I wouldn’t know if Britney Spears died during childbirth or if Nick and Jessica went to the moon and honestly I DON’T CARE, but…
I’m so hopelessly lost and disconnected from American pop culture right now. I LOVE music (don't we all?) and I'm curious to know what's playing in the U.S. Could anyone venturing back to the U.S. for the holidays or anyone in the U.S. PLEASE fill me in? I just got a Weezer/Cake CD from Laura to satisfy my nostalgic needs. Seems that I have a lot of those lately.
Music I’m listening to and loving right now:
James Blunt: Wisemen (Really likin’ his music by the way)
Dido: Sand in Your shoes
Beck: Girl
OCKO TV (my beloved Czech/Slav MTV with crappy set back-drops and off-kilter hosts) is feeding my musical cravings. The TV bogeyman took away Viva, VH1, MTV, etc… I’m losing channels and there’s only so much BBC World a girl can take. I’m really starting to develop a taste for Czech music even though some of the videos make me do a triple take. (i.e. one video consists of a woman with blue spiderweb hair that drips blue liquid into her eyes.)
Oh, a shout-out to Laura for hostessing a group of traveling CETPers this weekend. Laura, Emily, Mariah, Jenna, Yerik, Liz, and I enjoyed some hot wine that later resembled solid chili with bits of mucus, beautifully scrambled eggs, toast, sausage, and sugar cookies. Many eggs fell to the floor that night and Jell-O spots on the walls were evidence of a good time had on Friday night.
I officially finished the semester today! (GREECE TRIP/ NEW YEAR’S BASH IN BUDAPEST 2006! HERE I COME!) What a way to end the year!
Monday, December 19, 2005
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Budapest in December and the Magic of Margaret Island
SICK DAY! I look like I've been run over by a tractor...oh it's just a cold (hey sorry to all those I gave it to :(
Last weekend, the group all came together in Bp to celebrate some birthdays and bid Roz farewell as she finishes with CETP this semester. Let me begin at the beginning and fawn over the wonderful city of Budapest for a moment.
As my train jolted into motion from the Szerencs railway station in the direction of Keleti pu. in Budapest, I got settled in my seat with anticipation. Two and a half hours away and I’m already giddy by the thought that I will be able to walk amongst the beautiful architecture, traffic, and city activity. When on the train or in any type of moving vehicle, I tend to space out, my brain either disintegrates like melting plastic or races with so much thought it’s hard to corral one specific idea (it really depends on the day I just had). Therefore, it’s hard for me to read on the train. I prefer listening to music and thinking while gazing out the window (or people watching on the train.) Anyway, during this time my legs and energy are gradually being wound up, tightening like a spring ready to pop.
Getting off the train in Budapest always warrants so much excitement. I glance happily at the newsstands, booths with chasing Christmas lights snaking around their poles, thousands of hats, gloves, and scarves for sale. Looking up at the big clock in the center of the arch at Keleti makes me feel like I am somewhere completely grand and important. There is a bounce in my step… I refuse taxi offers from the folks just outside the doors to the train station (I just casually shake my head in quick step, proud that I am confident about where I need to go tonight.) As I step outside, the cold wind bites at my nose and shakes my hair loose, but like a reliable drug, Budapest has immediately uplifted my mood once again. My legs feel like they could run a marathon uphill and regardless of the amount of weight on my back, I decide to walk about 45 min. from Keleti all the way over Margaret Bridge to the Buda side.
Watching cars in motion makes me happy, seeing people walk to wherever they need to go makes me happy, feeling completely anonymous as I walk down busy Rákóczi út turning onto the gently curving ring of Erzsébet körút and so on into the night makes me happy. The view of sprinkled lights in the Buda hills, the glowing mass of Matthias Church, and the Buda castle standing proudly above many spotlights near the snazzy lights of the Chain Bridge is a pleasant smack in the face turning onto Margaret Bridge. Legs are warm and the blood is still flowing…I’m not cold, my hair is windblown and my eyes are probably red from the wind coming off the Danube and onto the bridge. It is me, the 5 o’clock rush on the street, and a few courageous evening runners. This moment could keep me happily satisfied for months.
What makes me even happier are the real Mexican enchiladas that I ate at “Iguana,” the only true Mexican restaurant in Budapest. Several of us indulged in our need for chunky salsa, fresh salty tortilla chips, pitcher(s) of beer, fajitas, burritos, hamburgers? (Jeremy), and cheesecake…only to discover that yes we indulged in the price a little too. Good Mexican food doesn’t come cheap in Budapest. Good company, good wine, good tunes, good laughs got us through the night…this group just never lets you down on having a good time.
Even though I felt the inklings of a cold coming on Friday night, I wasn’t going to let it spoil my weekend. We all visited the market on Saturday morning, had some hot goulash to soothe the throat and the stomach…and then most of us with the exception of Jeremy (who was pursuing a map of Greece) went to the mall and marched ourselves right into a bad mood. It was exactly like the mobs you see the day after Thanksgiving in America. Christmas shopping, Saturday…it just didn’t click with us until about a half hour into the trip. We met up with the rest of the group later in the afternoon at Roz’s apt. anticipating the night of dancing and bar-hopping ahead. Roz did excellent research with the night buses and trying to find bars close to metro stops and we eventually hit up bar Picasso in our themed dress. Tonight was “dress like a Hungarian night…” this meant, very obvious highlights in our hair, rolled up jeans and knee-high boots, and huge earrings (although Harpswell’s red Christmas ornament earrings probably made a first appearance in Magyaroszag). We danced the night away until around 4ish and took cabs home after all of Roz’s research!
After two hours of sleep Jenna and I decided to walk around outside to get some fresh air. An apt. full of around 12 –13 people who haven’t showered and been drinking certainly doesn’t smell like roses. We strolled to Margaret Island where we enjoyed the astonishingly peaceful scenery in the company several joggers, a few bums, and some overly friendly deer. The turtle pond in the Japanese garden was steaming…no sprouting flowers or fountains, but the ambiance of the island was so zen-like that it again reinforced my love for this city…and Budapest’s Central Park, Margaret Island.
I also enjoyed a bit of nostalgia…back from the days in July and August when I strolled around the island often alone but also with different company. GOING BACK IN TIME to….
My first visit to the island was with Rachael from Tasmania who was in my CELTA course. We got along so well b/c she and I both love to walk and we conquered every inch of that island that day, along with half of the Danube bank on the Buda side. We discovered the summer festival on the Chain Bridge and had open-faced sandwiches w/cappuccino at a little outdoor café with a view of the river.
Second, it was Cat, my Scottish July roommate who was a self-proclaimed klutz like me. We both wanted to escape the daily rigors of our CELTA course and decided to hit up the island even as drops of rain plopped onto our heads. Well inevitably we got caught in a pretty intense thunderstorm and tried to wait it out under a somewhat leafy tree in the middle of the island…as the footballers escaped, the bikers fled, and the mothers ran carrying their children, Cat and I stayed under our tree and talked about the weather in Chicago and Scotland. She didn’t seem the least bit worried as I constantly glanced around us convinced that we would be struck by lightning, but trying to not look overly concerned about it. We eventually escaped drenched, but later admired the crazy clouds the storm had produced from the same outdoor café that Rachael and I had stopped at.
Before going out on Saturday nights, Cat and I would sit on the benches facing Margaret Bridge of course with ice cream and talk about what everything would be like when the course ended and when we were in our respective cities: me in Szerencs and she in Moscow.
Third, it was Swiss Michelle who was also on the course and was nice enough to put me up in her flat for a while after our course so anti-climatically ended one INCREDIBLY HOT day in July. We went to the island to relax, because most of the month of July had been spent preparing our lessons, writing papers, and then going to the watering holes of Budapest immediately afterwards and not coming home until our thirst for a good time was quenched….which usually tended to be pretty late or early (however you want to look at it). She brought her hammock and we tied it between two trees, got in and listened to music before napping. All around us people played badminton, football, rode by in tandem bicycles happily licking ice cream. I was just content to stare up into the leafy green tree above us as the sun shone through and let my body unwind.
Fourth, it was Lara from North Carolina. She was taking the CELTA during August and we became roommates b/c she didn’t have one and I desperately needed a place to stay for a month before my job orientation started. We went to the island a lot, rented bicycles, ate ice cream, actually tried a hostel bar one night (but got attacked by mosquitoes), climbed all over the ruins of St. Margaret’s church, and many times just lay sprawled in the grassy havens of the island with our books and music.
All of my visits to this island have been memorable, because it seems to breed excellent conversation with whomever I’m with at the time. But a lot of the trips I’ve made alone and now I’m quite aware of how long and sentimental this entry has become, but it’s sometimes very rare when you fall into that writing groove…so I’ll continue on. Plus, walking around the island spitting back and forth easy and wonderful conversation with Jenna on Sunday morning made me think about how much I missed it…
After arriving in Budapest in July, I had skipped over seven time zones, given up my first real job out of college, and left my long-term boyfriend wondering what the hell I was doing and when the hell I was coming back. I was so confused and had not been particularly happy with my life just before I left probably because I was overly stressed out and exhausted, not knowing what I wanted anymore in any arena of my life. Walking around on Margaret Island days after I had arrived helped me to start processing everything. I gave my story to each person I walked with and they in turn, gave me theirs.
They gave me their encouraging words and I gave them mine. It was not only nice to go for a lengthy, lingering summer stroll on an island, but to also hear the perspectives of people who come from all over the world. EACH one of them helped me see things that I was blinded by before. I was displaced from my old world and transported to an island in the middle of the Danube in Hungary and suddenly I could see what I needed to do. When in Budapest, in each direction that I looked, everything seemed to fit and everything was right. I didn’t feel stressed, just blessed to be able to have amazing conversations with people who were passing through my life one month at a time. At this current moment, I feel lucky to know that I can count on my friends in Hungary (fellow CETPers) to get me through rough patches that sometimes accompany isolation and loneliness…and to my friends and family at home who are supportive of my decision to be here. It didn’t take long after arriving in Hungary (maybe a day or two after initial jet-lag culture shock) to know that I was in the right place at the right time.
Last weekend, the group all came together in Bp to celebrate some birthdays and bid Roz farewell as she finishes with CETP this semester. Let me begin at the beginning and fawn over the wonderful city of Budapest for a moment.
As my train jolted into motion from the Szerencs railway station in the direction of Keleti pu. in Budapest, I got settled in my seat with anticipation. Two and a half hours away and I’m already giddy by the thought that I will be able to walk amongst the beautiful architecture, traffic, and city activity. When on the train or in any type of moving vehicle, I tend to space out, my brain either disintegrates like melting plastic or races with so much thought it’s hard to corral one specific idea (it really depends on the day I just had). Therefore, it’s hard for me to read on the train. I prefer listening to music and thinking while gazing out the window (or people watching on the train.) Anyway, during this time my legs and energy are gradually being wound up, tightening like a spring ready to pop.
Getting off the train in Budapest always warrants so much excitement. I glance happily at the newsstands, booths with chasing Christmas lights snaking around their poles, thousands of hats, gloves, and scarves for sale. Looking up at the big clock in the center of the arch at Keleti makes me feel like I am somewhere completely grand and important. There is a bounce in my step… I refuse taxi offers from the folks just outside the doors to the train station (I just casually shake my head in quick step, proud that I am confident about where I need to go tonight.) As I step outside, the cold wind bites at my nose and shakes my hair loose, but like a reliable drug, Budapest has immediately uplifted my mood once again. My legs feel like they could run a marathon uphill and regardless of the amount of weight on my back, I decide to walk about 45 min. from Keleti all the way over Margaret Bridge to the Buda side.
Watching cars in motion makes me happy, seeing people walk to wherever they need to go makes me happy, feeling completely anonymous as I walk down busy Rákóczi út turning onto the gently curving ring of Erzsébet körút and so on into the night makes me happy. The view of sprinkled lights in the Buda hills, the glowing mass of Matthias Church, and the Buda castle standing proudly above many spotlights near the snazzy lights of the Chain Bridge is a pleasant smack in the face turning onto Margaret Bridge. Legs are warm and the blood is still flowing…I’m not cold, my hair is windblown and my eyes are probably red from the wind coming off the Danube and onto the bridge. It is me, the 5 o’clock rush on the street, and a few courageous evening runners. This moment could keep me happily satisfied for months.
What makes me even happier are the real Mexican enchiladas that I ate at “Iguana,” the only true Mexican restaurant in Budapest. Several of us indulged in our need for chunky salsa, fresh salty tortilla chips, pitcher(s) of beer, fajitas, burritos, hamburgers? (Jeremy), and cheesecake…only to discover that yes we indulged in the price a little too. Good Mexican food doesn’t come cheap in Budapest. Good company, good wine, good tunes, good laughs got us through the night…this group just never lets you down on having a good time.
Even though I felt the inklings of a cold coming on Friday night, I wasn’t going to let it spoil my weekend. We all visited the market on Saturday morning, had some hot goulash to soothe the throat and the stomach…and then most of us with the exception of Jeremy (who was pursuing a map of Greece) went to the mall and marched ourselves right into a bad mood. It was exactly like the mobs you see the day after Thanksgiving in America. Christmas shopping, Saturday…it just didn’t click with us until about a half hour into the trip. We met up with the rest of the group later in the afternoon at Roz’s apt. anticipating the night of dancing and bar-hopping ahead. Roz did excellent research with the night buses and trying to find bars close to metro stops and we eventually hit up bar Picasso in our themed dress. Tonight was “dress like a Hungarian night…” this meant, very obvious highlights in our hair, rolled up jeans and knee-high boots, and huge earrings (although Harpswell’s red Christmas ornament earrings probably made a first appearance in Magyaroszag). We danced the night away until around 4ish and took cabs home after all of Roz’s research! 
Jenna and I spotted the Hungarian flag with a hole (freedom fighters ripped out the part of the flag with communist symbols in an act of resistance to Soviet occupation in Hungary).
After two hours of sleep Jenna and I decided to walk around outside to get some fresh air. An apt. full of around 12 –13 people who haven’t showered and been drinking certainly doesn’t smell like roses. We strolled to Margaret Island where we enjoyed the astonishingly peaceful scenery in the company several joggers, a few bums, and some overly friendly deer. The turtle pond in the Japanese garden was steaming…no sprouting flowers or fountains, but the ambiance of the island was so zen-like that it again reinforced my love for this city…and Budapest’s Central Park, Margaret Island.
I also enjoyed a bit of nostalgia…back from the days in July and August when I strolled around the island often alone but also with different company. GOING BACK IN TIME to….
My first visit to the island was with Rachael from Tasmania who was in my CELTA course. We got along so well b/c she and I both love to walk and we conquered every inch of that island that day, along with half of the Danube bank on the Buda side. We discovered the summer festival on the Chain Bridge and had open-faced sandwiches w/cappuccino at a little outdoor café with a view of the river.
Second, it was Cat, my Scottish July roommate who was a self-proclaimed klutz like me. We both wanted to escape the daily rigors of our CELTA course and decided to hit up the island even as drops of rain plopped onto our heads. Well inevitably we got caught in a pretty intense thunderstorm and tried to wait it out under a somewhat leafy tree in the middle of the island…as the footballers escaped, the bikers fled, and the mothers ran carrying their children, Cat and I stayed under our tree and talked about the weather in Chicago and Scotland. She didn’t seem the least bit worried as I constantly glanced around us convinced that we would be struck by lightning, but trying to not look overly concerned about it. We eventually escaped drenched, but later admired the crazy clouds the storm had produced from the same outdoor café that Rachael and I had stopped at.
Before going out on Saturday nights, Cat and I would sit on the benches facing Margaret Bridge of course with ice cream and talk about what everything would be like when the course ended and when we were in our respective cities: me in Szerencs and she in Moscow.
Third, it was Swiss Michelle who was also on the course and was nice enough to put me up in her flat for a while after our course so anti-climatically ended one INCREDIBLY HOT day in July. We went to the island to relax, because most of the month of July had been spent preparing our lessons, writing papers, and then going to the watering holes of Budapest immediately afterwards and not coming home until our thirst for a good time was quenched….which usually tended to be pretty late or early (however you want to look at it). She brought her hammock and we tied it between two trees, got in and listened to music before napping. All around us people played badminton, football, rode by in tandem bicycles happily licking ice cream. I was just content to stare up into the leafy green tree above us as the sun shone through and let my body unwind.
Fourth, it was Lara from North Carolina. She was taking the CELTA during August and we became roommates b/c she didn’t have one and I desperately needed a place to stay for a month before my job orientation started. We went to the island a lot, rented bicycles, ate ice cream, actually tried a hostel bar one night (but got attacked by mosquitoes), climbed all over the ruins of St. Margaret’s church, and many times just lay sprawled in the grassy havens of the island with our books and music.
All of my visits to this island have been memorable, because it seems to breed excellent conversation with whomever I’m with at the time. But a lot of the trips I’ve made alone and now I’m quite aware of how long and sentimental this entry has become, but it’s sometimes very rare when you fall into that writing groove…so I’ll continue on. Plus, walking around the island spitting back and forth easy and wonderful conversation with Jenna on Sunday morning made me think about how much I missed it…
After arriving in Budapest in July, I had skipped over seven time zones, given up my first real job out of college, and left my long-term boyfriend wondering what the hell I was doing and when the hell I was coming back. I was so confused and had not been particularly happy with my life just before I left probably because I was overly stressed out and exhausted, not knowing what I wanted anymore in any arena of my life. Walking around on Margaret Island days after I had arrived helped me to start processing everything. I gave my story to each person I walked with and they in turn, gave me theirs.
They gave me their encouraging words and I gave them mine. It was not only nice to go for a lengthy, lingering summer stroll on an island, but to also hear the perspectives of people who come from all over the world. EACH one of them helped me see things that I was blinded by before. I was displaced from my old world and transported to an island in the middle of the Danube in Hungary and suddenly I could see what I needed to do. When in Budapest, in each direction that I looked, everything seemed to fit and everything was right. I didn’t feel stressed, just blessed to be able to have amazing conversations with people who were passing through my life one month at a time. At this current moment, I feel lucky to know that I can count on my friends in Hungary (fellow CETPers) to get me through rough patches that sometimes accompany isolation and loneliness…and to my friends and family at home who are supportive of my decision to be here. It didn’t take long after arriving in Hungary (maybe a day or two after initial jet-lag culture shock) to know that I was in the right place at the right time.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Helplessness in the Classroom
Some days are good, some days are bad, and some days are just ugly...I guess Forrest Gump was right when he said that life is like a box of chocolates. Days here in Hungary are like that. One day, everyone seems to care and the next kids are flicking each other off, dropping the F-bomb just for your reaction, and you still haven't gotten paid! This is by far the longest I've EVER worked for free! I was actually surprised by how much it didn't bother me for a while. Well, now I've hit the limit and I'm ready for the dough! So please, pay me....!
Anyway, my first class today attempts to blow my eardrums during their "GOOD MORNING MISS...I'M FINE THANKS, HOW ARE YOU??" chant. For the love of GOD, there are more ways to answer the question "how are you?" besides "I'm fine thanks." I know for a fact that not all of them are fine. So, as I was feeling tired...as I have been lately, I taught them this among other things. One student surprised me by saying, "I'm half tired and half happy." Ok, I'll take it! So minutes after the opening exclamations, little 6th grader Krisztian (sp?) chucks a wad of paper at some girl across the room and at throws his middle fingers out at her waving them around in a fit of anger. I can't possibly imagine what she did to make him do this. So in the first five minutes of my 1st class today, I yelled and did many hand gestures that I think construed negative meaning. They seem to react to this more than my calm shhhhushes (the Hungarians even shush differently than we do...more of a sssssssssssss than a shhhhhhhhhh). Also, I find that banging my Nalgene bottle on the blackboard grabs their attention as well...in more ways than one. First, it's loud, second, they are convinced that I come to class with it equipped with either palinka, vodka, or some other kind of alcholic drink. The teachers are even fascinated by the Nalgene. "What is...that?" they ask quizzically. It's not that I teach like I'm drunk...I think it's just because they've learned more alcohol vocabulary than any other topic. I told one boy, "So you know how to say vodka, whiskey, rum, and beer, but you don't know how to say river?"
After ten minutes of note-writing, throwing anything in sight, falling out of chairs, and talking unneccesarily loud, I was furious. I guess I had finally come to the end of my fuse. After a few moments of silence, one boy meekly said, "Happy Birthday Kat." and then the whole class burst out into the Happy Birthday song...and my frosty exterior proceeded to melt away. That's the funny thing about kids...they can test your sanity one minute and then win you over the next. I don't even know how the kid remembered my birthday, but it did mean a lot.
Anyway, my first class today attempts to blow my eardrums during their "GOOD MORNING MISS...I'M FINE THANKS, HOW ARE YOU??" chant. For the love of GOD, there are more ways to answer the question "how are you?" besides "I'm fine thanks." I know for a fact that not all of them are fine. So, as I was feeling tired...as I have been lately, I taught them this among other things. One student surprised me by saying, "I'm half tired and half happy." Ok, I'll take it! So minutes after the opening exclamations, little 6th grader Krisztian (sp?) chucks a wad of paper at some girl across the room and at throws his middle fingers out at her waving them around in a fit of anger. I can't possibly imagine what she did to make him do this. So in the first five minutes of my 1st class today, I yelled and did many hand gestures that I think construed negative meaning. They seem to react to this more than my calm shhhhushes (the Hungarians even shush differently than we do...more of a sssssssssssss than a shhhhhhhhhh). Also, I find that banging my Nalgene bottle on the blackboard grabs their attention as well...in more ways than one. First, it's loud, second, they are convinced that I come to class with it equipped with either palinka, vodka, or some other kind of alcholic drink. The teachers are even fascinated by the Nalgene. "What is...that?" they ask quizzically. It's not that I teach like I'm drunk...I think it's just because they've learned more alcohol vocabulary than any other topic. I told one boy, "So you know how to say vodka, whiskey, rum, and beer, but you don't know how to say river?"
After ten minutes of note-writing, throwing anything in sight, falling out of chairs, and talking unneccesarily loud, I was furious. I guess I had finally come to the end of my fuse. After a few moments of silence, one boy meekly said, "Happy Birthday Kat." and then the whole class burst out into the Happy Birthday song...and my frosty exterior proceeded to melt away. That's the funny thing about kids...they can test your sanity one minute and then win you over the next. I don't even know how the kid remembered my birthday, but it did mean a lot.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Mixed Emotions
This Stones song has become a part of my Hungary soundtrack: one, because it is one of the 44 songs on my MP3 player and now it will forever remind me of the Szerencs hills just after sunrise on my walk to school...(the beautiful view in contrast with the foaming, growling beasts wanting to bite my legs off (kiraly of the streets: aka, the dogs). TWO, because Hungary makes me really happy one minute, then really frustrated in the next.
I've had a lot of random thoughts floating through my head over the past two weeks and I just needed to make a list and piece them together like a puzzle somewhere down the road...
So here goes:
1) Szerencs smells like chocolate, but not the kind that melts in your mouth...the kind that comes out as smoke from two factory towers (strangely resembling Springfield's Nuclear Power Plant aka Homer's place of employment). Also herbal tea reminds me of Szerencs, b/c one of my students, Angela, has me over for dinner and her family always gives me this soup bowl size of herbal tea (the smell of which must cling to my hair, scarf, or clothes). Her father is actually quite hilarious and points out that the random white goat standing tied to a pole in the middle of the street is like a scene from Jurassic Park (indication that the silver screen has hit Hungary). Also, he makes sure that I know the difference between "chickens" and the Hungarian translation of "chickens with trousers" (chickens with furry legs.) Somehow, this struck a chord with me and I was doubling over with laughter (probably b/c of the British vocab. use).
2) Went shopping w/the girls (Liz, Rosalind, and Gaines) on the weekend of my b-day...twas nice, but I haven't hit up the stores like that in a loooong time. Liz kept reassuring me that it was my b-day and I did deserve to splurge a little. Ok, so I still need some reassurance. As I was telling my contact teacher (carpool companion Etelka) my whereabouts this weekend, she matter of factly stated: "Wow Kat you can show George(the driver and husband of Etelka) and I Hungary. You see more of it than we do. Oh and Vaci Ut is the street for Americans...it's where the millionaires shop."
3) I did have a pretty good day on Friday with my classes...the stars had aligned and my students were looking at me with bright sparkly eyes, laughing at all the right moments, and repeating my prompts in enthusiastic unison. This made me contemplate my situation on the 2 and a half hour stint to Budapest Friday afternoon. It was really rewarding and fulfilling to see the kids smiling back at me, excited to learn English. Maybe I had another hole in my shirt(story from the previous week) or maybe I had chalk all over my pants ( I don't know, but I'm going to roll with it anyway). One good thing about not understanding the language...I can start to pick out bits and pieces or maybe every seventeenth word in a conversation and I can imagine a possible conversation (one to my liking) instead of hearing the real thing. I'm not absorbed or sucked into school politics or drama. I can just sit and eat my lunch (today it was noodles with about 3 cups of poppyseeds (black snow drift) sitting on top. I could only stomach about 1/4 of it) and imagine that all is well in this post-communist country for the time being. Even if it is cloudy and raining and the fog prevents me from seeing two feet in front of my face, at least everyone is content.
But then again, this may be an unhealthy way to view life...in denial.
My morning commute on foot
I've had a lot of random thoughts floating through my head over the past two weeks and I just needed to make a list and piece them together like a puzzle somewhere down the road...
So here goes:
1) Szerencs smells like chocolate, but not the kind that melts in your mouth...the kind that comes out as smoke from two factory towers (strangely resembling Springfield's Nuclear Power Plant aka Homer's place of employment). Also herbal tea reminds me of Szerencs, b/c one of my students, Angela, has me over for dinner and her family always gives me this soup bowl size of herbal tea (the smell of which must cling to my hair, scarf, or clothes). Her father is actually quite hilarious and points out that the random white goat standing tied to a pole in the middle of the street is like a scene from Jurassic Park (indication that the silver screen has hit Hungary). Also, he makes sure that I know the difference between "chickens" and the Hungarian translation of "chickens with trousers" (chickens with furry legs.) Somehow, this struck a chord with me and I was doubling over with laughter (probably b/c of the British vocab. use).
2) Went shopping w/the girls (Liz, Rosalind, and Gaines) on the weekend of my b-day...twas nice, but I haven't hit up the stores like that in a loooong time. Liz kept reassuring me that it was my b-day and I did deserve to splurge a little. Ok, so I still need some reassurance. As I was telling my contact teacher (carpool companion Etelka) my whereabouts this weekend, she matter of factly stated: "Wow Kat you can show George(the driver and husband of Etelka) and I Hungary. You see more of it than we do. Oh and Vaci Ut is the street for Americans...it's where the millionaires shop."
3) I did have a pretty good day on Friday with my classes...the stars had aligned and my students were looking at me with bright sparkly eyes, laughing at all the right moments, and repeating my prompts in enthusiastic unison. This made me contemplate my situation on the 2 and a half hour stint to Budapest Friday afternoon. It was really rewarding and fulfilling to see the kids smiling back at me, excited to learn English. Maybe I had another hole in my shirt(story from the previous week) or maybe I had chalk all over my pants ( I don't know, but I'm going to roll with it anyway). One good thing about not understanding the language...I can start to pick out bits and pieces or maybe every seventeenth word in a conversation and I can imagine a possible conversation (one to my liking) instead of hearing the real thing. I'm not absorbed or sucked into school politics or drama. I can just sit and eat my lunch (today it was noodles with about 3 cups of poppyseeds (black snow drift) sitting on top. I could only stomach about 1/4 of it) and imagine that all is well in this post-communist country for the time being. Even if it is cloudy and raining and the fog prevents me from seeing two feet in front of my face, at least everyone is content.
Bocskai István Gimnázium, the high school where I teach on Wednesdays
But then again, this may be an unhealthy way to view life...in denial.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Thanksgiving in Nyíregyháza and even Hungarian Students Cheat
I'm still a little shocked by the fact that a student didn't attempt in the least to hide his cheating strategy while sitting in my class trying to come up with as many uses for dental floss as possible. His technique includes removing the label of a Coke bottle, writing the formula, answers, whatever on the back; re-sticking the label to the bottle, and drinking enough Coke to see the answers through the plastic. I fully intend to create a lesson designed to make him feel guilty about cheating so that he'll think twice about doing it again (and it wasn't even in my class). Not that my lessons will change the world of cheaters, but when you don't have a curriculum or books that you should use and you're just out there flapping in the breeze, a lesson on cheating isn't such a bad idea.
Thanksgiving in Hungary was quite a nice intermission from my now established play of life in Szerencs. Liz, Jeremy and I baked some chocolate chip cookies (six at a time (should have been called butter bars), batter stirred in pots)). Jeremy was in charge of chopping the chocolate bars into "chips" as they don't exist here and had to make an emergency bike jaunt back to Tesco to fetch the forgotton ingredient baking soda. Liz was ecstatic about buying a "plastic Charlie Brown" Christmas tree at Tesco...full with ornaments and lights. I even splurged on a string of colored bulbs to put in my room.
Thanksgiving dinner on Saturday night was complete with a full turkey...a bird that was killed for us on Thursday because the Hungarians were adamant about us having our traditional food on our American holiday. The potluck was successful and we all left feeling a little rounder and more cheerful. No American football...just some Creedence and Black Eyed Peas music on Yerik's Itunes list (Oddly enough, these are the two bands that stick out in my head - apples and oranges, I know).
Being with everyone on pseudo Turkey Saturday was very comforting during a time that is usually spent with family and I'm definitely thankful to have a wonderful group of comrades to eat, drink, and be merry with.
Thanksgiving in Hungary was quite a nice intermission from my now established play of life in Szerencs. Liz, Jeremy and I baked some chocolate chip cookies (six at a time (should have been called butter bars), batter stirred in pots)). Jeremy was in charge of chopping the chocolate bars into "chips" as they don't exist here and had to make an emergency bike jaunt back to Tesco to fetch the forgotton ingredient baking soda. Liz was ecstatic about buying a "plastic Charlie Brown" Christmas tree at Tesco...full with ornaments and lights. I even splurged on a string of colored bulbs to put in my room.
Thanksgiving dinner on Saturday night was complete with a full turkey...a bird that was killed for us on Thursday because the Hungarians were adamant about us having our traditional food on our American holiday. The potluck was successful and we all left feeling a little rounder and more cheerful. No American football...just some Creedence and Black Eyed Peas music on Yerik's Itunes list (Oddly enough, these are the two bands that stick out in my head - apples and oranges, I know).
Being with everyone on pseudo Turkey Saturday was very comforting during a time that is usually spent with family and I'm definitely thankful to have a wonderful group of comrades to eat, drink, and be merry with.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Prague and All Saint's
Just got Internet installed in my apartment and I'm still counting my lucky stars that I brought the laptop on the trip (even though it almost broke my back hauling it around the Dublin airport about 4 months ago when I first hopped the Atlantic).
I've fallen back into my routine of teaching both my school classes and private lessons. Two weeks ago, I was in Prague with my travel buddy/American teacher in southern Hungary, Harpswell. We joked around so much that the 8 hour train ride flew by and before we knew it, we were in the Czech Republic, our passports out of breath.
Entrance to the Charles Bridge in Prague
On November 1st, Hungary commerates their dead. At night, everyone gathers in the cemetery with candles and pays respect to the dead (a 180 from the hyped up Halloween parties we have with fake ghosts and the sort). So we saw glowing cemeteries shoot by the window just as our train pulled out of Hungary and into Slovakia. Moments later, we stopped in a bigger city...to which Harpswell says, "This can't be Bratislava...I really don't think it is." Not even two seconds later, a huge blue sign with yellow letters announcing BRATISLAVA faces our window.
We spent much of Prague walking off all the pure slabs of fat and pastry that the Transylvanians funneled into our mouths. After mistaking two modest bridges as the Charles Bridge and fueling up on hot wine, we trekked up to the castle. Prague rested in a misty November fog that fit the Central European stigma oh so well. We frequented a rabbit hole bar (it was like walking into a tunnel that led to more and more rooms), a pirate bar and tried to process all of the excess English we heard....you just don't get that in Budapest or in a small Hungarian village of 11,000.
We spent much of Prague walking off all the pure slabs of fat and pastry that the Transylvanians funneled into our mouths. After mistaking two modest bridges as the Charles Bridge and fueling up on hot wine, we trekked up to the castle. Prague rested in a misty November fog that fit the Central European stigma oh so well. We frequented a rabbit hole bar (it was like walking into a tunnel that led to more and more rooms), a pirate bar and tried to process all of the excess English we heard....you just don't get that in Budapest or in a small Hungarian village of 11,000.
Dark and gothic spire plenty church
We walked through an Italian movie set with Christmas trees and white lights strung over a narrow cobblestoned street. I was impressed by the amount of random art that exists in Prague. Metal babies crawl on the TV tower eye sore and a silohuetted man hangs off a building from a steel bar. Art where you don't expect it - that's one of the things I liked the most about Prague.
I like how the flora matches the orange roofs of Prague in the distance.
Babies crawling on a tower
While in Prague, Harpswell and I were charged way too much for a glass of beer at a Herna bar, stayed in a really nice hotel our first night, then nearly froze staying at Harpswell's friends' apartment, the windows open for much of the November night, re-united with my old Budapest roommate Lara and met her boyfriend, Brendan with whom we went out dancing at a bar playing African drum music, and wandered the streets and cemeteries talking. Prague was fun, but it's good to be back in Hungary.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Through the Woods, Transylvania
I made it back alive from my journeys to the east and west of Hungary. Transylvania was a lot of bus time, a lot of gas station Cola Lights and Mexicorn, but also some of the most breathtaking scenery I have ever seen.
Orange, yellow, and red broccoflower trees (as Jenna so creatively calls them) covered the mountains like a spread, sharp canyons that looked like they had been traveled upon by Frodo Baggins and company, and horses pulling carts of gypsies clambered up and down past our bus, sometimes almost being plowed down by it.
Jeremy and I take a break on a frosty mountainside
Jenna, Mariah, Harpswell, and Liz hitch a ride with the local transportation
Killer Lake looks calm. The water's iron oxide and calcium carbonate preserve the foliage beneath the water perfectly. Because of all the chemicals, no fish can survive here.
We learned traditional Hungarian dances from these friendly folk.
Some of us were not so successful (including me, in red)
We stayed with different Hungarian families each night (the Trianon peace treaty left Hungarians living in Romania when the borders were changed).
Above is a Hungarian village in Romania where we stayed.
The families met us with shots of palinka, a type of Hungarian moonshine that supposedly helps with digestion. We were certainly fed well in Transylvania...the families didn't want us to leave and tell everyone that there was no food in Transylvania. There was soup, stuffed cabbage, beef and a noodle type dish and pastries for dessert. Nothing like fried vampire bat wings or anything of that nature. We also did not get the chance to drink blood. Oh, and I did eat eggs in Romania and survive...at a time when the news makes the bird flu sound like the Bubonic Plague.
Dracula's supposed home-town: Sighisoara, was incredibly gothic and creepy. There were tall towers with miniature chimneys that made me wonder what went on up there. There was actually a bi-lingual school at the top of the hill next to a huge cemetery that sloped over the hill. I briefly thought what it would be like to teach there. The tombstones were covered in ivy, candles were lit, and the ancient stones with crooked crosses had nothing on the sandblasted stones of today. There was a bust of Vlad Tepes in the center of town. This was my favorite place in Transylvania even though it was the most touristy. The atmosphere was perfect for exploring, as it was Halloween and we spent much of our time wandering through cemeteries and down the cobbled streets imagining what the town was like under Vlad's cruel rule.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Eger and countdown to Transylvania
Next Wednesday I take off for Transylvania and all I hear all over the news is how Romania is infested with the bird flu. My group was told that we were not to eat any food or drink any water, oh and we should not travel into the Carpathian mountain forests alone at night, because there are bears lurking about. Lions and tigers too?
This past weekend was spent in beautiful Eger where two of my American colleagues visited another colleague and ventured into the valley of beautiful women where bull's blood (red wine) never stops flowing. Many of the Turkish tunnels underneath the city have been transformed into discos.
Liz, Jeremy, and I sitting on Eger castle
View of Eger from its castle
We climbed this minaret and got yelled at for staying at the top for too long.
Kyle took us on a stroll through this vineyard on our last morning and we couldn't resist tasting some of its shriveled grapes, as Eger is one of Hungary's famous wine-growing regions.
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