A day in the life of a TESCO consumer

Rarely do I blog directly after an incident happens, but this is just too “Carla” to wait.  This morning, after having school yesterday (on Saturday) and daylight savings last night, I was looking forward to a relaxed Sunday.  I decided that I’d head to TESCO and get some last minute things to shape the place up in anticipation of my parents visit this week.  I was thinking I’d get some “springy” or maybe even Easter decorations, some fresh linens for the beds and other things to prepare.  I planned a leisurely stroll around the TESCO, envisioning a walk up and down every aisle. I was going to look at the beauty products, and spend some time looking at the different meats with dictionary in hand to figure out exactly what they all were.  I still needed a bike, so I was going to do some price comparisons to see what the best deal would be.  I hoped to finally figure out how to recycle these two liter bottles I’ve been collecting since I got here.  I was looking forward to a new video selection and would check out what was on sale.  I was going to look at the clothing, though Wal-Mart quality, maybe there were some cheap cute spring shirts or something.  Now, this is usually a surefire way for me to spend more money, but in light of a one-time visit from my parents, I thought it worth it.  I planned to take the 9:00 bus there and the 10:40 back.  This all went to shit as soon as I got to the bus stop.  The husband (I assume) of the crabby peeper lady from the first floor of my building was at the bus stop and recognized me instantly.  For those of you who are regular followers of my blog, you know that my neighbors have issues with me – so it’s a rocky situation every time I run into any of them.  I greeted him with a “good morning” and thought my pleasant conversation was over.  He allowed me to board the bus first, and though virtually empty (only two other people on the bus) he plopped down right next to me in the seat.  Shit.  I knew this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to make good with the neighbor, but I got really nervous about my level of Hungarian.  He started rattling away at me instantly, and though I started with an immediate “I don’t speak much Hungarian” that didn’t stop him.  Fortunately, we managed to “converse” all the way there.  He was adorable, and every time he thought of something to ask me, he’d tap me on the shoulder and say the Hungarian version of “listen up.”  He asked how long I had been here, when I was leaving, how I liked the school, how I liked the town.  He told me that he was a Latin teacher at a different school in Tata.  I asked him where he was going – duh, it’s Sunday morning and we’re on the 1E – of course I knew that he was going to TESCO, but I needed a time filler.  We arrived to TESCO and he took my arm and showed me the bus sign and pointed to the 10:00 time for the return bus – ok, I guess I’d have to warp speed it through TESCO as it was already 9:20.  Out the window goes my leisurely morning, since I KNEW he’d be waiting to make sure I got on the bus okay.  Little did he know that I have had more adventures getting to and from TESCO than your average foreigner in this country.  Shit – now I had to really book it to get all the things I needed, skipping the luxuries of cheap clothes and videos, check out and make it to the bus stop by 10.  UGH. 

I wandered through the aisles skipping right by all the rabbit shaped chocolates (knowing I’d be able to get them closer to my house as well) focusing on the necessities.  I literally worked up a sweat trying to make it through the Super-Target sized TESCO.  I spotted Imre (his name) in line with 15 minutes to spare, and dodged his glance as I rounded the corner with my cart.  I thought for a minute I should just go tell him that I was not done yet and that I’d wait for the next bus, but again, I didn’t want to blow it with him.  I cut over to the other part of the store and picked out two patio chairs – this was the big purchase I had planned, and no cute little neighbor was going to stop me from getting chairs to put out on the porch.  I got through the check-out line with about 30 seconds to spare, returned my cart and joined Imre at the bus stop.  Mission accomplished. 

Now, I’m sure he has judged me since I’ve been here on many things.  This morning, he commented on the fact that I was wearing sandals and no socks, he’s probably noted when I’ve come and gone, visitors I’ve had, mail I’ve received, etc.  That goes with the territory, but there is something a little disconcerting about a petite elderly Hungarian man peering over the top of your grocery bags (multiple times) and grunting with a bit of a smirk.  We boarded the bus and since I had two patio chairs with me, I stood in the open space in the middle of the bus- and so did he.  During our “conversation” on the way home, I told him that my parents were coming this week, that I needed more gas for my stove, and other fascinating bits.  He asked how old I was (and told me he’s 67) asked if I was married to a man, and when I said no- he asked if I was married to a woman, again I responded with no.  He asked if I had kids, another no… pretty boring but it was nice to connect.  He warned me when our bus-stop was coming up, and helped me carry my goods home.  This was a big step in the mending of our Melrose Place like relationship, and I think life will be good from here on out.  At least, I’m hoping!!!

Yet another day at the castle

Lauren and Lyla visited last weekend and as I was giving them "the tour" of Tata, we came across some interesting happenings at the castle.  We were told to repent on our way in by a man in a monk outfit, and there were Turks and other religious figures in the courtyard.  We never really figured out what was going on there, but it was an interesting sight.  

Hungarian Pride

Last week, we celebrated yet another anniversary of yet another Hungarian revolution.  They go all out for these occasions, and here is an example of the pride they show all throughout the towns. 

Pecs III - warning: those with weak stomachs please don't read...

Shortly thereafter, I met up with Megan, Alvin and Hanna and we headed out for the afternoon.  We walked around the old part of the city, admiring architecture and some souvenir shops.  We stopped in the wine cellar of the Basilica (these Catholics knew how to do it!!!) and had a glass of wine.  We wandered a bit more, and then headed back to our hostel to relax for a bit.  While at the hostel, we met our other new roommate, and Aussie named Terrie.  We invited her to dinner with us and had a nice evening out.  After dinner, we stopped for one more drink and then called it a night.  When we returned to the hostel, Fraggle Rock had invited Terrie to a party, and she politely declined fearing what a party with him and his peers might be like. 

We ended up going to sleep at about 10:30.  I slept well… until about 5:20 in the morning.  I awoke with some strange stomach pains and the immediate urge to use the bathroom.  I emerged from the room, only to find two men having a casual conversation on the couch in the hallway, and proceeded to the bathroom.  If you have a weak stomach, you might want to stop reading here because I’m going to share some information that should be reserved for intimate friends….  I went into the bathroom, and turned on the faucet – I’m usually not one who really cares about what other people hear coming from the bathroom, after all – it is the bathroom.  However, I knew that something very ugly was about to happen.  I literally had diarrhea just like the Jeff Daniels scene from Dumb and Dumber – knowing I was about to explode, but fearing the noises the two guys in the hall would hear.  I clenched my knees together and uttered a high pitched squeak and tried with all my might to be as silent as possible- with was virtually impossible in this particular hostel.  I decided that I couldn’t avoid it anymore and just did my thing, but I was a bit bashful when I returned to our room.  I took some immodium and thought that was the end… sadly it was not.  At about 7:30 I had a repeat adventure in the bathroom.  By this time, Fraggle Rock had returned from his party and was sleeping in the hallway on the couch.  DAMNIT – well, at least it wasn’t the same guys from before… I did my business and prayed that he was too hungover or high to hear what had happened and I returned to our room.  I know that’s a lot of personal information, but it just capped off my weekend in Pecs- the weekend of things that could only happen to me… phoey. 

Pecs II

The pictures are of the police that I encountered, the view from the TV tower and the actual tower.  Saturday morning brought more adventure of course.  I showered quickly in-between my roommates grooming procedures in the limited bathroom space and didn’t do anything with my hair, since there wasn’t really an opportunity to squeeze into the bathrooms.  So I headed out on my am adventure.  I decided that I needed to travel to the TV tower high atop the hill and go up in it to see the landscape of the Pecs area.  I trekked back to the bust station to see about getting there, and when I found out that the bus only left every two hours, I decided that I would inquire about a taxi taking me up.  It was a reasonable price and more convenient, so I did it.  We didn’t speak at all in the 20 minute ride, but sometimes that’s just okay.  I arrived atop the hill – to find out that I was the only person up there.  The ticket booth was closed, the elevator was open, so I headed in.  I arrived at the top of the TV tower and met a little old lady sitting there who was collecting the $3.00 it cost to actually get up into the tower.  It was frigid cold and open to the great wide open sky, but worth the trip up to see the landscape.  I returned to the ground and went in search of the bus stop that was supposedly atop the hill.  Now, I’m sure that there is some unspoken understanding that the bus stops in a certain place and picks people up, however I don’t know this particular rule for Pecs and I wasn’t about to miss one of the few buses that makes it to the top of the hill.  So, I decided to head down by foot and stop at the Zoo where I was sure that there was a stop as I’d seen the sign.  As I was walking down the hill, I encountered the local police who drove by me 4 times.  I’m not sure why they were doing such a sweep of the area, since I was about the only person I’d seen in a half hour – but they were definitely on a mission.  When I rounded one of the corners of the windy road down the hill, I spotted them stopped, out of the car with their blinking lights on.  Now what could be happening that required the police at this particular spot on a hill high above Pecs?  As I approached them, I saw that there was a veritable blood bath on the road – large puddle of blood, and it was starting to trickle down the hill.  It seemed that someone had hit an animal of some sort – or just murdered someone and taken the body with them – who knows.  I nodded and waved at them as I passed by (as if to say, “it’s the first time I saw it too – I don’t know what happened…”) and continued down the hill.  Shortly thereafter, the police got back into their car, approached me from behind and stopped next to me.  Oh boy… they asked me where I was going to – because it apparently seemed weird that someone was walking down the hill… or maybe it was unsafe?  I don’t know.  I told them I was heading to the next bus stop… they motioned for me to get in the car, and they drove me to the next stop – the zoo.  I looked at the schedule, and I decided that I had plenty of time before the bus came, I might as well just keep heading down the hill by foot – it’s nice enough out and I didn’t have any immediate plans, so off I went.  It wasn’t 5 minutes later that I was approached slowly from behind by a small red car.  I was heading around a curve at that point, and she stopped and drove just ahead of me around the curve deliberately trying to pace me.  When I approached the side of the car, I instinctively asked her “can I help you?” (in Hungarian) and she went on and on blah blah blah “city centrum” blah blah blah.  I told her I didn’t speak Hungarian but yes to the city center and I hopped in her car.  We made small talk the whole way back down to Pecs, and though I’m getting better at Hungarian, small talk with a total stranger after the cops and a blood bath is always a bit disconcerting.  All I could really do was giggle – in the last 10 minutes, I had been picked up by the cops and a total stranger, and it didn’t seem abnormal OR unsafe to me.  I arrived back in the middle of town and she dropped me off.  She refused any payment so we said quick good byes and off I went.  Conveniently she dropped me near a wine shop that was open, so I decided to head in.  This was one of the many wine regions of Hungary and I wanted to pick up a bottle.  Upon entering the store, I was greeted by no lights, and complete silence.  Then, as if it happened magically, the lights in the display cases on either side of the entrance turned on, and a woman magically appeared and invited me upstairs.  Crap, now I was committed to purchasing something… oh well. I told her that I like sweet white wine and she showed me a couple different options, with the prices in writing so I could compare.  I chose a reasonably priced bottle and was getting ready to pay.  She offered a box and pointed at the cardboard ones I was familiar with for transporting wine and I instinctively said “igen” and 900 Forint ($5.00) later I had a decorative wooden box for my wine.  Really?  REALLY?  Oh well – I was committed – so I paid up.  Hmph.  I really need to learn more Hungarian, or at least become more comfortable with saying no. 

 

Again, I was at a point where all I could do was giggle… it was one of those “It could only happen to me” days – and all I could do was laugh.  I decided at that point that it was absolutely necessary for me to get a hair cut.  I don’t know if it was the lack of doing my hair, or the rain on my hair or what, but I needed one asap.  I’m one of those people that once I decide I need a haircut – it needs to happen fast.  I’ve never been good at making appointments and sticking to them – it’s a commitment phobia I suppose.  So I went in search of a hair stylist, and I knew exactly where to go – the mall.  There had to be a hairstylist at the mall, and I was bound to run into someone who spoke English in a town as big as Pecs.  So I ventured to the mall, found a salon and asked if anyone spoke English there.  Melinda thankfully spoke a grand total of 6 words of English.  Perfect – sign me up.  She shampooed my hair and as she was doing so, she proceeded to speak to me in Hunglish about some gift she had.  I of course responded with “igen, igen” (yes, yes).  It’s my only reflex in a situation where I don’t know what’s going on – I respond with yes.  She finished shampooing, put a towel around my head and lead me to her chair.  I sat, with a wet head, a hair cutting cape on, towel wrapped around my head, fully committed to this hair cut when she presented a gift pack to me, and set it on the counter in front of me.  She continued to explain what the products in the pack did, and when I asked how much it cost, she replied with 12,000 Forint.  That translates to over $60.00.  Oh boy – now what?  If I say no, she’s going to go Edward Scissorhands on my ass and leave me with a horrible haircut.  On the other hand, I don’t have 12,000 Forint for some products that have no instructions in English, and no purpose in my life.  ARGH!.  I looked at her and in my best Hungarian, I managed to spit out, “not now…” implying that I might return later to buy it.  Thankfully Melinda didn’t take out any anger about my refusal of her gift on my hair, and she did an okay job. 

Journey to Pecs (pronounced paych)

The pictures are the table I sat at, the other - much more decorated tables- "Fraggle Rock" and my pants after I spilled on the train.  Jojj.

Megan and I traveled to Pecs this weekend to see the World Heritage sites and the 2010 Cultural Capital of Hungary.  We met up with Hanna and Alvin, but not until after I had already had several experiences that could ONLY happen to me. 

I took Friday off of school – I have been subbing a lot, and decided that I was due for a free day.  Also, it’s about a 5 hour journey to Pecs, so it made more sense to me to make Friday a travel day and enjoy the full day Saturday before returning on Sunday.  Of course the actual train journey to Pecs was not without adventure.  I shared a car with a nice (pimped out whore) lady who had a bright purple outfit on, and boots and jewelry to match.  I was alone for the last half hour, and I was watching intently out the window.  My mom says the best way to travel is by train so you can see the landscape – so I did that.  With about 5 minutes until we arrived to the Pecs station, I wanted a swig of Sprite to hydrate me for the journey to the hostel.  Little did I realize that I had jostled the Sprite quite a bit en-route, and when I opened it (I know you’re all picturing what happened next as you are reading) – it exploded onto my lap.  It wasn’t a small spill either, it literally exploded as if I had peed my pants after holding it for three days… you could ring it out – I swear.  So, now I was disembarking from the train with visible wet sticky spots on my pants into a new city.  Hooray.  I found the bus and headed out towards the center of town. 

When I finally found the hostel – and by hostel I mean sketchy converted apartment run by pot-smoking party animals- I dropped my things off and headed out to explore.  My first stop in a new city is always the “TourInform” (tourist site with maps etc.) and then either the McDonalds or the mall if there is one.  I waited for these two excursions until I had meandered around a bit – but of course I hit them up.  While I was wandering around – and Pecs is a nice place to wander- the weather couldn’t make up its mind.  It rained, then there was sun, then rain, etc.  At three different points in my wandering, I had a Hollywood level “bus driving by pedestrian spraying her with water” experience.  Great, now my pants were a combination of Sprite and street runoff.  Crap.  After my afternoon, I returned to the hostel, made small talk with one of the workers we affectionately called “Fraggle Rock” (as a result of his hair), changed and headed out for dinner.  I’m not one who is usually comfortable eating out by myself, but whatever.  I’m in a new city and I had read some nice things in the tour book about different places to eat – so off I went.  I decided on a cellar restaurant that had it’s own winery that was near by the hostel.  I got to the doorway of the place, and realized initially that there were several stairs that lead down to the eating area.  After all, it was in a cellar I suppose.  I descended into a virtually empty restaurant and asked one of the workers if they were open.  He said yes, and as he looked around at the tables that were decorated with cloth napkins, plates and silverware, wine glasses and candles- he sat me at a table directly in front of the entrance that had only a white table cloth on it.  No napkin, no silverware, no candle – just a white table cloth.  Hmph.  In addition to the barren settings, it literally was in the entrance to the restaurant, so everyone who came in noticed me initially, and two sets of people even asked me questions as if I were the host.  Hmph.  I had a fabulous meal of pork, turkey and beef strips with French fries and a salad, and white wine.  I thoroughly enjoyed the meal, though all I could do while there was giggle at my situation.  After my meal, I decided that I would give palinka (the national alcohol that they drink as frequently as possible) another try.  My students insisted that I would like it if I had the “good” kind- I had assured them I had tried many kinds (though all in the same sitting, so maybe that wasn’t my best plan).  I ordered a shot of raspberry palinka determined to be objective and decide once and for all if I like the liquor that Hungarians were so proud of.  I didn’t -  I really didn’t… but I gave it another try anyway.  After I had finished, it was still early and instead of returning to make small talk with fraggle rock, I decided to get a beer at an Irish pub on my way home. It was a typical Irish pub, but there wasn’t much action – UNTIL a band showed up (meaning two guitar players) to perform.  I thought that surely they would be singing Irish songs, and I was eager to compare their performance to that of my choir peers and their Irish band.  However, the first song that they played was “Layla” by Eric Clapton – followed by numerous other American soft rock songs  Interesting!  I decided to call it quits after two beers and no conversation from strangers.  I returned home to an empty hostel – except for fraggle rock – and wondered where my 5 roommates were.  At 3:48 am, I found out.  They had been out wine tasting and returned with all the oomph of a victorious football team after a big match.  Good thing I had earplugs, because that kept out about 1/18^th of the noise they were making.  Oh well, whatever – it’s hostel life right?

The Perfect (Hungarian) Storm

Monday morning was quite… Hungarian.  I showed up to school with about 10 minutes before my first class.  I stopped in the bathroom, grabbed my papers and was off to class… or so I thought.  I was stopped in the hallway by David and Gyula who had a “woman’s day” flower for me – a little orchid.  I chatted with them for a few minutes, and then was off to class – or so I thought.  I was stopped by Anna (a colleague) and she asked if I knew about the performance.  The what?  Of course I didn’t know about the performance… apparently all the 9^th and 10^th graders were to report to the gym and see a cultural performance.  Ok – so off I went to find the 9^th graders I was supposed to have class with. 

            We waited in the gym, all lined up in our chairs for “the performance” – I still wasn’t sure what we were seeing exactly, but 20 minutes later Muzikás showed up.  They are a well known group in Hungary for their folk type music.  They were very entertaining and used some instruments I had never seen before.  One of them used a pipe thing that he blew in at the same time as he sang.  It was quite an interesting sound.  Also, there was some sort of large violin – and the man played it by hitting the strings with a reed. 

            Besides the good music, the day was amazing because so many of my favorite Hungarian things came together as if it were the perfect storm.  First of all, there was no warning as to the change of plans… how Hungarian is that?  Then, there was the way that the gym is magically transformed into a theater – and by this I mean, all the students haul their chairs from the main building to the gym to be set up for the performance.  Then there was the ever present Hungarian nose-blowing whenever it needs to be blown, despite the quiet piece of soothing music being played by a visiting performing group.  SIDENOTE: I don’t know why Hungarians do it the way they do – but apparently it’s appropriate to blow your nose at any given point, wherever you are, when ever you feel it necessary.  That’s why they always have Kleenex with them – the latest thing is to have a pack of 100 tissues with you at all times.  Next, there were Hungarians wearing thick coats and staring at me because I didn’t have my coat with me.  How was it possible that I made it all the way to the gym without a coat?  I got stared at by Hungarians, but whatever.  Next, there was the clapping in unison.  Hungarians love to clap for things – especially when they can clap together as excited Hungarian people.  And lastly, you guessed it… the two boys in front of me busted out sandwiches in the middle of the performance because they just couldn’t make it that long without them… I loved every minute of it!

International Women's Day

I stole the first part of this blog from Jamie's site - she explains Women's Day, and I didn't know any of this information... You can find Jamie's site in my list of blogs to the right.  Her's is titled "From Normal to Hungary"

"Happy International Women's Day! Actually it is on the 8th, but that being Sunday, we celebrate today.  Women's Day started in 1909 by the Socialist Party of America and was a way to bring light to the politica, social, and economic achievements of women, as well as the challenges they faced. For example it came to commemorate the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire and promoted voting rights and decent working conditions, and was used as a platform for peace marches during wars, etc. The day dwindled in the '20s, but was revived by a wave of feminism in the '60s. A Soviet feminist eventually persuaded Lenin that the day should be a national holiday to mark the achievement, patriotism, and efforts of Soviet women. And as Soviet Russia went, so did the rest of the socialist world.  Although originally highly political, the day eventually lost this feeling and became a day for men to honor the women in their lives--giving flowers, small gifts, and cards--similar to Mother's Day. Some countries have attempted to ban the celebration of IWD due to its Socialist roots (Czech Republic) by introducing Mother's Day. Although this new day was embraced, celebrations of IWD still often occur on March 8."

The reason I'm writing about this is because I had some random flowers on my doorstep this morning.  I don't know who they are from, but what a concept... 

Heves

This weekend, I traveled to Heves.  It’s a small town of about 11,000 people just to the southeast of Budapest.  Unfortunately, it’s “easier” to get there by bus, so it was a bit of a chore to get there.  I get car sick very easily.  I didn’t used to, I think it’s my mom’s fault – because she gets car sick thinking about riding in a car.  I was not looking forward to a 2.5 hour bus ride, especially after our cross-continent trip to Italy the weekend before.  I had sadly used the last of my Dramamine then, but I was determined to make the trip anyway.  It wasn’t too bad, but it was a packed bus.  Heves is a cute town with lots of pride in it’s history.  Briggi took me to the town museum which had some neat sculptures, old folk art machinery, tools and relics found during archeological digs.  Interesting enough, they also had two American currency quarters – one shiny and new looking, and one from 1972.  There were some JFK half dollars along with the other currencies used in Hungary.  Kind of a funny find in this little museum.  We went out to a bar, named after a Hungarian liquor - Unicum- and played some rugged games of foosball.  I also met the first Hungarian (or any woman) to fall all over me... Edit.  She was nice, but extremely drunk which made things even more funny... The last picture is of the "market" in Heves.  We don't have anything like this in Tata- but I'm not sure that I'm totally missing out.  I purchased a hairdryer, with a diffuser (I learned later that a diffuser is for curly hair... so ultimately not necessary).  The hairdryer, despite it's shiny new "look" made it through 1/2 a hair drying.  Hmph.  Luckily the socks I bought with the "pre-Trianon" Hungary outline on them are bound to be a hit with the male teachers at BHS!  Not all was lost.

Lángos party!

  

On Saturday, we were joined by several other teachers from our program, and we headed to Briggi’s colleague Eta’s house to make the Hungarian Langos.  Langos has been described as an elephant ear with garlic, sour cream and cheese.  Eta is quite an interesting person – we met her at Margie’s birthday and she is now our bosom buddy.  She is the Hungarian contact for Rick Steeves, and leads the Eastern Europe tours that he offers.  She is also going to be starting the Russian tours to St. Petersburg for Rick Steeves.  She is an English and Russian teacher, and mother to many foreigners who have visited or lived with her family over the years.  She welcomed 7 Americans with open arms, and taught us the secrets to making our very own homemade Langos.  I volunteered to help by kneading the dough – which is apparently a 30 minute process.  I wasn’t doing it right initially, but by the end, I had some damn fine dough.  We spent the afternoon talking, telling stores, trying to score free Rick Steeves books (didn’t work mom, sorry) and enjoying the Hungarian hospitality.  

After eating our fresh Langos (I had three, which is going to cause a heart attack at any point now) we played a board game.  Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve played a board game?  A long time.  Unfortunately, its like riding a bike.  I reverted into my competitive cutthroat self and was determined to win.  The game we were playing is a Hungarian game called “Activity.”  You try to move around the board, and in doing so you have to either describe something using words, by drawing or by acting it out depending on what you landed on.  Unfortunately all the clues were in Hungarian, and referenced many things that we would not know, so we enlisted Eta to make our clues.  She dug into her many years of English teaching using idioms, songs, phrases and landmarks we’d be familiar with (as well has her 20 something daughter), and we had a great time.  Unfortunately, despite our best efforts, Frannie and I didn’t win.  I’m pretty sure that there was some prejudice against the clearly superior skills of our team, and we were dealt some tough clues.  Ok, not really, Lauren and Lyla got some pretty stiff ones, but we had fun anyway.  

Pictures of Venice

Venice

Two weekends ago, I traveled to Venice for the Carnivale celebration.  On paper, it was probably the worst weekend trip possible, but we did it anyway.  We traveled with another school (one of the teachers in my program teaches there) on their trip.  There were about 35 high school kids, 7 Americans, and 6 Hungarian teachers.  We left Hungary at 8:00 on Friday night, and traveled through the night by coach bus to Venice.  We arrived on the island of Venice at about 7:30 the next morning.  We were there until 8pm and then left on our bus to return to Hungary at 6:30am. 

The bathroom on the bus was not put into service, so every three hours or so, we stopped at a large TESCO or a truck stop and unloaded.  We were also traveling in tandem with another bus of Hungarians, so there were double the people at each stop.  We were excited to watch Casablanca in-route, however Heath Ledger had been dubbed over in Hungarian, and the English subtitles were in white writing on the actual scene, not on the black frame of the picture.  Needless to say, I gave up about a quarter of the way through.  Being a morning person, and overly excited for my first venture into Italy, I was up early and ready to go.  When we arrived on the island, there were hardly any people there (since it was quite early) and nothing was open quite yet.  The vendors were just bringing out their slew of masks to sell and the street cleaners were cleaning up confetti from an obviously cool party the night before.  Megan and I ventured off to get some coffee (and a Diet Coke) and to check things out.  Stores eventually opened slowly and more and more vendors displayed their wares for our perusal.  We wandered around the narrow alleyways of the town for a while, not exactly sure where we were going or what we were doing.  It was one of the few trips where I didn’t read about the city prior to going there – I figured we only had about 12 hours there, I’d find plenty to do right?  I was amazed by the buildings as we wandered, and admired the glassware in the windows.  We walked over narrow bridges criss-crossing the canals as we continued our wandering escapade.  I loved the buildings, the decorative window boxes, the fact that they really looked “Italian” – which I know sounds stupid, but when I think of Italy, this was EXACTLY what I had pictured. 

We purchased a ticket for the “water bus” and traveled the length of the grande canal.  I  was fascinated by the idea of water buses- I don’t know why since that is clearly the way that they get around, bit was funny to see the yellow and black bus-stops every so often, and to have our boat sail across the water weaving back and forth to each stop.  I know this is silly, but it didn’t occur to me until after our trip was over that there wasn’t a single car on the island.  Maybe there are some somewhere, but I didn’t see one.  Having said this, it definitely did not phase me at the time as I didn’t even think about it while we were there.  We got off the water bus near a market – which was essentially the same crap we’d seen on the waterfront, but whatever, we walked around and eventually made our way back in the direction of the main square.  We had a nice lunch of paninis and wine – it felt like the thing to eat since we were in Italy.  The menu was hand written in marker – as a “tourist” menu.  We basically just pointed and said “that’s what I want.”  The funny thing about where we ate lunch is that the place was filled with Hungarians.  The people at the table next to us, the couple of tables toward the back- everywhere we went we heard Hungarian.  It’s as if they are subtly trying to take over the world!!  Or – they just smarted up and realized that they have to get out of the country every once in a while. 

We wandered some more through the afternoon.  I went up to the upper level of the Basilica and took some pictures of the square and all the people who were now crowding into the small spaces.  At one point, Megan and I came across a concentrated force of people moving in one direction through one of the narrow alleyways.  I told her that there must be something cool in that direction, or people wouldn’t be pushing and shoving for their lives to get there – so we dove in.  It was similar to what I’d imagine a death march to be – you can’t control the speed, there are people on all sides of you- the only thing you can do is push forward and keep moving.  We did this for a good 5-10 minutes, and then pulled off.  We later deduced that the end of the road was the McDonald’s that was nearby as we ended up there later.  I was going on very few hours of sleep, and I’m not a coffee drinker, so I really was craving a fountain pop.  We made our way to the McDonald’s and realized that there were no less than 5000 people in there.  You might be thinking, there’s no way that there were 5000 people in there- but I SWEAR there were.  We pushed and shoved our way to the front (avoiding the British family that had 4 large grocery size bags of just beverages – not to mention their meals.  I was about ready to just reach in the bag and take one of their drinks I was so tired of the pushing and shoving.)  We finally got to the front, and I ordered a Cola Light.  She took my money and gave me change and then her colleague came and said – “no Light –just regular.”  Now, I don’t know how many of you have been near me when I’m that close to a Diet Coke that I’m craving, and something gets in the way of me reaching that Diet Coke.  It was not pretty.  I kind of laughed at first, because surely she was joking… In the mean time, she had moved on to ask Megan what she wanted, and since Megan was just my wingman, she did the natural thing and swooped down in a ducking fashion so as to not cause confusion – she at the time, thought that was the clear signal that she didn’t want anything, I don’t know if it was so clear.  No more than a minute later the original cashier returned and said “it’s not a problem” – quite possibly Europe’s favorite English phrase.  I got the Diet Coke and we left. 

After the death march and McDonald’s we decided it was time for a rest.  We were having a good time, but without sleep and a home base, 12 hours in one place is a long time.  We returned to the water front and hung our legs over a pier and sat for a while.  We were perfectly content sitting in the sun (which we hadn’t seen in quite a while) and relaxing alongside the water.  Eventually with 5 hours left, we returned to the streets of Venice.  We did some shopping (I got a mask- BHS colors, some earrings and a ring) and wandered a bit more.  We stopped in a cute place to have some dinner.  Most of the restaurants were offering a multi-course meal for 20 or 25 Euro, but we aren’t those big spenders.  We had some Italian sandwiches and more wine.  It was a bit crowded in there, so we invited a nice Austrian couple to join us.  They were adorable (probably late 60’s early 70’s) and spoke enough English that we were able to have an entertaining conversation over good wine and food.  Leo – the guy- paid for a glass of wine for both Megan and I, and was just the sweetest guy ever!  We still had two hours after dinner, so we made our way back to the main square and watched some performances that they had going on there.  Eventually it was time to return to the bus following our tour guide who looked mysteriously like John Mayer. 

Though I was only there for a short time, and honestly didn’t see much other than the stores and main areas of the island, I loved it.  There was a bit of magic and mystery to the number of people walking around in costumes.  They weren’t collecting money, they weren’t being intrusive – they just walked around the main areas adding to the feeling of Carnivale.  Admittedly, it was a bit creepy at times to see masked men and women, but it was all a part of the atmosphere.  They paused for pictures and let you have your picture taken with them, it was really a nice effect.  I don’t know that one needs more than a couple days in Venice – I’m sure some of the museums and churches are worth touring, but I really enjoyed the short time I had there.  Good company, good food, beautiful buildings, nice atmosphere.  One of the top 3 cities I’ve seen in Europe so far. 

Six months...

Remember these pictures?

I've been in Tata for six months now.  I can't believe it's been that long, but it was during my birthday weekend (August 30th) that we were orphaned from the group of teachers and moved into our own flats and cute little towns.  I honestly don't think I could have picked a better place to spend this year and a half, and I hope the next year is as much of a learning experience and as fun as the last six months have been.

A little less Hungarian...

So I’m the first to admit that cooking is not my forté.  I can do a mean spaghetti dish and some other select recipes that my mom has passed down.  However, since I’ve been here in a foreign country on my own, I’ve been forced to become more resourceful and creative.  I am trying to learn some Hungarian dishes, so I can replicate them when I get home – don’t hold your breath, it’s been a slow process.  BUT, when I was in Budapest a couple weeks ago, I found my first step in the right culinary direction.  It was a kit, put together with all of the “Hungarian” things you’d need to make gulyás.  Now – of course, no Hungarian would actually use this kit, but for those of us who need a little help in the kitchen, it seemed to be the answer to my prayers.  There was a recipe in English, paprika spice, a small pepper, gulyás paste and another spice pack.  As the Hungarian clerk was convincing me that I needed this kit, she also pointed out the special gift in the center of the pack.  There was, sure enough, a small bottle of palinka – paprika palinka to be exact.  She pointed at it and said, “this is a special Hungarian drink” I rolled my eyes, chortled and said “I’m very familiar with palinka.”  She then advised me that you are to drink the shot of palinka prior to beginning the recipe.  Interesting – shouldn’t I be serving it to the guests who will be eating the gulyás, just incase I screwed up the recipe?  At any rate, the question you are all waiting for an answer to, no I have not made the gulyás because the original reason I bought it was as a gift for a friend back home (Colleen) who loves to cook.  I thought she’d like to try some good ‘ole Hungarian dishes.  I told my students that I purchased this kit and they of course told me that I had just become a little less Hungarian.  Dang.  

Hot dog flavored cheetos...

For those of you who know me well, you know that I LOVE hot dogs.  I don’t know why, maybe because it was something we had a lot when we were kids, I’m not sure.  I love them in macaroni, footlong, corn dogs, dome dogs, mini corn dogs, in any fashion.  Yes, I’ve read Upton Sinclairs “The Jungle” and I know what they are made of.  It doesn’t matter.  I consider myself to be a bit of a hot dog connoisseur (not that that is something to really boast about…).  At any rate, I spotted hot dog flavored cheetos at the Spar the other day.  Hot dog flavored cheetos.  Who knows why they make such a thing, I certainly don’t.  But of course I had to give them a try right?  The best thing about these cheetos, is that they are in pieces – there are tubular brown shaped ones, and cream shaped ones that make kind of a bun for the brown pieces.  Yes, that’s right- you can assemble your hot dog flavored cheetos before eating them, and you bet I did.  I tried them separately, first the dog, then the bun; several dogs and then several buns; and then assembled.  No matter how I arranged them for eating, they tasted like crap.  BUT, at least now I know.  

More about sandwiches...

The other day, I had the perfect opportunity to capture a sandwich eater in action.  Gábor pulled his bag of sandwiches out after 1^st period.  Keep in mind, they’ve had sandwiches for breakfast (as every good Hungarian does) and it’s now 9:00.  He busted out his bag of 6 sandwiches.  SIX sandwiches.  Granted, he’s a teenage boy yadda yadda yadda, but he ate breakfast, will eat the 6 sandwiches, and then will go home to a large lunch and a dinner.  I made him hold up his bag so I could take a picture of his sandwiches to prove that this is what they come to school with DAILY.  I don’t know how this country doesn’t have more obese people since lard is a condiment and they eat so much.  It’s absolutely amazing to me.  The other picture threw me for a loop since it was obviously an abandoned sandwich.  WHAT?  It was “stored” in a plant on the landing of my apartment building.  I don’t know how someone was able to not take their sandwich with them, but it MUST have been an extreme emergency situation that caused them to leave a sandwich behind.  SIDENOTE: for the record, as I'm uploading these blogs, I am sitting in the McDonald's near the Keleti train station.  How Hungarian are these people sitting next to me?  They are at McDonalds and in conjunction with their meal, they each pull a sandwich out of their back packs to eat as well.  Can't ever stray too far!!!!!