Spring'in Back to Life

Today we are an hour ahead as Daylight Savings Time hits Hungary a little earlier than the U.S. And I would never have known if I hadn't been perusing the Internet on Friday night looking for the mileage between Budapest and Zagreb. Somehow I stumbled upon the World Clock website, which notified me that I would need to change my clock on March 26 (specifically from 2 am to 3 am. As I go to bed with the chickens and other farm animals (aka very early), I changed my clock from 8:39 to 9:39 and promptly passed out.

I’d like to say that it’s because of the fresh air I’ve been getting lately. Spring has arrived in Szerencs, which means that I've been out for daily walks, re-discovering my motivation, and wearing my spring jacket! The fields on my walks appear to have greenified, birds are chirping, and windows are cracked. The town bathes in sunlight! Rain. Then Sunlight!

This past Saturday, I met up with friendly CETP folk in the wine country of kings: Tokaj...only 20 short mins. from Szerencs by train! Although the day was sunny and cheerfully warmer than usual, we spent a good amount of time in the damp dark cellars of the neighborhood.

....and I'm swiftly transported to last year at this time when my fellow ex-BEAST (Belleville East) colleagues et al. escaped to the Missouri wineries on the spring weekends. Shout out to Alicia, Erica, and Jon! Some of the best memories of last year come from those trips in the Jeep (listening to awful 80's music!) darting over hills from one winery to the next...pondering alternative options for the following year.

I will say that I do miss the open rolling fields of the Missouri wineries...spotted with tables with enough room to enjoy a game of frisbee...it's becoming easier to see how America really is the "Great Wide Open" the more time I spend away from it.

The European way is to not waste an inch of space...smaller chairs, smaller tables, smaller doors, and smaller streets...therefore making me feel like a giant and way too big for this country.

Political Graffiti

Everyone who is currently living in Hungary cannot escape the political propaganda that protrudes from the ground in the form of billboards and decorates old communist style flat blocks with orange, green, and other assorted party colors.

As for the contenders, I haven't been very lucky in figuring out who is on top, who is the jerk, etc...but I got more of a clue yesterday on my way to Solymár, a town just north of Budapest. As I was gazing out my window observing Budapest in its spring splendor, I couldn't help but notice the one billboard on which someone had spray painted a Hitler mustache. Not even 5 minutes later, I saw the same man's billboard with one big white word,“Elèg!”which means "Enough" in Hungarian. As I began coming to certain negative conclusions about this man, I saw yet another sign with a Nazi symbol next to his head. Developing a pattern here? I'll have to do more research.

You may ask...what was I doing in Solymár on a normal Wednesday? Watching my 10N students perform "Cinders" a spoof on Cinderella...a play I had picked out for them. Although the day was extremely long and I was immersed in a deep sea of non-stop Hungarian (to the point of chanting common phrases that I had heard that day over and over again...sometimes not knowing what I was saying....like a linguistically exhausted parrot) it was worth seeing my favorite class get all glammed up for their hilarious performance. Prince Charming, (Istvàn) had the best snotty English accent. When complimented, he said that he had studied the Prince's demeanor and voice from Shrek. The results of that day: 10N from Szerencs placed 8th among 23 schools!

Highlights of the play included:

1) The King and Queen (Szabolcs and Katalin) entering the stage to the theme from Star Wars.

2) Prince Charming entering the stage to Ricky Martin.

3) Cinderella (Brigi) wearing a huge cast on her foot because she tripped down the stairs at school two days before...so the glass slipper really couldn't fit her. But luckily, the spoof version of this performance does not go with the classic tale...in 10N's version, the glass slipper fits Granny and Cinderella goes off with the servant, Buttons.

4) Last of all...I'm so impressed that these kids spent hours memorizing several lines for this play and it was all in ENGLISH! I still don't know how they do it...

I would like to take this time to complain...

Finally, in the warmth of my over-flowered apartment on the edge of Szerencs, I can calmly reflect on the day’s atrocities.

I went to sleep on Sunday reveling in overall happiness upon returning from a visit to a friend, Magdi, in Gödöllő near Budapest. Below is Sisi’s (Elizabeth) castle. Magdi’s husband graciously took his time taking the picture to get the perfect angle and lighting, much to my appreciation. Although, my darned eyes are closed once again!
But the night brought wind…wind that reminded me of my college days in central Illinois where the wind between certain dormitories made you swear you could feel it beneath your feet about to lift you up and away somewhere into a distant cornfield.

I believe the wind metaphorically entered my head and tossed things around, because on Monday morning, I was NOT happy. My first two classes went okay today, but the next three just pissed me off. The kids weren’t necessarily all that bad, but regardless, I was a monster. I collected notes with a sinister glee and arranged them on my desk in a wonderful pile. I sat down next to kids who weren’t writing anything down when told and asked them if their hands were broken or tormented them until they were forced to scribble. Today, I didn’t care if I humiliated, scared, or even made the kids sad.

As a beginning question, I asked 6ab to tell me what the weather was like today. One girl said, “snowy and windy.” I said, “What? Snow? No it’s just windy…I think the snow is fin (pausing to look out the window)…oh wow, you’re right it is snowing…again” Bleck.

At the last lesson, my 7th graders couldn’t seem to understand my simple request to read the poem that they had written on the board as a class. After my impatience had taken its toll upon seeing kids making paperclip creatures, staring out the window or laughing with each other, I felt it was time for a speech…

The “speech” was easy in American classrooms. The kids understood you because you spoke English and they spoke English. Here, it is a different story. But, like I said before, today I didn’t care if they understood or not. I paused, leaned on the table, and glared around the room wearing the stoniest face I could muster. Started off with, “Just because I don’t speak Hungarian doesn’t give you the right to disrespect me…blah blah blah blah…” and I think they understood because they all sat there without saying a word. When you don’t speak the language, you have to play up the gesturing, facial expressions, and tone…so maybe that did it. I then stated, “Now does someone wanna tell me about your holiday on the 15th of March or do you wanna write about it for homework?” Someone timidly chimed, “Yes.” Okay, so they didn’t get it all.

I marched back to the teacher room to get my coat and got the hell outta there. Next stop, grocery shopping at Spar. By this point, the wind had some hefty snow to play with. My anger based adrenaline allowed me to storm through the wind and snow like a soldier.

All ready to check out…and I just happen to get behind two ladies with a cart stacked up to the ceiling. They bought every spice, every ingredient, every brand of beer, every vegetable, and every carton of yogurt in the whole godforsaken store. I thought to myself, “is there something about this snowstorm that I don’t know about?” So, I waited for about fifteen minutes, watching the snow come down harder, and cars sliding around the round-about. Equipped with some of those Kinder-Hippos as comfort food, I headed back out into the March winter. This time, the snow stabbed my face like icy nails and I had to walk home with one eye closed, hunched over, so that I appeared an injured pirate. I could only wish for a parrot on my shoulder. The walk home seemed to last an eternity (at this point, my writing has become cathartic even though I feel as though I’ve crossed the line in blog complaining.)

After passing stalled semis on the streets, and stumbling over the dune like snow mounds that the winds had carved and whittled, I practically fell into my apartment with an exhausted whimper. My fingers and face were bright red and soaking wet. I threw off the gloves and warmed them over my bathroom heater…but they burned so badly from the cold that I had to sit there and nurse them for a good ten minutes.

Everything turned around after enjoying a Hippo candy and crashing on the couch with my hot tea.
Now I’m better, but the wind is still here. I don’t know how those dogs sit out in it.

It's "Woman's Day!"

This morning, I decided to arrive to school early to make copies of the poem I was teaching today. I walked into the teacher room only to find silver plates holding several champagne flutes and baskets upon baskets of pogacsa.

As usual, I was clueless for a good half hour before someone explained to me that it was “Woman’s Day.” High school boys were waiting outside the door bearing flowers, plants, and chocolates for their female teachers. The headmaster read a speech and I could pick up on the fact that he was talking about “mothers and women” but I couldn’t make the connection. The time was slowly creeping to 8:00, when most of us had our first hour class. When the headmaster finished his speech, another teacher came to the front and read a poem. During his poem, the first bell rang and he continued right through it. He talked about how women see themselves differently in the mirror at different ages (a good poem and I wish I could have understood it instead of needing it translated).

Five minutes later, we were invited to toast champagne and eat our pogacsa. All female teachers received a gift of 2,000 forint (roughly equal to $10). The headmaster chimed in that mine (amerikai tanàrnő) was in the office by the entrance. I thought to myself “never in the United States” (particularly the drinking of champagne minutes before teaching and continuously between classes the whole day) and added it to the list of “mannerisms in Hungarian schools that would never pass in America.” Between my third and fourth class, some unfamiliar men were passing out roses and tulips to the female teachers. I didn’t know who they were until a fellow colleague announced that these were political fellows (one of whom was my private lesson, Zsofia’s dad who works in Parliament) who were “sly” and giving out flowers in hopes of gaining support in the upcoming Hungarian election on April 9th. Sneaky sneaky…

So, many of the teachers pushed more champagne and pogacsa at me and they continued to hover in the staff room while the minutes of first hour class whittled away. Another English teacher explained to me that today was a day simply to honor women.

COLLEAGUE: “Have you got a day like this in America?”
ME: “No, not really, but we do have Mother’s Day.”
COLLEAGUE: “Oh, yes, we have got Mother’s Day too, but not Father’s Day. Isn’t that silly?”
ME: “Oh, really? Yeah, uh-huh.”
COLLEAGUE: “There really isn’t a day for men.”

To me this is unfortunate and I did feel a little guilty accepting all the roses, flowers, and other arrangements knowing that the men did not have a similar occasion, but they didn’t seem to mind in the slightest and I don’t really know if anyone has questioned the absence of a “MAN’S DAY” or “FATHER’S DAY.” It would have been a good topic of discussion for my classes, but I really didn’t feel like going there and besides, I had planned quite a lesson on similes and poems for today.

*INTERMISSION* for two private lessons
Ok, so I just asked one private lesson, Zsofia, about the lack of a “MAN DAY” and she laughed. She just told me, “Well they’ve got Easter.”

Spring Cleaning

It's a slow Saturday night and I planned to clean the apt. today after lugging all kinds of new supplies home from the Spar, but alas...I have given that up and managed to just Windex my mirrors. I like fast results and spotless mirrors deliver!!

Anyway, I figured it was high time to change the name of my blog from "Hungary 2005" to something a little more current as 2005 is now two months gone. My new name came to mind within seconds and spawns from Peter Mayle's book, "French Lessons." Although I haven't read this book, it's always one I wanted to get around to. Instead, I'm trying to plow through William Makepeace Thackeray's "Vanity Fair," which is actually quite full of old British drama, something to pick up the slack in my drama-less life (not such a bad thing.) Well, it was one of several English options in the Szerencs Library. Next, I'm on to Hungarian literature...

Weather update: On my morning walk to Spar, it actually looked like a thunderstorm was in the works and of course I got excited for nothing.

A Weekend with Crazy Sheep Monsters

Lately, I'm not finding the patience that's needed to sit down and catch up on the blog, but I have just encountered a new favorite song, which may or may not be new to everyone...however, I need to download "Gold Lion" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. This is one music video that has a female singer who does not feel the need to throw her hair around and dance all seductively in front of the camera, but just does some crazy dance instead in which her eyes flicker wildly while smashing guitars. So anyway, I figure now is the time to recap the weekend...

I had quite a voyage from Szerencs in northeastern Hungary to Kalocsa, then Mohacs located in southwestern Hungary. After 5 hours of traveling on Friday, Jillian and I met Harpswell who prepared us a nice casserole for dinner. The next day, we lounged around and watched the Olympic exhibition figure skating of which we were more critical than the judges themselves. Tara arrived after waking up at 4:30 that morning to get to Kalocsa and she walked through the door bearing cookies! Wonderful cookies! Eventually we made it to the Kalocsa pool and bath...afterwards we had a nice dinner and retired fairly early that evening. The next day, we set off for Mohacs, the sight of Busojaras 2006 (I can't insert accents...I don't know how). This is a unique festival in which men dress up in sheepskins and wear really fascinating wooden masks with horns (even more interesting are the doughnuts that have been punctured by the horns on the masks). These men sport bells and huge flasks of palinka. They turn heads and they make small children put their heads down in fright when they march down the street. See for yourself on my picture link (Kat's Photos)....if you were a six year old, would you be scared or fascinated?

Jillian, Tara, Harpswell, and I took a Chinese man's (Lee) car down to Mohacs. Harpswell had gone to a store to buy a pair of jeans and the Chinese owner asked her if he wanted to borrow one of his cars to take to the festival. Undoubtedly, we cruised down to the festival listening to CD's, going our own pace, and not having to stop at bus stops!!! Woo hoo! But, yes, the cost of gas was quite a chunk of change...

We arrived and got some food, forralt bor (hot wine) and started wandering around. It was rainy, gray, cold, and dreary outside, but that didn't stop a decent crowd of folk to check out the day's and night's events. As we made it to the center square where an enormous pile of pine trees sat ready to be lit for the night's bonfire, I was pummeled in the shoulder by a small gypsy boy. He had some kind ball in a bag. I was too shocked to do anything, so we just continued about our business and I tried not to let it bother me. Throughout the day, our group walked around, bought some masks, ate, drank, periodically went inside to warm up with cappucinos and (ice cream??) Tara had a craving, and thus I had one. We watched dancing on the stage and one of the highlights of the festival was the Buso parade. Several Busos walked down the street, or sat on decorated tractors (parade floats?) They chased after women and waved at little kids...at one point, Jillian got sucked away into the parade, only to return a moment later. It was great fun seeing all the different masks and costumes (it was like Halloween only 4 months too late).

That night, the huge pile of *CONIFERS* was lit and due to the amount of precipitation, the actual fire *BLEW*. But it was cool to see all the sparks and the silohuetted scarecrow standing at the top. We danced around the bonfire in a non-graceful circle while Busos swung their wooden noisemakers around. Apparently, this festival was designed to scare off the Turks and winter as well? What a great idea! At one point, immediately after the parade, the sun made a short appearance and then disappeared. I thought the plan had worked and winter was gone, but twas not the case, as snow fell on Kalocsa that night.

As I was making my way home to Szerencs on Monday, I awoke from a nap on the train only to see absolute white (unable to see the tree-line, I thought I was going back in time to a few weeks ago when I thought I was living in the North Pole). Not again! I thought. I'm through with snow for this winter. So the festival didn't work, but then again I got a lot of great pictures and a pretty cool mask to take home with me.