"Weekends" were the only motivating factor that kept us from jumping ship, since the bosses became progressively more annoying with each passing week. My students were cool, and I actually did look forward to seeing them each day, my main class was silly and made everything fun. The class I had for just one hour was a bit more serious, but they were all so sweet, I loved teaching them. However, by Friday were ready for the weekend! While we were still in Szeged I was doing something on the computer and Mylo came in and said, " hey the Rolling Stones are going to be in Budapest in a few weeks, so you want to go with me? I stupidly asked the a good question, but the wrong way. The way I should have asked the follow-up question would have been "who else is going", but I was too assumptive, and said "is Ashlee going?" He said no, she did not want to go. Again, key follow up, I should have asked "why", but I didn't. He said to me, he really wants to go, and I should come too, because it will be fun if we both go. He even offers to buy half my ticket. I really should have been more suspicious at this point. I say it's ok, you don't have to do that, I'll go, it does sound like fun. Later on I find out the catch…Norma's going too, Mylo, me, and the non-stop chatterbox- super! After consulting with Ashlee and Janie about the hell I was suspecting might insue with only one other person to shoulder the Norma nonsense, I recruited them to come with us to Budapest. We concocted some scheme where we tell Norma we are taking the last train back to Cegled, but we make sure that we get separated after the concert. So that she doesn't look or wait for us, we call her and say don't worry we will take the morning train or some bullshit, when in fact Ashlee, Janie, Mylo and I booked a hotel near the stadium where the concert was. On the way out of town, all five of is take the train to Budapest, it insanely hot, and the train arrives early, so we have to hall ass, and run across track to jump on the train. The train only stops in Cegled for like 3 minutes total. We find our way to our crappy plastic bench seat in the steerage section, after being asked to leave first class…déjà vu for Ashlee and I . We are all squeezed into a wooden box with a window that hardly opens…it's only an hour- right? Hahahah, nope! The train breaks down on the outskirts of Budapest. I was so ready to just walk the last 20 miles! Most people couldn't take it and got off the train and just stood next to it smoking or got a cab. The sun was setting, it was only about two and a half hours until the concert, it was frustrating for everyone, apparently except for me. I was really tired from the long week. The four of them were standing in the galley of the carriage where the door was open to get some air, and maybe some information on the state of affairs, but me, I was passed out, sawing some serious logs in our hot box. It was a monumentally fantastic nap, I sleep until I left the train start moving again, it might have been an hour, I don't really know because I was out cold. It was only a short distance to Nugatti station from there, then a quick subway ride and a quick taxi to our hotel, not sure how we managed to ditch Norma, but somehow we did, Mylo and I ran in dropped off our stuff, while we kept the meter running on the cab, the we rushed off to meet Norma again and go to the show.
The show really was fantastic, and memorable! It had finally cooled off a little that night, there were fireworks at the end of the show, even Norma was actually pretty fun to hang out with, mostly because she was so into the music that she shut up for once. Mylo and I drank a healthy amount of beer, which probably helped as well. Norma ended up leaving before the encore in order to not miss her train, Mylo and I actually felt bad that she wasn't able to stay to the end as she was having such a good time, we;d never seen her so happy. After the show, the crowds were mad, no chance we would get a taxi, the street cars were packed, we weren't even really sure which one to take, but we did know approximately where the hotel was, so we just started walking, and walking, and oh my god walking! I'd been standing at a concert all night, now I was walking 40 blocks home, I think I had bad shoe on too, so most of the walk I did in bare feet! It took over an hour, and one stop for snacks at a gas station, but we made it, and I had another phenomenal night's sleep in an air conditioned hotel!
Friday, December 26, 2008
The Magyar Memoir- Part 10 (Waterpark!)
This is how I described Cegléd. Perhaps because it was summer, perhaps for a variety of other reasons, many of the stores were shut during the day as well as the evening. Many with grafettied rolling shutters, it just saddened me a bit. This is also kind of insulting, I referred to Cegléd as the IE of HU, meaning the Inland Empire* of Hungary. Retrospectively, this is not an accurate description, as I have much disdain for the IE, where I lived either in or on the cusp of for much of my life. The comparison had more to do with the the fact that Cegléd was an hour from everything, much like the IE.
Although there wasn't a whole lot to do after work without a whole lot of effort and travel outside the city, I was in no hurry to expedite my time there. I hadn't really figured out what I would do next, and by this point I knew the job, and just wanted to enjoy the moment as best I could despite the extreme heat.
Most of us realized that our time in Hungary was fleeting, so we decided to make the most of our weekends. In order to do this we needed to unify in NOT being available on weekend for the dic's meetings and other whims. Starting Friday afternoons we wouldn't be tourists, not employees. We started with a trip to the Waterpark/ Turkish bath, located just outside the city, deep within the corn fielded suburbs. This is were I embarked on one of the scariest- yet most exhilarating moments of the trip.
At the water park they had the highest half pike I have ever seen, fiberglass lined, with a constant flow of water for lubrication. The idea is you sit on a tube and go down and up and down a few time, and eventually slide down into a pool at one end. Seems innocent enough- right? Perhaps this works if you're a child; but a fully grown adult that had regularly been indulging in goulash and fatty cholesterol ridden sausages hasn't the same effect. I was fired up to experience this ride, so I hit the sloop with full force in my tiny child size tube (it was nothing like a cloud of watery air goodness, as I had expected). It was like jumping butt first into a empty swimming pool, while covered in Vaseline. I was totally out of control- on my first trip up, I caught major air, I could see people below pointing in horror in slow motion, as I was a few inched higher than the guard rail! As I feel back into the earth's atmosphere I hit the ramp with as much force as a 50 mile per hours car crash, I'm sure I had at least minor whiplash at this point, but the ride continued a few more times up and down each time more painful and disorientating as the last. What fun ;~()
After that adventure, I tried a few tamer waterslides, which were still bit much for my fatigued body, so I retired to the lazy river, which was a good pace for me for a while, but it wasn't long before I made my home in the Turkish bath watching the pre-melinomic half dead seniors play chess, yup, that was where it was at. I liked that it was possible to get a beer, which could be taken in the bath, although the thought seemed insane based on the fact that we were outside in the sun, on a 100 degree day, in a 110 degree salt bath.
The adventure didn't really end there. When we left the park at closing, we watched as the last bus into the city pull away in a puff of smoke. We had no choice, we had to call the dictators for a ride, as we couldn't manage to get a taxi to come all the way out there. Not the best end to the day, but thankfully, they came and rescued us. I slept very well that night.
* The IE: It's not that this is a bad area, well some parts are very ghetto, but for the most part, it is simply a suburb located 30-60 miles east of Los Angeles. Some of it's notable features include some of the worst air quality in the United States, uncontrollable residential spral, culturally mixed populous, but in no real integration. There have been attempts made in the last ten years to create some high end shopping areas, to serve the nevou rich that were, up until the recent economic downturn, buying up the plethora of new mcmansions being built (on a naturally flood plane and directly in the path of a wind tunnel). Overall, the area is mostly a working class and middle class conglomeration. My theory is people don't choose to live hear, they just get trapped here, by way of job, lack of job, loved ones in need, or being knocked up by someone here. Talented, interesting people generally leave as soon as they are eighteen if they were raised here, or if they are outsiders, a job brings them here, and then they can't leave.*Victoria is an exception. *I am sort of an exception; but I think I could classify myself as being part of the financially trapped. The way it works when you live in the IE is first, complacently sets in, and eventually people just resign to the fact that this is what life is suppose to be like: void on conciseness, culture, and community.
Although there wasn't a whole lot to do after work without a whole lot of effort and travel outside the city, I was in no hurry to expedite my time there. I hadn't really figured out what I would do next, and by this point I knew the job, and just wanted to enjoy the moment as best I could despite the extreme heat.
Most of us realized that our time in Hungary was fleeting, so we decided to make the most of our weekends. In order to do this we needed to unify in NOT being available on weekend for the dic's meetings and other whims. Starting Friday afternoons we wouldn't be tourists, not employees. We started with a trip to the Waterpark/ Turkish bath, located just outside the city, deep within the corn fielded suburbs. This is were I embarked on one of the scariest- yet most exhilarating moments of the trip.
At the water park they had the highest half pike I have ever seen, fiberglass lined, with a constant flow of water for lubrication. The idea is you sit on a tube and go down and up and down a few time, and eventually slide down into a pool at one end. Seems innocent enough- right? Perhaps this works if you're a child; but a fully grown adult that had regularly been indulging in goulash and fatty cholesterol ridden sausages hasn't the same effect. I was fired up to experience this ride, so I hit the sloop with full force in my tiny child size tube (it was nothing like a cloud of watery air goodness, as I had expected). It was like jumping butt first into a empty swimming pool, while covered in Vaseline. I was totally out of control- on my first trip up, I caught major air, I could see people below pointing in horror in slow motion, as I was a few inched higher than the guard rail! As I feel back into the earth's atmosphere I hit the ramp with as much force as a 50 mile per hours car crash, I'm sure I had at least minor whiplash at this point, but the ride continued a few more times up and down each time more painful and disorientating as the last. What fun ;~()
After that adventure, I tried a few tamer waterslides, which were still bit much for my fatigued body, so I retired to the lazy river, which was a good pace for me for a while, but it wasn't long before I made my home in the Turkish bath watching the pre-melinomic half dead seniors play chess, yup, that was where it was at. I liked that it was possible to get a beer, which could be taken in the bath, although the thought seemed insane based on the fact that we were outside in the sun, on a 100 degree day, in a 110 degree salt bath.
The adventure didn't really end there. When we left the park at closing, we watched as the last bus into the city pull away in a puff of smoke. We had no choice, we had to call the dictators for a ride, as we couldn't manage to get a taxi to come all the way out there. Not the best end to the day, but thankfully, they came and rescued us. I slept very well that night.
* The IE: It's not that this is a bad area, well some parts are very ghetto, but for the most part, it is simply a suburb located 30-60 miles east of Los Angeles. Some of it's notable features include some of the worst air quality in the United States, uncontrollable residential spral, culturally mixed populous, but in no real integration. There have been attempts made in the last ten years to create some high end shopping areas, to serve the nevou rich that were, up until the recent economic downturn, buying up the plethora of new mcmansions being built (on a naturally flood plane and directly in the path of a wind tunnel). Overall, the area is mostly a working class and middle class conglomeration. My theory is people don't choose to live hear, they just get trapped here, by way of job, lack of job, loved ones in need, or being knocked up by someone here. Talented, interesting people generally leave as soon as they are eighteen if they were raised here, or if they are outsiders, a job brings them here, and then they can't leave.*Victoria is an exception. *I am sort of an exception; but I think I could classify myself as being part of the financially trapped. The way it works when you live in the IE is first, complacently sets in, and eventually people just resign to the fact that this is what life is suppose to be like: void on conciseness, culture, and community.
The Magyar Memoir- Part 9 (the gate of the Great Plain)
Or as I liked calling it, “exactly an hour from anything and everything”…you find the quaint little town of Cegléd: population approx 39,000, but it feels like about 150 in the summertime. Cegléd boosts the biggest Calvinist church in Central Europe, it also has a long history; the town dates back to 1290, it seemingly didn’t survive the Mongol invasion structurally, but in the latter 1300s did come back into its own, and has been growing ever since. It later became important ‘safe town’ as it was sympathetic to the peasant uprising of 1514. The Turks and the Hapsburg empire both got their hands on it but and later lost their grip of little Cegléd. Then there was the whole Soviet business, but we won’t talk about that. Apparently, the Golden age of the town occurred during the turn of the last century when the bulk of the town was constructed, including Kossuth Secondary School…where I taught. 100 plus years later, I don’t think much as changed. It’s a sleepy little town, although it does have a Tesco, Vodafone shop, exactly two internet cafes, a movie theater, less than five restaurants, a few really nice bakeries, and no pubs. For all other modern conveniences, you must head Budapest or Szeged. It does host a Turkish bath and water park (all-in-one) on the outskirts of town as well as a very expensive and somewhat green public pool, both of which were lifesavers during the month- long heat wave, which had befallen us.
The hour train ride to Cegléd from Szeged was interesting nonetheless, an hour without any possible interruption from the dictators; we reveled in our air-conditioned quiet comfort, part and parcel of our first class tickets. Each of us ipod in ear, book in hand, by this time we had gone pro when it came to ignoring Norma’s annoying banter; and relaxed for what felt like the first time in three weeks. I took this time to do a little journaling, and reflecting, hoping the train might take it easy by which extending my time on the air-conditioned train. Every time I looked at Lana and Fedelio I burst into uncontrollable laughter, as packing was a problem for Lana. Therefore she just wore all the clothes that didn’t fit in her suitcase- jeans, a dress over, a t-shirt over that, etc. Then Fedelio decided to defend her by teasing me about my ultra-sporty American attire (which I deserved, I was looking especially white socked and sandled) He put on my baseball cap, tucked in his shirt, rolled the sleeves, pulled up the socks, and gave his best all-American smile, as I snapped pictures of the tacky duo. Due north through the Carpathian valley, heading towards the hot dusty planes of Cegléd otherwise known as the gateway to the great planes.
When we arrived at the train station, the dictators were waiting, (waving in slow motion based on my memory of the day), as if we had just returned from a year-long trip round the world. Our group was divided; one car would be driven by the dictators, the other car, a local that spoke a few words of English, but not more. We clamored trying to be the first into the local guy’s car. Lana and Fidelio drew the short straw, they gave us a obvious “F-You” expression as we speed off. We were treated to a tour of the whole town, by our local ambassador- it took five minutes. The Arizonia restaurant…the other Arizonia restaurant, the ice cream shop, the cake shop, the bakery that’s only open in the morning, the church, the old church, the main square, and our finally our flat.
Compared to the Sik Sandor, this flat was fantastic, actually compared to any foreign accommodations I’ve had, this place was spectacular! Top floor (with an elevator) view of the park, and the church, walking distance to school, and the two Arizonias, the two bakeries, and Norma was not walking distance from our place, (she was given a single across town), as was Laura and Fidelio. So it was Ashlee, Mylo, and me, three bedroom, two bathrooms, a washing machine, a TV, a stereo, cute kitchen, we were pleased! Except for one thing…Janie who would be replacing the chicken pocked Craig. Where would she be sleeping, we mused? We ran in to Lana and Fidelio when we went to dinner at Arizona No# 1, so we invited them over after to have a coffee at our place. We explored all the alternatives strategically. I could sleep on the couch, Mylo could sleep on Lana and Fidelo’s couch. Lana and Fidelio could move in to our place since we already knew and liked them, and Janie could have their place, we could make Janie sleep at Norma’s, no too mean, we pondered all options, and settled on me sleeping in the living room, and giving Janie my room. When she arrived, we all crossed our fingers that she wouldn’t be another Norma, since we were so close to accommodations bliss. When the Dic’s dropped her off, and left us alone (well, went next door, so that they could listen with a glass to the door), we realized that Janie was great, a perfect addition to our household and staff.
After the weekend the dictators decided they couldn’t allow me to not have a room, and decided to find a single flat for Mylo, so that it would be just the girls in the dream flat. We all felt bad about this, as he was our buddy, and deserved to get to live in the nice flat too. They found him a crap sublet around the corner, which meant that he sleep there but the minute he woke up, came directly to our place for breakfast, and stayed until bedtime.
There were a lot of rules at the dram flat, such as we could not eat anywhere but in the kitchen, nor drink anywhere but…you guessed it in the kitchen. In fact, the getting the security deposit back in it’s entirety was such an issue, sheets were delivered and we were directed to cover everything, so our placed looked like we were about to paint at all times. It was way too embarrassing to have any one over ever, good thing we encompassed what felt like 90% of the town population.
We loved this flat, and actually really enjoyed our tradition that we fell into of all having breakfast together while watching the BBC each morning. (In case you weren’t glued to BBC World in July of 2007, what you missed was a plethora of coverage about the US presidential coverage of the YouTube debates, and the inauguration of Pratibha Patil…what, you don’t know who that is?!) (India get’s a female president, why can’t we have one!) Then I’d grab my fan (to take to my classroom) and swing by the morning bakery for a coffee, on my way to school. My students were very nice, polite, funny, and eager to learn. I found them to be much worldlier then my classes at Szegvar, but I guess that’s to be expected as this was a town not a farm village. After school, it was usually a walk over to the other Arizona, for lunch, then we took turns saturating ourselves in cold water to remedy the near heat stroke conditions. All except for Ashlee, whose crazy Irish ass, would actually go lay out, in the sun, or worse yet, go jogging!
The hour train ride to Cegléd from Szeged was interesting nonetheless, an hour without any possible interruption from the dictators; we reveled in our air-conditioned quiet comfort, part and parcel of our first class tickets. Each of us ipod in ear, book in hand, by this time we had gone pro when it came to ignoring Norma’s annoying banter; and relaxed for what felt like the first time in three weeks. I took this time to do a little journaling, and reflecting, hoping the train might take it easy by which extending my time on the air-conditioned train. Every time I looked at Lana and Fedelio I burst into uncontrollable laughter, as packing was a problem for Lana. Therefore she just wore all the clothes that didn’t fit in her suitcase- jeans, a dress over, a t-shirt over that, etc. Then Fedelio decided to defend her by teasing me about my ultra-sporty American attire (which I deserved, I was looking especially white socked and sandled) He put on my baseball cap, tucked in his shirt, rolled the sleeves, pulled up the socks, and gave his best all-American smile, as I snapped pictures of the tacky duo. Due north through the Carpathian valley, heading towards the hot dusty planes of Cegléd otherwise known as the gateway to the great planes.
When we arrived at the train station, the dictators were waiting, (waving in slow motion based on my memory of the day), as if we had just returned from a year-long trip round the world. Our group was divided; one car would be driven by the dictators, the other car, a local that spoke a few words of English, but not more. We clamored trying to be the first into the local guy’s car. Lana and Fidelio drew the short straw, they gave us a obvious “F-You” expression as we speed off. We were treated to a tour of the whole town, by our local ambassador- it took five minutes. The Arizonia restaurant…the other Arizonia restaurant, the ice cream shop, the cake shop, the bakery that’s only open in the morning, the church, the old church, the main square, and our finally our flat.
Compared to the Sik Sandor, this flat was fantastic, actually compared to any foreign accommodations I’ve had, this place was spectacular! Top floor (with an elevator) view of the park, and the church, walking distance to school, and the two Arizonias, the two bakeries, and Norma was not walking distance from our place, (she was given a single across town), as was Laura and Fidelio. So it was Ashlee, Mylo, and me, three bedroom, two bathrooms, a washing machine, a TV, a stereo, cute kitchen, we were pleased! Except for one thing…Janie who would be replacing the chicken pocked Craig. Where would she be sleeping, we mused? We ran in to Lana and Fidelio when we went to dinner at Arizona No# 1, so we invited them over after to have a coffee at our place. We explored all the alternatives strategically. I could sleep on the couch, Mylo could sleep on Lana and Fidelo’s couch. Lana and Fidelio could move in to our place since we already knew and liked them, and Janie could have their place, we could make Janie sleep at Norma’s, no too mean, we pondered all options, and settled on me sleeping in the living room, and giving Janie my room. When she arrived, we all crossed our fingers that she wouldn’t be another Norma, since we were so close to accommodations bliss. When the Dic’s dropped her off, and left us alone (well, went next door, so that they could listen with a glass to the door), we realized that Janie was great, a perfect addition to our household and staff.
After the weekend the dictators decided they couldn’t allow me to not have a room, and decided to find a single flat for Mylo, so that it would be just the girls in the dream flat. We all felt bad about this, as he was our buddy, and deserved to get to live in the nice flat too. They found him a crap sublet around the corner, which meant that he sleep there but the minute he woke up, came directly to our place for breakfast, and stayed until bedtime.
There were a lot of rules at the dram flat, such as we could not eat anywhere but in the kitchen, nor drink anywhere but…you guessed it in the kitchen. In fact, the getting the security deposit back in it’s entirety was such an issue, sheets were delivered and we were directed to cover everything, so our placed looked like we were about to paint at all times. It was way too embarrassing to have any one over ever, good thing we encompassed what felt like 90% of the town population.
We loved this flat, and actually really enjoyed our tradition that we fell into of all having breakfast together while watching the BBC each morning. (In case you weren’t glued to BBC World in July of 2007, what you missed was a plethora of coverage about the US presidential coverage of the YouTube debates, and the inauguration of Pratibha Patil…what, you don’t know who that is?!) (India get’s a female president, why can’t we have one!) Then I’d grab my fan (to take to my classroom) and swing by the morning bakery for a coffee, on my way to school. My students were very nice, polite, funny, and eager to learn. I found them to be much worldlier then my classes at Szegvar, but I guess that’s to be expected as this was a town not a farm village. After school, it was usually a walk over to the other Arizona, for lunch, then we took turns saturating ourselves in cold water to remedy the near heat stroke conditions. All except for Ashlee, whose crazy Irish ass, would actually go lay out, in the sun, or worse yet, go jogging!
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Magyar Memoir: Part 8
I find myself on the train this morning, in route to Cegléd, our next stop on our teaching tour. As I look over my shoulder, I note my ESL teaching comrades have commandeered the entire entryway of the carriage for just OUR luggage; which was mostly mine. As I glanced to my left I noted the the-talkaholic-black-sheep, is going on about some random insignificant thing, with no one listening. Each of us with ipod in ear and book in hand making a concerted effort to not hear any of it. This entertains me to no end, and makes me thankful that I am sitting out of conversation range. I glanced at Mylo, who shared a knowing nod as to our joint fortune, as we were seated on the right side of the carriage, and despite it being on the sunny side of the train, we know it had it's perks.
Another Quick Aside about American Vacation Attire…My Quebecois friend Frederic says that you can always tell Americans on vacation in Canada because they are wearing a t-shirt with a wolf on it, a banana pack (a fanny pack as Americans call it) and white socks with sandals. I would expect nothing less from my Sir Fred de Snob (I mean that in a complimentary way, as we really see to eye-to eye on most things), so he makes a relevant point. Americans dress like retards when they travel. We are so consumed with making sure we are ready for anything, we end up looking like Fred’s caricature. I am often the exception, but on this particular day, I was all ‘Americaned-up’.
When I look out the window, all I can think of is flat! Flat! Flat! I have traveled in
Sunday, April 13, 2008
The Magyar Memoir- Part 7 (Szegvar)
After a brief stop at The Beaver to drop off Ashlee, Lana and I ventured on another 15km, into endless wide open farm country. The meandering road between Ho-meds-var-shar-hey and Svegvar is flat, covered with yellowish-brown dense grass as far as the eyes can see. Eventually, after a few more turns, the sceneray changes to tall sunflowers patches, their big yellow faces peering down on approaching cars. Every few hundard yards the occasional paprika crop would interupt the endless sunflower fields. Several times on the way we slowed from warp speed, while passing through small villages, all of which invoked gossip about its residence transmitted from the front seat each time we passed through. The finale always came when we rounded the final sharp turn into the outskirts of the Szegvar, just beyond the lonely chained cow, and set of trees where we often saw farmers pissing. There stood the makeshift shine which sparked mention EVERTIME we passed by, no matter who the driver. Apparently, this was the seen of a fatal accident, the daughter of a prominent member of the community, was among a car full of drunk teens, on their way home from a party one town over, that hit a tree. This somber story was retold to us about 4,000 times by everyone we met. I couldn't help but be reminded of the part in Footloose when Ariel is telling Ren about why they couldn't dance this side of the county line. (In my head I wanted to ask if this was the real reason why the town was so boring, was it their punishment for such behavior). This story has become rural folklore, it came up in conversation prompted by obvious topics like "car accident" "driving fast" and not so obvious keywords "allergies" "tuna fish" "copy machine toner" any of these less than obvious links lead to the story being told all over again. Finally, the sunflowers parted, giving way a sprinkling of modest stone houses garded by simple waist high wooden or stone retaining walls. Then one bicyclist, then two, then three, then a swarm of people on bicycles everywhere! In other words, you've clearly reached Szegvar. A 7,000 year old village, settled by nomads of some sort, they local don't seem to know, but are quite sure that it was epic. When the car rounded the final turn towards our school we would actually find ourselves in traffic- bike traffic! Our students streamed past single file, and waved kindly, I sort of felt like the Pope, since were were in vechiles surrounded by metal and glass, and everyone stared and waved. One couldn't really say there is a center of town, but 'the area where the buildings are slightly closer in proximity' have such a unique character, with their thached roofs, with actual storks nesting atop them. (I wonder if it actually does bring them luck?)The school I simple, older, but well kept, it has every student's picture that ever graduated from there lining the walls of the hallway, going back to the advent of photography as far as I can tell. My students could point out their parents, grandparents and great-grandparents. The school had a few ping-pong tables in the school yard, although the students had to bring their own ball and paddles, it was by far the most popular break time activity. When the break was over we pulled the cord of an old fashion school bell. The school had a actually bell! I've never experienced an actual metal bell- at a school, I felt like Miss Beetle minus the bonnet, in Little House on the Prairie every time I rang it, and I have to admit, I rather looked forward with anticipated to breaks end because of this feature. The school had a cafeteria, which I found peculiar. Very few of the students actually ate there (after eating there myself, the reason was clear) but the staff was sizeable, and kept unusually busy based on the limited foot traffic. It was as if they existed on another plane of reality, a dimension where there were hungry Hungarians clamored for more slop, and I was stuck in another dimension where no one was hungry enough to eat there. Not that cold fruit soup and a sweet bun aren't a completely satisfying meal…if you're into that. After investigating this anomaly further, I learned that many people in the village are quite poor, and received subsidized meals from the school, and arrived in the late-early-evening for their only meal of the day. OK, now it all made sense I thought. I found the notion rather quaint, and it made me feel a greater respect for this sleepy little community. After spending two weeks with these people in this little village, I began to think ...I still would never live here, but I envy their idealism, traditions, and innocent naivety. On our last day, we received a coffee table style book about Szegvar from the staff, on the order of tourist memorabilia, something I had trouble believing someone took the time to publish. Nevertheless, what is most amusing about this book is the first paragraph which details all thing that Szegvar DOESN'T have (mountains, hotels, seashore, exotic plants, unique animals, a shopping quarter, resturants, diversity, etc), yet assures the reader that Szegvarians are extremely proud of their village and would be most happy to show you around. I think my favorite line in my little souvenir book is " it is also a nice place for visitors and adventurers to spend intimate and pleasant hours or days here". Naturally! I mean it has a windmill, a pond, and a catholic church, what else does one need?! (Hey, I read the highlights section). I will certainly miss this place and it quarky inhabitants.
The Magyar Memoir- Part 6 (the Beaver)
"Homedsvarsharhey"
The Magyar Memoir- Part 5 (the Carpathian Alergy extravganza)
I was surviving the double shifts, which were bestowed upon me thanks to a bout with the chickenpox suffered by another teacher. I had for the most part remained sane or at least found humor in the frustration of working at Homedsvarsharhey in the mornings and Szegvar in the afternoons. The daily car rides with either Freno (the boss's husband) and his Frankenstein laugh, or the mother of one of my student, that drove like speed racer in a rusted, seatbeltless, circa 79’ Subaru Justy (the year, make an model is critical to imagery-not being snobby) had really gotten to me though. It should be noted that a drive in the country is no lackadaisical experience when there is a Hungarian behind the wheel. Although the degree of roadkill was surprisingly low, despite mention noteworthy fatal accidents between
A day trip to
Saturday morning I woke up feeling unseasonably warm and my allergies were worse than they had ever been. I had fewer mosquito bites than usual...they must have sensed the plague that had overtaken my face! To this day the mystery hasn’t been solved as to why the area around one of my eyes had swollen to three times it normal size. I was feeling ok, but had significantly less feeling in my face. I had a look in the mirror and it was like that Twiglight Zone episode where it is Marti Gras in New Orleans and the greedy-pain in the ass heirs are meeting in their rich grandfather’s mansion and he makes them wear masks until midnight or else they won’t get their inheritance. So at midnight they all take off their mask and magically their face has been deformed to accentuate their known vices: greed, dunsity, spite, pompous, etc. So it was as if I had been wearing a mask that had made me Neanderthal girl!
Turns out that getting sick in
The river TISZA- Magyar Memoir- Part 4 (Szeged)
I'm not sure exactly where this river originates, perhaps in the
Back at the Sik later that night, I proceeded to brag about my recklass bad-assidness to the random Hungarians who were conjuring up some elaborate meal, (which seemed to me like pretty advanced cooking for college students). They listened, giving me incredulous looks as I boosted giving them the details (against their will) of my Saturday swim adventure. If I could read their minds, I'm sure they were saying "stupid foreigner...I'm busy...go away."
The Magyar Memoir- Part 3 (Szeged)
Sík Sándor Hostel
My fellow teachers and I lived between the farmers' market and the historic downtown square in a big house donated to the city by a wealthy family upon their passing. It had since been turned into a extended stay boarding house of sorts. Six of the original seven teachers lived there. We thought it would only be us, yet we discovered that there were many more residence than expected. Perhaps as many as ten Hungarian medical students also bunked with us, but they kind of came and went like ghosts sometimes bringing girlfriends or friends to stay with them (us) for days on end, then they would disappear with or without their guests for just as many days. Honestly we didn't know who actually lived there as compared to those people just randomly squatting, but everyone was nice and offered us food and drink upon our first meeting. The strangers were actually more social than the permanent residents and included us in their conversations and backyard smoke laden drunken gatherings in the gazebo, which they called "the octagon". Therefore, all were welcome as far as we were concerned.
I lived on the top floor, under the eaves, and under a tree which meant lots of mosquitoes and bugs crawling through the sky light. My room was also one of the warmest rooms in the house, which wasn't nice during the heatwave that was occurring throughout the entire summer of 2007 in Hungary. I'm fairly certain my bed had bedbugs, as I woke up sometimes looking as if I had passed out in a field based on the number of new bits and marks I had acquired overnight, other than that it was superb.
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The Magyar Memoir- PART 2 (Szeged)
Located something like 20km from the Serbia and not much further from the Romanian border, the town of Szeged is situated. This locale is a pleasant conglomeration of Mediterranean culture, with its Roman-esk architecture, along side terracotta accented facades. In summer, every café has patio seating, so umbrellas line the main square two or three deep. The main square has mainly brick pavers geometrically laid out, wooden benches, fountains, and heroic battle poised statues honoring fallen countrymen, and whats appears to be 5 apothecaries per capita. The side streets are cobbled and angle downward in the center, for drainage I presume. The city needs be concerned with having proper drainage, as it was almost whipped of the map once during a great flood that occurred in the 1990s. There is a stately Jewish temple, despite a minimal number of Jews due to their not so friendly swastikas bearing neighbors and their red army comrades to the north, who made themselves at home in Hungary a couple of generations back. There are also notably Gothic influences and a narrow winding river that runs through the north side of town to sweeten the "European any-town" feel.
The Magyar Memoirs - Part 1 (Introduction)
üdvözlés (Welcome) This blog is a transcription of excerpts from the journal I kept documenting my travel in Hungary during the summer of 2007. The names have been changed to secure the character's privacy. This blog shall be posted as a series, organized by both topic and location. I will insert additional thoughts as I go on in green in order to differentiate it from my original words. Please feel free to comment, criticize, or just sit back and enjoy!
The first couple of nights after I arrived in
A Quick Aside about Traveling by train in Europe; the mere mention induces travel-romantics like myself to conjure up images of Hemingway/ Fitgerald-esk era expats; women in classic Chanel travel garb, hat boxes in gloved hands standing on the platform at
After checking into the hotel, I realized it had been a very long time since I had eaten. Even though all I wanted to do was sit naked in front of the air-conditioner and doze off, I headed out to hunt for a meal before it got to be past the dinner hour. I was concerned that my fellow teacher Ashlee would think I was lost or dead in a gutter, as we were to meet at the inconspicuous hostel. I came across an internet cafe on my walk and decided I had better mitigate any SOS calls that she may have put out on my behalf. Once that business was taken care of, I set out on my sunset stroll through the eerily silent street adjacent to the main drag of downtown Budapest. I could hear the buzz of televisions emanating from open windows of the communist style brown block apartments, but I literally didn't see one person or car for many minutes at a time. Once I reached the main drag I began to wonder if this was a dangerous neighborhood as the only people I passed were rather sketchy, and held my gaze longer than I was accustomed to, at least by European standards. I calmed myself with a quick mental analysis of the height and weight differential between me and "the scaries", and concluded that my all-American diet coupled with my stalwart Scandinavian genetics made me a stealthy competitor if things took a turn for the worse. No such confrontation occurred, in fact after just a couple more blocks I found myself in a lively area, music blarred from cars cruising, and multitudes of multi-ethnic people filtered through the busy streets, speaking every language but Hungarian. Couples dined alfresco at the cafes, ladies carried shopping bags of recently purchased luxuries, teenagers sat on he steps of the shops laughing, and families strolled hand-in -hand. I felt instantaneously more comfortable with my surroundings. The sun had set, and restaurants were transitioning to bars only, which created a new urgency for finding food immediately. I didn't think I could manage waiting for a meal at a sit-down restaurant,(knowing pace of European waiters), I opted for the Turkish Kabob stand. I chose to eat off my paper plate on the street- fast- easy- perfect!
I slept really well at the hotel, the hot shower and air-conditioning had everything to do with that I’m convinced. I filled up on a breakfast downstairs, the hotel had a nice spread for being a budget hotel. I requested a taxi to run me up to Nygati Station where was to meet Ashlee. I was curious if and how she located the hostel, when I had spoken to her the night before, she was still at he airport. She would be the source that informed me about the mysterious relocating hostel and it’s shanty amenities. She as just where she was supost to be outside the station, once we said our hellos, we had a difficult time locating the ticket office, something we thought should be quite apparent based on the function of a train station. It was located down a narrow hallway, which I was almost certain would lead to an alley with a dumpster. No, in fact this unpainted concrete walkway opened onto an ornate golden wood paneled expanse with many ticket window that only served passengers with very specific needs: such as “Re-booking Tickets” “ Ticket Sales to be paid by Cash” “Ticket Sales to be paid by Credit Card”” International Ticket Sales” etc. This segregation meant that Ashlee and I had to stand in separate cues. Once our dusty, decayed old box car rolled up we realized we hadn’t a clue which carriage we were in or what our seat number was, it seemed to be opened seating, thus we settled into a comfortable plush seat towards the back.
We were pleasantly surprised that it appeared we would have the entire carriage to ourselves as no one chose to join us, instead passing us by heading for the front of the train. About 20 minutes into the trip Ashlee and I had taken out our books, removed our shoes and were enjoying rambling along through the residential outskirts of
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