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’. I wore a sports bra in place of a top ( it was hot), a baseball cap, white tennis shoes with white socks, (something I know makes Europeans cringe at the sight of) waterproof running shorts, and sunglasses which I naturally left on inside the train (I was on the sunny side). My British co-workers found this ensemble most amusing, and asked to borrow my cap, I obliged. Then a series of American wardrobe makeovers took place, and a photo shoot followed, which produced one of my favorite pictures from the trip. That train trip was the last time I owned a baseball cap, as it was lost or left behind, and I am totally ok with that.

When I look out the window, all I can think of is flat! Flat! Flat! I have traveled in Holland, which is also flat, but one expects Holland to be just that. I didn’t expect that from Hungary, I imagined rolling grassy hills, and music from Fiddler on the Roof; women with kerchiefs on their head, and aprons around their waist, men with mustaches, (and we defiantly saw those), with a pipe protruding. I fell as if I am in Kansas or Texas as I gaze out this window, flat planes with sporadic oil wells, with a few sunflower patches. The total travel time is only about two hours. That is two hours without the dictators, right on! I think I will sit back and enjoy the air-conditioned comfort of first class Hungarian travel!