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 5th 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…
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