I've been tricked. More than once. I think it's a big conspiracy.
Yesterday morning I was very tired, but I had two sweet pastries that were giving me motivation to move. I was going to eat them just before I left to go to school. I would drink my coffee, watch the news, and get the satisfaction of a pastry in the morning.
Then it happened. The filling wasn't creamy or sugary. It wasn't fruit or a milk product. I wasn't even lucky enough for it to be flavorless. My pastry was filled with some horrible tasting, liver like substance. There aren't words to describe how I felt.
Fortunately, I had some bread and jam. The jam was new, so I hadn't eaten any yet. There were pictures of berries on the jar, not organs of some unknown animal, so I new I was safe. In a hurry, I quickly scooped out a big glob with a knife, and it managed to sail through the air of my kitchen. It wasn't my happiest morning.
Today was a little different. I woke up and grabbed a nice, safe yogurt out of the fridge. I was too tired to open my eyes and pick one out, so I let fate choose. Fate hates me. It tasted like dirt. I looked at the package and saw pictures of walnuts, and I then remembered buying it to figure out exactly what flavor it is (walnut yogurt can't exist). After a few bites, I got used to the flavor, but it was still weird. If someone tells you that yogurt can't taste exactly like walnuts, you can tell them they are wrong.
I have a mysterious pastry for tomorrow morning, we'll have to see how that goes. Third time's a charm, right? The Hungarians seem to be teaching me their luck, along with the rest of their culture.
This afternoon, I did some traveling. I went to China and saw some sweatshops. It was pretty exciting. There are doorways here in Békéscsaba that magically transport you to another continent. They advertise cheap, Chinese made clothing and goods on the outside. Inside, they smell really bad, are full of Asian people, have the most painful fluorescent lighting known to man, and are crammed full of all kinds of clothes, shoes and suitcases. Everything's cheap, but the quality seems low.
I think they're my favorite places ever. I can buy knock-off designer clothes a block away from where I live. It's a little bit eerie how much they look like a sweatshop (at least how one looks in my mind), but that's not going to make me pass up a good deal.
My students warned me about April 1st. They said that teachers are the prime target of eager pranksters on this day, so I'm planning to be ready for it. But no one warned me that the grocery store was going to try and get a head start.
At least the Chinese stores don't sell food. Judging by how crowded they are with crappy clothes, every cat in town would be inside of them eating some pretty crazy stuff. It would be too much to handle.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Americans Don't Have This Much Fun Until College
The Hungarians are smart. I take that back. The Hungarians from Békéscsaba are smart. As far as I know, they're smarter than the rest of the world. They have Garabonciás.
You might ask, what is Garabonciás? I did too.
"It's a competition between all the schools in town."
How do they compete?
"They have many programs."
What sort of programs do they have?
"Um, [arguing with each other in Hungarian] a lot of programs."
Sometimes it's like pulling teeth. The competition didn't seem to be about sports, which had been my first guess. But, the more I asked, the more I thought it wasn't even really a competition. All of the students told me it was a competition, but didn't know how to explain what was done. I tried asking the teachers, but they just seemed to think it was stupid and didn't want to talk about it.
This all took place last week, which explains why I didn't write much here. My first class Monday morning started late because they were handing out red t-shirts with lego men on them to all the students. What were they for? Garabonciás. What is Garabonciás? A competition. Sometimes you just have to stop asking.
They, however, don't stop asking. The beginning of my second class was interupted by a student asking if they could go to Garabonciás City. I didn't know what this meant, I didn't know if I was allowed to take them, I didn't know when they wanted to go, and they were so nervous about my answer that they forgot how to speak English. Grunts, hand motions, and 16 sets of eyes darting between the clock, my eyes, and the windows made me realize no learning would be done this day. Maybe if I took them to this mysterious city I'd figure out what it was all about.
A few blocks from the school was a vacant lot. It was walled in by a crappy wall, and next to an ugly parking lot. There were multiple tents set up - festival type tents - and kids in matching t-shirts everywhere. Apparently every school made a t-shirt to show their pride (except for one school that made a cape).
Immediately after arriving, my students scattered and were never to be seen again. Fortunately, I made a new friend. Or, to be honest, a new friend made me. A guy came up to me and said, "You must be Alexander, I'm Ken from New York and I know Joe". At first I thought it was some sort of code and I'd been sucked into a spy ring, but then I realized I also know Joe and he must know Ken. I thought maybe an American could explain what this was all about, but he was pretty vague. He basically said it's an excuse to party. He was spot on.
The rest of the day consisted of students asking to go to the Garabonciás City as soon as I arrived at their classroom. Slowly but surely they started making the decision themselves. My average class size went from 16 to 5. To make things worse, the five students in the class were half asleep, had bloodshot eyes, and absolutely no motivation to do anything. Once, I even got suckered with the old "can I go to the bathroom" and never come back trick.
The whole week became like a Friday in Boulder. The students would stay out partying every night and barely make it to school. Now I understand why the teachers hate it.
But, they're geniuses. In America you have to wait until your 18 to start living like this. Plus, you have to work hard enough to get into a school where it's done, and then wait until your 21 to go the bars and really enjoy it. In Békéscsaba, you simply have to start high school. It doesn't matter which one, and evidently you can go to the night clubs when you're 14.
The real genius of it all, it doesn't happen anywhere else in Hungary. It started 19 years ago, and quite shockingly, no one could give me a reason why it started. However, do the math, think about political structures, and you can probably figure it out.
It's all comes to an exciting close on Thursday night. Each school elects a representative, and they're the ones who are really competing. They are getting graded for all the events they organize during the week (concerts, beauty pageants, cool tents, etc.) Then they have a final set of tasks at the sports arena on the outskirts of town. They have a big procession there during the afternoon, and the cops close the streets off. I think it's the only time of the year that this town has traffic jams. I missed the first procession to the tent city, so I was determined not to miss the one out of it.
Here are some pictures of the procession, my students are the one's in red shirts.
Unfortunately, my curiosity got the best of me (but it didn't seem to kill any of the cats around here). I thought I'd go for a little walk at 3:00 and be back by about 3:30. Nope. I finally left and got home at about 9:00. Good thing the grocery stores close at 7:00, it's not like I needed to buy something for dinner. Plus, I hadn't planned for my weekend trip, I hadn't planned what I would teach the next day, I hadn't done laundry, I hadn't showered (in a few days), and plenty of other things.
On the plus side, I saw most of the competition. The representative of each school had to go up on the stage to complete a series of tasks. It's a big honor, and the winner works with the mayor to do some big project in town. Here are some of the things they had to do: have a small debate, compete in a trivia contest, make a video about their school director, make a presentation about another school, and stand in a line on the stage trying not to laugh while a comedian told jokes. Oh, and then there was the teacher competition that I was drafted for at the last minute. I sung a song, in Hungarian, with a group of teachers and students. I don't know what I said or if I said it right, but I'm sure it added to my local celebrity status.
After I finally left, I went out for pizza and to watch my students stumble by drunk.
I guess I didn't mention that. Thursday night (just like college) was the huge party night. I canceled my Friday morning class because I knew I'd be the only one there. Plus, the winner of Garabonciás traditionally cancels the second half of the day on Friday, so I got a head start on my trip. My school didn't win, they came in third of eight. They were very proud.
So there's how the Hungarians, excuse me, the Békéscsabaians outsmarted all of America. But I've let the cat out of the bag. All you high school students in the crowd, demand Garabonciás. Who cares what it is, there's a lot of parties involved.
You might ask, what is Garabonciás? I did too.
"It's a competition between all the schools in town."
How do they compete?
"They have many programs."
What sort of programs do they have?
"Um, [arguing with each other in Hungarian] a lot of programs."
Sometimes it's like pulling teeth. The competition didn't seem to be about sports, which had been my first guess. But, the more I asked, the more I thought it wasn't even really a competition. All of the students told me it was a competition, but didn't know how to explain what was done. I tried asking the teachers, but they just seemed to think it was stupid and didn't want to talk about it.
This all took place last week, which explains why I didn't write much here. My first class Monday morning started late because they were handing out red t-shirts with lego men on them to all the students. What were they for? Garabonciás. What is Garabonciás? A competition. Sometimes you just have to stop asking.
They, however, don't stop asking. The beginning of my second class was interupted by a student asking if they could go to Garabonciás City. I didn't know what this meant, I didn't know if I was allowed to take them, I didn't know when they wanted to go, and they were so nervous about my answer that they forgot how to speak English. Grunts, hand motions, and 16 sets of eyes darting between the clock, my eyes, and the windows made me realize no learning would be done this day. Maybe if I took them to this mysterious city I'd figure out what it was all about.
A few blocks from the school was a vacant lot. It was walled in by a crappy wall, and next to an ugly parking lot. There were multiple tents set up - festival type tents - and kids in matching t-shirts everywhere. Apparently every school made a t-shirt to show their pride (except for one school that made a cape).
Immediately after arriving, my students scattered and were never to be seen again. Fortunately, I made a new friend. Or, to be honest, a new friend made me. A guy came up to me and said, "You must be Alexander, I'm Ken from New York and I know Joe". At first I thought it was some sort of code and I'd been sucked into a spy ring, but then I realized I also know Joe and he must know Ken. I thought maybe an American could explain what this was all about, but he was pretty vague. He basically said it's an excuse to party. He was spot on.
The rest of the day consisted of students asking to go to the Garabonciás City as soon as I arrived at their classroom. Slowly but surely they started making the decision themselves. My average class size went from 16 to 5. To make things worse, the five students in the class were half asleep, had bloodshot eyes, and absolutely no motivation to do anything. Once, I even got suckered with the old "can I go to the bathroom" and never come back trick.
The whole week became like a Friday in Boulder. The students would stay out partying every night and barely make it to school. Now I understand why the teachers hate it.
But, they're geniuses. In America you have to wait until your 18 to start living like this. Plus, you have to work hard enough to get into a school where it's done, and then wait until your 21 to go the bars and really enjoy it. In Békéscsaba, you simply have to start high school. It doesn't matter which one, and evidently you can go to the night clubs when you're 14.
The real genius of it all, it doesn't happen anywhere else in Hungary. It started 19 years ago, and quite shockingly, no one could give me a reason why it started. However, do the math, think about political structures, and you can probably figure it out.
It's all comes to an exciting close on Thursday night. Each school elects a representative, and they're the ones who are really competing. They are getting graded for all the events they organize during the week (concerts, beauty pageants, cool tents, etc.) Then they have a final set of tasks at the sports arena on the outskirts of town. They have a big procession there during the afternoon, and the cops close the streets off. I think it's the only time of the year that this town has traffic jams. I missed the first procession to the tent city, so I was determined not to miss the one out of it.
Here are some pictures of the procession, my students are the one's in red shirts.
Unfortunately, my curiosity got the best of me (but it didn't seem to kill any of the cats around here). I thought I'd go for a little walk at 3:00 and be back by about 3:30. Nope. I finally left and got home at about 9:00. Good thing the grocery stores close at 7:00, it's not like I needed to buy something for dinner. Plus, I hadn't planned for my weekend trip, I hadn't planned what I would teach the next day, I hadn't done laundry, I hadn't showered (in a few days), and plenty of other things.
On the plus side, I saw most of the competition. The representative of each school had to go up on the stage to complete a series of tasks. It's a big honor, and the winner works with the mayor to do some big project in town. Here are some of the things they had to do: have a small debate, compete in a trivia contest, make a video about their school director, make a presentation about another school, and stand in a line on the stage trying not to laugh while a comedian told jokes. Oh, and then there was the teacher competition that I was drafted for at the last minute. I sung a song, in Hungarian, with a group of teachers and students. I don't know what I said or if I said it right, but I'm sure it added to my local celebrity status.
After I finally left, I went out for pizza and to watch my students stumble by drunk.
I guess I didn't mention that. Thursday night (just like college) was the huge party night. I canceled my Friday morning class because I knew I'd be the only one there. Plus, the winner of Garabonciás traditionally cancels the second half of the day on Friday, so I got a head start on my trip. My school didn't win, they came in third of eight. They were very proud.
So there's how the Hungarians, excuse me, the Békéscsabaians outsmarted all of America. But I've let the cat out of the bag. All you high school students in the crowd, demand Garabonciás. Who cares what it is, there's a lot of parties involved.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Back to the World
I saw civilization this weekend. It's still there and seems to be doing just fine without me. The ironic part is that the city I went to, Budapest, used to be one of the more exotic places I'd ever been. Now it feels like the exact opposite.
During my train ride on Friday, I looked out the window and watched the flat nothingess disappear. It was traded for hills, trees, and signs of civilization (buildings and people instead of fields and, well, nothing). Before this, I hadn't realized how remote Békéscsaba felt.
I've been down here for roughly a month, and I had forgotten what it's like to speak English at a store or restarant. It felt pretty cool in Budapest though, because a waitress would talk to me in English and I'd suddenly think I could understand Hungarian! Then I would face the truth, I still don't understand Hungarian, but she does speak English. Waitress 1, Alex 0.
When I arrived in the city, I was most excited to see hills. You know those tools that have water with a bubble in it to measure if something's flat? Well Békéscsaba could be used as a testing area for those because there isn't even a slight incline.
I hopped on the metro and headed over to Buda (the side of the river with all the hills). I got off in Moscow Square, a place renamed by the Russians. Those northern people may enjoy changing the name of every city, road, town, and building about every two years, but the Hungarians are more consistent. Moscow Square used to be called something different, but out of a desire to know the names of things in their city, the Hungarians let it remain when the Russians left.
Moscow Square was full of people. Commuters going home from work, beggars, shady looking people, residents of the area, and a wide variety of others. More notable though, were the capitalist beacons. Ten steps out of the metro station I had already seen signs for McDonalds, Burger King, KFC, and a big mall. Unable to resist the irony (and my empty stomach), I went and ate at KFC. For all I know, the name was translated into Hungarian and is called Kentucky Fried Csirke. Stranger things have happened.
There I sat with my coca-cola and 11 secret herbs and spices. I had a comfortable seat at a little counter pressed against the front window. I ate slowly so I could savor the view (and taste) of a communist named squared surrounded by the material joys of capitalism.
People stared at me. I would also stare at a man laughing to himself in KFC.
The rest of the weekend was great. I stayed at an awesome hostel with the most helpful owner I've ever met. At check-in, I couldn't fill in my registration form because he wouldn't stop talking. When he found out where I live and teach, he decided it's too boring and promised (multiple times) to find me a job in Budapest when my contract finishes. To make sure I agreed with the beauty of the city, he drove another guest and I around for a nighttime tour in his car. If you go to Budapest, stay at HomePlus Hostel.
That was the highlight, but there were a lot of other awesome parts. Great coffee and tasty cakes. Bookstores with more than 10 books in English. Beer in bars without my students watching me. Walking more than one block without someone recognizing me and saying hello. Watching a bunch of suckers run through the freezing rain of the Budapest Marathon. A two day period with no cats (I think Békéscsaba means "city of cats"). Rich people, poor people, trendy people and ugly people.
As I waited for the train to depart the city and take me home, I sat and daydreamed about museums and menus in English. Then I looked over and saw Jaq, another CETP English teacher, walk by. It's a small world and the ride home was filled with conversation, not just dark views out the window.
Budapest may be a city in Hungary, but it certainly isn't Hungary. If you want to see what life is really like here, struggle onto a train and witness the differences for yourself.
I was relieved to find, however, that Budapest grocery stores sell chicken feet.
During my train ride on Friday, I looked out the window and watched the flat nothingess disappear. It was traded for hills, trees, and signs of civilization (buildings and people instead of fields and, well, nothing). Before this, I hadn't realized how remote Békéscsaba felt.
I've been down here for roughly a month, and I had forgotten what it's like to speak English at a store or restarant. It felt pretty cool in Budapest though, because a waitress would talk to me in English and I'd suddenly think I could understand Hungarian! Then I would face the truth, I still don't understand Hungarian, but she does speak English. Waitress 1, Alex 0.
When I arrived in the city, I was most excited to see hills. You know those tools that have water with a bubble in it to measure if something's flat? Well Békéscsaba could be used as a testing area for those because there isn't even a slight incline.
I hopped on the metro and headed over to Buda (the side of the river with all the hills). I got off in Moscow Square, a place renamed by the Russians. Those northern people may enjoy changing the name of every city, road, town, and building about every two years, but the Hungarians are more consistent. Moscow Square used to be called something different, but out of a desire to know the names of things in their city, the Hungarians let it remain when the Russians left.
Moscow Square was full of people. Commuters going home from work, beggars, shady looking people, residents of the area, and a wide variety of others. More notable though, were the capitalist beacons. Ten steps out of the metro station I had already seen signs for McDonalds, Burger King, KFC, and a big mall. Unable to resist the irony (and my empty stomach), I went and ate at KFC. For all I know, the name was translated into Hungarian and is called Kentucky Fried Csirke. Stranger things have happened.
There I sat with my coca-cola and 11 secret herbs and spices. I had a comfortable seat at a little counter pressed against the front window. I ate slowly so I could savor the view (and taste) of a communist named squared surrounded by the material joys of capitalism.
People stared at me. I would also stare at a man laughing to himself in KFC.
The rest of the weekend was great. I stayed at an awesome hostel with the most helpful owner I've ever met. At check-in, I couldn't fill in my registration form because he wouldn't stop talking. When he found out where I live and teach, he decided it's too boring and promised (multiple times) to find me a job in Budapest when my contract finishes. To make sure I agreed with the beauty of the city, he drove another guest and I around for a nighttime tour in his car. If you go to Budapest, stay at HomePlus Hostel.
That was the highlight, but there were a lot of other awesome parts. Great coffee and tasty cakes. Bookstores with more than 10 books in English. Beer in bars without my students watching me. Walking more than one block without someone recognizing me and saying hello. Watching a bunch of suckers run through the freezing rain of the Budapest Marathon. A two day period with no cats (I think Békéscsaba means "city of cats"). Rich people, poor people, trendy people and ugly people.
As I waited for the train to depart the city and take me home, I sat and daydreamed about museums and menus in English. Then I looked over and saw Jaq, another CETP English teacher, walk by. It's a small world and the ride home was filled with conversation, not just dark views out the window.
Budapest may be a city in Hungary, but it certainly isn't Hungary. If you want to see what life is really like here, struggle onto a train and witness the differences for yourself.
I was relieved to find, however, that Budapest grocery stores sell chicken feet.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
One Month Ago...
One month ago, I arrived in Budapest (August 21, 2010). That means one month ago I looked out an airplane window as it descended into grain fields, and suddenly an airport appeared. There were people sitting on their parked car at the start of the runway - obviously no fence around the airport. The building itself looked like it was collapsing, but I think the construction is an attempt at remodeling. I was met by the directors of the Central European Teaching Program, who were very nice. They were pleased to see I had a big smile on my face, because they said some people come out of the customs doors crying. I bet they're crying because of the farmlands and rundown airport.
One month ago, I got on a minibus that took me into the city of Budapest. I was startled when I saw crappy old propeller planes sitting in front of the airport, and then I realized it's some sort of airplane museum. Well, I tell myself it was a musem because it helps me sleep at night. I'm going to be quite picky when flying discount airlines from that place.
One month ago, the bus driver didn't speak English, but he was nice enough to drive me through neighborhoods that aren't aware the Soviet Union collapsed. I saw some great communist architecture, people driving cars that junkyards wouldn't accept, and plenty of depressing little bars full of people drinking their lives away. Those bars, sadly, are quite common here in Hungary. Any hour of the day you can see working class men in them with a beer (or something a bit stronger). There are no chairs, the men just stand. No one is talking and laughing, everyone is just staring. Sometimes there is music, but no one seems to notice.
One month ago, a group of experienced CETP teachers met me at the hostel and showed me to my room. They told me to take my time and nap, shower, or do anything I wanted, and they would fill me in on everything when I was ready. I had trouble with the door handles because instead of turning, they had a button to push. I didn't know how to flush the toilet. I opened the window very wide, but was afraid of falling out since there was nothing to stop me.
One month ago, I ate my first kebab in Hungary, and struggled with the fact that I had to pay nearly 1000 units of currency. I stared blankly at the ATM trying to figure out what would be a reasonable amount to withdraw. Las Vegas is the only place in America where ATMs show that many zeros
One month ago, I went to bed at midnight, not before, to help adjust to the time change. I woke up at 3 and stared at the ceiling for a while. The whole time I was wondering exaclty what I had gotten myself into. Who came up with this idea anyway?
Today, I woke up at 6:30. I went and taught a bunch of Hungarian kids. I joked with my Hungarian colleagues. I bought food at my Hungarian grocery store. I got a Hungarian haircut (a little scary, but it turned out well).
I've spent my day comparing the 21st of August and the 21st of September. I don't think I've changed much. I live in a different place, talk to different people, and am constantly learning about a new culture.
My biggest change is the increase in numbness that I feel toward some of the sad sights. I've grown used to seeing the bars that I mentioned earlier. I've come to accept that I live in a town of 65,000 people, and there is always someone digging through the dumpster outside my apartment. I look at Soviet architecture, or very worn architecture from some previous century, and see the details of it. A month ago I could only see the ugliness.
On Sunday, I had dinner with an American couple who live and teach in a neighboring town, and have been here for about a year and a half. They were very kind, made me a great dinner, and offered a lot of useful guidance and advice about living here. We discussed many hot topics of the region, including communism and the differences between now and then. They said the saddest thing they see here is old ladies selling flowers and things in the metro stations. They are old enough to deserve to relax at home, but they cannot afford it, so they spend their time on street corners. They have no life savings, because they didn't need any. They were going to be taken care of, but instead fell victim to a major change in economic structure. More unseen victims of the Cold War.
I'm sure I will see many more sad things and many more happy things. Plus, I still have a lot to learn and adapt to. For instance, giving someone a thumbs up doesn't mean "Good!", it means 1. Holding your index finger up (to mean 1) actually means, well, nothing. They'll stare at you like you've lost your mind.
One month from now, I wonder how things will be different.
One year from now, I wonder where I'll be.
One lifetime from now, I doubt I'll regret coming here. That's why it's called an adventure.
One month ago, I got on a minibus that took me into the city of Budapest. I was startled when I saw crappy old propeller planes sitting in front of the airport, and then I realized it's some sort of airplane museum. Well, I tell myself it was a musem because it helps me sleep at night. I'm going to be quite picky when flying discount airlines from that place.
One month ago, the bus driver didn't speak English, but he was nice enough to drive me through neighborhoods that aren't aware the Soviet Union collapsed. I saw some great communist architecture, people driving cars that junkyards wouldn't accept, and plenty of depressing little bars full of people drinking their lives away. Those bars, sadly, are quite common here in Hungary. Any hour of the day you can see working class men in them with a beer (or something a bit stronger). There are no chairs, the men just stand. No one is talking and laughing, everyone is just staring. Sometimes there is music, but no one seems to notice.
One month ago, a group of experienced CETP teachers met me at the hostel and showed me to my room. They told me to take my time and nap, shower, or do anything I wanted, and they would fill me in on everything when I was ready. I had trouble with the door handles because instead of turning, they had a button to push. I didn't know how to flush the toilet. I opened the window very wide, but was afraid of falling out since there was nothing to stop me.
One month ago, I ate my first kebab in Hungary, and struggled with the fact that I had to pay nearly 1000 units of currency. I stared blankly at the ATM trying to figure out what would be a reasonable amount to withdraw. Las Vegas is the only place in America where ATMs show that many zeros
One month ago, I went to bed at midnight, not before, to help adjust to the time change. I woke up at 3 and stared at the ceiling for a while. The whole time I was wondering exaclty what I had gotten myself into. Who came up with this idea anyway?
Today, I woke up at 6:30. I went and taught a bunch of Hungarian kids. I joked with my Hungarian colleagues. I bought food at my Hungarian grocery store. I got a Hungarian haircut (a little scary, but it turned out well).
I've spent my day comparing the 21st of August and the 21st of September. I don't think I've changed much. I live in a different place, talk to different people, and am constantly learning about a new culture.
My biggest change is the increase in numbness that I feel toward some of the sad sights. I've grown used to seeing the bars that I mentioned earlier. I've come to accept that I live in a town of 65,000 people, and there is always someone digging through the dumpster outside my apartment. I look at Soviet architecture, or very worn architecture from some previous century, and see the details of it. A month ago I could only see the ugliness.
On Sunday, I had dinner with an American couple who live and teach in a neighboring town, and have been here for about a year and a half. They were very kind, made me a great dinner, and offered a lot of useful guidance and advice about living here. We discussed many hot topics of the region, including communism and the differences between now and then. They said the saddest thing they see here is old ladies selling flowers and things in the metro stations. They are old enough to deserve to relax at home, but they cannot afford it, so they spend their time on street corners. They have no life savings, because they didn't need any. They were going to be taken care of, but instead fell victim to a major change in economic structure. More unseen victims of the Cold War.
I'm sure I will see many more sad things and many more happy things. Plus, I still have a lot to learn and adapt to. For instance, giving someone a thumbs up doesn't mean "Good!", it means 1. Holding your index finger up (to mean 1) actually means, well, nothing. They'll stare at you like you've lost your mind.
One month from now, I wonder how things will be different.
One year from now, I wonder where I'll be.
One lifetime from now, I doubt I'll regret coming here. That's why it's called an adventure.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Topic of Next Lesson: "Not" Jokes
You know what I'm talking about, you say something that's not true, and then you say "not" and laugh. For example, I'm going to give you $500! NOT! It amuses young children, and apparently some Hungarians.
Let me tell you about my day. It was going pretty normal until I was asked to step into the office of the vice principal (not her actual title, but it's the closest interpretation I can come up with). Not too unusual, but she seemed strangely solemn. Plus, I had just taken a class on an impromptu field trip without asking, was this not okay?
"No need to be so serious," she says, "this isn't anything bad. The school was awarded a scholarship to take some teachers and a bunch of students on a trip to Transylavania. Can you go to Romania with your passport?"
I hope this is going where I think it is, "yes, yes I can."
"Good," she answered, "One of the other teachers, Zoli, has been organizing the trip but now he can't go. It's the last minute, but would you like to go?"
"Yes, when do we leave."
As we rush back to the other room with all the teachers, she explains the group will leave on Wednesday and come back Saturday. Then we get in there and about 5 or 6 people start arguing in Hungarian. Suddenly, they all get a pissed off look on their face and look at me and say:
"NOT!"
Well, okay, they didn't actually say "not" because I haven't taught that lesson yet. Instead they said I probably can't go because I'm not a Hungarian citizen and the scholarship won't cover me. More arguing ensued. Finally, Zoli went and made a phone call to whoever would know the definite answer on the citizenship question. It had a happy ending, because the person said an American can go.
I sit down with one of the other teachers who went through the schedule and translated it for me. It said all the usual stuff, meet at the bus at 4:30 AM, we'll be visiting cool traditional Transylvanian places, lodging is included, breakfast and dinner is included but you will be responsible for lunch, bring plenty of garlic and holy water, ect...
This whole incident caught me as I was leaving for lunch, so now I finally headed home. In the hallway I heard another argument between a bunch of the teachers, including Zoli. Eventually they all storm off, but one lady looked at me and said, "It's not a language thing. He speaks Hungarian. He doesn't speak English very well but he speaks Hungarian."
I wondered if I should remind her that it is a language thing for me because I don't speak Hungarian and don't know what's going on, but she picked that up quickly. "Now he's saying he may be able to go. I was told this morning that I had to go and it's very inconvient because I have a family and my son is sick. He had been planning to go and he suddenly canceled. It's not like him. And it's not a language thing because he speaks Hungarian."
Hmm, I thought. Oh well, I'm hungry. I ate my lunch and wondered how I would buy travel insurance (required), get a bunch of Romanian money, and pack my stuff in the next 48 hours.
For those of you not aware of the history of Transylvania, it is more than just the home of Dracula in Bram Stoker's story. It's a region in present day Romania, but that doesn't make it Romanian. It was a prized part of the territory taken from Hungary at the end of World War I, and they still firmly believe it is a Hungarian place full of Hungarian people and Hungarian traditions. It's just a bit of bad luck that it's across a border.
After my lunch, I went back to the school and saw the vice principal looking at me funny. She motioned and I followed her over to an uncomfortable looking Zoli. He looked at me and said:
"NOT!"
Again, this wasn't exactly how he phrased it. Something more along the lines of, "I can go now. I didn't think I could go but now I found out I can."
They apoligized for getting me excited and said I would be able to go next time. I'm not really sure there will be a next time, but it was a nice thing to say.
So again my dream destination of Transylvania evades me. It saves me the trouble of packing really quickly and going with a bunch of high-school kids, but reminds me of how close I am. But I have found three positive aspects of the whole situation. First, I have planned my next lesson ("not" jokes). Second, I now know what to say the next time someone tells me something I don't want to hear: "It's not a language thing, they speak English so it can't be a language thing." Third, I know I'm in the right profession because I'll never grow tired of being told by my boss that I need to travel to Transylvania. I believe it's rare to be so sure of your job.
You win this round Dracula, but it's not over.
Let me tell you about my day. It was going pretty normal until I was asked to step into the office of the vice principal (not her actual title, but it's the closest interpretation I can come up with). Not too unusual, but she seemed strangely solemn. Plus, I had just taken a class on an impromptu field trip without asking, was this not okay?
"No need to be so serious," she says, "this isn't anything bad. The school was awarded a scholarship to take some teachers and a bunch of students on a trip to Transylavania. Can you go to Romania with your passport?"
I hope this is going where I think it is, "yes, yes I can."
"Good," she answered, "One of the other teachers, Zoli, has been organizing the trip but now he can't go. It's the last minute, but would you like to go?"
"Yes, when do we leave."
As we rush back to the other room with all the teachers, she explains the group will leave on Wednesday and come back Saturday. Then we get in there and about 5 or 6 people start arguing in Hungarian. Suddenly, they all get a pissed off look on their face and look at me and say:
"NOT!"
Well, okay, they didn't actually say "not" because I haven't taught that lesson yet. Instead they said I probably can't go because I'm not a Hungarian citizen and the scholarship won't cover me. More arguing ensued. Finally, Zoli went and made a phone call to whoever would know the definite answer on the citizenship question. It had a happy ending, because the person said an American can go.
I sit down with one of the other teachers who went through the schedule and translated it for me. It said all the usual stuff, meet at the bus at 4:30 AM, we'll be visiting cool traditional Transylvanian places, lodging is included, breakfast and dinner is included but you will be responsible for lunch, bring plenty of garlic and holy water, ect...
This whole incident caught me as I was leaving for lunch, so now I finally headed home. In the hallway I heard another argument between a bunch of the teachers, including Zoli. Eventually they all storm off, but one lady looked at me and said, "It's not a language thing. He speaks Hungarian. He doesn't speak English very well but he speaks Hungarian."
I wondered if I should remind her that it is a language thing for me because I don't speak Hungarian and don't know what's going on, but she picked that up quickly. "Now he's saying he may be able to go. I was told this morning that I had to go and it's very inconvient because I have a family and my son is sick. He had been planning to go and he suddenly canceled. It's not like him. And it's not a language thing because he speaks Hungarian."
Hmm, I thought. Oh well, I'm hungry. I ate my lunch and wondered how I would buy travel insurance (required), get a bunch of Romanian money, and pack my stuff in the next 48 hours.
For those of you not aware of the history of Transylvania, it is more than just the home of Dracula in Bram Stoker's story. It's a region in present day Romania, but that doesn't make it Romanian. It was a prized part of the territory taken from Hungary at the end of World War I, and they still firmly believe it is a Hungarian place full of Hungarian people and Hungarian traditions. It's just a bit of bad luck that it's across a border.
After my lunch, I went back to the school and saw the vice principal looking at me funny. She motioned and I followed her over to an uncomfortable looking Zoli. He looked at me and said:
"NOT!"
Again, this wasn't exactly how he phrased it. Something more along the lines of, "I can go now. I didn't think I could go but now I found out I can."
They apoligized for getting me excited and said I would be able to go next time. I'm not really sure there will be a next time, but it was a nice thing to say.
So again my dream destination of Transylvania evades me. It saves me the trouble of packing really quickly and going with a bunch of high-school kids, but reminds me of how close I am. But I have found three positive aspects of the whole situation. First, I have planned my next lesson ("not" jokes). Second, I now know what to say the next time someone tells me something I don't want to hear: "It's not a language thing, they speak English so it can't be a language thing." Third, I know I'm in the right profession because I'll never grow tired of being told by my boss that I need to travel to Transylvania. I believe it's rare to be so sure of your job.
You win this round Dracula, but it's not over.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Did You Know There Are Famous Harmonica Players?
That's right, you can be famous for playing the harmonica, but more on that later. First, I have a very important announcement. The grocery store at the mall sells PIG FEET at the meat counter. I'm starting to get into the whole eating feet thing. There's a bumper sticker for you, I Eat Feet. I wonder what other sorts of animal limbs I'll be able to find.
Last night I went to a music bar. I was told about it by another American here in town named Joe. I was told about him by people saying, "You're an American? You should call Joe, he's an American too and here's his phone number." Seems logical, I guess. He's been here for 12 years, and therefore he knew that a famous harmonica player would be playing at this place. The guy's originally from here in Békéscsaba, but now he lives in Budapest to make it easier to travel around Europe so people can hear his harmonica skills. I admit my ear isn't trained to the quality of harmonicas, but it really sounded the same as they always do. I was, however, very impressed by his case of at least 10 different harmonicas which he took great care looking through to pick the perfect one for each song. And someone less ignorant than me recognizes his talent, because he's sponsored by a harmonica company. I guess the field has gone a long way from cowboys sitting around campfires.
I was given lots of good advice about life here. Joe told me good bars to go to, bars to be careful of because I'll see my students there, and warned me never to mess with a security guard because they're all members of a local Thai Kick Boxing gym.
Guide books and my Hungarian culture classes have warned me about the Hungarians. They are notorious for forcing food and drinks upon you until you explode and die of alcohol poisoning. Last night I experienced a text book example. Just as Joe arrived at the bar and introduced himself, he saw another man he knows. A quick introduction was made and the man didn't ask who I was or why I was there, but instead asked if I'd like a drink. I showed him the giant bottle of beer in my hand and politely said I didn't need another. He said, "no, not something like that, a real drink, something strong," and then he insisted I come to the bar with them. The third time he asked if I wanted a drink (in a 30 second period), I accepted thinking it was the only way to stop him. Don't get me wrong, I was appreciative, and I very much enjoyed my Scotch on the rock. Plus it demonstrated that Hungary seems to also subscribe to the European belief that ice is evil, and shouldn't be used to get in the way of a drink that was kept in an unplugged refrigerator.
The rest of the music was great. After Mr. Harmonica (who's name I can't remember, just like all the other 250 Hungarians I've met in the last three weeks) a band of teenagers took the stage. My expectations were low, but their talent was high. Two guitarists, a bass guitar, a keyboard, a drummer, and a few of them singing made for some good listening. Occasionally a member of the audience would pull an instrument out of nowhere (not something small, a real instrument like a saxophone) and run up on the stage to contribute to a song they were enjoying.
I was told that Békéscsaba is the "biggest village in the world". Everyone is connected to each other in one way or another. Even though it is small, it has churned out multiple Olympians, and countless other talented people, such as the musicians I saw last night. I believe it has something to do with the amount of feet consumed.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to the harmonica store to complete the first step in my path to fortune and glory.
Last night I went to a music bar. I was told about it by another American here in town named Joe. I was told about him by people saying, "You're an American? You should call Joe, he's an American too and here's his phone number." Seems logical, I guess. He's been here for 12 years, and therefore he knew that a famous harmonica player would be playing at this place. The guy's originally from here in Békéscsaba, but now he lives in Budapest to make it easier to travel around Europe so people can hear his harmonica skills. I admit my ear isn't trained to the quality of harmonicas, but it really sounded the same as they always do. I was, however, very impressed by his case of at least 10 different harmonicas which he took great care looking through to pick the perfect one for each song. And someone less ignorant than me recognizes his talent, because he's sponsored by a harmonica company. I guess the field has gone a long way from cowboys sitting around campfires.
I was given lots of good advice about life here. Joe told me good bars to go to, bars to be careful of because I'll see my students there, and warned me never to mess with a security guard because they're all members of a local Thai Kick Boxing gym.
Guide books and my Hungarian culture classes have warned me about the Hungarians. They are notorious for forcing food and drinks upon you until you explode and die of alcohol poisoning. Last night I experienced a text book example. Just as Joe arrived at the bar and introduced himself, he saw another man he knows. A quick introduction was made and the man didn't ask who I was or why I was there, but instead asked if I'd like a drink. I showed him the giant bottle of beer in my hand and politely said I didn't need another. He said, "no, not something like that, a real drink, something strong," and then he insisted I come to the bar with them. The third time he asked if I wanted a drink (in a 30 second period), I accepted thinking it was the only way to stop him. Don't get me wrong, I was appreciative, and I very much enjoyed my Scotch on the rock. Plus it demonstrated that Hungary seems to also subscribe to the European belief that ice is evil, and shouldn't be used to get in the way of a drink that was kept in an unplugged refrigerator.
The rest of the music was great. After Mr. Harmonica (who's name I can't remember, just like all the other 250 Hungarians I've met in the last three weeks) a band of teenagers took the stage. My expectations were low, but their talent was high. Two guitarists, a bass guitar, a keyboard, a drummer, and a few of them singing made for some good listening. Occasionally a member of the audience would pull an instrument out of nowhere (not something small, a real instrument like a saxophone) and run up on the stage to contribute to a song they were enjoying.
I was told that Békéscsaba is the "biggest village in the world". Everyone is connected to each other in one way or another. Even though it is small, it has churned out multiple Olympians, and countless other talented people, such as the musicians I saw last night. I believe it has something to do with the amount of feet consumed.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to the harmonica store to complete the first step in my path to fortune and glory.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Notes on Everyday Life in My Recently Adopted Homeland
Food is interesting. I'm learning, by trial and error, what things are. I could look things up in a dictionary, but I like my method better. I've only been unpleasantly surprised once (it wasn't sweet, delicious yogurt, it was some sort of fatty cheese/milk product thing).
Hungarian-American junk food, though, is another story. If you ever find Ketchup Cheetos, don't buy them. If you ever find Peanut Cheetos, punch the store owner in the face. In their defense, they do taste just like peanuts, but that's the problem. Also, I assumed that "fromage" Lays would be cheese flavored. But they must have just thought "sour cream and onion" didn't sound very exotic.
The yogurt is awesome. Even brands like Dannon (spelled Danone), that I eat in the US, taste much different here. They're sort of runnier and just a lot better. There are chunks of fruit in it that really make the texture work. I can't really explain it, it's just awesome.
The TV in Hungary isn't very original. It's a lot of American TV shows, but they dub them into Hungarian just to piss me off. The only English channels are CNN and a British channel that shows crappy game shows and soap operas. Every now and then I'll see something like the Simpsons that's only subtitled in Romanian. It makes me really like the laziness of my neighbors to the east.
The secondary school (high-school) that I work at is similar to a high-school in the USA. The biggest difference is that the students stay in the same classroom, and the teachers move around. Also, the students all stand up when the teacher enters the room, and don't sit down until they're told. That makes me feel pretty awesome.
Plus some of the students are super smart, and here is an example. I divided a class into groups of four or five and gave them the task of picking five objects to bring if they were trapped on a desert island. There was a very sensible answer of tons of food and water, a tent, blankets, etc. Then there was the answer (from a group of four boys) to simply bring five girls. I couldn't really argue with that.
Finally, there was the best and smartest answer of what to bring to a desert island. It was a group of three girls and a boy. They chose a computer even though they couldn't use the internet, and a lot of make-up (I think the boy lost the vote on this one). I can't remember what their third item was, but the fourth was English books so they could keep learning. Their final item was Alex Hoskinson.
My students like me so much that they would bring me to a desert island just so I could keep teaching them. Does the winner of the Teacher of the Year Award have to give a speech? I better start writing it.
Hungarian-American junk food, though, is another story. If you ever find Ketchup Cheetos, don't buy them. If you ever find Peanut Cheetos, punch the store owner in the face. In their defense, they do taste just like peanuts, but that's the problem. Also, I assumed that "fromage" Lays would be cheese flavored. But they must have just thought "sour cream and onion" didn't sound very exotic.
The yogurt is awesome. Even brands like Dannon (spelled Danone), that I eat in the US, taste much different here. They're sort of runnier and just a lot better. There are chunks of fruit in it that really make the texture work. I can't really explain it, it's just awesome.
The TV in Hungary isn't very original. It's a lot of American TV shows, but they dub them into Hungarian just to piss me off. The only English channels are CNN and a British channel that shows crappy game shows and soap operas. Every now and then I'll see something like the Simpsons that's only subtitled in Romanian. It makes me really like the laziness of my neighbors to the east.
The secondary school (high-school) that I work at is similar to a high-school in the USA. The biggest difference is that the students stay in the same classroom, and the teachers move around. Also, the students all stand up when the teacher enters the room, and don't sit down until they're told. That makes me feel pretty awesome.
Plus some of the students are super smart, and here is an example. I divided a class into groups of four or five and gave them the task of picking five objects to bring if they were trapped on a desert island. There was a very sensible answer of tons of food and water, a tent, blankets, etc. Then there was the answer (from a group of four boys) to simply bring five girls. I couldn't really argue with that.
Finally, there was the best and smartest answer of what to bring to a desert island. It was a group of three girls and a boy. They chose a computer even though they couldn't use the internet, and a lot of make-up (I think the boy lost the vote on this one). I can't remember what their third item was, but the fourth was English books so they could keep learning. Their final item was Alex Hoskinson.
My students like me so much that they would bring me to a desert island just so I could keep teaching them. Does the winner of the Teacher of the Year Award have to give a speech? I better start writing it.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
It's Not Wasting Time If It Annoys Someone Else
Today I went to the tax office so I could get my tax card. I don't really know what a tax card is, maybe it's like a social security card, but you need it to pay your Hungarian taxes. It seemed a little unnecessary though, because I don't have to pay Hungarian taxes. It's a law to get people to come here and teach English. Now they need a law that says these English teachers don't need tax cards.
But, it did have it's entertaining parts. The tax building was a big open room that rose up five stories. On the bottom floor, the walls were wooden with narrow openings to talk to the 30 people who worked there. I'm not kidding about 30 people, I guess thats what high taxes will do for you. Keep in mind this is a smaller town, most large grocery stores only have two checkout lanes.
A colleague from my school went to act as a translator, and she called in the favor of a former students mother who works there to help. But, she couldn't help a lot. The 30 mean people in their wooden windows yelled at her and made her leave very quickly. Apparently it was unthinkable that she be in a room in the building she works in.
The good part about having so many workers is we didn't have to wait. The bad part is they seemed to hate their lives. Think about workers at places in America for a minute. Think about how much nicer someone is at a store or a restaurant than at a government office, like the DMV. The lady here was that same amount of difference, except the starting point is the DMV worker and she was that much more unhappy and mean.
I found it enjoyable because when I left I know she sat there fuming in her little booth thinking, "Oh I hate that American, how dare he come in here and ask me to type a few lines into a computer. Doesn't he know I'm practicing my frown to make myself look more unhappy."
She did a good job though, I noticed afterward that she spelled my name wrong.
But, it did have it's entertaining parts. The tax building was a big open room that rose up five stories. On the bottom floor, the walls were wooden with narrow openings to talk to the 30 people who worked there. I'm not kidding about 30 people, I guess thats what high taxes will do for you. Keep in mind this is a smaller town, most large grocery stores only have two checkout lanes.
A colleague from my school went to act as a translator, and she called in the favor of a former students mother who works there to help. But, she couldn't help a lot. The 30 mean people in their wooden windows yelled at her and made her leave very quickly. Apparently it was unthinkable that she be in a room in the building she works in.
The good part about having so many workers is we didn't have to wait. The bad part is they seemed to hate their lives. Think about workers at places in America for a minute. Think about how much nicer someone is at a store or a restaurant than at a government office, like the DMV. The lady here was that same amount of difference, except the starting point is the DMV worker and she was that much more unhappy and mean.
I found it enjoyable because when I left I know she sat there fuming in her little booth thinking, "Oh I hate that American, how dare he come in here and ask me to type a few lines into a computer. Doesn't he know I'm practicing my frown to make myself look more unhappy."
She did a good job though, I noticed afterward that she spelled my name wrong.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
I Learned A New Christmas Carol: Siren Night
Now I understand how Santa does it. No one could visit every house in the world in one night, it's just impossible. The big man's cutting some corners. He comes to Hungary on December 6th and puts chocolate and presents in the childrens shoes. That's Santa Claus Day, and boys and girls only get their presents if they clean their shoes and put them on the windowsill. Plus, there's something to do with a broom that children are hit with to be punished, but that part went over my head. Around here, you have to know when to let it go.
On December 24th, they are given a big present. But, since Santa is so busy dragging Rudolph around, Jesus helps out. That's right, the spirit of Baby Jesus delivers the Hungarian Christmas presents. I can't be sure, but I'm doubting they leave out milk and cookies for the spirit.
Everyone will be relieved to know that April Fool's Day is alive and well in this country. I have been told of this by my students who, sporting a mischievous look, say that teachers are a prime target. I also learned that Teacher's Day conveniently falls in June, right before the end of the school year. Teachers get gifts on this day, not headaches. The students know which side their bread is buttered on.
I would've slept well last night if it hadn't been for the siren. I live across the street from a large, mysterious building. It's ugly (probably communist built), and has a weird shape that weaves around to hide how big it is. If they were to make a Batman vs the Iron Curtain, it would definitely be a part of the set. I've dubbed it the Food Factory, because it smells like bread is baking late at night. Then, starting around 4 AM trucks and cars start arriving and continue all day long. I think they're loading up on food for stores and restaurants.
There are two annoying parts. First, the cars and trucks around here tend to have very loud engines, even if they're very small. So that's pretty cool in the middle of the night since it's too hot to close my windows. Second, there is an alarm or siren that occasionally goes off. Sometimes it only lasts a few seconds, other times it goes on for minutes.
At 3:15 AM it decided to start blaring it's horrible noise. For over fifteen minutes. To be clear, this is not a quiet siren that is just background noise. It's so loud that the French have been complaining that it's ruining the peace and serenity around the Eiffel Tower. I woke up and waited for it to turn off. Then I waited. And waited some more. Finally I got up and looked out the window. Eventually, a car came speeding up into the loading dock area and a few minutes later the alarm stopped. There must not have been anyone there, and someone had to drive from their house to turn the alarm off. Fortunately, if they live on this side of Berlin they will here it from their bed.
After I thought the incident was over, every police and firetruck in town decided to stop by and see what was going on. But, they worked together and coordinated their efforts. Thus they were able to all arrive at seperate times, and their loud engines could disturb the quiet night for much longer.
I bet they don't have the Christmas carol Silent Night, and instead sing Siren Night. I wonder which day they sing it, the 6th or 24th? Speak of the devil, the siren just turned on. Can you hear it?
On December 24th, they are given a big present. But, since Santa is so busy dragging Rudolph around, Jesus helps out. That's right, the spirit of Baby Jesus delivers the Hungarian Christmas presents. I can't be sure, but I'm doubting they leave out milk and cookies for the spirit.
Everyone will be relieved to know that April Fool's Day is alive and well in this country. I have been told of this by my students who, sporting a mischievous look, say that teachers are a prime target. I also learned that Teacher's Day conveniently falls in June, right before the end of the school year. Teachers get gifts on this day, not headaches. The students know which side their bread is buttered on.
I would've slept well last night if it hadn't been for the siren. I live across the street from a large, mysterious building. It's ugly (probably communist built), and has a weird shape that weaves around to hide how big it is. If they were to make a Batman vs the Iron Curtain, it would definitely be a part of the set. I've dubbed it the Food Factory, because it smells like bread is baking late at night. Then, starting around 4 AM trucks and cars start arriving and continue all day long. I think they're loading up on food for stores and restaurants.
There are two annoying parts. First, the cars and trucks around here tend to have very loud engines, even if they're very small. So that's pretty cool in the middle of the night since it's too hot to close my windows. Second, there is an alarm or siren that occasionally goes off. Sometimes it only lasts a few seconds, other times it goes on for minutes.
At 3:15 AM it decided to start blaring it's horrible noise. For over fifteen minutes. To be clear, this is not a quiet siren that is just background noise. It's so loud that the French have been complaining that it's ruining the peace and serenity around the Eiffel Tower. I woke up and waited for it to turn off. Then I waited. And waited some more. Finally I got up and looked out the window. Eventually, a car came speeding up into the loading dock area and a few minutes later the alarm stopped. There must not have been anyone there, and someone had to drive from their house to turn the alarm off. Fortunately, if they live on this side of Berlin they will here it from their bed.
After I thought the incident was over, every police and firetruck in town decided to stop by and see what was going on. But, they worked together and coordinated their efforts. Thus they were able to all arrive at seperate times, and their loud engines could disturb the quiet night for much longer.
I bet they don't have the Christmas carol Silent Night, and instead sing Siren Night. I wonder which day they sing it, the 6th or 24th? Speak of the devil, the siren just turned on. Can you hear it?
Monday, September 13, 2010
Stop Ruining My Language England, You're Confusing My Students
I thought the students were just confused. They were intimidated by my charm and dashing looks. No. Their textbooks really tell them the name of the subject is "maths". With an "S". I don't know what the British are trying to pull here, but it's my job to help these kids. They're going to go to America and get pissed off when their sandwich comes with chips instead of fries, and then get seriously injured when someone bigger than them asks if they want to play football.
One of the main topics I've focused on the past two days has been these differences. They know quite a few, and they're usually right. However, they think we only ride in a cab (not a taxi), we only say "oh my gosh" (not "oh my God"), and we never say something is "in" the street (just "on" it). Overall, I'm impressed with their knowledge. But it needs to sink in. I asked a student, "What's your favorite holiday?" He answered, "Summer holiday." I meant Christmas.
Holidays have been the other topic of the week. In Hungary, I was relieved to find out, not all traces of communism have been tossed aside. They still have their "day of the workers", which I think is similar to our Labor Day (except it's on May 1st and may or may not have fireworks).
Another interesting fact is how they celebrate Easter. The boys go over to the girls' houses, and then they pour water or perfume on their heads. If the girls aren't home, the boys assured me they do find them. The boys are then rewarded with colored eggs. But now that capitalism has snuck in, they just get money (and seem to like it better). I was fascinated by this, so I've been asking everyone why they do it, what started it all? They look at me like I'm fool and all tell me the exact same answer. It's tradition. Thank you, I never would've guessed that.
This has all helped me realize how lucky I am to be an American. If I was Hungarian, I'd have to chase girls around to get my Easter eggs. If I was British, I would waste a good portion of my life writing extra letters and saying an unnecessary amount of syllables. The only downside is I'll never find a taxi.
One of the main topics I've focused on the past two days has been these differences. They know quite a few, and they're usually right. However, they think we only ride in a cab (not a taxi), we only say "oh my gosh" (not "oh my God"), and we never say something is "in" the street (just "on" it). Overall, I'm impressed with their knowledge. But it needs to sink in. I asked a student, "What's your favorite holiday?" He answered, "Summer holiday." I meant Christmas.
Holidays have been the other topic of the week. In Hungary, I was relieved to find out, not all traces of communism have been tossed aside. They still have their "day of the workers", which I think is similar to our Labor Day (except it's on May 1st and may or may not have fireworks).
Another interesting fact is how they celebrate Easter. The boys go over to the girls' houses, and then they pour water or perfume on their heads. If the girls aren't home, the boys assured me they do find them. The boys are then rewarded with colored eggs. But now that capitalism has snuck in, they just get money (and seem to like it better). I was fascinated by this, so I've been asking everyone why they do it, what started it all? They look at me like I'm fool and all tell me the exact same answer. It's tradition. Thank you, I never would've guessed that.
This has all helped me realize how lucky I am to be an American. If I was Hungarian, I'd have to chase girls around to get my Easter eggs. If I was British, I would waste a good portion of my life writing extra letters and saying an unnecessary amount of syllables. The only downside is I'll never find a taxi.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Talk to the Lángos
I was a little worried that the more used to things I become, the less exciting this place will be. That's just not true. I'm far from used to it here, but I keep having more fun. I keep experiencing things that are better than I had hoped for. But I still don't speak Hungarian.
I was tired this weekend, teaching in a foreign world is a challenge! Fortunately, there were two festivals here in Békéscsaba, so I decided not to travel anywhere. I was able to sleep in and enjoy my town. The festivities started Friday night, but I was too tired to do anything. I walked around and saw a crappy band play. It started to look like I should've left for the weekend.
Then came Saturday. One of the festivals was by the mall here. It had a stage, and about 12 booths selling things. I think nine of them sold alcohol (beer, Hungarian wine, and Pálinka - so at least there was a selection). There was one jewelry booth, a few candy ones, and two food places.
One booth was selling Lángos, which is a Hungarian street food that I've been dying to try. After I ate it, I just felt like dying. It's a thick, frisbee shaped piece of dough that is deep-fried. It's topped with fatty deliciousness and you dig in. I went with the healthy version and only had cheese on mine. But the people who ordered before me went all out. Theirs had thick cream (similar to sour cream) smeared on, about a pound of shredded cheese, and plenty of salt. It was all topped off with some lard wiped on with a brush. Mine tasted good, but was way too big and I felt sick by the time I finished. I can only imagine how those other people felt.
While I was eating it, a guy came up to me and practically put his face in my Lángos. Then he asked me a question in Hungarian and the only word I understood was Lángos. I answered (in Hungarian) that I don't speak Hungarian. He stared at me for a second like I had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. "You don't speak Hungarian? Yeah right, and the planet's round." Then he stuck his face back in my snack and asked it the same question, in Hungarian, ten times louder and slower (I thought this was a uniquely American tactic). I figured he probably wanted to buy one too, so I pointed to the stand hoping that he wouldn't just decide to eat mine because it speaks Hungarian. He went back, told his friends, and they all walked by looking at me with pitying looks thinking "He must have some sort of mental disorder if he doesn't speak Hungarian, he doesn't deserve that Lángos. Probably didn't even get extra lard smeared on."
Then, in a moment of great irony, I looked up and realized there was some sort of beauty pageant going on. They were gorgeous Hungarian college girls parading around on the stage in bikinis. The fascinating part was, they spoke Hungarian, but had clearly never eaten a Lángos.
After that trainwreck of a meal, I decided to go back to the other festival that was focused on quality foods and healthy living. Besides, it was in a nice park, not on a crappy street. I had been by earlier in the day and this festival had a bunch of food stands and only one or two beer places. It was all quality food like cheeses, breads, honey, and other things that were probably locally produced. I couldn't talk to anyone though so I hadn't stayed long.
When I went back, I saw the lady who I'll be giving private English lessons to. She's the one who organized the event and the person who told me about it. She gave me a glass of their homemade beer, showed me a tent that was a replica of how the ancient Hungarians lived, and tried to convince me to try Hungarian folk dancing. It didn't work, but I really enjoyed watching it.
There was a large room that looked very Hungarian. It had white walls and a green ceiling. The ceiling had all sorts of ornate woodwork built for both support and looks. Outside was just dark woods in this park, so I suddenly felt as if I really was in a remote place in Hungary. There was a band of a few stringed instruments and a man with a drum (who was using some sort of drumstick and a stick stick, he probably broke it off a tree on his way in). The music was traditional Hungarian music, and everyone there seemed to know the traditional dance that goes along with it.
The really fascinating part was the people. There were all ages from 2 to 70. Some of the people the most into it were high-school or college aged kids. In America, kids this age wouldn't be interested in anything called "traditional" or "folk", and wouldn't want to do any dancing in front of their parents. But here they loved it. There was even a competition of sorts. There was a lot of thumping the feet at specific times, dancing in circles while holding hands with others behind the back, tapping the feet, moving the feet quickly, and smacking the legs and the feet with the palm of the hand. I'd love to learn how to do these dances.
I was very impressed and became tired just watching. Now I know how they burn off all the extra lard.
I was tired this weekend, teaching in a foreign world is a challenge! Fortunately, there were two festivals here in Békéscsaba, so I decided not to travel anywhere. I was able to sleep in and enjoy my town. The festivities started Friday night, but I was too tired to do anything. I walked around and saw a crappy band play. It started to look like I should've left for the weekend.
Then came Saturday. One of the festivals was by the mall here. It had a stage, and about 12 booths selling things. I think nine of them sold alcohol (beer, Hungarian wine, and Pálinka - so at least there was a selection). There was one jewelry booth, a few candy ones, and two food places.
One booth was selling Lángos, which is a Hungarian street food that I've been dying to try. After I ate it, I just felt like dying. It's a thick, frisbee shaped piece of dough that is deep-fried. It's topped with fatty deliciousness and you dig in. I went with the healthy version and only had cheese on mine. But the people who ordered before me went all out. Theirs had thick cream (similar to sour cream) smeared on, about a pound of shredded cheese, and plenty of salt. It was all topped off with some lard wiped on with a brush. Mine tasted good, but was way too big and I felt sick by the time I finished. I can only imagine how those other people felt.
While I was eating it, a guy came up to me and practically put his face in my Lángos. Then he asked me a question in Hungarian and the only word I understood was Lángos. I answered (in Hungarian) that I don't speak Hungarian. He stared at me for a second like I had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. "You don't speak Hungarian? Yeah right, and the planet's round." Then he stuck his face back in my snack and asked it the same question, in Hungarian, ten times louder and slower (I thought this was a uniquely American tactic). I figured he probably wanted to buy one too, so I pointed to the stand hoping that he wouldn't just decide to eat mine because it speaks Hungarian. He went back, told his friends, and they all walked by looking at me with pitying looks thinking "He must have some sort of mental disorder if he doesn't speak Hungarian, he doesn't deserve that Lángos. Probably didn't even get extra lard smeared on."
Then, in a moment of great irony, I looked up and realized there was some sort of beauty pageant going on. They were gorgeous Hungarian college girls parading around on the stage in bikinis. The fascinating part was, they spoke Hungarian, but had clearly never eaten a Lángos.
After that trainwreck of a meal, I decided to go back to the other festival that was focused on quality foods and healthy living. Besides, it was in a nice park, not on a crappy street. I had been by earlier in the day and this festival had a bunch of food stands and only one or two beer places. It was all quality food like cheeses, breads, honey, and other things that were probably locally produced. I couldn't talk to anyone though so I hadn't stayed long.
When I went back, I saw the lady who I'll be giving private English lessons to. She's the one who organized the event and the person who told me about it. She gave me a glass of their homemade beer, showed me a tent that was a replica of how the ancient Hungarians lived, and tried to convince me to try Hungarian folk dancing. It didn't work, but I really enjoyed watching it.
There was a large room that looked very Hungarian. It had white walls and a green ceiling. The ceiling had all sorts of ornate woodwork built for both support and looks. Outside was just dark woods in this park, so I suddenly felt as if I really was in a remote place in Hungary. There was a band of a few stringed instruments and a man with a drum (who was using some sort of drumstick and a stick stick, he probably broke it off a tree on his way in). The music was traditional Hungarian music, and everyone there seemed to know the traditional dance that goes along with it.
The really fascinating part was the people. There were all ages from 2 to 70. Some of the people the most into it were high-school or college aged kids. In America, kids this age wouldn't be interested in anything called "traditional" or "folk", and wouldn't want to do any dancing in front of their parents. But here they loved it. There was even a competition of sorts. There was a lot of thumping the feet at specific times, dancing in circles while holding hands with others behind the back, tapping the feet, moving the feet quickly, and smacking the legs and the feet with the palm of the hand. I'd love to learn how to do these dances.
I was very impressed and became tired just watching. Now I know how they burn off all the extra lard.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
American Football and Hungarian Hospitals. That Was My Day.
Before you get upset about the title, it wasn't in that order. I went to the hospital before I played football. Also, before you get worried about my health, it was just for a physical of sorts. But that doesn't mean it wasn't interesting.
I've been told a few times that I'd have to go to the hospital for a check-up as part the bureaucratic residency process. Today, I was told suddenly (as is usually the case) I would go to the hospital right after my last lesson, and someone would go with me to help. My friend and translator turned out to be one of the IT guys at the school. He's one of the few men, and closer to my age than most. I hadn't talked to him much before, but he's a nice guy and speaks English well.
Then we got to the hospital. Have you ever wondered what a Hungarian hosptial looks like? I can show you. Go to your local movie rental store and ask for a horror movie that takes place in a mental institution. Imagine the signs are in Hungarian and there's a little less blood on the walls. That's what it looked like. There were creepy stretchers that looked like people should be tied to, and inconsistent lighting. I won't get too descriptive because I don't want to erase the image in your mind - that's what it looks like.
There was confusion about the room where we were supposed to go. They had a directory which led us to a room that had a sign on the door explaining it was the place we needed. It was locked. We were early so we waited, and no one came. My co-worker called the school to see if they knew anything. They didn't know, so we waited more. Finally, his phone rang again and it was someone guiding us to the correct room. They looked at us like we were idiots for waiting at the wrong place, but I have a different opinion about a hospital with mislabled doors (maybe it's a Hungarian thing).
After that it went fairly well. My co-worker did an awesome job of translating, and it was just a few general health questions, some chest listening, a urine test, and a basic eye exam. The eye exam, by the way, was unique in two ways: 1. There was no little plastic spoon thing, I covered my eye with my hand 2. The charts are read top to bottom, not left to right (remember this, they get pissed off if you read it left to right). I'll admit I know very little of Hungarian nursing etiquette, but they seemed mean.
Second major event of the day, football. A few minutes into a lesson today, a student raised his hand with an unusual question. He asked, "Do you like sports? For example, do you like American football?" Yes, I do. "The Békéscsaba American football team has an American coach, would you like to talk to him?" I said yes and he promised to tell me more after class. He followed through further than I expected. He came up to me and said, "We have training [European for practice] today, do you want to meet in front of the school at 5 and we can go to it?" I guess I'm playing, this will get interesting.
It was a hike to the field. Down one of the main streets and over a tall, sketchy looking bridge that was most likely built by communists. It went over the railroad tracks, and you can see through the gaps in the uneven boards to where you're about to fall to your death.
The field, and the team, were exactly what you'd expect (just like the hospital). Imagine an American football team (made up of Hungarians and one - now two - Americans) in a rural corner of Hungary on the Romanian border. It was a worn out soccer field surrounded by dozens of soccer goals, walls, and rusty fence type structures. Over the walls were worn down, red-roofed European houses, large ugly buildings, and smoke stacks in the distance. The team was a good mix of very Hungarian looking guys of all shapes and sizes. The coach is another CETP English teacher who was mistakenly recruited when his wife told someone he was a football coach. He was really a soccer coach, but she made the translation that the Hungarian didn't expect.
I never thought I'd play on a football team in Hungary. I also never thought I'd play on a football team where I would only be the kicker if everyone elses legs were cut off. I suppose that's what playing soccer the day you start walking will teach. At one point of the practice, I had to tackle my student. I'm not sure where that fits in with student-teacher relations. But if it gets around the school, I bet kids will pay more attention in my class.
My international CNN just showed images of the fires in Boulder. That sucks. One interesting note, a high percentage of Hungarians have heard of Colorado and know at least something about it (such as one of the pro sports teams). This was never the case in Belgium. They always thought Colorado was either by California or New York. Good guess Belgium, good guess.
Now me and the 475 million bugs in my apartment are going to go to sleep (I'm not exaggerating, I counted).
I've been told a few times that I'd have to go to the hospital for a check-up as part the bureaucratic residency process. Today, I was told suddenly (as is usually the case) I would go to the hospital right after my last lesson, and someone would go with me to help. My friend and translator turned out to be one of the IT guys at the school. He's one of the few men, and closer to my age than most. I hadn't talked to him much before, but he's a nice guy and speaks English well.
Then we got to the hospital. Have you ever wondered what a Hungarian hosptial looks like? I can show you. Go to your local movie rental store and ask for a horror movie that takes place in a mental institution. Imagine the signs are in Hungarian and there's a little less blood on the walls. That's what it looked like. There were creepy stretchers that looked like people should be tied to, and inconsistent lighting. I won't get too descriptive because I don't want to erase the image in your mind - that's what it looks like.
There was confusion about the room where we were supposed to go. They had a directory which led us to a room that had a sign on the door explaining it was the place we needed. It was locked. We were early so we waited, and no one came. My co-worker called the school to see if they knew anything. They didn't know, so we waited more. Finally, his phone rang again and it was someone guiding us to the correct room. They looked at us like we were idiots for waiting at the wrong place, but I have a different opinion about a hospital with mislabled doors (maybe it's a Hungarian thing).
After that it went fairly well. My co-worker did an awesome job of translating, and it was just a few general health questions, some chest listening, a urine test, and a basic eye exam. The eye exam, by the way, was unique in two ways: 1. There was no little plastic spoon thing, I covered my eye with my hand 2. The charts are read top to bottom, not left to right (remember this, they get pissed off if you read it left to right). I'll admit I know very little of Hungarian nursing etiquette, but they seemed mean.
Second major event of the day, football. A few minutes into a lesson today, a student raised his hand with an unusual question. He asked, "Do you like sports? For example, do you like American football?" Yes, I do. "The Békéscsaba American football team has an American coach, would you like to talk to him?" I said yes and he promised to tell me more after class. He followed through further than I expected. He came up to me and said, "We have training [European for practice] today, do you want to meet in front of the school at 5 and we can go to it?" I guess I'm playing, this will get interesting.
It was a hike to the field. Down one of the main streets and over a tall, sketchy looking bridge that was most likely built by communists. It went over the railroad tracks, and you can see through the gaps in the uneven boards to where you're about to fall to your death.
The field, and the team, were exactly what you'd expect (just like the hospital). Imagine an American football team (made up of Hungarians and one - now two - Americans) in a rural corner of Hungary on the Romanian border. It was a worn out soccer field surrounded by dozens of soccer goals, walls, and rusty fence type structures. Over the walls were worn down, red-roofed European houses, large ugly buildings, and smoke stacks in the distance. The team was a good mix of very Hungarian looking guys of all shapes and sizes. The coach is another CETP English teacher who was mistakenly recruited when his wife told someone he was a football coach. He was really a soccer coach, but she made the translation that the Hungarian didn't expect.
I never thought I'd play on a football team in Hungary. I also never thought I'd play on a football team where I would only be the kicker if everyone elses legs were cut off. I suppose that's what playing soccer the day you start walking will teach. At one point of the practice, I had to tackle my student. I'm not sure where that fits in with student-teacher relations. But if it gets around the school, I bet kids will pay more attention in my class.
My international CNN just showed images of the fires in Boulder. That sucks. One interesting note, a high percentage of Hungarians have heard of Colorado and know at least something about it (such as one of the pro sports teams). This was never the case in Belgium. They always thought Colorado was either by California or New York. Good guess Belgium, good guess.
Now me and the 475 million bugs in my apartment are going to go to sleep (I'm not exaggerating, I counted).
Monday, September 6, 2010
They Sell Chicken Feet in the Grocery Store
I'm not kidding, the butcher counter in my local store has a lot of meat products and sausage all piled up. Today I noticed one of the piles was chicken feet. There were a lot of them. That means a lot of people must buy them. The line for the meat stretched halfway through the store. Maybe that means those feet were on chickens this morning so they're still very juicy (or chewy or tender or whatever chicken feet tase like when they're good). I have to buy some.
I had an eventful weekend. Based on two Saturday nights and a Friday spent living here, I have concluded that everyone watches Star Wars dubbed in Hungarian on Friday nights. On Saturday nights, then get really drunk, crank up their car stereos, and serenade me outside my window until 5 or 6 AM. It's nice to feel involved in the community.
I mentioned in my last post that the theater was setting up for a performance, and boy was that a good one. I didn't have a good view of the stage, but that didn't mean I didn't have a good view of the show. I was sitting on a bench off to the side but there were a lot of people standing in front of me watching. Before it all started, a rather heavy set woman came over and asked in Hungarian if she could share my bench. At least that's what I think she said, she could've been telling me a new planet was discovered, but she pointed and I nodded and she sat down. Keep in mind it was a small bench, so that's why I was very excited when her husband showed up and decided to sit between her and I. This man was cool, because I had the unique ability to appear invisible to him. This made him comfortable enough to spread out on the bench, and why not when he had all that room next to him!
The show was boring, mostly just people singing and nicely dressed people giving speeches I didn't understand. But there were three very entertaining parts. First, I had noticed a man standing in a football mascot-type dinosaur costume waiting for his time to enter. Also, a "honk" would occasionally come out of the hallway into the theater. Eventually the dinosaur put his head on, stuck 4th of July sparklers in his nose (turning him into a dragon), and wheeled out a giant, old-fashioned bird cage with two geese in it. They hung out for a few minutes, but one of the geese escaped on the way back so the dragon was forced to pick it up and carry it back into the theater. I have no idea what that was all about, maybe it's a Hungarian thing...
Next, one of the ushers made all of the people standing in front of me move out of the way. I was sure they finally realized who I was and were making sure I had a perfect view. Not the case. A big, fancy horse drawn carriage containing important people pulled up in front of the theater. The people got out, and everyone cheered while they said more words I couldn't understand. But, the carriage had to circle around the crowd of seats to get back to the road, and this is why the people had been made to move. Suddenly, the carriage driver instructed his two terrified looking horses to head directly for the invisible red haired person sitting on the bench. No one else seemed alarmed, so I tried to act calm as to not embarrass myself in front of my new community. Fortunately, the horses saw me and swerved 6 inches before their giant legs would have crushed me (even though it was possible to turn much, much earlier). I feel I won the fight though, because one of the horses was so scared when he saw me that he left a giant pile of horse apples.
This is when I learned that my bench neighbor was not just an ordinary member of the audience. She grew tired of watching people give the horse's remains dirty looks, so she got up and went inside the theater (I remained invisible to her husband, however, who didn't see this as an opportunity to slide over at all). She returned with a bucket, a dustpan, and a broom. Not a fancy, horse cleaning up after broom, just a straw broom. It was a little gross. But I was happy that the mess was cleaned up because it had stopped being funny. I decided this when a very in love, young couple were too busy holding each other close and walking face to face to notice the pile until they walked through it. I wonder if they'll take that as a sign?
Finally, I was getting ready to leave because I was hungry and had a headache, but I decided to wait a few more minutes. There were some guys in goofy white costumes that had been standing around the whole time and I was waiting for them to perform. I was very interested because they were talking to a few of the most beautiful girls to ever walk the Earth, and I decided that I wanted to join their group, whatever it was. Unfortunately, they just sang, and they song wasn't very good. It was a let down. But, while they were singing, all the lights turned off, and two groups of sparklers strung between the Greek columns above them ignited (a third group didn't ignite, so the attempt at symmetry was lost). Someone hadn't been thinking though, because the sparks were falling right on the singers and they had to move out of the way. Then, out of nowhere, a ten minute long firework show erupted from the balcony above.
It was an awesome ending. Plus, there was smoke all throughout the small streets on my walk home, and it made it look like a really cool foggy night with the old street lamps and European architecture. I was on the lookout for vampires.
Today was back to the grind. I only had three of my four classes (surprise, surprise), but I really liked one class, and now I'm really looking forward to teaching that one.
So if anyone knows any good chicken feet recipes...
I had an eventful weekend. Based on two Saturday nights and a Friday spent living here, I have concluded that everyone watches Star Wars dubbed in Hungarian on Friday nights. On Saturday nights, then get really drunk, crank up their car stereos, and serenade me outside my window until 5 or 6 AM. It's nice to feel involved in the community.
I mentioned in my last post that the theater was setting up for a performance, and boy was that a good one. I didn't have a good view of the stage, but that didn't mean I didn't have a good view of the show. I was sitting on a bench off to the side but there were a lot of people standing in front of me watching. Before it all started, a rather heavy set woman came over and asked in Hungarian if she could share my bench. At least that's what I think she said, she could've been telling me a new planet was discovered, but she pointed and I nodded and she sat down. Keep in mind it was a small bench, so that's why I was very excited when her husband showed up and decided to sit between her and I. This man was cool, because I had the unique ability to appear invisible to him. This made him comfortable enough to spread out on the bench, and why not when he had all that room next to him!
The show was boring, mostly just people singing and nicely dressed people giving speeches I didn't understand. But there were three very entertaining parts. First, I had noticed a man standing in a football mascot-type dinosaur costume waiting for his time to enter. Also, a "honk" would occasionally come out of the hallway into the theater. Eventually the dinosaur put his head on, stuck 4th of July sparklers in his nose (turning him into a dragon), and wheeled out a giant, old-fashioned bird cage with two geese in it. They hung out for a few minutes, but one of the geese escaped on the way back so the dragon was forced to pick it up and carry it back into the theater. I have no idea what that was all about, maybe it's a Hungarian thing...
Next, one of the ushers made all of the people standing in front of me move out of the way. I was sure they finally realized who I was and were making sure I had a perfect view. Not the case. A big, fancy horse drawn carriage containing important people pulled up in front of the theater. The people got out, and everyone cheered while they said more words I couldn't understand. But, the carriage had to circle around the crowd of seats to get back to the road, and this is why the people had been made to move. Suddenly, the carriage driver instructed his two terrified looking horses to head directly for the invisible red haired person sitting on the bench. No one else seemed alarmed, so I tried to act calm as to not embarrass myself in front of my new community. Fortunately, the horses saw me and swerved 6 inches before their giant legs would have crushed me (even though it was possible to turn much, much earlier). I feel I won the fight though, because one of the horses was so scared when he saw me that he left a giant pile of horse apples.
This is when I learned that my bench neighbor was not just an ordinary member of the audience. She grew tired of watching people give the horse's remains dirty looks, so she got up and went inside the theater (I remained invisible to her husband, however, who didn't see this as an opportunity to slide over at all). She returned with a bucket, a dustpan, and a broom. Not a fancy, horse cleaning up after broom, just a straw broom. It was a little gross. But I was happy that the mess was cleaned up because it had stopped being funny. I decided this when a very in love, young couple were too busy holding each other close and walking face to face to notice the pile until they walked through it. I wonder if they'll take that as a sign?
Finally, I was getting ready to leave because I was hungry and had a headache, but I decided to wait a few more minutes. There were some guys in goofy white costumes that had been standing around the whole time and I was waiting for them to perform. I was very interested because they were talking to a few of the most beautiful girls to ever walk the Earth, and I decided that I wanted to join their group, whatever it was. Unfortunately, they just sang, and they song wasn't very good. It was a let down. But, while they were singing, all the lights turned off, and two groups of sparklers strung between the Greek columns above them ignited (a third group didn't ignite, so the attempt at symmetry was lost). Someone hadn't been thinking though, because the sparks were falling right on the singers and they had to move out of the way. Then, out of nowhere, a ten minute long firework show erupted from the balcony above.
It was an awesome ending. Plus, there was smoke all throughout the small streets on my walk home, and it made it look like a really cool foggy night with the old street lamps and European architecture. I was on the lookout for vampires.
Today was back to the grind. I only had three of my four classes (surprise, surprise), but I really liked one class, and now I'm really looking forward to teaching that one.
So if anyone knows any good chicken feet recipes...
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Hello I'm Arriving, Hello I'm Leaving
I don't speak Hungarian, they don't speak English, but we all get along just fine. Last night I made the rounds to a few really cool bars. I was unsuccessful in my attempt to find someone who could and would communicate with me, but that doesn't mean I'll stop trying. One really cool bar was setting up for live music, and it looks like that's a pretty common thing, so I'm sure I'll be spending some time there. I left before the music began however, and was only able to watch the Hungarian soccer team lose in their Euro Cup qualifying match. The Hungarians took the defeat much better than I did, because they were expecting it.
Also, I happened upon a concert at the Csaba Center (the small, but relatively large mall here) that was fascinating. It was three guys performing, a singer, a guitarist, and a bass guitarist, who were helped along by recorded music (who knows if they were actually playing at all). The funny part was, every teenage girl in southern Hungary was there, and they were all screaming and trying to climb on the stage like it was the biggest boy band in the country (maybe it was).
While there, I saw a girl with a small animal cage that had two chipmunks in it. Maybe it's a Hungarian thing...
Today I found Tesco, a sort of British Wal Mart, and was rewarded for my long hike in the heat. I bought a reading lamp for my bed, and a clock radio (no wonder Borat's neighbor couldn't afford one, they're not easy to come by in these parts). Hopefully this means the end of my digital watch and flashlight era.
I had my coffee at my new hangout, the Mozart Cafe, who I'm permanently indebted to for teaching me how to buy peppers. Their English vocabulary is about the same as my Hungarian, but we smile and have a good time. Anyone who visits must go there. Tell them "hello" - they know what it means.
Speaking of hello, I don't think I've mentioned how smart the Hungarians are. They use this term to mean hello, but they also use it to mean goodbye. It's genius. They have about 472 different ways to say hello and goodbye, and most of them have this unique feature of being able to be a greeting or a farewell. Life is so much easier that way!
The theater is right down Andrássy ucta (my local pedestrian street) from the Mozart Cafe, and they were setting up an outdoor stage and seats (while various people were singing). I saw some very elaborate costumes on the stage, and I don't know if it's some sort of live commercial for a play they're doing, or if there will be a live performance. Either way, I'll be there.
I attempted to make it back to that market that I found the other day, but I was just too late and they were closing up for the day. I'll try to get there earlier tomorrow and hopefully when it's full it doesn't project the feeling of a third world country.
The more I get to know this place, the more I like it. I would recommend visiting, but it's like my own little private paradise so you should probably go somewhere else, like Kentucky.
Hello.
Also, I happened upon a concert at the Csaba Center (the small, but relatively large mall here) that was fascinating. It was three guys performing, a singer, a guitarist, and a bass guitarist, who were helped along by recorded music (who knows if they were actually playing at all). The funny part was, every teenage girl in southern Hungary was there, and they were all screaming and trying to climb on the stage like it was the biggest boy band in the country (maybe it was).
While there, I saw a girl with a small animal cage that had two chipmunks in it. Maybe it's a Hungarian thing...
Today I found Tesco, a sort of British Wal Mart, and was rewarded for my long hike in the heat. I bought a reading lamp for my bed, and a clock radio (no wonder Borat's neighbor couldn't afford one, they're not easy to come by in these parts). Hopefully this means the end of my digital watch and flashlight era.
I had my coffee at my new hangout, the Mozart Cafe, who I'm permanently indebted to for teaching me how to buy peppers. Their English vocabulary is about the same as my Hungarian, but we smile and have a good time. Anyone who visits must go there. Tell them "hello" - they know what it means.
Speaking of hello, I don't think I've mentioned how smart the Hungarians are. They use this term to mean hello, but they also use it to mean goodbye. It's genius. They have about 472 different ways to say hello and goodbye, and most of them have this unique feature of being able to be a greeting or a farewell. Life is so much easier that way!
The theater is right down Andrássy ucta (my local pedestrian street) from the Mozart Cafe, and they were setting up an outdoor stage and seats (while various people were singing). I saw some very elaborate costumes on the stage, and I don't know if it's some sort of live commercial for a play they're doing, or if there will be a live performance. Either way, I'll be there.
I attempted to make it back to that market that I found the other day, but I was just too late and they were closing up for the day. I'll try to get there earlier tomorrow and hopefully when it's full it doesn't project the feeling of a third world country.
The more I get to know this place, the more I like it. I would recommend visiting, but it's like my own little private paradise so you should probably go somewhere else, like Kentucky.
Hello.
Friday, September 3, 2010
One Week Down, I Don't Know How Many to Go Because the Schedule's in Hungarian
It was a great feeling telling students that they could now leave school for the week and have fun for the weekend. I'd forgotten how little high school kids care in their last half an hour of the week, so I'll need to figure out how to keep them focused (if it's possible). I can always just knock over some cabinets, that worked in the beginner class.
Today was the opposite of yesterday. I now have three markers of my very own, and I went to school prepared to teach three classes and it turned out to only be two. There was a mix up with all the schedule changes, and one of the teachers didn't get the memo, so the students were in the wrong place. Good thing I got up early...
It's very funny in situations where something goes wrong (like the class not being there), because of how the Hungarians react. They all know I don't speak any Hungarian, but a couple of them will argue frantically with each other, all the while looking at me like I'm following along. The language always makes them seem really mad about something urgent, even if they're just discussing their favorite type of cereal. Then, everyone walks in a different direction and one of them looks at me and says "it's okay". Sometimes there's one or two more sentences (simple, not compound sentences) offered, but it's never a guarantee. I've already learned to take what I can get.
I also sat in on another class (in English), where the teacher just asked everyone to tell her what they did for the summer. Most of them just hung out around here and then went to a festival somewhere in Hungary for a few days. Two or three students went to Greece with their families, and one girl visited relatives in England. A few said they worked a little bit during their summer break, and they usually worked on farms, in stores, or in a factory. As far as I know, none of my high school friends ever worked on farms or in factories, so that was very interesting for me.
After the class, the teacher told me she likes to find out what they did for their summer breaks because not too many of them can afford to go on big, fancy vacations. I told her that I'm used to Greece being a very exotic and expensive vacation spot, and quite a long trip to get to. These students complained that their drive was too long - try that in a conversation, "I'd like to go to Greece, but I'd have to sit in the car for 12 hours. I think I'll just go to Serbia like last year."
I'm excited that it's the weekend and I don't have to get up early, but I haven't decided what I'll do with my free time. I'll probably study some Hungarian, try to figure out where to buy toilet paper, and make some friends. If last Saturday is any clue as to how weekends are, I won't even have to go to a night club, I'll just open my windows until 5 AM!
Today was the opposite of yesterday. I now have three markers of my very own, and I went to school prepared to teach three classes and it turned out to only be two. There was a mix up with all the schedule changes, and one of the teachers didn't get the memo, so the students were in the wrong place. Good thing I got up early...
It's very funny in situations where something goes wrong (like the class not being there), because of how the Hungarians react. They all know I don't speak any Hungarian, but a couple of them will argue frantically with each other, all the while looking at me like I'm following along. The language always makes them seem really mad about something urgent, even if they're just discussing their favorite type of cereal. Then, everyone walks in a different direction and one of them looks at me and says "it's okay". Sometimes there's one or two more sentences (simple, not compound sentences) offered, but it's never a guarantee. I've already learned to take what I can get.
I also sat in on another class (in English), where the teacher just asked everyone to tell her what they did for the summer. Most of them just hung out around here and then went to a festival somewhere in Hungary for a few days. Two or three students went to Greece with their families, and one girl visited relatives in England. A few said they worked a little bit during their summer break, and they usually worked on farms, in stores, or in a factory. As far as I know, none of my high school friends ever worked on farms or in factories, so that was very interesting for me.
After the class, the teacher told me she likes to find out what they did for their summer breaks because not too many of them can afford to go on big, fancy vacations. I told her that I'm used to Greece being a very exotic and expensive vacation spot, and quite a long trip to get to. These students complained that their drive was too long - try that in a conversation, "I'd like to go to Greece, but I'd have to sit in the car for 12 hours. I think I'll just go to Serbia like last year."
I'm excited that it's the weekend and I don't have to get up early, but I haven't decided what I'll do with my free time. I'll probably study some Hungarian, try to figure out where to buy toilet paper, and make some friends. If last Saturday is any clue as to how weekends are, I won't even have to go to a night club, I'll just open my windows until 5 AM!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Tell Me What You Really Think
I suppose I'm a real teacher now, because I taught three classes today. I arrived at the school at 7:30 ready to teach the one class I had on my schedule and was immediately handed a revised schedule, surprise! Two of the classes were fairly advanced English speakers, but the other was a beginner class.
The beginner class was the challenge of the day. I expected them to know a little more than they did, and I still can't figure out the exact extent of their knowledge. They had a surprisingly large vocabulary of words such as "hamster", but didn't know how to respond to questions like "How are you?". My plan, if they were truly beginners like they were, was to do some activities using the whiteboard to explain myself and ask about them. Here's some advice, if your plan for a 45 minute class of kids who hardly speak English absolutely requires drawing pictures on a whiteboard, make sure you have a marker. I was able to come up with some games (some were more successful than others) that just involved miming and simple sentences, but it didn't go as well as I hoped. The highlight of the class was when I unlocked a seven foot tall cabinet and opened it looking for markers. It wouldn't have been exciting except it was a magical cabinet that only weighed three pounds so I didn't even notice when it almost fell right on top of me hoping that it could build up enough momentum to make up for it's lack of weight. I didn't notice it was about to fall on me until I heard 20 Hungarian students scream simultaneously. They were much more focused after that, wondering what the crazy American might do next.
The other two classes were a blast. One class had less knowledge of the English language, but made up for it in their outgoing effort. I did an activity with both those classes where I gave them a few minutes to come up with about five questions they wanted to ask me -- anything they were wondering about. Then, when they thought I was about to answer them I asked for two volunteers. I made these two sit at the front of the class, right in front of me, and answer the questions as if they were me. It worked wonderfully. They are high-school students, so while they were writing their questions with their friends, they would look at me and giggle. Everyone had wide eyes when they realized two of their classmates would have to guess these answers about me, but they all enjoyed it.
Here's what they came up with: I'm 26 years old (or late 20's) with a wife who's pregnant with twins. I came to Hungary because I wanted to drink Pálinka (the famous Hungarian brandy made from a variety of fruits), and I'm going to stay here forever. I studied History, Literature, Teaching, and I'm an Engineer. My favorite parts of Hungary are the sausage, the Pálinka, and the nice people. I wanted to be a baker as a child and my favorite food is some Hungarian dish that I've never heard of (that was consistent in both classes). I have three sisters and one of them is watching my hamster while I'm here. I enjoy Kung Fu and the only people I know in this city are the other teachers. I think Hungarian women are the most beautiful women in the world and my favorite movie is Titanic (I obviously cried at the end because it's so sad).
I'm impressed, they're quite creative.
However the most interesting question was, "What do you think of the financial crisis?". This was answered with, "I was in America when it started, so I didn't really like it. But now I have come to Hungary so I am rich and don't care.". This one question made the whole exercise worth it. If I were to ask them that question directly, they would never have given an answer like that. It was only after having some fun and letting down their guard that they said this in front of me (at the beginning, they were visibly uncomfortable guessing my age with me listening). This was a sentiment that I wondered if the Hungarians would feel. Now I know to do by best and not act like a "rich American".
In other news, my shower has seemed to become friends with me and decided to do it's job. For two days in a row it hasn't tested me by giving hot water for 24 seconds and then freezing cold water for five minutes. My strategy has been to turn it on and rinse myself off, then I would shut off the water to save any heat that may exist, next I would use my soap and shampoo, and finally turn it back on to rinse off the soap in water that would make a polar bear shiver. Maybe it was testing me to see if I'm really tough enough to live here. The best part was how it decided to only give hot water when the caretaker was here.
Speaking of the caretaker, he's the happiest man at the school. He walks around whistling with a big smile on his face and talks to everybody. It's quite comical because everyone else has been running around like the building is on fire and there's no way out. This morning as he was rolling a shopping cart through the teachers room (maybe it's a Hungarian thing, I don't know) he passed me and fired off a couple of sentences in Hungarian and shook my hand. I looked at him and said "Jó reggelt" which is Hungarian for good morning. Amazingly, his smile managed to get bigger and instead of letting go of my hand, he started shaking my arm with his other one. Then he spent two minutes telling everyone else in the room that I had spoken Hungarian with him (they, surprisingly, were too busy frantically running around to hear him).
Finally, my last victory of the day was at the grocery store. I was standing in the vegetable section for the 38th time trying to figure out how to buy the paprika peppers that are on sale (akció). Just then I heard an excited hello and saw the lady that runs the coffee shop I've been to a few times and her daughter. She's the only person I've met outside of my school who speaks any English. Even if it is limited to saying hello, goodbye, and coffee terminology, she still managed to teach my how to buy peppers.
I can only imagine what tomorrow may hold in store for me.
The beginner class was the challenge of the day. I expected them to know a little more than they did, and I still can't figure out the exact extent of their knowledge. They had a surprisingly large vocabulary of words such as "hamster", but didn't know how to respond to questions like "How are you?". My plan, if they were truly beginners like they were, was to do some activities using the whiteboard to explain myself and ask about them. Here's some advice, if your plan for a 45 minute class of kids who hardly speak English absolutely requires drawing pictures on a whiteboard, make sure you have a marker. I was able to come up with some games (some were more successful than others) that just involved miming and simple sentences, but it didn't go as well as I hoped. The highlight of the class was when I unlocked a seven foot tall cabinet and opened it looking for markers. It wouldn't have been exciting except it was a magical cabinet that only weighed three pounds so I didn't even notice when it almost fell right on top of me hoping that it could build up enough momentum to make up for it's lack of weight. I didn't notice it was about to fall on me until I heard 20 Hungarian students scream simultaneously. They were much more focused after that, wondering what the crazy American might do next.
The other two classes were a blast. One class had less knowledge of the English language, but made up for it in their outgoing effort. I did an activity with both those classes where I gave them a few minutes to come up with about five questions they wanted to ask me -- anything they were wondering about. Then, when they thought I was about to answer them I asked for two volunteers. I made these two sit at the front of the class, right in front of me, and answer the questions as if they were me. It worked wonderfully. They are high-school students, so while they were writing their questions with their friends, they would look at me and giggle. Everyone had wide eyes when they realized two of their classmates would have to guess these answers about me, but they all enjoyed it.
Here's what they came up with: I'm 26 years old (or late 20's) with a wife who's pregnant with twins. I came to Hungary because I wanted to drink Pálinka (the famous Hungarian brandy made from a variety of fruits), and I'm going to stay here forever. I studied History, Literature, Teaching, and I'm an Engineer. My favorite parts of Hungary are the sausage, the Pálinka, and the nice people. I wanted to be a baker as a child and my favorite food is some Hungarian dish that I've never heard of (that was consistent in both classes). I have three sisters and one of them is watching my hamster while I'm here. I enjoy Kung Fu and the only people I know in this city are the other teachers. I think Hungarian women are the most beautiful women in the world and my favorite movie is Titanic (I obviously cried at the end because it's so sad).
I'm impressed, they're quite creative.
However the most interesting question was, "What do you think of the financial crisis?". This was answered with, "I was in America when it started, so I didn't really like it. But now I have come to Hungary so I am rich and don't care.". This one question made the whole exercise worth it. If I were to ask them that question directly, they would never have given an answer like that. It was only after having some fun and letting down their guard that they said this in front of me (at the beginning, they were visibly uncomfortable guessing my age with me listening). This was a sentiment that I wondered if the Hungarians would feel. Now I know to do by best and not act like a "rich American".
In other news, my shower has seemed to become friends with me and decided to do it's job. For two days in a row it hasn't tested me by giving hot water for 24 seconds and then freezing cold water for five minutes. My strategy has been to turn it on and rinse myself off, then I would shut off the water to save any heat that may exist, next I would use my soap and shampoo, and finally turn it back on to rinse off the soap in water that would make a polar bear shiver. Maybe it was testing me to see if I'm really tough enough to live here. The best part was how it decided to only give hot water when the caretaker was here.
Speaking of the caretaker, he's the happiest man at the school. He walks around whistling with a big smile on his face and talks to everybody. It's quite comical because everyone else has been running around like the building is on fire and there's no way out. This morning as he was rolling a shopping cart through the teachers room (maybe it's a Hungarian thing, I don't know) he passed me and fired off a couple of sentences in Hungarian and shook my hand. I looked at him and said "Jó reggelt" which is Hungarian for good morning. Amazingly, his smile managed to get bigger and instead of letting go of my hand, he started shaking my arm with his other one. Then he spent two minutes telling everyone else in the room that I had spoken Hungarian with him (they, surprisingly, were too busy frantically running around to hear him).
Finally, my last victory of the day was at the grocery store. I was standing in the vegetable section for the 38th time trying to figure out how to buy the paprika peppers that are on sale (akció). Just then I heard an excited hello and saw the lady that runs the coffee shop I've been to a few times and her daughter. She's the only person I've met outside of my school who speaks any English. Even if it is limited to saying hello, goodbye, and coffee terminology, she still managed to teach my how to buy peppers.
I can only imagine what tomorrow may hold in store for me.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
A Sense of Pride
Today I got up very early and went to school. It was chaotic and hilarious. There were students standing around everywhere looking tired and waiting for something to happen. The teachers were either sitting calmly and chatting with others, or running around frantically like they could only find one shoe (both groups seemingly oblivious to the other).
Eventually, all the students lined up in the courtyard of the school to have the first ceremony. The students all stood in one big mass (almost like military troops in a formation), with many of the teachers standing in the front of the groups. I stood opposite them with the rest of the teachers, behind where the Director gave a big speech through a microphone. He introduced me at one point, and I am told he talked about where I come from, what day I arrived in Békéscsaba, the meal I had with him and my contact lady (explaining that I now know what good food tastes like), and that he had a very enjoyable conversation with me.
After everyone entered, they played the Hungarian national anthem through some loudspeakers. I know it was the national anthem because one of the English teachers was kind enough to stand beside me and translate throughout the ceremony (and probably, to make sure I didn't do anything stupid). It was fascinating to watch there reaction to the song. When our national anthem is played in the United States, people tend to look proud, excited, and happy. They want to sing along, cheer, and jump up and down. Here the reaction was quite different. Everyone looked very stern and serious. They weren't smiling and I only noticed one person who was barely mouthing the words. They were all standing very straight and still, and almost seemed to be nervous. There was an eerie feeling in the air.
I was confused about this reaction, so I looked really closely at all of the people and noticed signs of an emotion that I had missed at first. Pride. They all looked very proud. They weren't showing it in the outward, excited way that American's tend to, but it was there nonetheless. I didn't see anyone looking around like they were bored, or chatting to their friends in the back. Instead, They were all taking the song very seriously. All acting as if they know their country has had some very difficult times in the past and know that it has taken great sacrifice by many people just to be able to hear this song. Their faces suggested they don't take that for granted, and know things could change at any moment that would require more hard work and difficulties to help their country survive.
Even through all of it's troubled times, Hungary has been a nation (of some form another) since the year 1000. After seeing what I saw today, I'm beginning to understand why.
Eventually, all the students lined up in the courtyard of the school to have the first ceremony. The students all stood in one big mass (almost like military troops in a formation), with many of the teachers standing in the front of the groups. I stood opposite them with the rest of the teachers, behind where the Director gave a big speech through a microphone. He introduced me at one point, and I am told he talked about where I come from, what day I arrived in Békéscsaba, the meal I had with him and my contact lady (explaining that I now know what good food tastes like), and that he had a very enjoyable conversation with me.
After everyone entered, they played the Hungarian national anthem through some loudspeakers. I know it was the national anthem because one of the English teachers was kind enough to stand beside me and translate throughout the ceremony (and probably, to make sure I didn't do anything stupid). It was fascinating to watch there reaction to the song. When our national anthem is played in the United States, people tend to look proud, excited, and happy. They want to sing along, cheer, and jump up and down. Here the reaction was quite different. Everyone looked very stern and serious. They weren't smiling and I only noticed one person who was barely mouthing the words. They were all standing very straight and still, and almost seemed to be nervous. There was an eerie feeling in the air.
I was confused about this reaction, so I looked really closely at all of the people and noticed signs of an emotion that I had missed at first. Pride. They all looked very proud. They weren't showing it in the outward, excited way that American's tend to, but it was there nonetheless. I didn't see anyone looking around like they were bored, or chatting to their friends in the back. Instead, They were all taking the song very seriously. All acting as if they know their country has had some very difficult times in the past and know that it has taken great sacrifice by many people just to be able to hear this song. Their faces suggested they don't take that for granted, and know things could change at any moment that would require more hard work and difficulties to help their country survive.
Even through all of it's troubled times, Hungary has been a nation (of some form another) since the year 1000. After seeing what I saw today, I'm beginning to understand why.
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