Choir trip!!

Well – it was my big weekend “excursion” with the choir.  If I have learned anything in this country, it’s to abandon ALL expectations of ANYTHING – because no matter what the situation is, the Hungarians will blow your mind by doing something totally different.  I walked (a bit nervously) to the “big church” to meet the group.  I realized that on my way there, I had forgotten my swimsuit – I really forgot it, I didn’t not pack it on purpose mom – I forgot it.  I had my towel and other “water park” necessities – and I was a little disappointed, but I was too close to the time I had to be at the church to go back.  Keep in mind that I had never been to the church by foot in a direct route – I just kept walking and looking for the big steeples.  As I rolled into the church parking lot, I realized that this was a serious trip – there were spouses, families, friends – the whole works… all for our trip to Papa.  Tibor (the cutest old man in my choir) arrived with his wife, and he came up to greet me – he went in for the double cheek kiss – and I BLEW IT!  It was my first adult cheek kissing – and I screwed it up.  Apparently there is a certain side that you kiss first – and of course I went the other way, so I almost kissed him on the mouth.  ARGH.  This was just the beginning of the weekend to prove how “non-hungarian” I really am.  Man.  We said a prayer (apparently it’s a church choir – I didn’t know that) and introduced the new people – several of whom are actually in the choir.  Who knew?  We divided into the cars – and off we went.  Thankfully Freddie did not have his motorcycle… so he, Joszi, Edit (Joszi’s wife) and I piled into the little Ford.  I was in the front seat (thank goodness – or motion sickness would have been a for sure) and we drove the 1.5 hours to Papa.  It was a little funny since we were a 11 car caravan rolling across the countryside- all in the name of the choir.  J

 

The conversation in the car was not as bad as I thought it would be.  Apparently people in the choir are a bit more fluent than they let on.  Joszi had studied in New Zealand and told us some funny stories about his time there.  Freddie – who is German and speaks fluent Hungarian, semi-fluent English and German – kept mixing up his languages as he was speaking.  He would ask me something in Hungarian, and then forget and say “argh – English” and ask again.  It was really quite funny since here I was tagging along with so many people who had studied different languages.  It was really quite embarrassing, but nice that they were able to communicate better than I had anticipated.  We talked about Germany, and how there is a really beautiful castle that (according to Joszi) looks like “Mickey Mouse’s house.”  His translations are SO funny – not intentionally, but it really is endearing that he tries so hard.  Keep in mind that his wife is in the back not communicating at all, and here level of hatred for me is probably increasing with every second that Joszi talks to me.   I told them about my palinka experience – and Joszi’s response was “I can see that you are strong, but palinka is stronger than you…” 

more later I have to go teach... stupid job getting in the way of blogging...

Irish Band - Friday night

Friday night was fairly uneventful, but a little stressful none-the-less.  I set out to see the Irish band at a Cocsma (pronounced coach-ma) near my flat.  Luckily it wasn’t too far, because Tata seems to save some of it’s city budget by not lighting much on the side streets – and with lots of cats and dogs roaming around, there are a lot of “startling” things happening as you walk in the dark.  So I got a take on this Cocsma from some colleagues, because as I said earlier, I was told that cocsma’s are not for women.  This one, however, is a restaurant as well.  In fact, Tata is SO exciting – it has this special bar – and when translated, the name of the bar is “pirate ship.”  Yes, Tata has it’s very own pirate ship bar.  It’s totally cheesy, but whatever.  Having had the experience of the last time I watched the Irish bar, I showed up a little bit later than they told me the performance started.  However, this was a mistake, because by the time I got there (only about 15 minutes late) people had already staked out their seats and were settled in much better places for viewing than I got.  I bellied up at the bar- and surveyed the situation.  Elisabeth (the part time controversial teacher from my department) was there with her husband, but thankfully they were seated at a two person table and it would have been a fire hazard for me to sit with them.  Also, Joszi’s wife was there, but she speaks no English, and I don’t think she likes me very much – so I just stayed with my choice at the bar.  I happened to be standing next to two men who were speaking English, but they were conversing with a Hungarian woman.  I chickened out and missed the opportunity to speak to quite possibly the only other native English speakers in Tata, but it was okay.  Sometimes it’s nice to just be anonymous for a while.  I ordered a beer, and after asking for the menu in Hungarian, I ordered some sort of appetizer with grilled tomatoes, fresh tomatoes and ewe’s cheese.  It was pretty good, but very fancy and probably a little more money than I wanted to spend.  Oh well.  Then, things turned a bit awkward… It was a break for the group, and it seemed that many sets of eyes were on me.  I felt awkward so I called Megan so it looked like I had some friends, and something to do.  How many times can you look at a cocktail menu?  Sidenote: when I was looking at the cocktail menu – I saw something I had never seen before.  There was a “Sex on the Beach” drink, and on the next page, a “Safe Sex on the Beach” the virgin version of the sex on the beach.  How funny is that?!  Anyhow, I pretended to have very important people to text and call while they were on break, and made it through- but for some reason I felt really uncomfortable. I am not close enough with any of the band members to join their tables, of friends and family – so once they were done I left.  In the pictures you can see the "layout" of the pirate bar.  Quite amusing!!

ugh...

So - I just sat in near silence for the last 20 minutes.  Someone rang my doorbell - so I immediately thought, CRAP someone saw the cat and I can't have cats in the apartment... next thought- damn, it's someone who will make me pay them for no apparent reason again - it's 6pm on a Friday night, no one is actually working right now.  I kept the cat quiet and sat in silence... the bell ringing continued - almost in a timed sequence- I watched the clock, every minute the bell rang... wait, every minute?  What's going on.  Why hasn't this person given up yet?  Clearly (aside from my light on) I'm not home and/or not answering the door... who could it be?  One of my students?  A stranger?  Who let a stranger in the building - didn't we learn from letting strangers in?  Geeze... waiting... listening - I can't hear anyone shuffling outside my door...  Every minute?  This is weird... wait.  I hear the noise- and it might not be coming from the door area... (I walk into my bedroom).  Sheesh.  I had my cell phone on vibrate on the desk, and I had received a text message.  It vibrates to alert me (every minute) when I have gotten a message... no one at the door, just my phone.  Stupid Carla. 

Trauma in Tata

Today was a day full of craziness – the candies, the Cupid Shuffle, being Googled… but it was all capped off by a trauma suffered this afternoon.  I was outside on my balcony talking to my parents via video chat.  I was trying to let them hear the propane man’s song – the one that sounds like the ice cream man but it’s definitely not ice cream – and I left the door open from the apartment to the balcony.  Now, sometimes Boo (I haven’t really given her a name so I just call her Boo) gets running so fast that she can’t stop and she slides around on the floor.  Today happened to be one of those days – BUT – as I was talking to my parents on the computer outside, she came tearing out of the apartment and sailed right over the edge of the balcony – to the ground three stories below.  Luckily there is a tended garden there, so the dirt is a little softer, but I saw her land and it wasn’t pretty.  I hung up on my parents because she had gone over board and I ran downstairs to try and find her.  She was cowering below a tomato plant – I had to go over the fence – into the land lady’s garden (she hates me already anyways) and peel Boo out from under the tomato plant.  Keep in mind that I don’t even know if you can have cats in this apartment, and I was afraid that someone would have spotted a flying cat… yikes.  She was a bit dirty, and shaking a bit when I picked her up, but I got her back upstairs safely and she’s been sleeping since.  She got up and played for about 10 minutes, but she has become more calm since the incident.  I know I’m not always that fun, but a suicide attempt day three?  Seriously.  I have included pictures of the three inch space she went through, and the view to the ground from my balcony.  Poor thing… the last picture is of her sleeping, post trauma.  She isn't dead in the pic.

Christmas in September!

I got not only a letter today, but also a FABULOUS package.  Any teacher in Hungary (who has taught in other places) would kill for this package, well, at least I would have.  How lucky that I have parents willing to pay so much to ship me note cards.  You can’t find a note card ANYWHERE in this country – now I have enough to last me for the remainder of my trip.  Also, there are manila folders (a whole box of them- 100!!!)– the folders here are weak and don’t hold anything – markers from my stash from school (a little piece of home) and some cleaning cloths for my computer.  A teachers wonderland – thanks mom and dad!!!  The funny part of this is that the 11^th graders are learning about families, and one of the teachers, Edit, told me that they were discussing the 4 different types of fathers.  I’m not sure what the different types are, but uninvolved was one – and then she said “obviously your dad is the generous type” I agree – as is my mom J  Thanks guys!  I'm pretty sure the secretary here thinks I'm a celebrity as I've received lots of fun mail from home - thanks John and Hanan!

Last night I went running with Nori (on the left) and Dori (right) again.  They are the most adorable students ever.  They REALLY want to practice their English, so what better way to do it than on a run?  I actually got them to go twice around the small lake too – We spent time talking about the classes they are taking, their pets, boys they think are cute and other very “teenage” things.  They also wanted to Google me, because one of their friends found my facebook page by “writing to Google about me” and they were excited to see pictures of Kalocsa.  They came up to my apartment afterwards to see the cat – and they loved her.  Maybe one of them can take her when I leave for a vacation… here’s hoping!  

I sometimes forget that I'm good at what I do...

I got a nice letter from my parents today – they sent an article about Budapest hotels and about my friend Kraig.  It was just a nice way to start the day, knowing that someone at home is thinking about me.  I had some good lessons today, my Friday am students are really nice.  I taught my 9A students the different parts of a song and then we did the Cupid Shuffle (special thanks to Laura for the idea – they loved it!) it was a good time because I have some kids who really like to dance.  My first afternoon class is the 10^th graders that I walked out on last week.  I was not thrilled that I was going to their class, but I perked up and went for it.  Upon my arrival to class, they presented me with a box of chocolates and said “they would really like to work with me” and that “they were sorry.”  VICTORY!  Ok- so not really a victory, but my idea worked.  They worked much better today and seemed generally excited to have me back- break them down to bring them up?  I found out in my other class of 9^th graders that they had “written to Google about me” (direct quote) and found my blog, the ratemyteacher.com page, my Facebook site and my collegiate running times.  It’s amazing the things one can find on Google.  SO- they are all fired up to go and Google me tonight (supposedly) so we’ll see what they think of my internet information.  I also had a girl, Vanezssa, approach me and tell me that she had a good idea.  This is really funny because she rarely speaks English in class, but she was VERY excited to tell me this idea.  She thought it would be fun to wait until the sun goes down, and the moon comes up, near Halloween and use lanterns to tell stories.  I got the jist of what she was saying, but it was funny to hear her try to describe it.  The best part was when she said that I should tell their lead teacher, Gabi, the idea but I was to tell Gabi it was my idea because it's not Vanezssa's "job" to tell Gabi those things.  It was hilarious.  Unfortunately, we are not in school on Halloween, so who knows... maybe I'll have to tell Gabi that I have a really good idea...

Note to self...

So I have learned (several times over) that official people – airport officials, immigration officials, those trying to establish a bank account for you – don’t really appreciate the “decorative” stamps in my passport.  When I was in Japan, we visited some castles and temples that had souvenir “passport stamps”.  Well, of course I stamped them in my real passport, and every single official I have come across has looked at them (yeah, there is more than one) and looked at me, and looked at them – rolled their eyes and kept going.  Today at the bank was no different.  Mirtill took me to the bank during the second period today.  I didn’t have class, so we were going to stop by the bank.  I should know that every time Mirtill takes off her jacket, we’re going to be there a while.  She did it at immigration, and she did it at the bank.  I didn’t think it could take that long seeing as we had all the paper work, I had my passport and Mirtill is a native speaker. SO- what could really take so long right?  Wrong again.  It took almost an hour – with computer problems, paperwork, photo copies – etc.  In the time we were there, I received another text message from my Hungarian boyfriend in Kalocsa.  Apparently he thought he heard my voice on the radio this morning.  Nem Sily – Nem. 

While we were waiting at the bank, I told Mirtill about our experience with palinka last weekend.  She looked at me and said, “how did we go from me recommending honey palinka – and you talking about a beer with a sprite – to several shots of the two strongest kinds of palinka?  Are you some kind of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”  She was joking but she was shocked that we had consumed the two strongest types of palinka. Oh well.

The other funny thing is that I figured out why every car here has a cardboard clock in it.  They are about 5 inches by 6 inches, and are usually used to help young children tell time- but not in Tata!  Parking is free for two hours.  SO – when you park, you take out your little blue clock, set it to the time that it is currently, and leave it on your dashboard.  Seriously?

There was also some political hype at school today – the “conservatives” (non-attenders of the beginning of the year party) were all hyped up, and the “liberals” then talked about all of them when they were gone.  I don’t know what they were talking about, but it was evident that things are heating up in our office…. There is a mystery list hanging up on the corkboard in our office, and my name is on the list, but I’m not real sure what it is about.  I haven’t asked yet, and they probably won’t tell me unless I ask… so I’ll let it roll for a while and see what happens.

The last funny thing from today – I was walking by the castle to get to the Sparr for some groceries and I ran into a group of about 20 English speaking kids.  They are 12 years old, and they are on an exchange program from Cincinnati Ohio.  What are 12 year olds doing here?  Staying with Hungarian 12 year old girls of course.  THEN – one of the 12 year old Hungarian kids lit up a cigarette – so I said to the American kids – if you start smoking here you’ll die –don’t do it.  I think I scared the crap out of them, but whatever.  

New member of the house

Well – She’s finally here!  I have a new cat.  I have been telling my students for two weeks that I would like to have a cat.  I know, what a hassle living in another country –and who knows all the things that could possibly go wrong… and what about when I travel?  No worries – it’s all taken care of.  So, there have been at least 5 students who have said that they have kittens that they know about that they would like to get rid of.  The only problem there is that (I think I have explained this before) but the animal population is almost communal.  People put out food, and certain animals have certain home bases, and they get their food there – and sleep in that yard.  But in the day, they wander and do who knows what in the city.  Well, I didn’t really want a (somewhat) wild cat to then take into my apartment.  So one of my students told me today that there were some kittens at the local animal hospital.  At my Hungarian lesson today, I asked my teacher if she knew where the animal hospital was in town, and she asked why I needed it.  I told her I was looking into getting a cat, and surprise – her grandparents had a kitten they would like to get rid of.  Ok, I don’t want your grandparents cat either – I told her I had already promised to look at the ones at the hospital, and I’d let her know on Monday if I still was looking for one.  Well – I translated Animal Hospital on the computer, and found the street on the map and set off.  Of course, about 5 minutes into my journey it started pouring rain out.  I went to what was the animal pharmacy, not the hospital – but they pointed me in the right direction.  I got to the right place, and walked in.  Then realizing that I hadn’t brought my dictionary, I froze a bit and said “Kerek egy ‘cat’”  Nice Hunglish Carla – I would like a “cat”  Nice.  She said something to me in Hungarian and I nodded – because you know that something always happens after you nod.  If you just stare at them blankly, they keep saying the same thing over and over – but if you nod, you move on to the next step in the social process.  She got up and left, and came back with two kittens, one in each hand.  I held one, and that was it – I chose her.  Mostly because the other one was making a lot of noise, but simply because she was already in my hand.  I signed some paperwork (not sure what it says) and signed on the dotted line.  I asked how much she costs – and the response I got was “ninche” nothing – there are so many cats here, they are giving them away.  So, it was still raining outside, and I asked for a box – she again said “ninche” – no box.  Hmph.  So, I shoved the cat in my vest, and walked home.  She has spent the night tearing around the apartment, then napping, then tearing around, then napping – I only hope that I can get through the night without being too disturbed by her tearing around.  I was pleased to get her from the animal hospital, and not from some random street.  

I don’t have a name for her yet – any thoughts?

Choir practice #3

Choir practice #3 proved to be a stressful one.  We are singing at mass (I think two masses) this coming Sunday in Papa (Megan’s town).  This is my big debut in the choir- so I am working hard to really get the songs, but like I have said it’s not easy reading my part, and the words and the beats – and on top of it, Kata sprung at least 5 new songs on us last night.  I swear – she’s trying to kill me.  At one point, I just stopped and said “Kata, are you kidding me?”  I don’t think a translation was necessary. 

We were at Lotzi’s house yesterday.  His wife is an artist, in fashion and in paint I think.  His home has two parts, the front part is an art gallery/botique (with an indoor pool) and the other part is the home.  It was quite eclectic with lots of different kinds of art and sculpture – it’s the first time I have actually seen one of those large asian vases in anyone’s home.  Of course good food was to follow – I tried blood sausage for the first time, and something that resembled Hungarian SPAM – but the best part of practice was the fact that before we started singing – palinka was served.  Nem Koszonom – “no thank you” was my response.  I think there is still some paprika palinka in my blood from Kalocsa.  Yeesh.

The choir is getting more friendly – which is good since we are spending the weekend together… I can’t wait to see what plays out there.  I’m going to drag Megan along to as much of the weekend as possible – so I won’t have to sit in my own silence pretending I know what’s going on.  At times, it can be quite exhausting trying to follow conversations (and Hungarians are “over-talkers” they talk over one another with raised voices and somehow people always know what is going on – even if 5 people are speaking!).  I am always alert, trying to hear words that I understand, and trying to pay attention if anyone is attempting to talk to me – it’s quite exhausting really.  I wouldn’t have it any other way though.  I am truly getting to know the depths of some Hungarian people.  I visit their homes, meet their families and share traditional meals with them (minus the palinka).  Maybe by the spring, I’ll have the courage (and the money? I haven’t been paid since June – so send any funds you want to J) to host.  I have cramped quarters, and no indoor pool – but I can buy wine like the rest of them.  As for the blood sausage, that might be a different story- maybe I could serve White Castle hamburgers or something…

Hungarian "Lessons"

Well, I have begun official training – I suppose – in the Hungarian language.  I have learned quite a bit through the orientation that we did, and by experience- but it’s certainly not enough to get me anywhere.   So one of my colleagues operates a language school – and his colleague is going to teach me Hungarian.  She has never taught Hungarian before, but she teaches English and she IS Hungarian, so I can’t go wrong right?  Well – she doesn’t have materials, because she has never taught it before – but who knows.   Anything has to help?  I go twice a week – and for my homework, I’m conjugating verbs.  I have (unofficially) studied 6 languages, and I have never begun the second lesson with verb conjugation – but whatever – when in Rome right?  On a lighter note, maybe now I'll be able to translate the hand written note that was left in my mailbox by a neighbor- I'm pretty sure it says something to the effect of "please don't do your laundry so late at night" but I'll have to work on my Hungarian before I can get both paragraphs down... yikes.

Kalocsa Pics

Paprika Festival - Kalocsa

Oh…… Kalocsa.  Saturday we traveled to Kalocsa – Friday night Megan and Lisa (new teacher in Megan’s town) came to Tata, and we went by bus to Budapest (1.5 hours) and from Budapest to Kalocsa (3 hours by bus).  We met up with Hanna and Eliza in Budapest – and as we boarded the bus, we realized that there were NO seats left.  Wait, how long is our trip?  Yup – three hours.  Ick.  So, the 5 of us jammed into the stair well, Hanna and Eliza down below, Megan, Lisa and I hovering from above.  It was not the most comfortable way to travel, but we really had no choice.  We stood for an hour, and then people eventually started getting off.  There was an entire aisle of people standing, so we weren’t the only ones.  At any rate, once we were allowed to sit, it wasn’t that bad.

We arrived in Kalocsa in one piece and ready to party.  We went there for two reasons 1.) to visit Franny one of our other American teachers, and 2.) for the Paprika festival.  Megan and I checked into Hotel Kalocsa (not as nice as the one in Gyor, but whatever) and met the group at the festival.  Kalocsa is a cute town, probably about the same size as Tata.  Everything was closed down because the emphasis was on the festival.  Once we arrived at the actual festival, things got a bit crazy.  You purchased your ticket, which  got you a plastic bowl and 4 pieces of bread – and you sought out the paprika gulyash you that you wanted.  It was a bit difficult because we didn’t know the difference between all the gulyash dishes, but luckily we met up with someone who knew Franny and he helped decipher the dishes.  It was almost as if it was a contest – everyone setting up their family or group tent to cook their gulyash.  In addition to helping us choose our paprika, Mate also gave us our first shot of palinka.  You can’t have a Hungarian festival without palinka – and we were thrilled to christen our trip to Kalocsa.  We returned to our table with a potato pancake and some gulyash and were ready to go.  After the gulyash, we decided to go check out the other tents to see what else was going on.  We wandered through the different parts of the festival – and this is where things went from bad to worse… I was on a mission to see how much free palinka we could get – and unfortunately I was very successful.  I approached two or three different gulyash stands and scored palinka at each of them – for no charge.  One of these stands was where we met Sily and his friends – where we sealed our fate with paprika flavored palinka.  Yeah- pepper flavored alcohol.  Sily began to talk to us – mostly Eliza since she was the most fluent of us – I just made stupid phrases and signs to him.  After way too long (and way too much palinka) we left and headed back to Franny’s (not before giving Sily – pronounced like Sealy posturepedic beds- my phone number).  We went back to Franny’s for a short while and then headed out to dinner.  There is a really nice Italian place near her house, so that seemed perfect.  Vincenso, the owner, was more than thrilled to have us there.  After we ordered, I decided (in a palinka inspired stupor) that my help was an asset in the kitchen.  So I found an apron hanging near the kitchen door, put it on and asked if I could help (in broken Hungarian of course).  Next thing I know, I’m shredding cheese, stirring pesto, deep frying potatoes and cooking chicken in frying pans.  As I’m “helping” Istvan (the assistant cook) make dinner, Vincenso brings in a bottle of wine and two glasses – just what I needed… I took my role in the kitchen very seriously – particularly when preparing dishes that were for other patrons – not my group of friends.  I don’t know why I was inspired to start cooking with Istvan and Vincenso- but I had a blast… and the rest?  Is a blur… I am not a huge drinker - especially when it comes to hard liquor - or REALLY hard liquor like Palinka, but for some reason I was on a mission to get free palinka.  It was not a good choice, and I don't advocate it to anyone... and I have 14 reasons why that is the case... Sily sent me 14 text messages that night - in a time spanning from about 6:30 - 12:30am - all in Hungarian.  I have no idea what they say - I had a couple of them translated by a colleague - but she was getting uncomfortable so I stopped.  He hasn't called me since, but whoa - calm down Sily....  Nothing says I love you like an indecipherable text message...

10th graders are the same world wide...

Perhaps it was the fact that I was up early on Friday morning traveling back from Budapest – or maybe it was just that it was Friday – I’m not sure.  But I had my first discipline “issue” today.  Have no fear, I certainly did not come out on the losing end, but it’s the first time I have had to do anything other than “shh” while here.  I had one class of 10^th graders (I swear – they are satan’s spawn) who refused to do anything.  We were talking about English and how it’s a dominant language, and about the recent LPGA decision to require English to participate in the tournaments.  So I had some articles for them to read.  They were to find the thesis and two supporting thoughts.  Not real hard (if you’re one of my AP kids – you are rolling your eyes at how ridiculously east this request is).  So – we got to the point when I was asking them for the thesis of their articles, and no one could (would?) tell me.  I waited and waited and waited – so I re-phrased the question… and then I re-phrased again.  Still nothing.  So then I entered bitch mode (which is NEVER a good thing) and I said – I’m sorry, I thought this was a dual language class.  You are here because you want to learn English right?  One student responded – “well it’s kind of hard” to which my response was “good”  you’re not here because English is easy.  I’m here to help you become better at it, but I can’t if you aren’t saying anything… so maybe next week I’ll just find a different teacher for this class and I’ll work with a group that wants to actually learn some English.  OK?  They didn’t say anything – so I left.  Now, in the states, I could be in HUGE trouble for that.  The students are in my care for the entire period they are in my room- and though there were only about 7 minutes left, I didn’t go far- in case they decided to go crazy.  In any case, their lead English teacher came in immediately after the end of that period and said that they are pleading to continue working with me.  I am not sure what the teacher before me did, but he had these students 4 times a week – and they don’t seem to be inclined to work for the American teacher, so we’ll have to see what happens this week.  Now they know that I don’t mess around, and if they want success – they’ll work.  Incidentally, I have the second half of that same group the period after – and they made it through the articles, discussion and such just fine.  Stupid 10^th graders.  Ugh.

Barack Obama Music Fest

So Thursday after school, I decided I was going to travel back into Budapest to attend a “Barack Obama Music Festival.”  I wasn’t sure what this would entail, but I figured that there would at the very least, be some other ex-pats that I would be able to meet.  I left right after school – my 9^th graders assured me that I could make a 2:22 train – when school lets out at 1:45.  I wasn’t sure that I believed this, so one of my students offered to take me to the bus station and make sure that I got on a bus to the train station.  We waited (impatiently) for a bus to come, and then as we packed on, I noticed that it was 2:12.  So I was getting a little restless because if I missed this train, I had over an hour to wait, and I’d have to go back home, and then back to the train station.  Luckily I had nailed the trains (yeah right) and I breezed through the ticket line and onto the track with more than a minute to spare.  Panting breathlessly, I boarded the 1 hour train ride to Budapest.  When I arrived, I was going to meet Hanna, but I had some time to kill, so I went in search of Tree Hugger Dan’s bookstore.  There are a couple throughout Budapest, and one in Vienna I guess, but there are all kinds of English books there, and internet and fair trade coffee- the whole thing is very granola.  BUT, I had read about Tree Hugger Dan when I was in the states, so I thought I’d check one of them out.  I wasn’t that impressed when I got there, it was smaller than I had thought, but there was a wealth of books in English – which is hard to come by here.  So, I checked things out, and then headed to meet Hanna.  We had a drink (and I had a “hot dog”) at a nice little place and we met Jake and Ellen for our big night out.  Once we arrived at the spot, we ran into Lyla, Lauren and Ashley (who had some of her students there…?)  As it turned out, there were several other Americans there, and some random Hungarians, but it was a nice night.  There were “barack’s” (barack in Hungarian = nectarines, peaches or apricots depending on who you talk to) on the tables (see the pics) and some nice Obama posters and such at the place.  Probably the most exciting part was the fact that I turned around at one point - and there was Tree Hugger Dan!!!  Of course I told him that I had just been at his store - and he was thrilled, but it was quite a (non)celebrity sighting for me.  It was a nice evening- worth the trip.  UNTIL… 5 o’clock the next morning.  Jake and Ellen let me stay at their FABULOUS place – (it’s really beautiful, but some parts are extremely scary- the stair well and the bat cave).  I woke up bright and early to catch a 5:40 train back to Tata to make it home in time for my 8:00 class.   As I was walking to the train station, I was able to witness the evening crowd coming home from a long night of drinking – and I witnessed my first European streaker.  They’re the same as they are in the states – annoying and inappropriate – but needless to say, it woke me up.  I made it to my train (at a new station – it was a little stressful to seek out a new train at a new station at 5:00 in the morning) and made it back into Tata by 6:45.  I ran into a student at the Tata train station, and though she knows very little English, she helped me get to school on the bus – and made sure I got off at the right stop.  We walked together to school, not really saying much, but she pointed when we needed to turn and things like that.  She was very concerned that I get there safely, even with the language barrier present.  The people here are so nice – I am very lucky to be here! 

In the pictures - Tree Hugger Dan is the one in red with the ponytail - I took a picture of Hanna to show him in the background...

Irish Music - check the video!

The Irish band

Well, I've said it once, I'll say it again.  Everything is an adventure.  I decided that I would go check out the "Irish" band that my fellow choir mates are in.  They were playing at the Border house - or so I thought.  I asked around at school, and apparently they said it was called the Bordeaux house - because of the color of it - but in Hungary, it's actually the BorDo house.  So - whatever.  I walk by this building every day, and I didn't know it was a place that held performances- it's very unassuming.  Anyhow, I was told that the performance started at 6... so I didn't want to walk in late and awkward, so I arrived just a few minutes before 6.  However, there weren't any people going into the place I thought was the "Border" house.  And, I heard no music.  So I went across the street and sat on a bench and watched... and waited... and watched.  When a guy with instruments walked in through the front green gate, I decided this must be the place - but why no other people?  Who knows.  It doesn't matter.  I waited a few minutes and then followed him through the door - which led to an open courtyard.  Shoot.  Now what?  I waited some more, and finally I heard the tuning of instruments- so I went in.  Upon entering, I saw the band members and two wives.  Oh boy.  What have I gotten myself into here.  Seriously.  So I was introduced to the band members, and took a seat.  There were lots of open seats, were there more people coming?  I just had to giggle to myself.  What was happening????  As per Hungarian standards, the performance actually began at 6:45.  To the credit of the band though, they were scheuled to start at 6:30 - I don't know why he told me 6... but whatever.  I'm a groupie I guess.  They started with an introduction in Hungarian and apparently at some point, asked how many people in the audience (yes, other people showed up) would understand the English music.  They all looked at me and told me to raise my hand - but let's think this through - they asked me in HUNGARIAN if I would understand the ENGLISH words of the songs.  Had they asked me in English, of course I would have raised my hand... any way - thinking about the whole thing just makes me laugh.  

So they started singing, and they are actually quite talented.  There is a feisty younger girl who can play the violin really well - and she brought a lot of energy to the group.  The funny thing was listening to the words of their songs, because bless their hearts - "SVeet Molly Malone" is not a song I was familiar with prior to this experience :)

Hopefully I can post some video of them performing.

Choir - day 2

Well, it was either the wine, or I was less scary today, because people actually spoke in English to me today at Choir.  Now that I think about it, it was probably the wine.  I'm telling you - if you want to eat drink and be merry - join a choir.  These people are hilarious.  We were all in the same boat tonight as we received some "new" songs - keep in mind that ALL of these songs are new to me, but it felt good starting from the beginning with some of the veterans.  Thank goodness for Terry Voss and my sight reading expertise, because I'd be screwed without it.  Not only am I singing in Hungarian, but I'm singing parts I've never seen before, being instructed in Hungarian.  THEN - they switch to Latin - I should have picked up on it, seeing that our first "concert" is in just over a week - at church, but of course - I pronounce the latin "s" as an "sh" as they do in Hungarian, and I'm frowned at.  Oh well - shove it Tibor, I'm learning.  I was asked tonight if I am single, how old I am, if I want a Hungarian boyfriend, if I want to come to the Irish band performance tomorrow night (of course I do) even though it's at a "private house" - who knows- but all in all, people were more English centered today.  I even had an English cameo - I was chosen (as if there are many to choose from) to speak the English version of a song as they hum in the background.  As we are an international culture, my Russian and German peers also spoke the verse in their mother tongue... so it wasn't all about me.  Anyhow, I am feeling much more confident about our "Excursion" to Papa, where a trip to the water park is included in our fee - (really?  the waterpark?) - but I am really excited!  

Langos!

Well, I have had my first Langos here in Hungary.  We ate one in Gyor (because that's what you do here is eat many various types of bread).  A langos is essentially an elephant ear - fried dough... and I saw a sign for it, so off we went.  We weren't exactly sure what the toppings were on it, and Megan even tried to look them up in her travel dictionary - but we still were not sure.  At any rate, we ordered and watched as she fried the dough fresh in front of our faces.  It was lovely.  We each got one and were getting ready to enjoy them - until I heard some people speaking French - and I (for no apparent reason) turned and stated confidently "Je parle Francais!" when really, I don't speak French - I understand French.  I can comprehend many things being said, but when it comes to spitting something out verbally in French, I struggle.  I could also sing about any famous Christmas Carol in French - but sadly, the man in front of me was not singing Christmas Carols.  He was responding to me in French, asking a question... and I froze.  I responded that I had studied French in school for four years - (in French) but that was many years ago (in English).  Yikes.  I should quit while I am ahead - well... that would imply that I was actually ahead at some point.

Defeat...and VICTORY... and defeat...

Saturday morning came quickly, but I was ready to get up and head to Gyor (insert umlaut over the o- pronounced “duhyr”) with Megan.  We were meeting in the town that was equidistant from both of us.  It’s an old town that used to be a point of defense for the Hungarians – it rests on the junction of three rivers, only an hour and a half from Vienna.  It is an absolutely beautiful town, with LOTS of Hungarian history.  BUT, before I even got there, my adventure had begun. 

 

I started the morning with a new air of confidence, I had received a successful haircut, I had internet at my apartment, life was good.  I stood outside at the bus stop, waiting for the number 1 to take me to the train station.  So I waited… and the first bus approached and it said “Tata-Baj” – there was no number.  What number was this bus?  I only know NUMBERS!  I don’t know destinations other than Tatabanya – ARGH!  Ok, relax Carla, maybe it’s the next bus.  Yes – here it comes, what number is it…. I can’t see a number “Tata-Foroch”  WHAT?  How the hell do I know where these places are?  Are these number 1 buses or not? It’s time for the number 1 bus, where is it?  Oh –here comes a third bus… is it…. Is it…. YESSSSSSSSSSS  - it’s a number 1.  Sheesh.  Just when I think I’ve mastered the buses of Tata, they mess with me again and switch everything to town names on Saturday mornings.  SHEESH.  Off I went to the train station.  I ordered my ticket with confidence, located the track number, and was off to wait for my train.  As I walked over to the track and looked back at the station – and there was a flatbed train that was lined with tanks.  There were 18 tanks and some trucks on this train.  Were the Russians rolling in?  What was happening?  Well, I felt a little more secure since they were in fact in Tata – ready to protect me right?  As I was waiting, I noticed a student and his family waiting for the train as well.  It was one of those awkward times where we both know we know each other, but he avoided me like the plague.  Oh well – you can’t win them all.

 

I was headed to Gyor, about an hour from Tata.  When we got close, we came to the Gyor stop, and there wasn’t much around.  It was a flat track, and no building or anything.  I couldn’t believe it – it’s the 5^th biggest city in Hungary – why wasn’t there a station.  And wait, no one was getting off.  Why not?  Wasn’t the main stop of this train Gyor?  So, questioning myself once again, I did not get off.  Damnit.  Now what?  I texted Megan saying that I thought I had missed my stop and I didn’t know where I was going now.  This was an older train, with no announcements – the train I rode to Budapest was a nicer newer train with illuminated signs telling you what station you were at.  This was not the case here… so now what?  I was temped to turn around and ask my student if he knew where we were going next, but… wait – they were gathering their things to get off.  Where were they going… wait – does that sign say Gyor?  Oh – thank goodness.  There is more than one stop in Gyor and this is the main one.  Phew.  Crisis avoided. 

 

I got off and headed out into scenic Gyor.  It truly is a beautiful city – there are old buildings that pre-date our country, beautiful churches and attractive gardens and pedestrian walkways.  I’ll put some of the pictures up – but you can see the majority of them at     http://gallery.me.com/castaffa   We were staying at an old Carmelite monastery in town.  The church is still functioning, but the monastery part has been turned into a hotel, and a nice one at that.  The woman at the reception pretty much thinks that Megan and I are lesbian lovers… I showed up earlier than Megan did and she asked if there were two of us, and I said “yes, but she’s coming later.”  The woman said “are you friends?  Good friends?  There is one bed…” I said that would be just fine – so as to not make a hassle, but it was funny the way she asked it.  Our room had two floors – it was really neat.  I still had some time before Megan got into town, so I went out walking again.  I stopped in the Basilica to see some of the relics that are there.  They were in the middle of a noon mass with the Bishop (at least I think it was the bishop, he was wearing a purple cap on his head).  I stayed for a while, and enjoyed the beauty of the church.  As I was backing toward the door – there was (I am NOT lying about this – the irony of that situation would kill me) a tapping from the confessional door from behind me.  As I turned around, through the frosted glass, there was a finger motioning me to come inside the confessional… like he knew that it had been years since I had seen the inside of a confessional… creepy – I was out of there.   

 

After church, I toured some Roman remains that were in these tunnels under the city – it was quite crazy, and a little scary.  I bought a book from the site- and as I was speaking broken Hungarian to the nice guy at the shop, I told him that I was an American English teacher in Tata.  He showed me his business card indicating that he too was a teacher.  I told him that I teach at Eotvos Joszef Gimnazium and he was taken a back a bit and said ohhhhhhh in recognition.  There is something to be said for teaching at a school with a reputation. 

 

Megan showed up shortly there after and we headed out for a walk and naturally, something to eat.  When we got to the restaurant, I decided to try out some of my new phrases from the CD and I asked if the table was free, and for a menu.  Megan was in shock, as if someone had abducted the old Carla who only claimed to not speak Hungarian, and replaced me with a new fluent speaker.  That was the extent of the phrases I could use in that particular situation – but I felt proud none the less.  That false confidence would come back to haunt me later in the day… Megan and I took our afternoon rest, and headed out later for drinks… We were trying to find a place that was in the Lonely Planet book, but we failed.  So we just went to one of the outside places along a busy street.  Still on a bit of a high from my afternoon Hungarian, I was feeling good about ordering.  Megan showed me up this time though, and I just asked for a Beer and a Sprite.  I wanted the sprite because I had a craving for bubbles, and I wanted a beer because it was Saturday night in a new town… the waitress asked me if I wanted them together –and I thought to myself “no, I’d like the sprite as my appetizer, and the beer as my main drink…” yes I would like them together.  After a short wait, the waitress turned up with Megan’s beer and my beer.  No sprite to be seen… oh well – she forgot it I suppose.  So I took a drink of the beer… and realized, that no- she did not forget it, she had in fact mixed it in with the beer…. What the??!!!!!!?!?!?!!?!?  The phrase to ask for a beer in Hungarian is “Kerek edy Sort” (remember the “S” is pronounced “sh”) so Megan and I coined my new drink a SP-ort (Shhport) – sprite and beer.  Ugh.  It was… different… not really bad, just different.  Consider my confidence shot.

 

We stopped at McDonalds on the way home and had some chicken nuggets and I had a shake.  There, that feels better…

My first Hungarian haircut

note in the picture - the pants in the window... deceiving...

I can’t believe I skipped right over my afternoon activities to the internet… see – I was obsessed with getting an internet connection.  Anyhow- I had decided (after several days of doing my hair and having it totally fall after my walk to school in the humidity and rain) that it was time to get a haircut.  This was going to be interesting… as everything is in a foreign country.  I told my colleagues that I was interested in getting my hair cut and they pretty much just wished me well.  I asked Gabi to write down a statement saying that “I would like to get my hair cut” in Hungarian.  I showed it to some of my students and they told me it translated to “I like my style, but it’s too long” nothing specifically about a haircut, but I guess if you are in a hair salon that’s obvious?  I like my style… ok – well some of my students tried to explain where a hair salon was, and I thought I had it down.  Two of them offered to come with me, but I thought it would be a better adventure if I went alone.  Besides, my hair will grow back – right?  So off I went.  I tried to find the place they described for me – behind the Mexican restaurant, upstairs - go through the garden to get there.  Well, I found a courtyard which might be translated into a garden, and there were several staircases that lead to an “upstairs.”  So now what?  I tried each staircase, and nothing emptied into a hair salon.  There was a Thai massage place… several apartments – a dentist… no hair salon.  Ok well, I decided I’d go into the restaurant and ask if there was a hair salon near by, and they looked at me like I was from a foreign country or something.  How dare they?  So I continued on, and tried to find one in town… keep in mind that it was 2:30 on a Friday afternoon, and knowing the Hungarians, who close things at 2 on Saturdays and AREN’T open on Sunday – the odds of finding someone to cut my hair were slim to none.  However, I found a big window that had the word for hair salon painted on it.  Ok- jackpot, except when I walked in, there were clothes.  Hmmm… so I slowly backed out… and reassessed the situation.  I had my dictionary in hand, and yes, that was the word for hair salon.  What the hell were pant suits doing in a hair salon?  Ok… so maybe it was upstairs too – and this was an advertisement for it?  Well, there weren’t stairs to be found.  I headed back to see if I could get in from behind, passing the office of the Socialist party, and rounded to the back.  There was no way to get in from the back either.  What the hell?!?!??!?!?  So – I headed back to the pant suit collection and peered in again, looking to the left.  This time, sure enough, through a door behind the pantsuits, there was an additional room where there were people getting their hair cut.  So I confidently approached and asked if anyone spoke English.  When they said no, I showed them the paper about my style and she gave me the “no way jose” sign.  Ok –now what?  She then took me by the arm (seeming to escort me out) and took me through the pant suits to the opposite end of the place and another door that lead to where WOMEN were getting their hair cut.  Apparently I was where the men got their hair cut.  Oh seriously.  OK- so I busted out the sheet again, and this time I got an “ok ok.”  Score – we’re in!!!  This woman (with shaved sides of her head and a stylishly zshuzshed  mohawk) took me back to shampoo my hair.  I’m pretty sure she was using peach suave – or some cheap peach shampoo with a particularly potent smell, but we got the shampooing and hair cut done with out any words except “ok” which, in Hungarian is “oke.”  She did a nice job, as I am sure her colleagues agreed with – they all stopped everything they were doing and watched her every move.  She even thinned it without me asking – not that I know how to – but I am pleased.  I am pretty sure that she used two cups of mousse to style it, but whatever.  I gave her a generous tip in the hopes that she’ll recognize me the next time I go in for a hair cut.  We’ll just have to see.

Friday night in Tata...

This was one of the most exciting nights since I’ve been here- no offense Megan, lots of the nights we spend together are fun J - but my internet was finally fixed at my apartment!!!  This seems like a small thing, but in the fast paced world that is the United States, we become dependant on the internet, for communication, information, television shows, you name it.  While in Tata, the only internet connection I had was at school.  Which is not a problem – I just look like an internet whore because the only thing I did at school was check e-mail and facebook.  Now, I’m planning lessons and stuff – now novel to actually use your prep periods for work.  I don’t think I did that once in seven years at Burnsville!!!  At any rate, my colleague Gabi’s husband works at the phone company.  He had checked the number at the apartment already and it seemed to be working in terms of internet connection from their end, so clearly it was an operator error in setting up the modem.  Which is NOT so far from the truth.  However, I had spent the better part of two  weeks trying every single thing I could to hook up that damn modem.  Then, my parents – bless their hearts- mailed me their old Macintosh Airport Extreme to make my place wireless… I was so excited about this I skipped the faculty picture to try and get it set up.  That didn’t work either.  NOW What? Gabi to the rescue.  She, her husband and their two (adorable) kids came over on Friday night to help out.  Her husband was taken aback by the Mac computer (as the tech guy was at school… he wouldn’t even touch it) and was really not sure what to do with the airport.  He started by unplugging the airport and putting it on the floor next to the desk – apparently that means he doesn’t want to use it.  He played with the modem and unplugged things, plugged things in, and nothing worked.  Vindication for me as far as I’m concerned.  He left and went home to get a different modem – and returned about 15 minutes later.  Gabi’s children had puzzles and coloring to keep them busy so they didn’t mind.  Her daughter is 7 – Lily, and her son is 3 – Mark.  They were absolutely adorable.  The new modem (which was actually a NEW modem) worked, and all was good and well.  I asked how much they wanted me to pay for the new modem and Gabis answer was “well, if you leave Hungary, can you just give it back?”  Seriously – they would do anything for you… Of course I’ll give it back Gabi!  I pretty much spent the rest of the night doing stupid things on-line… what a dork.