Preparation time has begun for Fall Break's Ireland trip. Needless to say, I'm pretty excited, but also a tad stressed. I leave for Vienna on Thursday where Harpswell and I will fly out of to Dublin.
In the past few days, I've bought some things a girl's just gotta have for a trip like this:
1) Batteries for my MP3 player (which might as well be implanted into my right hand permanently...how can people walk and not jam out at the same time?)
2) Black belt (because some jeans just need it...and a belt adds so much to an ensemble.)
3) Beige-ish bag (I've developed into somewhat of a purse/bag addict but my choices usually never stray from the earthy toned bags.)
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Commemorating 1956
October 23rd is a holiday in Hungary. This means a day off of school for kids and a day off of work for most people. Red, white, and green stripes sweep across the city. Flags line each of Budapest’s bridges and enormous flag banners hang over the main ring roads. At night, green, red, and white lights project the nation’s flag onto the Parliament building. Patriotism abound. America does the same for the fourth of July to celebrate independence from England. But when I think of the fourth of July, I think of barbecues, getting together with friends, and fireworks. I usually don’t spend more than a minute or two pondering my country’s battle for independence so many years ago. Most people usually don’t.
Walking around Budapest today, Hungary’s patriotism was just and focused on their former struggle to escape from the grip of socialism (aka communism). This year was different from most, because 2006 marks the 50th anniversary of Hungary’s revolt against the Soviets this day in 1956. People were milling the streets everywhere and during the middle of the afternoon, crowds seemed pleasant. The young and old wore the tri-colored bands around their arms or adorned a pin of a flag with a hole through the middle. Other people carried giant flags, waving or simply resting them on their shoulders. Some flags had holes through the center where the Socialist crest used to be. Hungary has now replaced it with its own.
Liz, Harpswell, Janos and I walked around Pest, passing by a motorcycle brigade and onto the Corvin Mozi (Corvin Movie Theatre) where a demonstration was being held. We couldn’t see much and I couldn’t understand much, so we walked around and just mostly enjoyed the fall afternoon. The temperature was brilliant and from a view on Petöfi bridge, the trees on Gellert hill looked like green, golden, and orange balls of leaves.
Later, after we had stopped at a Turkish restaurant on the main ring to refuel, we noticed that the TV in the corner was showing small riots breaking out on the main ring. More tear gas, “rubber” bullets, and injured policemen. Luckily, we were far enough away from the action, but Hajni (our program’s director) called to warn us about it.
I guess the conditions were right for something out of control to occur on this national holiday. In late September, riots against Hungary’s Prime Minister went on for several days after he admitted to not doing anything for four years and leading his country on in order to win the general election last April.
On October 23rd, 1956, Hungarians revolted against soldiers and were able to banish Soviet rule for several days. The Soviets came back to power soon after, but during that short time Hungarians had won some time for themselves and several of them fled to different countries (including Janos’ dad to America, interestingly enough).
Maybe these riots are all a result of a need to feel in control. Not that they’re acceptable or even appropriate on a day of supposed celebration, but it makes you think, “who can blame them for wanting to feel as though they have a voice?” After being subjected to Soviet rule for years and recently being lied to by their leader …it seems as though the fighting spirit is still alive on this October 23rd 50 years later.
Walking around Budapest today, Hungary’s patriotism was just and focused on their former struggle to escape from the grip of socialism (aka communism). This year was different from most, because 2006 marks the 50th anniversary of Hungary’s revolt against the Soviets this day in 1956. People were milling the streets everywhere and during the middle of the afternoon, crowds seemed pleasant. The young and old wore the tri-colored bands around their arms or adorned a pin of a flag with a hole through the middle. Other people carried giant flags, waving or simply resting them on their shoulders. Some flags had holes through the center where the Socialist crest used to be. Hungary has now replaced it with its own.
Liz, Harpswell, Janos and I walked around Pest, passing by a motorcycle brigade and onto the Corvin Mozi (Corvin Movie Theatre) where a demonstration was being held. We couldn’t see much and I couldn’t understand much, so we walked around and just mostly enjoyed the fall afternoon. The temperature was brilliant and from a view on Petöfi bridge, the trees on Gellert hill looked like green, golden, and orange balls of leaves.
Later, after we had stopped at a Turkish restaurant on the main ring to refuel, we noticed that the TV in the corner was showing small riots breaking out on the main ring. More tear gas, “rubber” bullets, and injured policemen. Luckily, we were far enough away from the action, but Hajni (our program’s director) called to warn us about it.
I guess the conditions were right for something out of control to occur on this national holiday. In late September, riots against Hungary’s Prime Minister went on for several days after he admitted to not doing anything for four years and leading his country on in order to win the general election last April.
On October 23rd, 1956, Hungarians revolted against soldiers and were able to banish Soviet rule for several days. The Soviets came back to power soon after, but during that short time Hungarians had won some time for themselves and several of them fled to different countries (including Janos’ dad to America, interestingly enough).
Maybe these riots are all a result of a need to feel in control. Not that they’re acceptable or even appropriate on a day of supposed celebration, but it makes you think, “who can blame them for wanting to feel as though they have a voice?” After being subjected to Soviet rule for years and recently being lied to by their leader …it seems as though the fighting spirit is still alive on this October 23rd 50 years later.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
A Gem
Tonight, while taking complete advantage of my Internet time before the school goes to sleep and therefore my Internet conks out as well, I was perusing "Blogs of Note" and I found one very consistent and inspiring blog that uplifted me in a surprisingly simple way. It's at www.threebeautifulthings.blogspot.com.
The fact that one person can log three beautiful things about her day every day makes me lean a little more towards the optimistic sun. It made me think about all the little things about my day that make me happy...secretly happy. I mean secretly, because I don't generally tell people about the way it feels to lean back on my couch with a fashion magazine and gorge myself for hours within the pages or how good the first bite of toast smothered in cheese is dipped in a steaming bowl of tomato soup. These things subconsciously lift us, but we rarely recognize them.
That's why I love the idea of the above blog. I recommend it and you should read it.
The fact that one person can log three beautiful things about her day every day makes me lean a little more towards the optimistic sun. It made me think about all the little things about my day that make me happy...secretly happy. I mean secretly, because I don't generally tell people about the way it feels to lean back on my couch with a fashion magazine and gorge myself for hours within the pages or how good the first bite of toast smothered in cheese is dipped in a steaming bowl of tomato soup. These things subconsciously lift us, but we rarely recognize them.
That's why I love the idea of the above blog. I recommend it and you should read it.
Voyages to the Countrysides
Right now, I have some time to write...
I love it when I have time to write, sitting at my desk, clattering away at my Laptop. For the past few days, I've existed inside a tornado...being thrown from one place to the next. For crap's sake, I feel like I have a real job. Ouch! I can't believe I just wrote that. If anyone were to defend that last statement I made, it would be me...but over the past several months teaching abroad, I've realized that it takes a tremendous effort to feel as though you are REAL teacher at a school abroad. Maybe it takes a tremendulous one...because I haven't reached that point. I don't feel like a real teacher as much as my colleagues attempt to help me. I'll get into that another day though.
As for right now...I'll write about non-school related things...aka the countryside.
This past weekend, Liz and I took a train from Budapest to Hernadnemeti, a small village near Szerencs, where Laura lives and teaches. Unfortunately, we had some trouble with the trains and missed our connecting train in Miskolc. So, we sat in the waiting room at the station munching on apples and watching nervously as a drunk beat the living #$%& out of another drunk sitting in the corner. We decided to try to catch a bus to Hernadnemeti, but it never appeared. We stood at the bus stop thinking dejectedly of our last option. It was 11 pm at this point and we walked back to the train station to catch a taxi. Liz and I tried to maneuver our way through Laura's town in the dark using blotchy Hungarian. We were turned around more than once, but eventually the taxi dropped us off safe and sound in front of Laura's beckoning light filled window.
Liz and I met up with Laura and Jenna and we all talked over tea for a short time and then went to bed, preparing to take a morning train to Aggtelek National Park. This park is on the border of Hungary and Slovkia in the northeastern corner, so it was a lot of train, but time seemed to fly, because it was good to catch up with Jenna, who I hadn't seen since last year.
After I left one of my favorite hooded sweatshirts on the train for some lucky soul to find and give a home, we arrived at the park and checked into our hostel. We had wanted to camp there and have an outdoorsy weekend, but the Hungarians on the phone told Laura that it was too cold to camp. So, we were left with the hostel, which proved to be very cozy.
Later in the afternoon, the four of us took off on a hike through the surrounding hilly forests. We had already seen the cave (beautiful in my opinion, but not really rugged and off the beaten path. The trail inside the cave is so marked and so not adventurous in any way) so we decided to pass it up. The scenery that day was very autumn. Rolling hills, yellowing leaves, the faint smell of burning in the air...the whole nine yards. Liz and I had been somewhat anxious to get away from the city for a weekend and be out in the countryside. It was just what we needed. The air was fresh, no car exhaust, and beautiful rolling forests. Although, with this, we also got the inevitable country stare when speaking English.
We hiked, we breathed in the forest air, we paused at memorable sights, and we rehashed CETP memories among other individual ones. We decided to turn around at about 5 o'clock, because the forest valley was becoming a tad dim. On the way back, we somehow got lost. The blue trail was nowhere to be found. We took turns running up the valley floor here and there, tearing through the mass of crunchy orange leaves, attempting to find a the blue paint on a tree. Some of us contemplated how we'd make it through the night:
"I guess we'll get to camp after all!"
"We could always huddle together."
"Those people at the souvenir shop will be our only witnesses and we'll forever be known as the stupid Americans who got lost in the forest."
Marvelously, Liz found the trail with her never-failing eagle eye and we were back on track in no time, but booked it out of that forest as the sun began its dangerous descent and the temperatures became a little chillier. It was a workout for sure.
That night, we had a huge dinner at the local park restaurant where I had bableves (vegetable and meat soup) to warm up, chicken with mushrooms, and a cocoa palacsinta. It was a nice two hour dinner followed by a night in at the hostel. Laura and Jenna went to the hostel lobby to watch "Dumb and Dumber" dubbed, which they said was half as funny. Liz and I retreated to our beds with books. When the movie was finished, Laura and Jenna came back up to the room and we talked into the night, slumber party style (no lights, all girls, tucked in our beds laughing constantly).
It was a much needed trip, but good to get back to Budapest all the same.
The second countryside I'm headed for is...drumroll...IRELAND!! My fall break plans are in order and I'm due to leave on the 26th of October where I'll hop a train to Vienna and fly from there to Dublin. More on that later...at any rate, the countdown is ON.
I love it when I have time to write, sitting at my desk, clattering away at my Laptop. For the past few days, I've existed inside a tornado...being thrown from one place to the next. For crap's sake, I feel like I have a real job. Ouch! I can't believe I just wrote that. If anyone were to defend that last statement I made, it would be me...but over the past several months teaching abroad, I've realized that it takes a tremendous effort to feel as though you are REAL teacher at a school abroad. Maybe it takes a tremendulous one...because I haven't reached that point. I don't feel like a real teacher as much as my colleagues attempt to help me. I'll get into that another day though.
As for right now...I'll write about non-school related things...aka the countryside.
This past weekend, Liz and I took a train from Budapest to Hernadnemeti, a small village near Szerencs, where Laura lives and teaches. Unfortunately, we had some trouble with the trains and missed our connecting train in Miskolc. So, we sat in the waiting room at the station munching on apples and watching nervously as a drunk beat the living #$%& out of another drunk sitting in the corner. We decided to try to catch a bus to Hernadnemeti, but it never appeared. We stood at the bus stop thinking dejectedly of our last option. It was 11 pm at this point and we walked back to the train station to catch a taxi. Liz and I tried to maneuver our way through Laura's town in the dark using blotchy Hungarian. We were turned around more than once, but eventually the taxi dropped us off safe and sound in front of Laura's beckoning light filled window.
Liz and I met up with Laura and Jenna and we all talked over tea for a short time and then went to bed, preparing to take a morning train to Aggtelek National Park. This park is on the border of Hungary and Slovkia in the northeastern corner, so it was a lot of train, but time seemed to fly, because it was good to catch up with Jenna, who I hadn't seen since last year.
After I left one of my favorite hooded sweatshirts on the train for some lucky soul to find and give a home, we arrived at the park and checked into our hostel. We had wanted to camp there and have an outdoorsy weekend, but the Hungarians on the phone told Laura that it was too cold to camp. So, we were left with the hostel, which proved to be very cozy.
Later in the afternoon, the four of us took off on a hike through the surrounding hilly forests. We had already seen the cave (beautiful in my opinion, but not really rugged and off the beaten path. The trail inside the cave is so marked and so not adventurous in any way) so we decided to pass it up. The scenery that day was very autumn. Rolling hills, yellowing leaves, the faint smell of burning in the air...the whole nine yards. Liz and I had been somewhat anxious to get away from the city for a weekend and be out in the countryside. It was just what we needed. The air was fresh, no car exhaust, and beautiful rolling forests. Although, with this, we also got the inevitable country stare when speaking English.
We hiked, we breathed in the forest air, we paused at memorable sights, and we rehashed CETP memories among other individual ones. We decided to turn around at about 5 o'clock, because the forest valley was becoming a tad dim. On the way back, we somehow got lost. The blue trail was nowhere to be found. We took turns running up the valley floor here and there, tearing through the mass of crunchy orange leaves, attempting to find a the blue paint on a tree. Some of us contemplated how we'd make it through the night:
"I guess we'll get to camp after all!"
"We could always huddle together."
"Those people at the souvenir shop will be our only witnesses and we'll forever be known as the stupid Americans who got lost in the forest."
Marvelously, Liz found the trail with her never-failing eagle eye and we were back on track in no time, but booked it out of that forest as the sun began its dangerous descent and the temperatures became a little chillier. It was a workout for sure.
That night, we had a huge dinner at the local park restaurant where I had bableves (vegetable and meat soup) to warm up, chicken with mushrooms, and a cocoa palacsinta. It was a nice two hour dinner followed by a night in at the hostel. Laura and Jenna went to the hostel lobby to watch "Dumb and Dumber" dubbed, which they said was half as funny. Liz and I retreated to our beds with books. When the movie was finished, Laura and Jenna came back up to the room and we talked into the night, slumber party style (no lights, all girls, tucked in our beds laughing constantly).
It was a much needed trip, but good to get back to Budapest all the same.
The second countryside I'm headed for is...drumroll...IRELAND!! My fall break plans are in order and I'm due to leave on the 26th of October where I'll hop a train to Vienna and fly from there to Dublin. More on that later...at any rate, the countdown is ON.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
A Nice Touch
As I was walking down the cobblestoned alley back to my apartment this morning, I noticed that one of the two little cafes located there had comfy blue/green checkered blankets draped over each bench at the outdoor tables. Cafe-goers can wrap themselves in cozy warmth while enjoying a drink as the temperatures continue to drop. That alone would make me want to stop for a coffee (even though I don't drink it). I would take much more satisfaction in sitting outside snugly wrapped in a blanket.
Even as the temperatures drop, the sky is still an aquamarine blue and the sun shines for most of the day. It's the little things that get people. The unexpected. I guess if you're expecting something to be great, like seeing the Parthenon in Athens...it will be good, but nothing with too much build-up can really live up to your expectations. For me, the Parthenon was much smaller than I expected, but taking in the Acropolis and seeing the little unexpected temples here and there was much more fascinating.
To enjoy life as much as possible, I think it's important to stop and notice the tiny, generally passed-over things...the changing of leaves, the coursing of a river, a basket of flowers, the beat and rhythm of a song, the taste of a fresh vegetable or fruit...
These things stand out when you're abroad, because the normal hustle and bustle of everyday life is in a different language that I (as much as I try) still can't understand thoroughly. Instead, the dull constants that are familiar become comforting and beautiful. In America, it's easy to get swept up in getting things done as quickly and efficiently as possible. But, sometimes efficient isn't always the best thing. When something is unexpected and takes you away on a different path, it's easier to notice those nice touches.
Even as the temperatures drop, the sky is still an aquamarine blue and the sun shines for most of the day. It's the little things that get people. The unexpected. I guess if you're expecting something to be great, like seeing the Parthenon in Athens...it will be good, but nothing with too much build-up can really live up to your expectations. For me, the Parthenon was much smaller than I expected, but taking in the Acropolis and seeing the little unexpected temples here and there was much more fascinating.
To enjoy life as much as possible, I think it's important to stop and notice the tiny, generally passed-over things...the changing of leaves, the coursing of a river, a basket of flowers, the beat and rhythm of a song, the taste of a fresh vegetable or fruit...
These things stand out when you're abroad, because the normal hustle and bustle of everyday life is in a different language that I (as much as I try) still can't understand thoroughly. Instead, the dull constants that are familiar become comforting and beautiful. In America, it's easy to get swept up in getting things done as quickly and efficiently as possible. But, sometimes efficient isn't always the best thing. When something is unexpected and takes you away on a different path, it's easier to notice those nice touches.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Still Stuck Deep in Thought
Most of the week I spend planning lessons, teaching, and worrying about how my lessons will go…and eating…and sleeping when possible. Yeah, sounds a little more stressful than last year. Why? Haven’t the slightest clue.
So, on the weekends, I like to push it all furiously away and escape into place where there are no children swearing in Hungarian, and no colleagues and parents glancing strangely at me wondering where I’m going and what I want. The weekends are my time to spend in the city with my friends and so therefore, I cherish them.
On Friday, however, the weekend didn’t necessarily come so quickly to my fingertips. After using a somewhat angry, but cathartic poem about the thrill of getting to Friday in my two eighth grade classes …and after the kids tumbled chaotically out of the room, I let out a huge sigh of relief and went off to meet two of my colleagues and a group of English teachers who were visiting from Finland, England, Italy, France, and Denmark. They were here for a week in correlation with an international project that my school is participating in with schools in the above countries. On Friday afternoon, my two Hungarian colleagues were taking them to the Castle District in Buda and asked if I’d like to meet them and come along. Although I’ve been to this district a number of times, I went along as it was a beautiful day and I’m always interested in meeting people from countries different from my own.
Everyone’s English was very good and I mistook a woman from Denmark as British, because her accent was superb. Of course, I had to tell her this. Non-native speakers LOVE this compliment. We English speakers take our language for granted. We don’t realize how widely used English is and how many must revert to it for tourists and teachers abroad like me. It’s the default language, the tie between people from two different countries who couldn’t otherwise communicate with one another. It’s mandatory for a lot of children who learn how to write in their own language, and then a year later, start practicing their English ABC’s on paper.
While trekking up the stairs to Fisherman’s Bastion, I introduced myself to a teacher from Birmingham. She and I both commented on how widespread English is. She told me that she was very impressed with the group’s English and how she herself felt bad for not speaking any other language. It’s true, there’s not a HUGE need for English speakers to learn a second language…but that’s not saying they shouldn’t learn one. I think all English speakers should be required to learn a second language.
If not for communication purposes, then to understand the inner workings of a different culture. A language is not just words, but it’s tradition, a way of life, and gives one insight into a different world not otherwise available. The world’s problems are evident and depressing in their enormity…making me feel hopeless sometimes. If there’s one way of gradually developing into a more civilized race, it’s to understand one another. It’s true that hatred and violence stem from ignorance and an overall lack of understanding. When one learns a new language, it becomes impossible not to get at least a little peek into the culture and mindset of that particular people. The more one learns, the more one understands…and the more one understands, the more one can accept.
I went into the Mátyás Templom for the first time on Friday. It’s the beautiful church at the top of Castle Hill and in all my time here, I had never managed to see it, because it had always been closed. I went in, feeling like a tourist again.
I don’t even know what you’d call me now…what is the term between TOURIST and CITIZEN? Ex-patriate? Nem tudom. In the meantime, I’ll just consider myself an enigma…I’ve never really been a fan of labels of that sort anyway.
So I spent my afternoon chatting with Birmingham and my colleague Marika. Birmingham must have been close to my age and kept asking me how it was possible that I could stay away from home for this long and not have my favorite TV shows. I told her not to fret because I did have BBCPrime, my current “golden” channel (consisting of British soap operas, home and garden shows, “The Weakest Link” and many more). Unfortunately, no Seinfeld though. We had a good time talking and she was one of those people that I knew would be a good buddy under different circumstances, but she was leaving in a few days probably never to be seen again.
Some of the French were taking pictures of the distant protests occurring outside the Parliament. From atop the Buda castle, the crowds looked like tiny Lego people. So harmless and far away. I asked Marika if she thought the PM would resign and she told me that she hoped not. She preferred everything to be resolved peacefully and quickly. She tried to tell me in her excited, yet somewhat broken English that because “the change” (fall of Socialism/Communism in the early 90’s) had happened so recently, the mindset of many Hungarians is in turmoil. Roads are being fixed and trams are being modified, but no one is looking at the most important thing of all: the way of thinking. For so long, Hungarians and members of other Socialist countries were equal under one government and taken care of…and now, with that gone, people are hungry for improvement in all arenas, eager for more money and free services. They want to see outside change, but it can’t necessarily happen until the inside “way of thinking” changes.
I soon left to meet Laura who was arriving on an afternoon train from my old stomping grounds in the northeast of Hungary to Budapest. She came to visit for the weekend and she accompanied me to dinner that night at a nice restaurant on the Danube where my colleagues took the group of international teachers. Unfortunately we didn’t get to sit next to Birmingham, who I had wanted more of a chance to talk to. But, we did sit next to my two colleagues and a group of friendly Italians. Laura and I both ordered stuffed cabbage and I flash fried the insides of my mouth when I ate a huge spoonful of her goulash soup too quickly. I hadn’t had an authentically Hungarian dish in a while, so I felt even more like a tourist that night, looking at my plate: rolls of cabbage stuffed with pork and rice sitting on a bed of more cabbage and surrounded by chicken with a hot dog balancing on top, all smothered in sour cream. Ahhhh yes…I suddenly remembered how much Hungarians love their meat and why I had gained a few pounds over the past year.
Skipping ahead to Saturday night, Laura and I decided to get some tickets to the Hungary/Turkey football match in Budapest that night. Liz and Janos already had tickets, courtesy of one of her colleagues. Laura is really into football and I had never seen a match in Europe before, so we decided to give it a shot.
I didn’t enjoy watching the football so much as just observing everything that was happening around us. For one, Laura and I were seated behind the goal, so we didn’t have a balanced view of the field. However, we were in the “party” section of the stadium. We sat, excuse me, stood among younger fans, faces painted red, white, and green, Hungarian flags draped around their shoulders, equipped with blowhorns and Hungarian chants…HUNGARIA!!! The rest of the stadium seemed to sit politely. It felt eerily empty in there, even with everything happening around us.
I guess I was comparing it to American sporting events. Booths everywhere selling crap, crap and more crap. Beer tents, hot dogs, vendors, peanuts GET YOUR PEANUTS! And this stadium didn’t even allow alcohol. In fact, the only things that I saw being sold were pathetic chicken sandwiches…the kind that would have just made you hungrier….iced tea, water, Coke, and chocolate bars. Between every little chicken/chocolate/coke stand was a fleet of at least thirty policemen, rather, SWATmen dressed in all navy armed with glass shields. They had that place under CONTROL. I’m glad I went, but I was also glad to get out of there. There was so much smoking in the stands and Turkey had scored the only goal that night, so Hungarian fans lost their cheer and never seemed to fully get it back, leaving the party section, well, partyless.
It was safe to say that the streets of Budapest were more exciting that night than the actual match itself.
So, on the weekends, I like to push it all furiously away and escape into place where there are no children swearing in Hungarian, and no colleagues and parents glancing strangely at me wondering where I’m going and what I want. The weekends are my time to spend in the city with my friends and so therefore, I cherish them.
On Friday, however, the weekend didn’t necessarily come so quickly to my fingertips. After using a somewhat angry, but cathartic poem about the thrill of getting to Friday in my two eighth grade classes …and after the kids tumbled chaotically out of the room, I let out a huge sigh of relief and went off to meet two of my colleagues and a group of English teachers who were visiting from Finland, England, Italy, France, and Denmark. They were here for a week in correlation with an international project that my school is participating in with schools in the above countries. On Friday afternoon, my two Hungarian colleagues were taking them to the Castle District in Buda and asked if I’d like to meet them and come along. Although I’ve been to this district a number of times, I went along as it was a beautiful day and I’m always interested in meeting people from countries different from my own.
Everyone’s English was very good and I mistook a woman from Denmark as British, because her accent was superb. Of course, I had to tell her this. Non-native speakers LOVE this compliment. We English speakers take our language for granted. We don’t realize how widely used English is and how many must revert to it for tourists and teachers abroad like me. It’s the default language, the tie between people from two different countries who couldn’t otherwise communicate with one another. It’s mandatory for a lot of children who learn how to write in their own language, and then a year later, start practicing their English ABC’s on paper.
While trekking up the stairs to Fisherman’s Bastion, I introduced myself to a teacher from Birmingham. She and I both commented on how widespread English is. She told me that she was very impressed with the group’s English and how she herself felt bad for not speaking any other language. It’s true, there’s not a HUGE need for English speakers to learn a second language…but that’s not saying they shouldn’t learn one. I think all English speakers should be required to learn a second language.
If not for communication purposes, then to understand the inner workings of a different culture. A language is not just words, but it’s tradition, a way of life, and gives one insight into a different world not otherwise available. The world’s problems are evident and depressing in their enormity…making me feel hopeless sometimes. If there’s one way of gradually developing into a more civilized race, it’s to understand one another. It’s true that hatred and violence stem from ignorance and an overall lack of understanding. When one learns a new language, it becomes impossible not to get at least a little peek into the culture and mindset of that particular people. The more one learns, the more one understands…and the more one understands, the more one can accept.
I went into the Mátyás Templom for the first time on Friday. It’s the beautiful church at the top of Castle Hill and in all my time here, I had never managed to see it, because it had always been closed. I went in, feeling like a tourist again.
I don’t even know what you’d call me now…what is the term between TOURIST and CITIZEN? Ex-patriate? Nem tudom. In the meantime, I’ll just consider myself an enigma…I’ve never really been a fan of labels of that sort anyway.
So I spent my afternoon chatting with Birmingham and my colleague Marika. Birmingham must have been close to my age and kept asking me how it was possible that I could stay away from home for this long and not have my favorite TV shows. I told her not to fret because I did have BBCPrime, my current “golden” channel (consisting of British soap operas, home and garden shows, “The Weakest Link” and many more). Unfortunately, no Seinfeld though. We had a good time talking and she was one of those people that I knew would be a good buddy under different circumstances, but she was leaving in a few days probably never to be seen again.
Some of the French were taking pictures of the distant protests occurring outside the Parliament. From atop the Buda castle, the crowds looked like tiny Lego people. So harmless and far away. I asked Marika if she thought the PM would resign and she told me that she hoped not. She preferred everything to be resolved peacefully and quickly. She tried to tell me in her excited, yet somewhat broken English that because “the change” (fall of Socialism/Communism in the early 90’s) had happened so recently, the mindset of many Hungarians is in turmoil. Roads are being fixed and trams are being modified, but no one is looking at the most important thing of all: the way of thinking. For so long, Hungarians and members of other Socialist countries were equal under one government and taken care of…and now, with that gone, people are hungry for improvement in all arenas, eager for more money and free services. They want to see outside change, but it can’t necessarily happen until the inside “way of thinking” changes.
I soon left to meet Laura who was arriving on an afternoon train from my old stomping grounds in the northeast of Hungary to Budapest. She came to visit for the weekend and she accompanied me to dinner that night at a nice restaurant on the Danube where my colleagues took the group of international teachers. Unfortunately we didn’t get to sit next to Birmingham, who I had wanted more of a chance to talk to. But, we did sit next to my two colleagues and a group of friendly Italians. Laura and I both ordered stuffed cabbage and I flash fried the insides of my mouth when I ate a huge spoonful of her goulash soup too quickly. I hadn’t had an authentically Hungarian dish in a while, so I felt even more like a tourist that night, looking at my plate: rolls of cabbage stuffed with pork and rice sitting on a bed of more cabbage and surrounded by chicken with a hot dog balancing on top, all smothered in sour cream. Ahhhh yes…I suddenly remembered how much Hungarians love their meat and why I had gained a few pounds over the past year.
Skipping ahead to Saturday night, Laura and I decided to get some tickets to the Hungary/Turkey football match in Budapest that night. Liz and Janos already had tickets, courtesy of one of her colleagues. Laura is really into football and I had never seen a match in Europe before, so we decided to give it a shot.
I didn’t enjoy watching the football so much as just observing everything that was happening around us. For one, Laura and I were seated behind the goal, so we didn’t have a balanced view of the field. However, we were in the “party” section of the stadium. We sat, excuse me, stood among younger fans, faces painted red, white, and green, Hungarian flags draped around their shoulders, equipped with blowhorns and Hungarian chants…HUNGARIA!!! The rest of the stadium seemed to sit politely. It felt eerily empty in there, even with everything happening around us.
I guess I was comparing it to American sporting events. Booths everywhere selling crap, crap and more crap. Beer tents, hot dogs, vendors, peanuts GET YOUR PEANUTS! And this stadium didn’t even allow alcohol. In fact, the only things that I saw being sold were pathetic chicken sandwiches…the kind that would have just made you hungrier….iced tea, water, Coke, and chocolate bars. Between every little chicken/chocolate/coke stand was a fleet of at least thirty policemen, rather, SWATmen dressed in all navy armed with glass shields. They had that place under CONTROL. I’m glad I went, but I was also glad to get out of there. There was so much smoking in the stands and Turkey had scored the only goal that night, so Hungarian fans lost their cheer and never seemed to fully get it back, leaving the party section, well, partyless.
It was safe to say that the streets of Budapest were more exciting that night than the actual match itself.
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