Pápa Pictures

Papa

Click this picture to go see my collection of pictures from my recent trip to Pápa, Hungary.

Click here to see my blog post about the trip.

This Is Where I Say "I Told You So"

In yesterday's post, I predicted that this week would be, for lack of a better word, interesting. I was right about that.

I was supposed to teach three classes today, but I taught half of one. "At least you didn't have to go to school, you pretty much had the day off," I'm sure you're thinking. No, I did have to go to school. A lot of time was wasted.

My first class was my beginners.  They are all in one class, but I teach them at two separate times (divided up by their English level).  Last week, both groups were in the classroom when I arrived.  Now, it's not normal for high school kids to get up early and go to school when they could sleep in, so I knew something was different.  I asked them what was going on and they pointed to the board.  It said:

"We would like to go to training to the Gólya week."

Above "Gólya" was the word "Crane", and underneath it was a labeled drawing of a crane catching a fish in the water.

Well that certainly explains why they're all here.  They would like to go to training to the Gólya week.  No surprise there.  I kind of wanted to go also, because I didn't have the slightest clue what this meant.

In their beginner English, they attempted to explain they wanted to dance.  "Alright, that sounds fun," I said, "where would you like to dance?"

They pointed to the ground and started moving all the desks to the side.  I sat down to watch and learn.  One of the students was teaching a choreographed dance set to one of their favorite songs, the World Cup theme song (you can hear it here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRpeEdMmmQ0).).

Every now and then they would stop, look at me excitedly, and ask if it was good.  Obviously, I kept telling them it was great and encouraging them!  I simply left out the part that I had no idea what it was or what it was for, so my opinion on its quality was worth absolutely nothing.

I didn't think about it until today when I walked in the classroom to find them all there, again.  However, I didn't feel déjà vu becasue they were wearing swim caps and bright dresses (explained in yesterday's post).  They wanted to practice again, but this time we went outside in the freezing cold to do it.  I have to say, they have improved.  Maybe I should make them do all their assigments out in the elements.

The exact purpose of the dance is still a mystery, but they told me they would perform it on Thursday.  If I ever figure it out, I'll be sure to tell you.

My next class wasn't there.  The room was empty.  As I was walking back to the teacher's room, one of the other English teachers saw me and asked if I was lost.  She then helped me piece together where my class was - they went on a field trip to the movies.  Not only did I not know, but I wasn't even invited.  They better bring me the rest of their Sour Patch Kids.

The other teacher seemed upset that no one warned me about this.  It didn't bother me though, because this sort of thing happens a lot.  There was a very nice notice on the wall that explained it - it was written in flawless Hungarian.

My last class had five students.  It's supposed to have 14.  They immediately asked, "Is it even worth teaching just five students, or should you just let us go home?"  Good try.  High school kids are the same everywhere.

Finally, for a new tradition, the Hungarian Word of the Day (taugh to me by beginner class):  "Szív" (pronounced seeve).  It means "Heart".

It's Going To Be One Of Those Weeks

It was a cold, dark morning. I always wake up a little earlier than I need to, and I drink a cup of coffee, watch the news, and check my e-mail. My brain needs this so it can start functioning by the time I begin teaching. Today, the sun decided to hit the snooze button. I had to use the lights. Not a good start to the week.

Things were about to change.

I rushed to school and arrived just in time (an unfortunate trend that seems to happen on Monday mornings). I headed for the stairway so I could drop off my bag and head to my classroom.

That's when I noticed.

Everyone in front of me was wearing bright swim caps and colorful, floral-patterned dresses. Some had on rubber gloves that are usually reserved for cleaning or washing dishes. Boys were wearing makeup and lipstick. Girls had mustaches. Plus, everyone had a sign hanging around their neck. The signs were made of bright paper and had two names on them.

Maybe the toxic sludge did seep into my water.

Then I remembered. It's "Freshman Week". I'm sure there's a Hungarian name for it, but I don't know it yet. It's the week that the school-leavers (or seniors) initiate the incoming students. Each freshman is assigned to a senior who makes them do things.

I've been told they have to wear funny clothes and do silly dances. They have to carry their books (and their senior's books) in a basket. Sometimes they buy lunch for their school-leaver. It seems they have to do any ridiculous tasks that the seniors come up with.

Between classes today, all the excited students rushed out to the courtyard. I watched from the window above and felt like I was a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The freshman, in their crazy clothes, hopped around, did dances, had pies (or something) thrown on their faces, and generally had a great time.

I can't wait to see what happens next. Wait, why didn't I get a freshman? I don't want to carry my books.

Would You Like Brains With That?

Again, the weekend has been overcast and rainy. It seems to be an unfortunate trend in Hungary. I spend all week looking out the window at warm, sunny days, and then I sit inside on the weekend.

This weekend, however, there was some excitement. I had a visitor! Another American teacher, Nephi, came to Békéscsaba to do some shopping and attend a church service. He teaches in a nearby town called Mezőkovácsháza, and it only has a population of about six thousand. Therefore, it's not exactly full of conveniences.

Our first stop was the mall where he bought, among other things, a football. I mean an actual football, not a soccer ball, and I think he bought the only one in the mall. Locically, is bright orange and says "Chicago" in green letters. Why not?

Then the rain started to pour, so we decided to pass the time in a restaurant. We headed over to a Slovakian place that I've wanted to try, and it turned out to be really cool. It wasn't exactly cheap, but it had an awesome atmosphere and some English on the menu.

It was these English words that informed us we could order brains. We laughed and wondered if that's what it really was. Nephi asked the waiter to confirm (pointing to his head to see if we meant the same brain), and it was in fact true. He even told us that these particular brains used to belong to a pig.

This is the part of the story where Nephi gains a lot of respect. He decided that he had to order them. After all, when would he get another chance? I played it safe and ordered "turkey stew in an egg jacket".

His plate of brains came out. No, it wasn't a big pink brain on a platter (although, that's what I was hoping for). It was little breaded pieces that looked like chicken nuggets. Apparently brains are best served on a bed of fries with a small side of salad.

He was very considerate of me when he took his first bite. By this, I mean he didn't spit the whole thing out spraying the table like a cartoon character. Instead, he looked like he couldn't settle on an opinion, so he gave me a little piece to try.

This was my first brain eating experience. Aside from feeling like a zombie, I wasn't overly excited. The flavor was almost non-existent, and the texture was best described as mushy. He said they grew on him by the end of the meal, but I'm not rushing out for another plate.

While on the topic of strange foods, we noticed something very interesting next to the pigs feet at the grocery store. This is just a guess, but we're pretty sure that they were pigs tails. Add another ingredient to the list of Alex's Hungarian Cookbook.

To counteract all the culture, we spoke American English (mumbling a lot), and watched college football on the internet. We spent the rest of the evening trying, and failing, to converse with Hungarian girls at a night club. The good news, I only saw one of my students while I was out drinking!

Now I'll plan a Halloween party. The Hungarians like to make it easy for you by supplying all of the necessary ingredients. They have wine called Bull's Blood, and brains and feet aren't hard to come by.

How Does An American End Up Teaching In Hungary? Part 1: My Motivation

Ever since I started telling my friends and family that I was thinking of moving to Hungary, I began to hear the same old questions. What? Why Hungary? Where will you be? You're not a teacher, what do you mean you're going to be teaching? Teaching what? How did you find that job? How long will you be there? Can I have your X-Box?

I'll try, now, to explain all of this.

Lets start with my motivation. I studied Business at the University of Colorado. During my studies, I spent a semester in Brussels, Belgium. It was my first time out of North America, and it was a real rush. I loved Europe. I loved learning about new cultures. Most of all, I loved the absolute challenge of everyday life. Nothing was a guarantee anymore. Need to buy toilet paper? Good luck, try saying that in a language you don't speak.

After returning home, I still had that itch to travel. I made it back to Brussels the next summer for an internship. It was very different. This time, I didn't have a group of Americans around me. I struggled to find my way and make friends. Eventually, I was successful and felt even more satisfaction than I did the first time.

Then I went home again. I graduated in December of 2008, into a glorious unemployment market. "Real jobs", as many call them, were not easy to come by. I, and many of my recent graduate friends, struggled to find something, anything. Many were putting their diplomas to good use at restaurants and landscaping services - not exactly what we had in mind during those endless nights of studying.

Occasionally I would hear about another one of my friends living overseas and having a great time. What were they doing? Teaching English. "That sounds lame," I thought.

But, I would learn through e-mail that they loved it. Willing to research any job prospect, I began to look into it. It seems that it's very easy for an American to get an English teaching job in Asia. It can be done in many other parts of the world, but that's the simplest continent.

Sounds cool, but I don't really want to move to Asia. I'd like to go back to Europe, is that possible? Yes, but difficult. Since people from the British Isles hold EU passports, they can work freely in other European Union countries. With this as an option, most schools don't want to hassle with the visa process for an American.

After much research, I found an organization that places teachers in Hungary. It sounded cool, but I still wasn't sure if I wanted to teach. The idea went to the backburner.

I found temporary jobs, but never anything that would stick around for the long term. Fortunately, I have generous parents who were willing to take me into their home. I wasn't living under a bridge, but I was required to keep a room clean. It almost balanced out.

Putting my accounting degree to good use, I got a job preparing tax returns. I spent my days explaining tax laws and socializing with customers. It could be fun, except I hated 99% of the people. They were firm believers that the customer is always right. That means I must be wrong. And, I charged too much. "I could do this at home for free." If that was true, why didn't they?

One day something clicked in my mind. Taxes were sucking the life out of me. I need to do something cool. Something that I'll enjoy even if I hate my job.

I remembered the Central European Teaching Program and made an impulse decision to move across the world. I refused to allow myself to change my mind.

The people at the library grew used to me checking out guide books and language learning tools by the dozen. They kept telling me to travel while I'm young. It gave me confidence.

My friends gave a mixture of being happy for me, or anger because I'm leaving. My parents grew to accept it. My poor dogs had no idea. They're so angry they won't even return my e-mails.

That's what made me decide to come here, but how did I arrange it all?

To be continued...

It's The Little Things

Everyday, someone asks me, "Do you like it here, isn't it hard living in Hungary?" Then, they bring up valid points. I'm far from my family and friends. I don't speak the language. I don't know very many people. I can't find a baseball bat. So, yes, it is hard.

But, it's the little things.

The little things make a big difference.

You have to learn to ignore the little, bad things. There are a lot of them, and they are unavoidable. This morning, I was cold and I couldn't use the heat. I don't know how to turn it on, so I had to shiver.

I didn't let that bother me. It would've been a waste of time, because I would've still shivered. Instead, I drank warm coffee and looked forward to my day.

Next, you have to learn to embrace the little, good things. I just went to a bar on the corner of my street for a beer. I like the bar because it's close, has a friendly atmosphere, and has a very appropriate name - the Street Corner.

It was during my walk that I experienced one of those enjoyable moments. I stepped outside into the cold night and looked up to see an orange, crescent shaped moon. It was slightly blurred through the foggy air that had a faint smell of smoke. It was exactly 9 o'clock, so I could hear the church bells chiming. All of this was complimented by the European architecture of my street.

I looked over at a statue of a famous Hungarian and said to him, "Mr. Nagy, this is why I'm here".

To anyone unsure if they're able to live in a foreign land, this is my advice. Learn to deal with the little things. They will make or break your experience.

Baseball: The New Hungarian Pastime

As an American living in Hungary, I have to get most of my sports news from the internet. I can watch sports on TV, but I don't know what the announcers are saying. Although it is fun to make up my own dialogues, it's not exactly factual.

I may be out in left field, but I've learned that America is swept up in the Major League Baseball playoffs. That means American teachers are starting their classes by saying, "Did anyone see the Phillies game last night?" If I said that, my students would act like I'm speaking a foreign language.

In their defense, I am speaking a foreign language. But it doesn't change the fact that they don't know anything about baseball.

This is a problem that needs a solution. One cannot properly learn American English if they don't know anything about baseball. So, I drew a picture of a baseball field on the board and asked what it was. A kite. A tooth. A bird. A baseball pitch - close, but still so far.

But, I now challenge you with this. Explain what an "inning" or an "out" is to someone who's never seen baseball. Now, add a very small vocabulary and comprehension of the English language. It's a difficult task, but yes, I stepped up to the plate.

I cut bases out of paper. Then I grabbed a water bottle that resembled a bat and crumpled up a sheet of paper for a ball. "Everyone stand up," I said, "and come over here to the dugout."

I'm pretty sure some of my students think I'm crazy, and others think I'm awesome. But they played baseball. They had no choice but to speak English, because the Hungarians don't seem to have a word for "Strike 3, You're Out!"

Three things are for sure. First, my students now know to be ready for anything in my class. Second, I hit a home run with this idea. Third, I no longer have to worry about students studying for other classes during my lesson. Instead, I have to be concerned they'll be bored if they don't hammer a ball and thunder around the classroom.

I'll have to call the bullpen for some more ideas.