in English, but the chief inspector, more educated, knew also the “close” word. Besides, he was the one in charge with the piece of marking chalk.
   We exchanged some dollars and tried to get to the Hotel Gezi, close to Bedi, TA1BE’s residence. As we stepped out of the customs house dozen aggressive taxi drivers confronted us.
   “How much is to Hotel Gezi in Taksim?”
   “Fifty Turkish liras” answered three of them. I didn’t know how far the hotel was but I knew I was in Istanbul and I was supposed to bargain.
   “That’s too much and Allah will get you for this,” I said.
   “Forty liras,” came the answer like from a Wall Street broker.
   “You should be ashamed. Don’t you think I know how far it is?”
   I could see on their faces that they knew very well that I had no idea.
   “Thirty liras,” said one of them with an honest smile.
   Now I’m pretty sure that 30 liras was also too much, but I didn’t want to waste more time bargaining, so I let him grab one of my bags and followed him. After 10 yards he stopped a passing taxi, told the driver “30 liras to Hotel Gezi,” loaded our luggage in the cab, the taxi driver gave him a tip and we left.
   I had bargained with a “free agent” that did not even have a cab, instead of a taxi driver.
   That’s OK, but let’s get there fast. The taxi is very old; the roads up to Taksim are steep. In a busy intersection, the car squeaked in despair and stalled. The driver got out, opened the hood, took out some parts and started off again. The engine worked better with fewer parts.
   I called up Bedi TA1BE, who lives about 200 yards away and he came to the hotel. Bedi is a DDS, and is the past president of the Turkish Amateur Radio Association. He agreed to let us use his Hallicrafters with his dipole, but first we had to put the station together because everything was packed and stored separately. The transceiver was under a bed; the power supply was in another room on top of a closet, the microphone in a jar in the pantry, and so on. Every evening after we finished the operation we had to take the rig apart and pack everything in three layers of paper, tie them and store them again, separately each item. I guess he had his reason.
   We were ready to go; the power was low, the antenna was quite modest. How about the callsigns? Everybody makes up his/her call; Bedi for example choose his initials. We took TA1YL for Eva and TA1OM for me. Taksim being on the European side of Istanbul, the district number is 1. We worked for a couple of hours with nice pile-ups, mostly Europeans.
   After three days of operation and sightseeing, we were invited to the Asiatic side of Istanbul to operate Engin’s station, TA2QR. There we used TA1YL/2 and TA1OM/2. In one afternoon we made about 400 contacts. The pile-ups were heavy; the aggressive Italians did not understand even their own language when I tried to take them by districts. Finally Strulik, 4Z4JT, took lists of 12 (he said is cheaper by the dozen) so we relaxed for a while. An hour later Strulik, overpowered by the Italian offensive (they were more aggressive than they have ever been in World War II), gave up, so we had to fight them again.
   I recommend visiting Istanbul and operating there, but you’ll need the help of some local hams. If by any chance you wind up in jail, please don’t mention my name.
    Don’t try to drive a car in Istanbul. In almost every country the police directs traffic. In Italy, nobody does this job, but in Istanbul it’s everybody’s job. In traffic jams, every driver sticks his head out the window of his car and with wild gestures and loud curses, tell all the others what to do and ... where to go.

                                     GREECE: Where People Played Soldier

   Not waiting to push our luck to far in Turkey, we took a plane from Istanbul to Athens. Half an hour after checking into our Athens hotel, we were up on the Acropolis. That alone is worth the visit. A phone call from the Acropolis brought Marino SV1BR, with whom we had several QSOs from home, and George, SV1AG, President of the Radio Amateur Association of Greece. We operated that evening from Marino’s neat and excellent station, using his call and identifying ourselves as guest operators.
   Originally, we planned to operate from Crete and Rhodes. A slightly unreliable Greek ham, while visiting with us in New York (we ran a Welcoming Center for Foreign Amateurs visiting New York City), boasted that he had strong connections in the Greek government, and that he would be able to obtain Greek licenses for us. He knew, but we didn’t, that the average foreign tourist couldn’t get a Greek license. SV1 licenses were given only to Greek citizens, while SV0s were issued by the US Embassy only to diplomats and military personnel. The Greeks intended to sign a Reciprocal Operating Agreement with the US, but before they could do that they had to complete the legalization of their own operations. Greek amateurs operated for the past 30 years on “temporary” licenses.
   We spent the next day sightseeing. At the Archeological Museum in Athens I discovered that I’d have to purchase a special ticket, in addition to the entrance ticket, to be allowed to take photographs. When I tried to use my newly purchased “rights” to photograph Eva standing near a statue, a guard jumped in front of me saying that it was prohibited. I showed him my special ticket, but he persisted.
   “What is prohibited?” I asked, “photographing my wife or the statue?”
   “You can photograph your wife separately and the statue separately, but you cannot photograph them together.”
   “Why? My wife doesn’t mind, and I don’t think the statue would say anything.”
   “ Your wife is dressed up and the statue is naked, together it would be pornographic” argued the local authority.
   “If it would be the other way could I take the photograph?”
   “No!” answered the guard after a short meditation.
   “I cannot dress up the statue, but if I undress my wife to make them alike, would it be OK?”
   “No, that is the rule,” stated the guard.
   “What kind of rule? I never heard of it.”
   “It’s a Greek rule.”
   “That’s possible,” I admitted, “it sounds Greek to me.”
   “You’d better listen to me,” he yelled like a drill sergeant, “I have a uniform!”
   I did listen to him - who can argue with a Greek uniform - but now I am sorry I didn’t photograph him, dressed or undressed, with the statue. Their brains matched so well.
   In Greece there are two amateur radio organizations; one, the “legalist, “ belongs to IARU. Our slightly unreliable Greek friend leads the other one, the not-so-loyal opposition to the first.
   Our sightseeing included the famous changing of the guards in front of the Greek Parliament house. Two guards dressed in what resemble white pantyhose and black ballet tutus, and wearing very large black shoes, goose-step up and down with their big and old rifles, guarding the (then) empty Parliament house. Greece was under a military dictatorship and the Parliament was suspended. Every now and then, three other big husky guards, identically dressed in white pantyhose and black tutus, would march up and relieve the first two. One of the three is in charge and shouts commands, while the other two execute the funniest dance steps I ever saw, sometimes bumping into each other. I could not figure out if they were trying to add to the entertainment or they were just plain clumsy.
   Next day George, SV1AD, who is a radio engineer, picked us up again and took us to his radio shop where we saw his rig. He built it himself, but it looks better than anything made by a factory.
   Later we met Janis, SV1HE, and went to see his station. George, SV1AA, a retired general and the past president of the Radio Amateur Association of Greece also invited us. On our last day in Athens, Janis came again, this time with Tony, SV1GH, a schoolteacher, and we took a long drive, visiting Pireus and the surrounding countryside.
   Greek hams speak good English and many of them use good factory made gear, but they are not too enthusiastic about sending QSL cards.
   I recommend a vacation in Greece and as soon it will be possible, an operation from Crete and Rhodes, both needed by a very large number of hams.
   Don’t miss climbing to the Acropolis and the changing of the guards in front of the Parliament, trying not to laugh too loud, it may hurt the national pride of some local citizens.

                                             YUGOSLAVIA: A Broken Promise

   Last year Tine, YU3EY, visited us in New York and he said that it would be possible for a foreigner to get a temporary YU license. Yugoslavia is not on the most wanted list, but we thought it would be fun to operate from there with a special YU7 call.
   A couple of months before our trip we filled out the necessary papers and indicated that we would like to start to operate from the first of May. We kept in contact with a Yugoslav ham who was helping our cause, but our applications moved very slowly from one office to another. There were many other foreign applications, mostly from Europeans. Ours supposedly were on the top of the pile and they even issued the calls: YU7LGA for me and YU7LGB for Eva. One more signature was needed, but it was already the middle of May and the final OK was still missing. We had to give up and leave because we wanted to cover one more country: Hungary.
   When we arrived at the Belgrade airport, Zoran, YU1OFX, and Jan, YU1OBY, were waiting for us. Zoran just graduated from the University of Natural Sciences and he was the chief operator of the school’s club station YU1BWX. Jan is a college student.
   That evening as we checked in the hotel, the manager noticed in my passport that I was born in Romania.
   “Oh, you are Romanian! I welcome you as my dear brother,” he said.
   “Thank you. I would like to pay for the room. What kind of currency do you accept?”
   “Any kind, my dear brother.”
   “Romanian currencies also?”
   “Oh no, we love you, my dear brother, but we love the dollars even more.”
   “OK,” I said, “here are your beloved dollars, but I want you to know that I’ve quit your dear family.”
   But the Yugoslavs are very hospitable. We went to see Zoran’s club station, YU1BWX, which is on the top floor of the university building. We contacted this station from New York several times and were anxious to see it.
   At Jan’s home station, YU1OBY, we were shown many rare DX QSLs. We couldn’t envy him more.
   At YU1BKL, a club station of the city of Belgrade, we met many of the club operators. This station was supposed to be at our disposal if we could have gotten licenses.
   Yugoslavia boasts lots of clubs and private stations using good factory made equipment, mostly made in Germany, Japan and the USA.  The Yugoslavs are the only ones in Eastern Europe who can travel unrestricted to the West, many work there temporarily, and they can bring home the best equipment they can afford. They have to pay very high customs fees but they are still much better off than the rest of the “family.”
   The YU hams are very active and good operators. They have plenty of good equipment and are enterprising people. Then why don’t they make a few DXpedition? Albania is right in their backyard and what a nice place it is to operate from.
   After Yugoslavia we returned to Romania, stayed a few days in the city of Timisoara, then we continued our journey.
   I recommend a visit to Yugoslavia, especially to the Adriatic coast, but don’t you forget that you are on the Balkans, and the official wheels move very slowly.

                                                HUNGARY: Getting Sick of It

   Our trip to Hungary started out bad and ended bad. And the middle wasn’t good either.
   We entered Hungary from Romania. Leaving Romania by train, the border guard stamped our passports “Exit on May 20, 1974.” Twenty minutes later entering Hungary, the Hungarian officer stamped our passports by mistake “Entered on May 5, 1974.” This was his fault, but we had to pay for it. Later I was repeatedly asked to explain how could we enter Hungary 15 days before we left Romania. Besides we had only a 3-day visa to stay in Hungary and from May 5 to May 23 when we left, there are 18 days. We came up with all kind of explanations, only the fact that they made a mistake was unacceptable.
   Out of the six countries we visited, Hungary was the only one that charged for a visa ($4.50/person) and the only one that required us to exchange in advance a certain amount of dollars for each day we expected to stay.
   While in the other countries there was either no need for visas, or they were given right at the border, we had to apply in advance for the Hungarian visa.
   Once we arrived to Budapest and settled in a hotel, I tried to get in touch with local amateurs, those we had QSOs before. I had a long list of HA5s and I called up a couple of them, but none wanted to meet us. As a matter of fact, long before we started the trip, I wrote to the Central Radio Club in Budapest, and to several hams, but did not receive a single reply.
   Generally, amateurs like to meet other amateurs, especially foreigners or those they have met on the air. Why did the Hungarian hams show much restrain? They were afraid of the possible consequences.
   After many polite excuses I got to Joska, HA5DJ, and although he was working in a contest, when he heard that an American ham of Hungarian descent would like to meet him, he came right away.
   Joska is a retired electrical engineer, an old-timer with many years in amateur radio. He designed and built all his own equipment and is very active on the air. When Joska arrived at the hotel, we called up Frici, HA5KF, another very active old-timer. Frici is an MD and a DDS and he is the chief operator of club station HA5KFZ. Frici met us after he finished his work and took us to his club.
   HA5KFZ is the club station of the world famous Ganz, manufacturers of heavy electrical equipment, and Frici is one of the company doctors. The radio club has a large meeting room, a construction shop, library, an active station and a bunch of excellent operators like Frici, Pista, Miki, and others.
   Most of the Hungarian amateurs are highly skilled technicians and their official magazine “Radiotechnika” keeps them informed about everything new in the field.
   Next day we went with Joska to the Castle Hill. I was in Budapest many times before but the sights around the Fisherman’s Bastion are so beautiful, we had to go again.
   Afternoon we visited Joska’s station, HA5DJ (all homemade), and even if it doesn’t look like a Collins, it certainly works like a Colins.
   At our departure, another unpleasant situation: checking-in our luggage we found that we had an overweight of about 4 lbs./person. The Hungarian airline clerk did not allow any weight for our baby Diane despite the rule in the books. What's more, he insisted on also weighing our flightbags and asked us to pay for “excess weight.” He was so hungry for dollars that I started to suspect that the name of this country has something to do with his attitude.
   Anyway, I opened our luggage and in the middle of the international departure hall, I began to throw out some souvenirs we bought in the Balkans and to put on some extra pants, shirts, pullovers, etc. to reduce our “excess weight.” I was wearing three sets of everything, but I could not manage to put on a second pair of shoes. In the mean time I cursed them in every language I knew, including in obscene Hungarian. Then I remembered that I have to make a last phone call and left Eva to finish dressing up baby Diane. Moments after entering the phone-booth, the scared airline clerk dragged me out saying that everything was OK, we could take with us all our “excess weight.” He even helped us to re-pack! Unintentionally, but successfully, the old “phone-call to a big-shot” trick worked again.
   If you like to meet local hams when you travel, I don’t recommend going to Hungary. But if you are in Budapest, I recommend visiting the Fisherman’s Bastion on Castle Hill, which is up on the heights of Buda, overlooking Pest, the other part of this huge and beautiful city.

                                                             Before I Finish

   I would like to mention that next year we hope to go on a real DXpedition and we wouldn’t mind joining a group for that purpose. If there is a group with strong men to carry the gear, tireless operators to handle the pile-ups, people able to curse in Italian, rich members to pay the bills, a good cook and a pretty baby sitter, I would be more than happy to join them.