Another Long One

WEEKEND, that is!! My school had its 30th anniversary this past Thursday, so therefore there was no school, but games and activities instead. And yesterday was a holiday as well making this add up to a fiver. Jeremy has made his return to Hungary and helped add some flavor to the weekend. Laura made a spontaneous trip down to Budapest in her football attire. Here's what we got up to...

HE'S BAAAAAACK!!!!

Jeremy is hanging with the ladies in his new hipster glasses at Kultiplex to watch the Liverpool/Milan match. He was rooting for Milan because it spelled out MIL on the screen, just like Milwaukee!! We had an honorary cherry palinka to start off the night.

We found ourselves at a nondescript karaoke bar in Uj Pest where Jer livened us up with his and Laura's rendition of well...Livin' On a Prayer. What else?? Earlier that day, we toured the Children's Communist Railway and enjoyed a leisurely trip down the chairlift.

Deciding to ditch the other half of our crew, we walked home across Arpad Bridge in the rain and some of us couldn't resist playing on these sculpture like pipes.

Laura is in the process of shooting a film of pigeons eating sunflower seeds off of her shoes and later, out of her hands at the Moszvka ter station.

Next weekend, 24 of us are headed to Lake Balaton. I plan to play the part of observer and promise to report back...

Not Quite Sweltering Writing Weather

Those first hot days of the new year always push me to my bed, the couch, or the floor with a cool drink and an oscillating fan that becomes part of the soundtrack to summer.

This morning, I skipped off to Margaret Island with a book. I perched on a stone bench near a small, old church hidden among trees and read. Well, I tried to read, but a small bird perched itself maybe inches away from my book. I thought he might attack. Before I could put my defenses up, two spotted cats scurried along the church wall meowing conversation. German tourists pedalled their way near my bench speaking loudly on the phone and smoking. Let's just say it was hard to read, so I left as soon as a herd of little people came tottering through with chaperones and backpacks.

You know it's hot when...

the first roach of the season is found darting through the shoes lined up near my door,

bread goes moldy in a few days,

watch tan lines start to emerge,

the fan has to be on the highest speed to get through the night,

and you don't need a blanket!

....and when that growing feeling of panic becomes more pronounced, because there are still no plans in action for what to do after Hungary.

Even so, it's not quite sweltering yet. It's just the beginning.

Maybe I was diagnosed with itchy feet at an early age. But the scratching has become worse in the past two years. Probably because, like itching chicken pox, it gets worse once you start.

I'm leaving Hungary on Friday the 13th of July. I hope not many people will want to fly that day out of superstition and I'll be able to lay across the seats.

That leaves me just 49 days to do whatever it is that I need or want to do in Hungary with or without the people who've been my friends made here and not known in the US. I'm trying to prepare myself far in advance to my departure so it doesn't come as a sudden shock. And so I can really appreciate everything about this country and my life here.

Yes, I was different when I first came here. I was a free soul, able to stretch as far as I wanted and able to breathe just as deeply. I embraced Hungary with open arms and mind. My first year here was so new and so foreign that I stumbled into it full force and somewhat blind. I smiled, I wrote, I tasted all the new cuisine, I taught, I listened, I traveled, I learned, I talked with new people, I laughed, I read, I marveled. I was where I belonged and I felt fulfilled. But maybe only because I knew it was temporary.

I am more grounded this year. I didn't know how my second year here would be. It's become so much more familiar. I came here wanting experience in whatever coming to Hungary would provide. And I got it. I got experience living abroad, teaching, and so much else.

I've learned from other people. I took so many good traits from people and I'm learning to let the bad go.

I've learned about Hungary's history and how it has influenced the present,

I've learned that the most satisfaction comes from doing it yourself,

I've learned that I have to travel throughout my life,

I've learned about who I can get along with and who I can't,

I've learned that sometimes, there is nothing better than spending a day alone,

I've learned a lot of random Hungarian words,

some of them very bad,

I've learned that no one can really make me do something if I don't believe in it first,

I've learned that it's better not to tell all,

I've learned that sometimes, you can just have a shitty job,

I've learned that I don't have to be nice to everyone,

I have also learned that I don't want to stop teaching ESL.

I'm searching for teaching jobs in Spanish-speaking countries, primarily in Central and South America for next fall. However, I'm taking a break from children and want to try Business English at a language school.

If there's another thing I've learned, it's that I tend to reflect quite a bit. I have a feeling I'll be doing a lot of that in the next several weeks. Consider it your warning...

Can I Make It?

The day countdown is ON...

14

more

days

left

teaching

at

this

school....

Vacation in Budapest

My parents came to visit me in Budapest for six days, so I took two days off + an afternoon of lessons in order to be able to spend more time with them. I didn't realize how much of a different perspective their visit would give me on the city I've called home for several months.

Above: me, Mom, and Dad in front of the Margaret Island fountain that began singing days before their arrival. This was a quick stop on our long and adventurous bike ride to Szentendre.

As our busy days flew by (you had to go through physical training before you arrived to have me as a Budapest tour guide because it was a LOT of walking and biking for that matter - they said) I noticed that I knew the city a lot more than I realized and this gave me a certain sense of pride. Something I've accumulated over many days and nights of practice getting around. Budapest seems a lot smaller than it did two years ago when I first got here.

Therefore, I had a lot to show them and a lot of new things to see myself. Here's what we covered:

* toured Margaret Island and marveled at how old and massive some of the trees are,

* rode the Children's Communist Railway and chairlift down Janos Hegy, I think a favorite of Dad's as he filmed the entire ride down,

* toured the Castle District,

* summitted Gellert Hill by winding trails through the forest,

* visited the Terror Museum and were subsequently a little terrified after we left,

* traveled to Vienna for the day by train and went to the Sisi Museum (it's important to learn a little bit about Elizabeth as she's immortalized everywhere in Hungary) and the Hofburg.

* rented bikes from a friendly and helpful guy in Budapest and rode to Szentendre, past my school where I was supposed to be teaching if I hadn't taken the day off (man was that liberating!) and after a few hours of cruising along the Danube, we got somewhat lost at a nude quarry beach junction. We did finally ask a German biker who struggled to give us help as the sudden burst of heat seemed to suck up his knowledge of English and our patience.

Below: sparkling clear swimming holes off the beaten path "on the way to Szentendre"

* visited St. Stephan's Basilica, a place that's always stood out in the Pest skyline, but somewhere I'd never gotten around to visiting. It was ten times more grand inside.

* ate great food at a variety of different places.

We had our cake and ate it too...literally.

Long Weekend in Slovenia in Short

Because I've got a lot to do and no time for flowery descriptions, I'm throwing another list at you. I wanted to let my pictures tell the story, but my computer doesn't want me to, so without further ado...

This shot was taken by Amber on our nine hour train ride from Budapest to Ljubljana. I passed the time alternating between "A Clockwork Orange," listening to my music, reading about Slovenia and the popularity of its horse burgers, and entertaining the two Hungarians next to us who enjoyed giggling over our trials and tribulations dealing with Hungarian ticket officers.

Our (Amber, Ray, and myself) Slovenia was...

1) friendly folk everywhere you looked,

2) market day in Ljubljana with girls on accordion providing the soundtrack,

3) styrofoam rocks "falling" into a town square accompanied by much more random art,

4) "creek culture", a more local atmosphere where you could find just that peeing with the bathroom door open, and cracking a Union or Lasko on a smallish boat chained to shore,

5) pizzas with gorgonzola cheese,

6) a funicular ride up to Ljubljana's modern castle,

7) a few attempts to swing on a swing hanging from a tree outside the castle,

8) a few more attempts to rent bikes around one of Europe's most bike friendly cities and not being able to,

9) not being able to find plastic Cola Light bottles and Slovenes giving us looks when we asked for a Coke Light to go in a glass bottle,

10) eating pizza on a row boat in the middle of Lake Bled,

11) bus rides, bus rides, and more bus rides,

12) the Postajna Caves and its little "rollercoaster" inside,

13) walks around Ljubljana,

14) sitting in the park chatting,

15) finally biking around Lake Bled,

16) getting sunburned knees,

17) wanting to try horse burgers but then never doing it,

18) having a long dinner and waiting for our 2am train at a bar where we took advantage of the jukebox,

19) nine hours back to Budapest...

You can get more of a visual from my pictures. Mostly, Slovenia was beautiful and very alpine looking, from its houses, to the mountains, and landscape.

It's somewhere I'd recommend for outdoor lovers and someplace you can visit again.

Slovenia Pictures

Just returned from a spring weekend in Slovenia. I have a lot of great photos to post and days to recall. The photo below was taken at Lake Bled. While waiting for a written version of the weekend, browse my freshly posted shots here.

Ms. Meanhead Day Two

I'm halfway through Tuesday lessons and I'm trying to keep up my meanstreak where it's due.

My first lesson was nice and the kids liked my review game, so in turn I my head spiraled 180 degrees to Ms. Niceface. We accomplished a lot and even had time for an activity at the end.

The next class of kids didn't move from their congregation outside in the hall and looked to be eating lunch at 8:55 in the morning. I'll never get over the Hungarian pastime of eating sandwiches as snacks all day long. They didn't move even when I beckoned them inside my room and they started shifting only when another teacher started yelling at them to get up. This is the class that stole my dice. We no longer play games. Instead we will do worksheets from here on out. I sat at my desk and graded other papers and got up occasionally to help everyone. Towards the end, the kids got disruptive and I immediately flew to the door and threatened to boot any kid out if I felt like it in a "come on, just do it again...do it again!!" fashion. I also told a girl that I didn't "damn well care if she ever felt like coming to my lesson again, because I'd rather not see her face." Whew. What happened to me?

The third lesson was a group of sixth graders. Their English teacher came in and asked me what I was going to do with them. I told her that I had a description lesson planned. She said, "okay, but can you do a little bit with films and have them write a film review?" I said, okay sure. I'll do half and half. So I began with films and attempted to be more strict, but it's really hard to be strict when no one understands English. You have to yell and gesture maniacally and the migraine medication that I took that morning had left me dozy and foggy, so I couldn't muster up the desire to yell.

When I told them to write the film review, they all said that their English teacher, the same one who had told me to have them write it, gave it to them for homework. They showed me the film reviews and they looked finished and beautiful...unlike their homework for me. So, I decided to move onto my activity, but they didn't understand and it took 10 more minutes of explaining that we weren't doing the film review anymore. The lesson I planned was completely ruined because of....well a lot of things.

I'm tired of this and my next two lessons are with little kids who cry when you don't call on them.

Yes, this has been quite a rant, but isn't the point of ranting getting it off your chest?

At least I'm not entirely alone. When I tell my colleagues about my troubles, they say, "we're having the same problems." One was quoted with saying, "I cannot WAIT until this school year is OVER."

Teaching: An Act of Survival

Today is Shakespeare's birthday and reportedly the day he died. How old would he be now??? And would he still be able to come up with all kinds of original plays??

I just came back from a delightful run around Margaret Island surrounded by the sparkling Danube and my mind is racing.

Many people wonder why one runs for fun. I have a few reasons, but the one I'd like to elaborate on now is that it allows not only my body to move, but my mind as well. My thoughts travel to places all over the board, giving me new ideas. And when you've just finished running, you feel good about yourself and are more willing to try out new ideas...especially when it comes to teaching.

Today I was Ms. Meanhead for lack of a more profane term. Maybe I did it for Shakespeare, or maybe I just did it for myself. For my survival.

I cared once. And now, I just don't. I've been a teacher for almost three years now and I've never not cared this much. Over the months, I've come to know myself as a teacher and now I can confidently tell you that I just don't have the patience for middle school children who are "waaaaay too cool for school." For one, I'd just like to know what makes them so cool that they can transcend every lesson.

Those I care for are those who want to learn. Yes, this is probably what many teachers will say. But there are many teachers out there who can find a way to teach all kinds of children and come out successful. I don't know how they do it and I'm in awe of those individuals.

Getting back to not caring. There wasn't an official day I'd say that I stopped caring cold turkey. It happened gradually, like a lot of things of this nature end. And let me make it clear: I still care about teaching and future students that I'll have, but I've stopped caring about the school I'm at now.

I got sick of coming home and running out my anger, anger at myself for not being more strict in class and letting kids walk over me.

Today I was pissed off and mean and yelled and pointed and stared down children and insulted them in reallyfastEnglish, ordered them out in the hall, up to the teacher's room and gave out tests.

Today, I didn't have any anger to run off. Instead, my run was pleasant. I didn't think about school and how I want to throw Vivien's god**&%$ mobile phone out the window. I didn't think about tearing Eszter's MP3 player out of her ears and into the trash bin. I didn't think about my incompetent contact teacher. And I didn't think about kids trying to get under my skin.

I thought about the things in my life right now that make me happy and enjoyed the extra warm April afternoon, even though it's probably a little warmer than usual due to global warming.

Now, I'm not saying that what I'm doing in the classroom is right, but it worked for me today and that's what teaching is all about. Finding something that works to survive.

If these kids only knew that I'm learning so much more than they are.

But then again, they probably would rather brush their hair or pretend they're doing cocaine with candy powder instead.

Sacred Saturday...

...is no longer so this weekend. Today, I had to teach my Monday lessons this morning and even though they were only 30 minutes long and we just played Bingo and Yahtzee, I still had to endure their strings of obscenities in Hungarian, attempts to hide earbuds blasting music, and their inability to understand that if they lowered their voices about six decibels, I would still be able to hear them perfectly fine.

Some of my students did not understand why they were in school on a Saturday. Now, if I had to go to school on my calendar reserved day off, then I'd be asking some questions. By working on Saturday, we can have a four day weekend the following weekend as the next Tuesday is May Day, the 1st of May and a holiday. So instead of working that Monday, we had our Monday lessons today.

And as I have every other Friday off, I get a five day weekend, almost another spring holiday. I'm going to take advantage of the nice weather and head to Slovenia.

As for now, I'm off to enjoy the remainder of my "weekend."

A Spring Kidnapping

I've been away from the blog for a while and I blame it on the incredibly beautiful weather we've been having here.

These past weeks, you would have found me...

1) lunching and hiking in Godollo visiting my friend Magdi and her family. Unfortunately, her 12 year old son, Zsolti unknowingly informed me who dies in Harry Potter 5 and 6 before I even cracked either books. At least I'm prepared.

2) frequenting many cafes enjoying the sun.

3) strolling, reading, and frisbeeing on Margaret Island.

4) laughing at a woman walking a waddling goose on a leash across Arpad bridge.

5) eating the first ice cream of the season.

6) visiting Szentendre on Easter with Aran and taking a boat down the Danube home.

7) taking my old train to Szerencs to visit an old colleague, walking around a wine village and enjoying her parents Hungarian cooking and home-made bread.

8) getting my haircut FINALLY!

Amusing conversation between myself and Gabor from 7B

Gabor from 7B: "It's the seventh lesson (whining). We're tired!"
ME: "I'm tired too."
G7B: "But we're students. You just have to talk. We have to listen."
ME: LAUGH "I was a student once too and believe me, you have no
idea!"
G7B: "You were a student? When? Ten years ago?"
ME: "More like three years ago." (suddenly surprised at the fact that I
haven't been out of school that long).
G7B: "Where did you go to school?"
ME: (knowing he doesn't know that central Illinois exists) "In the USA."
G7B: "Ahhh I understand."


What it was that he necessarily understood, I don't know. All I know is that it was a pretty impressive English conversation for a 12 year old.

Slovakia Slovenia

This is not a post about either of previously mentioned countries, so you'll have to read on if you want to know...

Liz, good friend and fellow CETPer, who's been teaching in Hungary since September 2005 has gone back to the U.S. to be with her dad, who is sick. Her premature departure was very sudden and made me realize how much I'm going to miss her.

For those CETPers who left last year, the goodbyes were prepared for and anticipated, unlike this past weekend, where, for several moments throughout the past few days, pieces, pictures, and moments with Liz quickly and desperately ran through my head like a filmstrip. Here's one of us and Jeremy (courtesy of Jer). We had made chocolate chip cookies the night before in Liz's town, then bused it over to Nyiregyhaza for Thanksgiving in Nov. 2005.

I knew Liz was going to be a good friend from the first orientation dinner we had in Budapest. She was down-to-earth, easy to talk to, and had traveled before. We were also going to be placed in towns very close together in northeastern Hungary. This comforted me, knowing that I could have a friend to go to if I needed it.

The August morning in 2005 in Budapest when all of us were picked up and shuttled off to our respective towns by colleagues from our new schools, Liz and I got in cars parked close together, with (I think) a similar feeling of fear and excitement. "Call me," she called out quickly before we were shut inside our country-bound cars.

Inside, I met my new colleague, Etelka. I was nervous with her at first, because she had all the information about my new life and was about to tell me in this 2 and a half hour car ride. I just thought about Liz going through the same thing and knew that later, we'd have time to re-hash our experiences.

Over the next several months, I felt as if I could genuinely confide in Liz. I was always excited to hear what was going on in Tiszaujvaros and she was equally as interested in what was happening in Szerencs. Even though our towns were 15 mins. apart by car, it took about an hour and fifteen to get there by train or bus. She came to Szerencs for Tokaj wine trips and I headed there for the Tiszaujvaros thermal baths and the even warmer hospitality that thrived in her apartment. I loved her easygoing, laid-back nature, one that helped me to relax and not worry so much. It was inspiring to see Liz just walk into a store and ask for what she needed, even if she used English. Even when I start to tense up or get anxious about something, I often think about Liz and what she would do in the situation.

We are both people who want to enjoy life and get as much out of it as we can and that's why I had such a good time with Liz. We danced....horribly. We listened to what others would say is horrible music. But we embraced it!

Jeremy would frequently mix up our names, maybe because they were both three letters and compared us to two countries in which most people wouldn't see any major differences...Kat, Liz, Liz, Kat...Slovenia, Slovakia.

Below: Liz's last night in Hungary at the Fregatt Pub.

We'd talk about what we wanted to do after our first year in Hungary was over. I remember one weekend standing in Fisherman's Bastion in the Castle District. We both balanced options of staying in Hungary or going. And we both decided that we wanted to head to Budapest to be in the city where we could stand in Fisherman's Bastion during an afternoon after school instead of a fleeting weekend-in-Budapest afternoon.

I'm gonna miss hanging out with you Liz, but I'll be in touch and whenever a one-hit wonder 80's song comes on, I'll be wishing we could be dancing.

Sopron, The Most Loyal Town

To escape possible rioting on Hungary's national holiday (March 15th) turned four day weekend, a few of my friends and I fled to the western town of Sopron, found on the border of Hungary and Austria. Below: Aran, Lee, and Harpswell relaxing at a cafe sipping wine in the sun.

It was a spur of the moment decision that spawned from a desperate need to get away from noisy exhaust filled sireny city of Budapest and two rooms at a bed/breakfast that opened up by chance at the last minute. We had been previously informed that every hotel/hostel/bed&breakfast was full and we'd been to stupid to wait that long to make a reservation. Wait?? Hungarians making plans a month in advance? I'm a tad thrown off.

The only thing that I had known about Sopron was that it has several dentists, many who serve foreigners because of the good prices, and that it makes Soproni beer (a popular beer in Hungary).

When we arrived, the town looked half Austrian and half Hungarian. German resided everywhere underneath Hungarian store names, streets, and restaurants. "Soproni Peter," a man from the bed/breakfast picked us up from the train station in his car and drove us back to our rooms. They were very accomodating with skylights, blankets, towels, and a TV in each room. The shower had a door on it, so I enjoyed not having to worry about spraying water everywhere as I do when I'm in my curtainless, doorless tub.

After being in Hungary for almost two years, I've accumulated several trips to villages, cities, and towns across the country. And yes, after a while they do start to look the same. Yellow churches, wine cellars, statues of old Hungarian men, cobblestone squares...

What's important now is who I'm with and how we manage to spend our time.

I will admit that Sopron had a different feel to it compared to other towns in Hungary. After all, it is the most faithful town in Hungary. I believe that there was a vote in the 1920's on whether Sopron should be a part of Austria or Hungary as a part of the Trianon Treaty. In the end, Hungary won Sopron (pronounced sho-prone).

One of the things that I enjoyed about Sopron was our discovery of the Main Square or the older part of the town. Our bed/breakfast was on the outside where there were more modern shops, busy streets, and grocery stores. As we continued walking, we came to the famous fire tower and walked through an archway into a tunnel that led us into the older part of town. Soft folk music tinkled from speakers near a stage decorated with a Hungarian ribbon and drifted through the confines of this old square.

Above: standing in the old square and fire tower.

It reminded me of the castle in Shrek 1 where Shrek and Donkey meet the Prince and are prompted to be killed or go on a journey to save Princess Fiona. Unfortunately, it's the only way I can put it. The town was peaceful, quiet, and relaxing. Almost immediately, my body unwound. Some of the buildings appeared to have been frosted by a cake decorator, the way the designs twirled intricately underneath windows.

That night, we intended to eat and that is just what we did. Two bottles of wine, four appetizers, and four main courses later, you had to roll us out of the restaurant. We checked out a cellar and called it a night after that.

The next day, we wanted to find a wine cellar as Sopron is famous for its wines, but to no avail. We only found a wine cellar that probably wasn't meant to be trespassed upon, although we went down unassuming and took photos. Below: authentic Sopron wine cellar.

That afternoon, with nowhere to stay that night in Sopron, Harpswell called a few places around the area to see if we could stay somewhere else. And after spending a few good hours in the sun, talking, drinking and eating at various cafes, we hopped a bus to Fertod, home of the Eszterhazy palace. This palace was designed after Versailles, although it was nowhere as big or magestic. All the same, it was simply a noble family and not royalty that inhabited the palace.

Sopron was like a retreat. It was refreshing to get away from the city, stroll around peaceful streets, gaze at the delicate architecture, relax at cafes, and take in a little history.

Lady Montague Would Be Pleased...

Because in the "Romeo es Julia" RockOperetta that I went to on Sunday, she had a fairly large part compared to Shakespeare's script. Mrs. Montague also strode out onto the stage looking like a sorceress from He-Man. Her black hair was half up in rollers and she adorned a royal blue gown. Lady Capulet was her counterpart in a red gown with soft blonde hair.

It was a little strange to hear the play in Hungarian, although there were glowing orange subtitles above the stage.

Once I got used to looking up and down, then somewhat giving up on the subtitles, I noticed that the actor with the spiky silver mohawk and silver studded belt was not Mercutio, the infamous jokester, but in fact Benvolio, whose name means "good." Although both are buddies of Romeo and take the Montague side, Mercutio and Benvolio are different people. Was this intentional? It was the more subdued "Mercutio" who was made his dying speech cursing Verona. And it was the punky looking Benvolio who was to tell Romeo that Juliet was "dead." I couldn't help being bothered by this the whole time.

The music was fast, the set was gothic, the dancing was almost too juvenile, and the play itself seemed to move really quickly too. In some scenes, this was a good thing, as Romeo and Juliet can both be too flowery with their sweeping professions of love.

At the end, the cast bowed and bowed and bowed maybe 8 separate times in total. The curtain went down, then came up, they bowed again, and the Hungarians continued to clap. I clapped along with them *clap* pause *clap* pause *clap* pause in the Hungarian way and then I had to stop after the sixth or seventh bow because my hands were beginning to feel as though they were vibrating.

It was helpful to see a play that I already knew in Hungarian as to make comparisons and keep my mind sharp on Shakespeare's famous tragedy. Also, it was nice when I understood clips of Hungarian here and there.

Other disappointments included the lack of a sword fight, seeming ketchup stains on Mercutio's shirt, and Romeo hanging himself (actually, I wish he would have hanged himself in the beginning because he wasn't entirely convincing).

Budapest In My Front Yard

Note: This post was written for a weekend that happened a few weeks ago, but never got posted due to a website malfunction. Here it is as my 100th post!!!

Even though the sky had a rainy tinge to it, Laura and I decided to get out and see the city. As I stepped out my door, I realized again that the city is here. Something I wanted so badly last year when I was confined to a select few curving roads through the hills in Szerencs.

Laura and I wanted to have an outdoorish day and that's just what we had, even though the rain hammered on our heads.

At a grocery store on the way to the Citadella (the great hill with a statue of a woman on top), we bought:
* Cheddar cheese (Laura's finding and pretty uncommon in Hungary.)
*XXXL Salami
*Two cheese bread rolls fresh from the oven
*Carrot/orange/banana juice

As there was too much salami and cheese in the package, we tried to pile on as much as we could handle, but ended up leaving half. After picnicking under the gazebo fountain in front of the Gellert Hotel, we made our way through the cave church, where Laura and I both decided that if we went to church, this would be the kind of church we'd go to. It was very natural and cozy, especially away from the rain that was now starting to fall harder.

We trekked on up the hill pathways and encountered a slide park with ladders and ropes. Oh so reminiscent of that game, "Chutes and Ladders." The slides were wet, so I decided to use the ladders to get up the hill.

On our way up, Laura scurried into holes and at the top, we tried to savor the picturesqueness of the city before being forced down the hill by gusty winds and rain. Our heads were soaked, but we were enjoying ourselves.

We walked all the way to a coffee shop to meet some other people in our program and warmed up with a hot drink. Later on, we had dinner at a restaurant where Laura and Sara ordered a vegetarian platter for two, which appeared to be more like a platter for six.

The past weekend reminded me of weekends when I would come into Budapest for the weekend from Szerencs...attempting to cram several different activities into one weekend. And more importantly, it reminded me of the fact that Budapest really is in my front yard.

Mirror eggs

While doing a lesson on food, I asked 5B what they ate for breakfast. Some responded with grandma's hot chocolate, toast, Kellogs...and one boy said, "mirror eggs." All I could think of were sharp shards of glass tearing a throat during a painful and teary swallow. But no, mirror eggs seem to be what Hungarians call a fried egg. The children drew it on the board about 5 times. I still can't understand the logic here. Is the yolk looking into the translucent turned white "mirror?"

Mirror mirror in the pan, why did I not become a chicken after all?

I Love Cake

I've just polished off a nice rectangle slice of chocolate Hungarian cake and I still can't get over how marvelous cake is here.

Whenever I walk to my grocery store to get food, I pass by this "cukraszda" or cake shop. It's tiny, with two tables inside. I never fail to look over my shoulder as I pass the frosted window, to get a glance at the shelves of cakes on show underneath the glass.

Just cakes. Nothing else. So simple and delicious. Pink cakes, chocolate ones enough to make your face pucker, some sprinkled with nuts, others with a layer of yellow jelly.

When asked what a "cukraszda" is called in America, I never know what to say. We don't seem to have just cake shops, because they would be crushed by Wal-Mart or some other hypermarket.

Poisonwood Parallel

I'm reading "The Poisonwood Bible" by Barbara Kingsolver right now and I can't help but share some similar feelings with the fictional Baptist family who has gone to the Congo to bring God to the villagers of Kilanga.

The Father is dead set on bringing the Baptist way to these African villagers who have an extraordinarily different life, not to mention, their own gods. He goes to work everyday with a new sermon believing that he is making a mark. He even attempts to make everyone go to the river to be baptized. Only, a village girl had been crocodile food there not too long ago.

The majority of the village is appalled at his speeches and have their own stories of which the Father is completely unknowing.

In my own naive way, I thought I could help here by teaching English in a foreign country. And I think I have. But some days, some weeks, and now it's turned into some months, I feel completely useless. So, I walk into my job and attempt to do it, but I've been thrown into a different culture and I can't be assimilated into it. Naturally, this is frustrating. But it helps to know I'm not alone, even if my companions "a ce moment" are fictional.

Budding Spring and Unlucky Bags

I have now spotted three separate occurences of tree budding in Budapest. One, being a beautiful cluster of what appeared to be pink, floating popcorn on a very small tree. Two, being some small yellow bean-like buds coming out of ends of branches like an adolescent's nail polish. Three, being red balls unfurling on the tree outside the window of a classroom in the school.

Can spring really arrive without being prefaced by a winter? I guess that's when your definition of "winter" comes into play.

This morning, looking out at the gray sky above the Soviet flat blocks, not expecting the flora to be taking their first spring breaths, a colleague told me, "I don't know where to put my bag." We were teaching together today and while I was contemplating the obvious decision of just setting it down on a clean patch of the floor, I thought I misheard her say, "it's unlucky to put your bag on the ground if there's a fork in it, because you will lose all your money."

Maybe I'm making up the fork bit, because it does sound too random, but then again maybe I'm wrong. Anyhow, today I made an effort to place my teaching bag on chairs and desks regardless of the fact that I believe it or not.

Carnival Season

I like the idea of a winter carnival, even though it does spawn from religion. It seems to be something that most of the world participates in or at least recognizes. A Global Party of sorts. We can stretch the rules a bit, stay up late, make some noise, drink some spirits, dress up as someone else...

Being in Europe has made me more aware of the carnival celebrations in different countries other than the USA. After browsing through carnival info and pictures for my lessons this week, I've decided that I'd most prefer to check out the scene in Venice.

If you're invited to a private ball in Venice, that means adorning a delicate, sparkling mask with an elaborate gown or costume usually involving paint and some type of wig. Disguising your identity for a few nights out carousing, making you indistinguishable as a rich or poor man/woman is a nice idea. Tossing a blanket over ever permanent social class differences for a few days/nights is a refreshing change.

I guess in the words of fellow blogger, Emily: "All good things must come to an end." After all the partying we move from one end of extreme to the other, depending on religious preference. Sacrifice follows. Although, without an end to the celebration, the magic would eventually lose its spark.

Carnival season in my slot of Obuda consists of my Mardi Gras Word Search handouts and distribution of a few purple, gold, green, and silver strings of beads that I brought from home to unaware 3rd graders if they've managed to find the most words. I've discovered that word finds are my secret weapons in this swampy mess of teaching that I've sunk into. They shut those mouths and keep 'em in their chairs.

On Friday, my school will have a carnival ball which they call "Farsang" here. Today, the girls were wearing satiny white dresses and practicing their ballroom dance steps with any boy who happened to walk into the trap.

Even if I don't observe this ball, I will still be just as close to the celebration as anyone else, considering I live in a flat attached to the main hallway of the school.