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.  

9-11 in a foreign country

It was a good day at school – I ended the day with both 9^th grade classes together as another teacher had to leave – and we did an activity on 9/11.  I was unsure at first how it was going to go – as there would be 36 people in the small room  - and it’s the last period on Friday, and they’re 9^th graders.  BUT, I had spoken to one half of the class in the morning, and they promised they’d behave with the large group – so it was a “keep my fingers crossed” situation.  I started off the lesson asking if they knew that Thursday had been special day for me.  Many of them did not know what I was referring to – and then some of them offered it was Csutortok – (with umlauts over the u and both o’s) – Csutortok is my favorite Hungarian word so far, and I’ve shared this factoid with my 9^th graders.  I said, yes it was special because it was Thursday, but it was also a special day for my country.  They figured it out then, and we began a discussion on the 9/11 situation.  They had all heard of it for years – but didn’t know much about the causes (though who really does) so we talked a bit about extremism and faith and some really interesting stuff.  Interesting, that is, if you are not one of the 4 or 5 students who only understand about 20% of what I say… we then looked at some pictures of memorials (an eagle crying, a man with the two towers tattooed on his back, a small boy crying by his firefighter dad’s picture- etc) and then we read some poems about 9/11.  I finished by playing the Alan Jackson song “where were you when the world stopped turning” and maybe not so appropriate, but the Toby Keith song “Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue”  I stopped the songs several times to go over the stanzas and what the words meant (though I did not receive the same courtesy at choir practice- he he) and it was kind of a powerful experience.  Teaching a group of young people what happens in the world, and trying to explain the why behind it.  Particularly to a group of students who did not share the same emotion as I do regarding the event… it was just something.  These 9^th graders, during the last period on a Friday – were dead silent -  soaking up (as many of the words that they could understand) the poems and the songs – and listening to how the 9/11 events changed the United States, and my life forever.  There was something that was particularly moving about the experience – I had little faith that they would take the activity seriously- yet I became teary eyed during the discussion.  I don’t know if it was because I was just in awe of the event of 9/11 or in awe of the fact that so many students were listening, and hurting with me at the same time.  They wanted to know more – and to listen to more songs and poems where Americans expressed their emotions of the event.  It was just something… a real cultural connect I think.  I felt, for the first time since I got here really, that I had made the right decision to come here for a year.  I knew that whatever crazy things happened to me while I was in Hungary, I had my own audience of eager learners (like many of my classes were at home) and that many of them would do just about anything for me – including taking me running and explaining crazy Hungarian things to me.  They were thirsty to learn about me, my country and my beliefs – and maybe, even though there is a language barrier, they will get as much from me as some of my Burnsville kids have throughout the years.  I hope that I can leave my mark on Hungary (not by being on the news for letting strangers in my apartment- and paying them for nothing) but for in some way, touching the lives of my students here.  The Hungarians are a beautiful people, eager to help you with anything you need, and ready to open their homes and lives to you.  Though I am sure I will have some tough lonely times here, I know that my experience, from colleagues to students,  locals to strangers, will do nothing but make me a better person.

School and running

Another good day at school – as I get used to the schedule and the students, things are starting to calm down a bit.  I’ve decided that I can do essentially one lesson plan a week with all of my classes except the 9^th graders – and vary it by ability level.  I have the 9^th graders 4 times a week.  I really like them – I never thought that 9^th graders would be my thing, but they aren’t like 9^th graders at home.  They are still at the point that they naively think school is cool – and so are the teachers.  Though I should say that the students as a whole are different here.  They are ALL learning TWO foreign languages.  Not just one foreign language, TWO.  My Dual Language students have their math, history and science lessons in English – and the 9^th graders have 20 lessons of English a week (there are 30 lessons per week).  They are very interested in being successful, and not falling behind in school.  I have not had to spend ANY time on rules or behavior because my standard (which were deemed as borderline ridiculous by many of my students at Burnsville) is the NORM here.  There are no hats, no one uses the bathroom during class, a small percentage of them speak out of turn- but not many, there are no fights, there isn’t detention, there just aren’t problems.  They stand when I enter the room, and they stand when I leave.  The schedule for teachers is a funny one (maybe I’ve talked about this before – but when the bell rings to indicate the start of class, that’s when teachers think about leaving the office.  Keep in mind that it’s a 5 minute walk to some of the buildings… so we are always there after the students are already there.  (no students are ever tardy either – did I mention that?)  90% of the students, whether I have them in class or not, greets me as they pass in the hallway.  I think I’ve created some identity crises – because sometimes I greet them in Hungarian, and sometimes in English – so it’s funny to watch them react to my greetings.  All in all, people are generally more respectful here.  Perhaps it is because this is a high caliber school- who knows. 

 

            I had a running date today with two of my 9^th grade students.  They wanted to go for a run with me, so we agreed to meet after school.  I initially assumed that they meant right after school, as that is when we practiced at home… well –they settled on a 5:00 meeting time (which just seemed odd) but I was excited none-the-less.  I met the two girls by the roundabout near my house, and away we went.  Silly me, I thought we’d start running right away – that was not the case.  We walked to the smaller lake, “stretched” (which means we did the 30 second routine they do in gym class) and then took off for our run.  The small lake is just over 2k around (about a mile and a half) and we ran around it once – and were done.  A grand total of 13:11 minutes of running – but it was still fun.  Have I mentioned that I registered for a “minimarathon” in Budapest?  This was not going to take me far in my training, but it was still fun.  By the way – a “minmarathon” – or at least this one – is 7k, so just over 4 miles. 

            After our short run, we walked around town and over to the big lake. They shared information about themselves and the town with me as we walked, and had a nice time.  I also cleared up (I thought) some questions about the bus system here – yet it would still be getting the better of me in the future.  They were very sweet and walked me back to my flat – I wasn’t sure if they thought I was going to invite them up or something, but I hadn’t planned on it, so I cut it short and they left for home.  I learned later that the reason the 5:00 meeting time worked for them is because their parents won’t let them do anything until their homework is done… oh Europe.   

Door to door salesman? No- door to door thief!

I know it’s been a while, so I’ll try and be short- but I’ll still get all the good stuff in… Wednesday night started off as a typical night here in Tata- CNN, EuroNews and dinner.  After dinner however, things got a little crazy.  I was watching TV and working on lesson plans, when I started to hear a strange noise.  I blew it off as something happening in the hallway, not usually things I get involved in since I never know what they are saying.  Then I heard the noise again… and again… it was a weird rattling noise- and I had no idea what it was.  I turned the TV down and listened again, and sure enough- rattle…… it took me a good 5 minutes to figure out that it was my doorbell that was “ringing.”  I’d never heard it before, so I had no idea what was going on.  My doorbell?  Who the hell was at my door?  So, I opened the door (not the giant window that takes up a good portion of the door) and greeted the man that was outside.  He had a notebook and pointed to some things on the notebook.  I proceeded to tell him (in Hungarian) that I didn’t speak his language and I didn’t understand him.  He pointed at his notebook and pointed into my apartment and continued to speak.  I didn’t know what he was pointing at so I let him in.  (yes, I let the strange man into my apartment- I’ve already been scolded so calm down).  He confidently marched down my hallway and pointed towards my balcony.  (the day before, I had tried to shake my large rugs out over the balcony – which resulted in my downstairs neighbor vacuuming their balcony afterwards.  So I thought he could be yelling at me for shaking my rugs out)  But he was looking at the stucco type siding – and told me he’d need a minute out there.  Ok… I guess I’ll go back and sit on the couch?  By this time, his combination musk and cigarette smell had permeated my living room- so I waited… he returned and asked me my name – pointing to a list of names on his notebook page.  At this point, I was sure that he was someone that was with the building – a landlord or maintenance type.  I told him that I was under the name of the school, and he motioned towards the school and then at me – I thought he was asking if I paid the rent or if they did, and I pointed toward the school (seemingly) indicating that they pay my rent.  He then pointed to the top of the notebook where it said 1000ft –meaning 1000 forint (the currency).  He then pointed at me and said “1000ft.” What? 1000 forint?  For what?  Well, okay – I’ll pay it and then we’ll see what happens.  So, I paid him the 1000ft and he left.  I said, thanks so much as he left… not knowing exactly why… but it seemed the appropriate thing to do.

            I returned to the couch, thinking about what had just taken place.  1.) I answered the door by opening it up completely.  2.) I let a strange man into my apartment 3.) I paid said strange man for doing something… I’m not sure what 4.) I thanked him for coming.  I called my parents to tell them how funny it was – this small cultural exchange between a Hungarian speaker and a non-Hungarian speaker.  My parents didn’t really think it was that funny, but they didn’t know what to make of the whole situation either.  When I got to school the next day, I ran it by the women in my department – and they about fell over in shock.  I let him in?  I didn’t use the “window?”  (which would really just be awkward and not normal by any means…) I PAID him?  For what?  CARRRRRLA (they roll their “R”s here) What were you thinking?  Wow.  Mirtill was going to get to the bottom of this- so she called the office of my building… and came back very disappointed in me.  “Carla, it was a – how do you call it- Frog?  Fraud – yes, fraud.  He didn’t work for the building at all… and your money is gone.”  When she asked me what time he had come, and I told her that it was just after 7 pm, she looked at me, disappointed again, and said “Carla, no one works at 7 in Hungary” as if that were common knowledge that I had forgotten. 

            Admittedly, it sounds crazy when I say it out loud, but I was so shocked that someone was at my door in the first place, it just threw me off.  The following day at school, the women were all a-buzz with the news about the situation, as it had made the Tata news and SEVERAL people gave him money, not just me… and some gave him as much as 10,000 forint – that’s $65.00!!!  I gave him $6.00 – and I don’t speak the language.  They gave him $65!  Who is the dumb one now?  I still am according to my colleagues… Never answer the door, and if you don’t know what he is saying, call us and we’ll talk to him for you.  Lesson learned.

holy moly.... I'm in a choir

Where do I begin… I had choir last night.   Yeah… I joined a choir.  My colleague Erika (the conservative one who skipped the party at school) is in a choir and she invited me to come.  Well, as you may have picked up, a “maybe” means “yes I’d love to” so I was “collected” at 6:15 for choir practice.  I have had some choir experience in my high school years, and I always enjoyed choir, but this was a totally different situation.  We were the first ones there, so Kata (the leader of the choir) showed us around her home.  It was an old peasants home that was pieced together with the shed.  It’s tough to describe it, but it sloped up a hill and at the top of the hill, you could see Calvary Hill.  There isn’t any significance to this particular Calvary Hill, but it’s representative of the one Jesus died on.  Needless to say, Kata is very religious and explained Calvary Hill for a good 10 minutes with Erika translating.  While we were looking at the yard and garden, her family of peacocks came out to check out the new people.  Yes, I said it, peacocks.  I felt like I was in an old Little House on the Prairie episode with the gardens and the birds… then the choir started to show up.  Again, we are on Hungarian time, so when Erika told me that it started at 6:30, it was no surprise that our first notes were sung at 7:15.  I felt confident in my singing ability prior to showing up, but when we started our Hungarian warm-ups, I knew that this was going to be a bit more difficult than I had expected.  The 16 of us were gathered around this nice older lady- (Kata) saying things that are supposed to help us annunciate, and yet that’s difficult to do for a non-native speaker.  There are, however, two Russians and a German in the bunch, all with much better Hungarian than mine, but there are three other people who speak a bit of English, so I was okay.  I’m the youngest member by a long shot, but I think two of the women are about 35-40 and then the rest are old… really old.  The oldest guy is about 70 I think.  They are very nice and sweet though. 

 With each new song, I had to try and not only sound out the words, but follow the part of music that I was singing (alto) – this is no easy task.  I did well, at least I thought so, but it was a challenging endeavor.  I was thrilled when one song came with verses in German and English – yet – we stuck to the verse in Hungarian. Dang.  Well, we got through the singing, and then it was on to the announcements.  Kata showed off a certificate and a medal of sorts.  Apparently the choir had won a gold medal from the town of Tata for it’s arts contributions to the community.  Yes, that’s right- I’m a member of an award winning choir.   After the medal and certificate were passed around, it was time to talk about the field trip.  Yea, a field trip.  The choir is traveling to Papa, Hungary in two weeks to perform at two church services.  Kata asked Erika if I would like to go, and when I said that I’d have to check my schedule, Erika responded with a resounding “Igen” (“yes”).  Ok, so now I’m going on an overnight field trip with the choir.  The funny thing is that Papa is where my friend Megan lives- so I’m really excited to go – but holy shit.  I’m singing in a Hungarian choir in church.  WHAT??

 The last announcement was about an additional performance that the men of the choir were going to do.  They will be singing at a local Kocsma (we learned in orientation that Kocsma means “dive bar” in Hungarian, and it’s typically for men after work- not a ladies place in most cases).  Well guess what – I’m going to see them sing even if I’m the only girl.  The really exciting thing is that it is the night before our big field trip!!!  A whole weekend of CHOIR!

 After singing and announcements, we retired to the kitchen where there was food galore served.  We met Kata’s husband Steve who helped to serve the food.  Erika told me that Steve was a good photographer and she told me he had a book about Tata.  I thought for a minute, and asked if it was black on the front with a lot of pictures of Calvary Hill- and she replied with a strong yes.  Holy crap – he was the photographer of the book that Megan stated showed pictures of “where Hungarians go to die.”  Admittedly, it painted a bleak picture of Tata with some pictures in the snow and void of life, but they were artistic.  So, my coffee table book author is now serving me Palinka.  Yeah- homemade Palinka.  I know I’ve mentioned it before, but Palinka is the Hungarian Brandy that is SUPER strong, particularly when homemade- and here I am with a shot of it in front of me.  We passed around pieces of bread – LOTS of bread (of course) and homemade wine to follow.  Conversation was energetic, but in Hungarian so I was left out of much of it.  I managed to try several different types of jellied meats and pate in addition to different cheeses.  We were there until 10 pm… what a group.  Not only am I a member of an award winning choir, I will be going on my first field trip with Hungarians to scenic Papa.  Want to come watch us perform???  Yeesh.

Top 10 Reasons to Visit Tata

10. Super cute roundabout with a pretty fountain in the middle

9. You can model or test out ANY new fashion.  Truly, anything goes here

8. Nice running path around the lake

7. Lots of tended flower gardens – Tata is the "city of flowers and water"…

6. You can get whiskey or Red Bull flavored ice cream

5. Bubble gum pink and lemon yellow apartment buildings

4. The pleasure boat that you can ride around the lake (provided you have 12 people)

3. The Castle is interesting and somewhat famous

2. THE GREEN AND WHITE TRAIN

1. I’m here!

Update on the Train...

Apparently several Tata residents saw me on the train with Megan on Saturday.  I was told by at least a half a dozen students that they saw me, and my colleague Anna’s husband (they were the couple that drove me to the train station to pick Megan up) saw me too.  He was driving and wasn’t sure if it was me, but told Anna that he saw the American enjoying Tata.  So I’ve been outed as a train rider, but I don’t care – I loved it and would do it again in a heart beat. 

Signs

Should I be concerned that a black cat roams freely about the school grounds?  It’s kind of farrell looking, and the kids make noise at it every time it comes near, but it’s the school mascot of sorts I guess.  Weird.

Choir practice tonight...

Well, I’ve done it again.  Erika is going to “collect me” today at 6:15 to go to choir practice.  I was singing ABBA with her kids, and she pegged me as someone who has sang, so yeah.  I’m in a Hungarian choir.  Couldn’t say no.  Knowing Erika, these are all conservative religious freaks, BUT she is nice enough, and maybe this will help in my quest to learn more Hungarian.  Wanna come to a concert?

Everything is an adventure?

It seems as if I am moving in slow motion in Europe.  It stems from the fact that nine times out of ten I have no idea what is going on, or how to do things, so I take longer to assess, observe and then act.  Even the smallest things become a bit intimidating and a challenge.  Grocery shopping for example – it begins before you even enter the store.  In my Sparr store, you NEED to have a cart or they’ll kick you out.  It doesn’t matter if you put one pack of gum in there, you need a cart.  By the way, these are the carts that charge money- remember my first trip to Tesco?  Once you get a cart, you have to navigate the produce section which I have talked about before .  You have to be able to differentiate between the water bottles with the pink, green or blue caps.  You have to be able to identify the products, calculate the cost in dollars so you know how much you’re spending, and make the decision about whether or not you have the appropriate dishes to prepare the product.  Then, there are the pop bottles that come in 2 liters that are refundable, and those that aren’t.  So when you get to the checkout and have calculated exactly how many forint you’ll need, and they tack on the deposit for your sprite bottle you get flustered and after a few “Bocsanats” (excuse me, sorry) you just hand them the biggest bill you have so you don’t waste any more time.  Then they glare at you because you have handed them the equivalent of $50 for a $6 purchase. 

 

There is the street crossing.  I see cross walks, but do they mean anything?  I got yelled at by an old lady for not crossing at a time that was hazardous to my health.  Dare I play the game where I start across in the hopes that the other side will cross.  Add in the roundabout traffic- are they turning right or continuing around the circle.  Really?  It’s deadly out there.  I have become much more aggressive since I moved to the thriving metropolis of Tata, but you just never know.  Apparently Jeff Walsh instilled a true sense of safety first when crossing the street. 

 

Clothing and hair are an adventure- which reminds me, I’ll need a haircut soon… yikes.  There are shades of red and orange hair that only my aunts and cousins on the Staffa side have perfected.  It’s the trashiest look ever –and it’s EVERYWHERE.  The mullet is alive and well, in addition to the faux-hak.  Really, the hair is reflective of the 1970s in some cases, and just your average trashy society in other cases.  There are white blondes with dark roots- and they style it with pride.  White pants live strong after labor day (though the concept of labor day blows the average Hungarian’s mind.  “You don’t have to work, on a day that honors laborers?”  They have an international workers day on March 15^th – I’m looking forward to it since I didn’t get MY labor day off).  There are tevas with white socks, men in capris, stone washed jeans, shoulder pads – it’s crazy.  And yet, I got funny looks this morning when I left home with my pants rolled up circa 1985 to avoid the puddles from the rain.  Really a-hole, you’re looking at MY outfit?  Take a look around buddy- this is YOUR country… take pride. 

 

It took at least 10 minutes to figure out how to work my toilet in the apartment.  They have funny flushing here- it’s got to be the most water wasting option, but essentially you turn on a strong stream of water until your toilet contents are gone.  My toilet is an old school pull the chain, but I had been trained to look for a spigot of sorts… so whatever. 

 

I went to an electronics store in Tatabanya, and before I entered, I assessed the situation.  There were lockers outside of the store with backpacks and bags from other stores.  I decided that they must not allow large bags into the store, and I had my back pack on.  So instead of getting accosted at the door, I was going to nip this situation in the bud and just go ahead and put my bag in a locker.  I approached the lockers with caution, observing and assessing as I inched forward.  Of course the instructions are in Hungarian (duh) and after about a minute long staring contest, the lockers won.  The security guard came up to me to help, but only confused me more.  He asked for my name, and only on the 3^rd try did I understand what he was saying.  I walked with him over to a clip board and signed my name next to #11.  He gave me a key and then proceeded to indicate that after I was done shopping I was to return the key at this table.  He walked me over to the locker and opened it for me, shoved my bag in and gave me the key.  Into the store I went.  I was looking for some speakers for my computer to make the music louder when I play it in class.  There were several sets of speakers, and they were not necessarily lined up with their prices.  So when someone asked if they could help me find anything (at least that’s what I think he said)  I told him I didn’t speak Hungarian and motioned to ask if the speakers I had in my hand were a particular price.  He took the speakers, scanned them and asked for my payment.  Awesome.  I guess these are the speakers I wanted.  Thank you very much – now I’ll go retrieve my backpack from the locker.  Easier said than done.  I couldn’t get the key to come out of the lock once I got my bag, but after about three minutes, I finally got it.  Yeesh.  One of these days I’ll take on the Hungarians and their demands and just say that that is NOT what I want, but this was already a stressful situation stemming from the key incident, so I let it go.

Sunday in Tata

Sunday consisted of more Autobusz roulette.  After we got Megan to the train station, using a bus might I add, and I ran home from the station by way of the lake, I decided to go to Tatabanya.  There is a “mall” there with a McDonalds that has free wireless internet.  Don’t ask me why, but it’s awesome, provided you can get there.  I waited patiently at my bus stop for the bus that read “Tatabanya” on it, with my 250 forint in hand.  After three busses passed by, mine finally came.  I still don’t know how to read the different columns on the bus schedule, there is surely one for weekends, but whatever.  I just sat and waited.  I got to Tatabanya no problem, but as I was riding the short distance between the towns, I remembered it was Sunday.  As we were passing the better part of Tata, I was noticing that EVERYTHING was closed. Surely a mall was open for a bit on Sunday right?  They had to be.  Well, it was too late now, I was on my way.  I got off at the end of the road which stopped below the Media Mart at the train/bus station.  It was perfect.  I observed (of course) other people entering the mall and all was well.  I ordered a “middle” chocolate shake (medium to Hungarians) which is actually very small, but did the trick and I set up my computer.  Not only was the mall open, but I was near a store with tinted windows that advertised Lotto and gaming.  Very well dressed people were entering this tinted “store” and the whole thing just looked sketchy.  I have no idea what was really going on in there, but this is Europe and anything goes, so I stayed away. 

Saturday with Megan

My first weekend spent in Tata!!  I bailed last week, but I was ready to tackle the tiny town with Megan and show off all the places I know about (ok, both of the places I know about… the castle and my school).  We set off after a breakfast of bread and juice (I’ll write about the food at a later date- but there is a TON of bread here.  No Atikins diets here that’s for sure).  We walked to the TourInform shop, which has tourist info about the town and maps and such, as we approached, I found out that it was closed.  What the hell.  It’s a tourist town, and you are closed on a WEEKEND?  Ugh.  Hungary.  Anyways, we walked the path that I take in the morning to get to school, but we actually stopped at the castle this time.  I decided that it was high time that I took my inaugural tour of the castle that is so famous.   We found the ticket office, and I saw a photocopy of different id’s on the wall, one being a student id suggesting that there would be discounts for students.  I busted out my international teacher’s card, and she basically shot me down and charged me full price – 600 forint.  When Megan (who is 27) went to pay, she knew that the lady didn’t take the teacher id, so she didn’t show hers.  The woman charged us and gave us the receipt with the total on it.  900 forints.  Wait.  She told me I was 600 forints- and then pointed at Megan to charge her 300?  Was I getting charged more because I was a teacher?  What was happening here?  Apparently I am old enough to be Megan’s mother or something, and so she was charged a child’s, or maybe student, rate.  Eff you Tata castle.  I don’t look any older than she does. 

 

Oh well.  The Castle was nice on the inside, of course 90% of it was in Hungarian so we had no idea what we were looking at, but it was still neat to see.  At the very top, there was a little lady with postcards and books of the castle.  Earlier that morning, Megan and I discussed how much time was appropriate to let go by before you cut someone off to say that you don’t understand them.  Well, we totally over stepped the boundary with this sweet old lady.  Even though I told her we didn’t understand, we don’t speak Hungarian, often times since I said it in Hungarian, they just ignore what I was saying, or I said it wrong and they don’t understand me either.  At any rate, Megan got a post card, and we were going to continue to the outdoor café that was right behind this lady.  Unfortunately, she pointed her finger and motioned to use that we should continue upstairs and not enter the café.  At least that’s what we interpreted her action to be, but there was not an upstairs, so we just left.  Ugh.

 

We walked up to my school, and then explored the older part of Tata.  As we got closer to the midday, the head intensified (30 degrees Celsius – Celsius?  Centigrade?  I don’t actually know what the “C” stands for, I just know that it was really hot!!)  We stopped at a little place for lunch.  It was a nice cafeteria type place – but as we are foreigners, it took us a minute to figure out what was going on.  We ordered from the young cashier and ended up with huge plates that we didn’t really expect.  As we paid and sat down, more people were coming into the café, and we realized that, once again, we had biffed.  They (clearly knowing what they were doing) started at the other end of the counter, used trays, and as this was happening, Megan and I just sat and watched.  Sidenote: I have learned to become an observer.  At the grocery store, I watch in the produce area- sometimes you have to weigh your produce, sometimes they have a station where someone does it for you, and sometimes the cashier does it at the checkout area.  I watch at the check out, what are people using to pay, do they take credit cards, should I leave the tote bags in the cart until I’m finished, or start packing as they are ringing my order.  There are lots of things to observe and learn from. 

 

After lunch, we stopped and got some ice cream.  Again, another experience.  We were looking at the flavors and as Megan pointed to the berry mix, the woman scooped it and handed it to her.  Be careful where you point, because it will be yours.  She only gave one scoop, and since I thought it would be rude to get more if Megan only got one scoop, I followed suit with a scoop of chocolate.  After we left, I asked how her ice cream was, and she basically said, “well, it’s not really the kind I wanted, and I wanted more, but I get nervous when ordering.”  Lesson to those traveling in foreign countries (myself included) don’t just give up if you aren’t getting what you want.  Don’t be too aggressive, but really – if you want three scoops, ask for three scoops, or at least make motions to try and get what you want. 

 

After our ice cream experience, we walked back toward my place with the intention of taking a nap.  However, we ran across the green and white sightseeing train that tours the major areas of Tata.  I asked the driver what time it left, and he told us at 1:00 – which was in 45 miuntes.  We rested by the lake for the 45 minutes (watching as the pleasure boat traveled around the lake.  Megan told me, as I longed to go on the pleasure boat, that I had to choose- the train or the boat.  She could only handle one as “tours” were not her thing.  I’m still trying to convince her to do the segues in Budapest with me.  Anyhow, we returned to the train and as I confidently marched up to the driver to pay our 500 forint, he started talking to me in Hungarian and refused my money.  Hmph.  Confidence shot – again.  Why wouldn’t he take my money?  Could we go for free since we didn’t speak Hungarian?  What was happening here.  Hmmm… so I backed away, and watched.  The observer is a foreigners best friend.  Apparently, though he had sat there in his train for the 45 minutes that we were by the lake, he was NOT the train that was going to leave at 1:00.  We waited and another train passed by in the other direction, and he pointed at that one.  Evidently we were going to ride that one.  Well where was it going then – why was it traveling in the other direction?  Were we supposed to catch it somewhere else?  Oh shit.  Now what.  Luckily for us, there was another couple there who had money in hand, and were not concerned once the other train passed by, so, we just waited with them, not knowing what our train fate would be.  Thankfully, the other train returned and we boarded.  This is a fairly aggressive train for it’s looks.  It rolls through Tata in the midst of traffic, travels on the path around the lake, even off roading when necessary.  There was a truck of kayaks blocking the path at one point on the lake, and the driver took us through some trees and around the truck.  Clearly this was not his first time driving this bad boy.  As we were traveling through Tata, if we passed anyone who could be a teenager, Megan would ask “is that one of your students?” and I would always respond with “nem” (no) they aren’t my students.  Until, as we were coming around the lake, I hear “Hello Carla” (with the rolled R as they do here in Hungary).  It was cute.  We toured the campground/resort area that was further down the lake, which Megan accurately described as very “Dirty Dancing.”  There were old school cafés and restaurants, ice cream vendors and lots of bikes and pedestrians.  We traveled around the second lake, and through town.  Much to Megan’s dismay, we passed many of the sites we saw on foot, which we could have avoided doing had we known about the train earlier.  At any rate, it was fun to have Megan there to explore my town a bit more. 

 

Post train, we decided to get a drink by the lake, and we ran into some very nice people from the Netherlands.  When I asked if we should visit the Netherlands, I’m pretty sure they thought I meant their home – and after a short hesitation, they said “yes, come visit!” 

 

On our way home, we stopped at the Sparr (grocery store) to seek out some snacks and ice cream.  We ran into some other Americans there who were in Tata for work.  One of them asked me how long I had lived in the United States to attain such an accent free command of the English language.  When I told him I had lived there for all of my 31 years, he laughed and realized that I was actually from the United States.  Once we had relaxed a bit, we decided to use my gas stove for the first time since I’d been here.  Megan has used hers, and it only took her 7 matches, so we were going to try and attack mine using less than 7.  No question about it, the gas stove scares the shit out of me.  There is a large propane tank sitting right next to the stove, and it just does not seem safe.  After we attempted to measure out deciliters of milk and water to boil, we got the stove going with 6 matches.  We went out later that night for a couple drinks and then crashed after a long fun day in Tata.  

Friday night in Tata...

Friday came with welcome thoughts of the weekend.  I taught my 9^th graders TGIF- in addition to “straight pimpin” but that’s for a different story.  I had 5 classes today, and two of them were double sized because Zsuza was gone somewhere.  Sheesh.  The 10^th graders, who the American teacher had last year, must have not believed that I was serious about anything.  The American teacher from last year is known for a couple of things- going to the Tesco (Wal-Mart) every Thursday, playing poker, and not really doing much in class.  Well, having me enter the room was a bit of a culture shock for them, but they’ll get used to it.  I have no pity for 10^th graders in the USA or in Europe.  My 11^th graders were working with the fall, winter and spring sports programs that Burnsville started putting out under the athletic director Scott Garvis.  They were to choose a team and give me 5 statements about the team.  Depending on the ability I had them create questions as well.  The students of course loved this, because they got their first glimpse into my American High School.  They were busy taking cell phone pictures of many of the “good looking ones” and judging what the difference between Nordic and alpine skiing was.  They asked where the handball team was, and when I told them that I had only seen handball for the first time in the Olympics, they chided me for my lack of worldly sporting knowledge.  Oh well.  I end friday with one section of the 9^th graders, and they are really fun – so things were good.

 

After 5 lessons at school (which is quite a load here, but wouldn’t really be if I was at home) I decided to ride the high of my previous night’s performance in town.  I was going to ride the bus TO the Tesco.  I was going to stop this foolishness of walking two miles to the store, and I was going to ride the bus both ways.  Well – that was the plan anyhow…  So I confidently had my 180 forint out, and stood with pride at the bus station.  I even ventured over to look at the schedule, pretending that I knew what all the bus numbers and times meant, checked my watch and returned to my spot to wait for the bus.  I was sure that those around me believed that I was a local Hungarian just interested in riding the local bus, because that’s what local people do.  The bus came, I got on, delivered my 180 forint and sat down.  I wasn’t sitting very long though, because this bus turned about 300 yards up the road and stopped at the town bus station.  Everyone on the bus got off, and he stopped the engine.  So, I too got off the bus and began to walk confidently.  I wasn’t sure where exactly I was walking, but there was a student of mine on the bus as well, and he kept looking at me wondering if I knew what I was doing since I just paid to ride the bus for two whole minutes.  I am a firm believer in doing everything with confidence, so I marched to a bus schedule on the side of the building, again portraying my obvious expertise of the bus system, and stood there long enough to try and convince this student that I knew what I was doing and that this was all a part of the master plan.  As soon as he rounded the corner though, I hung my shoulders at my first aborted attempt to get to the Tesco by bus.  I ran into two other students waiting there, and when I asked them if they knew which bus went to the Tesco, they laughed and said they were waiting to go to Budapest – they had no idea which bus went there.  (as if I were beneath them because I actually live in Tata, as opposed to living here during the school week).  Ugh.

 

I crossed the street to the smaller grocery store that is literally a football field away from my apartment and picked up some groceries there, instead of exploring the treasures of the Tesco.  I admit defeat on this occasion, but I am not finished with you Tata bus system. 

 

That night was the “party” at school.  Talk about awkward.  First of all, one thing that must be understood is that Hungarians don’t really operate on the clock that Americans do.  When they say 8:00, it means 8:15.  When they say 6:00, they really mean about 6:20.  So earlier in the day, I was “asked” in very Hungarian fashion, “you go to the party? Be there at 6”  which was not only a request but a demand at the same time.  Be aware of saying maybe to anything because it essentially equates to a firm yes.  My response was “yeah, I was thinking about it” and I was told “see you at 6.”  Ok then, 6 it is.  Well, I strolled into the court yard at 5:50, since I like to be early, and there were three other people there.  Really?  Kick ass party.  Ugh.  So I sat on a bench and waited for other people to show up.  I did take note of the treats that were set out for people – nice looking rolls with cheese, and champagne.  Wait, what?  Alcohol at a school party?  Hmmm…. Europe is so fascinating.  Eventually people rolled in and some even sat to talk to me.  Many people are trying to hard to give me all of the English words they know, it’s actually very cute.  However, at an occasion like this, I am limited in terms of who I can talk to – since many of them either don’t know who I am, or don’t speak English.  People continued to mingle, and one of the school secretaries sat next to me for a bit.  She also teaches one class of math in English, and yet her English is weak at best.  Can that make me nervous?   Anyhow, we were sitting there, and then all of a sudden at 6:22, she rose, clapped her hands and declared, “we start now” thus began the program.  It started with the deputy headmaster saying thanks for coming, yaddah yaddah yaddah.  Then the Headmistress spoke, and then we had a toast- with alcohol – at a school party.  This was crazy.  There were students all over, some of them serving the drinks in fact, and there was champagne without alcohol and water as well.  But there were teachers (some, not all) parents and community members out in the courtyard of the school toasting to the fact that they did not become a private Catholic school.  Interesting.  After the Headmistress, there were going to be some student and faculty performances.  I was looking forward to hearing some cultural things as the kids could show off their talent.  One young man got up and recited a poem from a famous Hungarian poet – they are VERY into their poets here.  It was during his recitation that I decided that Hungarian sounds either like the chef from the Muppets, or like someone playing a backwards record.  Not the prettiest language, but interesting to listen to none the less.  Megan thinks that there are really only 4 Hungarian words and they say them with different tones just to mess with all the other people.  Following the poem, there were musical performances.  You can imagine my surprise when the first song performed was the theme song from Friends, with strange accents.  They continued with two other songs in English, and then a bigger band came out to play.  I was thinking, ok, now I’ll get some Hungarian traditional music.  Wrong again.  They played a cheesy song that I don’t remember the name of, but it’s a jazz song circa 1970- I’d imagine not really connected to the Hungarian music scene, but whatever it’s a party.  I chatted with my colleagues from the English department.  Mirtill brought Peter – and I asked him if he was still sore from hauling all my luggage… he said of course he was not, but he totally thinks I’m a spaz I swear.  I saw the funny gym teacher who says “good morning” no matter what time of day it is, and he offered me an additional glass of champagne.  I nodded and said I’d like one, and he poured one and said “egeszsegere” (with some accents my computer doesn’t do) – the Hungarian version of “cheers” and I walked away.  He’s trying so hard, he just has no English to work with, and my Hungarian leaves much to be desired yet. 

 

After the party, I was to travel to the train station to pick up Megan.  She was coming from Papa to visit for the weekend.  Papa is about two hours away by train, if you go through Gyor.  Since I was still unsure about the busses and such, I gladly accepted a colleague’s offer to drive me to the train station.  The big train station, not the ghetto hole that I was at when I went to Budapest the weekend before.  As I was turning to leave, I got tapped on the shoulder, and it was the mom from the Budapest train.  She whipped out the double cheek kiss, and I went with it, since apparently we are now good friends.  I explained to the English teachers who she was, and they conversed about me in Hungarian.  She told the teachers that I was very resourceful to get all the way to the train station, but her bubble was burst when I told them I walked there for lack of better understanding of the bus system.  We chatted through the English teachers for a while, and I told her I will be traveling to Budapest next weekend, and I asked if she wanted to come along for the ride?!  She thinks I’m quite funny.

 

I got to the train station in plenty of time to pick up Megan – and I observed some interesting things at night at a sparsely populated train station.  First, the bathrooms don’t have lights that work, second there were homeless people who fully got out sleeping bags to sleep under the lights of the station (I’d think that the noise of the trains would be distracting) and last, there are some creepy people who hang out at the train station at night.  She arrived on time and we rode the bus back into town.  I have no problem getting back home on the buses, it’s just getting somewhere that trips me up.

 

We enjoyed some wine and had a nice night comparing stories from our first week of teaching.  I was glad that there was another native speaker in my presence!!!

Victory is MINE!!!

Well… I’m starting to really get comfortable in town.  Sure, I’m still not much better at Hungarian than I was when I showed up, but in the week that I’ve been here, things are looking up.  Thursday night, I decided I’d venture out and “top up” my t-mobile phone and eat out.  Well, it started off rocky at the T-mobile store when I walked in and said that I didn’t speak Hungarian, did you (the lady) speak English.  She nodded and got up and left through a door in the back.  Hmmm… a minute or so later, a man came out of the back- who really had no more English than she did- but he was the one brave enough to attempt to assist the American.  After I produced a post it pad with my number (I still don’t really know it) we settled up and I had 5,000 forints worth of minutes on my phone.  I never really know how much things cost, or how much that really translates into in terms of minutes, but when the scary sounding Hungarian lady starts speaking to me when I’m on the phone, I know I’m out.  I have embraced this living by the seat of my pants and I have become accustomed to the lack of planning in every facet of my life. 

 

At any rate, I wet to dinner at a restaurant afterwards- but oh where to try?  I hadn’t been out to an eatery in Tata unless you consider the ice cream stand an eatery.  This was my first try at the real thing.  I even went to a place that had “etterem” in the title – that means “restaurant” so this was going to be exciting.  Let me fill you in on the criterion that I use in choosing places to eat in a foreign country.  There has to be at least something familiar in terms of advertising.  In this case, “pizza” was decipherable in the official title of the place (Mahagoni Pizzafutar Etterem).  Second, I have to be able to see a menu before I enter the establishment.  You never know what’s waiting for you in a foreign restaurant, and at least that way I could be prepared for the prices.  Third, there have to be other people there- both to avoid the question of whether or not it’s open, and to solidify the fact that I am not the only one who chose this particular establishment for a meal.  All three categories fulfilled, I poked my head in.  Upon first glance at the menu, I saw that the choices were in Hungarian, German and English- score!!  The waiter came out and said something to me in Hungarian and I responded with Igen (yes) thinking that he asked me if I wanted to have dinner.  Well, who knows what the hell he said, but he pointed at a table for me to sit down.  I ventured towards it and even though it was in the sun (I was eating outside) and it was really hot out – I sat down because I have not quite mastered “can I sit somewhere in the shade” in Hungarian quite yet.  I ordered a pizza in Hungarian, and not only did I order it in Hungarian, I reinforced my choice with the number of the pizza in Hungarian.  I’m so fluent it kills me.  I ordered a sausage pizza with hard boiled eggs and onions.  I figured if I am out to get pizza in a foreign country, I better at least try a new one.  I also ordered a beer, which was a bit confusing because I prefer draft beer to bottled, so when I asked for a glass with the beer, it came with the bottle of Dreher.  Dang.  Oh well – relish the small victories.  The pizza was interesting, good, but interesting and I enjoyed my meal in the blazing sun proud of what I had accomplished- despite the fact that I was eating out alone.  My friend TK told me that I should never eat alone, but in a small town like this, the percentage of people who actually know English is slim, and the only other people were a young boy and girl on a date.  Yeah, definitely not joining that table.  I managed to ask for a box “take away” is very popular in Hungary, and I headed home proud of the fact that I had mastered a meal that wasn’t from a grocery store or a fast food place.  On my walk home, I ran into one of my students, Niki and waved as she biked by.  She asked me the next day what I was doing out, and I told the class that I went out for pizza.  When another girl asked me who I was eating pizza with, I told them that I was by myself since I don’t have any friends in Tata.  Immediately the saddest look of pity came over their faces and two girls volunteered to eat pizza with me if I wanted.  Pity from 14 and 15 year olds is not something I’m used to.  Oh well.  I still claim victory.

More interesting questions

Each day this week, I have had new classes, except my 9^th graders, who I have 4 times a week.  I am dealing with more interesting questions as I do the same lesson plan for various grades.  Yesterday I was asked how I felt about the hypocrisy that is the US involvement in the Kosovo situation… and why I wasn’t fat.  The first one is just plain interesting – and the second one begs a little explanation.  I use an activity that worked as a first day activity in the United States.  I have the students introduce each other with small bits of information and then a “fascinating fact” about themselves.  My stock fact is that I love to eat hot dogs, and I’d like to participate in a hot dog eating contest in New York City.  So, I shared this with all of my students, and then at the end of the class – some 30 minutes later, I was asked “why aren’t you fat?’ meaning, as a result of all the hot dogs you eat.  I subsequently was challenged to a hot dog eating contest, and I said maybe at the end of the year.  Many of the students want to know what I think about Hungary, and why (in the world) I came here.  They want to know if I like Hungarian food- some of it yes – and how long I will be staying.  They are also curious about the other places I have traveled and my attitude towards these other cultures.  We talked again about the Russian invasion of Georgia (do my Burnsville kids know that Georgia is a country in Europe – not just a state originally intended for debtors?) and I told them I was worried that the Russians were going to attack Hungary.  They laughed initially, and then said, “yeah, they might.”  This again reflects some of the attitude the Hungarians have towards the world- inevitably we’ll be attacked again – yeah.  I see it every morning on my walk to school – the lack of smiles, and questioning looks as I half smile and nod while passing.  By Hungarian standards, I believe I’m up to about 34 boyfriends, though sadly none of them talk to me and almost none smile back at me- so in that case, Hungary is just like the United States in terms of boyfriends.  Oh well.  

Today, I had the students do an activity with their favorite English word - interesting to see what they came up with: hippopotamus, miscellaneous, butterfly, forever, July, unfortunately, royal, umbrella, muddle, wildcat, pumpkin, fabulous, cocoon, little and gorgeous.  I made the young man who chose "cookie" pick a different word (as I think I explained before, cookie in Hungarian refers to a little boy's private parts.  Oh the tricksters they are...