A Sunday vote in Hungary has led me to question what day we should head to the polls to decide important issues.
When I moved to Hungary in 2010, I planned to stay for a year. The theory was that I would hate teaching English and head home, or I would like it enough wander off and continue with adventures in different foreign lands. But, I threw the plan in the trash, and Hungary was my adopted home for four years.
After years of teaching and being a student, I packed my bags in late 2014, and started moving on. I noticed that expats who move to Hungary often stay either one year or multiple decades, but I still think four years was the right amount of time for me.
But, I haven’t escaped Hungary. Not by a long shot. Following another common trend, I wasn’t able to avoid falling hopelessly in love with a beautiful Hungarian girl. She was convincing enough to get me to tag along to Amsterdam, and my wanderlust was beginning to find its cure again.
Unfortunately, loving someone with a different passport has some downsides, and I’ve had to head back to my native country while I continue to try to figure out a way for the two of us to live in the same country.
So, my website is not dead, but it will no longer be primarily about Hungary. However, I haven’t yet shared all my past experiences, and I’m sure to have many future visits to Hungary where I can happily indulge on the delicious food that I already miss.
Hungarian word of the day:
This is pronounced “Vee-sont-laa-tash-rah,” and it means goodbye. In this case, it’s a little harsh and inappropriate, but I don’t have the skills to say “until we meet again” to the land of the Magyars.
Let’s face it, Europe was designed to be a perfect setting for the holiday. Most of our classic horror stories originated here, and the spooky feeling is based off of old, strange buildings. Add some changing leaves, gloomy weather, and shorter hours of sunlight, and the recipe is complete.
That’s why it’s more difficult to ignore this one. Thanksgiving doesn’t bother me so much because I often forget it even happened. Most of the other holidays are either celebrated or boring (and therefore irrelevant to me).
Of course there are parties or other events if you look hard enough, but it’s not the same as having costumes, pumpkins, and candy shoved down your throat despite any and all protests. One promising fact is that I’ve been seeing more and more shops with Halloween window displays blocking their normal products. On the other hand, a lot of Christmas decorations are getting put up, so that kind of destroys the scary vibe I was hoping for.
The good news is that I don’t have to figure out a costume and stock up on candy. And, I could be somewhere much worse, so I think I’ll wander the canals of Amsterdam tonight and look for and ghouls, goblins, or other monsters that may be about.
Dutch Word of the Day:
I’m still struggling with pronunciations, but this is probably the word for “pumpkin.” They do sell these in the grocery stores, but I’m not sure I they’re to make jack-o’-lanterns or pies. I’m going to stop complaining and take what I can get.
Amsterdam, and the Dutch in general, are famous for their bikes. The two wheeled monsters are everywhere. You know those iconic pictures of bikes locked to every railing and canal bridge? Those aren’t exciting – they’re just Amsterdam.
I’m going to say it (probably not for the last time):
Bicycles are the pigeons of Holland.
Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Batman lives in Amsterdam. As evidenced by the following photograph, he forgot to lock the Batbike in the Batcave, but it does appear that there are one or two Baby Bats riding along with him. Or, is Robin smaller than we all thought?
Dutch word of the day:
I’m still struggling with this whole Dutch language learning task, but I’m fairly certain that this word means “Bat,” and that it’s pronounced somewhere along the lines of “F-leer-mouse.” Dutch speakers and/or billionaire superheroes are encouraged to make corrections.
It would be tough to say what Amsterdam is most famous for, but I’m sure bicycles make it into the top ten. Creating a strong cycling infrastructure is something that’s admired around the developed world as a civilized, responsible, and environmentally friendly way to transport citizens from Point A to Point B. However, it’s my opinion that the developed world needs to rethink its value system because a city full of bikes is TERRIFYING.
Before you start to think that I’m being sponsored by an oil company, let me explain it in an easy way for you to understand. Have you ever played the classic game Frogger? If you haven’t, I would advise that you don’t admit it to your friends, but you continue reading so you can at least join the conversation about this later. It’s a game about poor little frogs who seem to desire incredibly dangerous daily commutes. They’re forced strategically maneuver through cars, floating logs, and other types of deadly items, and their timing is absolutely critical.
Amsterdam is the game, and I am the frog.
Pedestrians, bikes, motorcycles, cars, trucks, and trams all share the same streets. I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure that the boats sometimes use the road, too. All of this wouldn’t be so alarming, but since the street is usually crammed between a canal and an ancient building, it’s usually about wide enough for a narrow car or 1.5 cyclists.
Fortunately, Amsterdam is a civilized city, so there are rules to keep everyone safe and in order. Unfortunately, no one seems to care about the rules.
I can hear the arguments now. “Alex, you just arrived in Amsterdam, so you don’t know how it works. It’s very organized – you’re just ignorant.” That may be true… But, I must remind you that central Amsterdam seems to be about 60% tourists who also don’t know the rules, and many of them have recently consumed one of the city’s other famous products which has caused their brain to be temporarily incapable of though (if it ever was before).
Anyway, the more time I spend here, the better I get. We’ve started thinking of it as different levels of the video game, because we move to more challenging situations as we become numb to the fear. I’ve yet to ride a bike down a busy street while using both my hands to apply makeup to my face (yes, I saw that last week – and she was doing a pretty good job), but I’m on track (for the bike skills, not the makeup thing). It will just take time, practice, and dedication.
But, do you want to know the most impressive part of the whole situation? I’ve yet to see a dead frog on the street. They seem to be better at this than my little friend in the video game.
Dutch Word of the Day:
In a not very impressive way, I’m using a dictionary to find this word that is supposed to mean “bike.” Therefore, I don’t know if it’s correct, and I’m not even sure how to pronounce it. If you speak Dutch, any help would be appreciated.
After a summer busy with writing an MBA thesis, and the other stress that follows finishing grad school, I find myself in Amsterdam. So, you should prepare for some interesting stories and lots of pictures.
The ironic part is that even though I’m in one of the more photogenic cities in the world, I’m attracted to pictures of graffiti type art on walls. Yeah, the canals are super beautiful, but my pictures just look like everyone else’s (and the cover of every Amsterdam guidebook ever written).
So, let me get some grungy stuff out of the way, and I’ll share more words soon.
Dutch Word of the Day:
This word literally means day, but seems to be used as a pretty general “hello.” Basically, you say “dock,” but pretend you choke on something as you get to the C. It’s not so graceful, but at least it’s easy…
Time doesn’t fly when you’re hungry, but it does when you’re in Hungary! It’s been a while since I’ve (publicly) made one of those jokes, so I thought it was about time I do it. Feel free to laugh and tell your friends.
The reason I’m thinking about time flying by is that it just hit me that this is the fourth summer I’ve been in Hungary. It takes noteworthy occasions to point this out, and for me, that was the 4th of July (aka Independence Day in the USA).
Four. Four summers. Four periods of unrelenting heat with virtually no ice cubes. And that doesn’t even count my initial arrival in August, so really it’s more like five. Most people spend summers in countries with beaches or nice climates. Well, most people aren’t very creative.
Anyway, I wanted to talk about July 4th. It’s weird spending your big national day in the borders of another country. The internet allows you to see in real time that your friends are holding flags, sitting at baseball games, and doing other patriotic acts. Yet, the people walking down the street next to you seem completely oblivious.
To make it worse, the World Cup is going on. I grew accustomed to seeing American flags waving on this particular day, but this year it was mostly the three horizontal German colors waving around. Maybe it’s a geographical location issue, but out of the four important games yesterday, I’d give the Cup to Germany and second place to Brazil based on fans wearing their support. Maybe the French are boycotting Budapest because of its lack of croissants. And what is Colombia’s excuse?
But, soccer wasn’t on my menu yesterday. Actually, my menu seemed to be set with a single option that wasn’t very tasty: my MBA thesis. With the deadline approaching, it seems to trump most other social activities. It’s pretty cool.
In order to spare me from my pain, I’ve been able to escape the distractions and heat of the center of the city in favor of a house in a nice quiet neighborhood in the hills. The nights are quiet, the air is clean, the wasps are making nests around me, and it seemed almost perfect for July 4th. But, I forgot my baseball bat, so my options were limited.
In a kind gesture to make me feel at home, it was arranged to have a little Hungarian style American cookout. The conversation went a little something like this:
“So, in America, what do you do to celebrate this day?” I was asked.
Starting to get excited, I said, “Blow things up, grill hot dogs, and play baseball.”
“OK, we can grill hotdogs…”
Notice how she left out the blowing things up and playing baseball? That’s what you get for hanging out with women. They always skip the important stuff.
So, we set up a little charcoal grill. After some confusing time spent on opposite sides of a language barrier, I finally got it across that I had no idea how to do it because I always used a propane grill. I was then politely banished from attempting to ruin dinner, and I took the opportunity to get some pictures to capture the moment.
The “hot dogs” were good, and the onions were even better. Since proper buns are scarce, we improvised with “kifli” or crescent shaped rolls (that, for some reason, are super popular and can be found everywhere). To add a Hungarian touch, we had to throw on some “szalonna” to give the meal some more taste. Szalonna, in my part of the world, is called “bacon fat.” But the Hungarians love it, and I’ve been told I’ll never understand because it’s not in my blood.
So, Happy 4th of July, everyone!
Hungarian word of the day:
This is pronounced “Veer-sh-lee,” and it’s a kind of sausage food. Wikipedia describes it as Vienna sausage, but I would say it’s the closest thing I can get to hot dogs, but still not quite right. No problem, though, they made for a great (and delicious) grilling experience.
DISCLAMER: I’d like to make it perfectly clear that I think Hitler sucked. So, if you’re looking to join a Nazi fan club, I suggest heading back to google and trying your search again. This article has the intention of making fun of that angry little man.
So, I recently spent some time around Lake Balaton which is frequently referred to as the “Hungarian seaside.” It seems to have a wide range of things from palaces to tourist traps to wineries, and it all blends together in a strange way. This keeps you on your toes because you’re never sure whether to feel like an aristocrat or a redneck (or, a Nazi, but keep reading for that…).
Last weekend, I was bumping around the town of Balatonlelle, and it had that feeling that can only be achieved by a town which people visit until they’re too sunburned to remain. There were a lot of beach town essentials around: restaurants with greasy food, hairy men wearing nothing but a speedo on a public street, and plenty of junk shops.
We had a brief period of aimlessness between our morning coffee and our artery clogging langos brunch, so we decided to look for souvenirs and have flashbacks to our childhoods in the trinket stores. Shockingly, the boy in me wanted the bow and arrow while my female companion was much more interested in the elaborate bubble making toys.
Anyway, we stopped at one shop where I was drawn in by a cultural lesson on some “very Hungarian” little clay pots that were suggested as souvenirs for my friends and family back home. Then we drifted past the matchbox cars, more bubbles, and wandered into the Adolf Hitler section.
I’m not joking, you could by your mini Adolf in whichever outfit you preferred, and he even was locked into his famous saluting pose. Next to him, for the man who wants to complete the set, was Rommel and some other members of the Nazi All-Star Team. Charles de Gaulle and other less controversial figures were further down the line, but they obviously weren’t what draw in the customers.
Now, it could be argued that I shouldn’t pass judgment because I don’t know what they’re for. They were very small, so they weren’t any toy (sorry young Nazi children, you have to look elsewhere for those), and my guess is they are used for creating some kind of historical diorama or something. Perhaps my friends are boring, but I’ve never been sitting on the beach and heard someone say “I’m heading over to the shop for a Coke and I’m going to check if they have the khaki-uniformed Hitler, do you want anything?”
So, if you know what these are for, I’d be happy if you shared it. Until then, I’m going to be reading up on beach etiquette out of fear that I’m missing some critical part.
Hungarian word of the day:
This is slightly different because it’s a name – not just a word. But, it’s said to be the biggest lake in Central Europe, and it’s a pretty popular summer spot in Hungary. So, if you need a place to cool off in the summer, or just want to by some mini Nazis, you have found your destination.
I haven’t posted anything in a while. I’m, unfortunately, aware of that. Finishing my exams, writing my thesis, and searching for a job seemed more important (even if more boring…).
Anyway, I did make it on a cool trip a few weeks ago. I can say with almost 100% certainty that you don’t know anyone else who has stayed where I did. I have some nice pictures and interesting stories, and this is picture is a reminder to myself to share them with you.
So, new story, coming soon…
Hungarian word of the day:
It’s pronounced “faw,” and it means tree. Rarely are Hungarian words this short and easy.
If you live in the same city for a while, you start to know it too well. You have trouble exploring. After all, how can you find something new when you’ve already found everything? To make it worse, you know the most efficient way to get everywhere, so you rarely have to try a new way or take a wrong turn.
I don’t know everything about Budapest. I haven’t been everywhere, and I haven’t seen all there is to see. Plus, even if I had, things change so there’s always something new to find. But, I tend to have to go farther and farther away to find areas that I’m not familiar with. It’s hard to find the motivation to do that when I live and study right in the middle of some really cool neighborhoods.
So, in the spirit of my Innovation class (which only has a small amount of homework – you’ll understand this reference if you keep reading), I decided to innovate my exploring. I bought a longboard.
Suddenly, I can go farther at much faster speeds. I just explored a big park that I’ve been to a bunch of times, but this time I saw more than ever before. Instead of thinking, “no, that way looks like a long walk to nothing, I’m not going to bother,” I found myself just taking it and finally seeing what was at the other end.
Unfortunately, I haven’t had time to explore as much as I would like. The gods of school seem to frown upon fun, and they took this opportunity to send unprecedented lightning bolts of homework. Also, my body is struggling to keep up with the new muscles needed to travel this way. It seems they’re slightly different than the “metro riding muscles.” Shocking.
If anyone knows of places with long, smooth sidewalks or roads, let me know! I’ll check them out.
Hungarian word of the day:
I don’t feel the need to translate this for you. It seems that it’s a new enough concept that the Hungarian language didn’t find it necessary to make a new word. But, if it makes you feel better, “skateboard” is “gördeszka.”
They want to know why I came to this country. The world is a big place, and Hungary isn’t particularly well known. At the moment, it’s not known as being too prosperous or desirable. A large percentage of Hungarians (especially young people) are moving abroad to find more a better quality of life. Therefore, it usually comes as a shock to people that this is where I choose to spend my time.
But, I think they’re missing the point entirely. They always want to know what made me come here in the first place. Despite the fact that I often try (but rarely succeed) to convince people I only came here because I got lost, the question actually has a simple and boring answer. I found a job. It’s that straightforward.
What people should ask is why I have stayed in Hungary. I originally came with an employment contract of one year. When I did that, I assumed I would either like teaching and move to another country to continue exploring, or I wouldn’t like it and would go home. Instead, I moved to the capital city and continued. One more year of that, and then I switched back to studying without moving to a new land.
So, that’s a much more exciting question. What do I like about Hungary? What has kept me here?
This answer isn’t so easy…
There are a lot of reasons that I like Hungary, so I have a new goal to start writing them, one-by-one.
Reason #1: I feel welcome here.
That sounds cheesy. I guess it is cheesy. I don’t care.
Hungarians often get a reputation among foreigners as being “mean” or “cold,” but I disagree with that (except if you forget to acknowledge that something was invented by a Magyar). Most people frown when they walk down the street by themselves. They don’t make polite conversation to strangers on a bus. But, that doesn’t mean they’re rude. Well, some are, but you’re always going to have exceptions (they’re probably just mad they didn’t invent something yet).
I think there are a lot of different historical reasons (that I won’t go into) of why their culture has adopted that practice, but it’s not very different from many other nearby countries. Plus, Hungarians tend to be very jolly when they’re sitting in a café with friends. They smile while they chat on trains. They even have absurdly polite (and confusing) expressions that are often used in their language.
The thing is, I feel like they don’t particularly care for strangers. But, it’s really not difficult to stop being a stranger. I’d like to compare them to dogs (keep reading, before you think this is an insult). I love dogs, and one of the biggest reasons is that a dog treats you very well if you give it a little bit of food and love in return. Hungarians tend to be the same (except, they commonly greet people by shaking hands, not the other method which dogs prefer…).
I can’t count how many times I’ve met a Hungarian, and they almost immediately insisted on doing some huge favor for me. It’s actually more difficult to get them to leave you alone. “No, it’s okay, I can take care of it myself” is a phrase that seems to have been left out of their English textbooks.
If they decide you’re hungry, they give you food (even if you just ate). If they decide the place you asked about is far away, they will drive you there right away (even if you don’t really want to go). If they decide you’re bored, they’ll start talking to you to entertain you (even if, at some point in the discussion, they forget to keep speaking in English). The list never ends...
It seems that every time I start to feel homesick or out of place, it happens. A Hungarian pushes their way into my life and immediately includes me in something that’s going on with them. I could give you a lot of examples, but mind your own business. Just go make friends with a Hungarian - you’ll see what I mean.
So if you feel unwelcome in Hungary, it’s because you’re not actually talking to anyone. That’s your fault, not theirs (but as soon as someone realizes it, they’ll start talking to you).
Hungarian word of the day:
This word is pronounced “Cho-ko-lome,” and it’s a polite greeting to say to a lady. It means something along the lines of “I kiss your hand.” I told you the Hungarians are polite. Try saying that to a lady in any other country and the year 2014…