Hell On Earth (In Hungary)

On a recent drive through the Hungarian countryside, I found it:  Hell.

Uh oh, there it is. (click image to see larger)It was smaller than I expected, and it was slightly more modern.  There was one main building, or maybe there were a few buildings very close to each other – it was hard to tell.  There were roads in between, and some nice green grass that looked carefully maintained.  And, of course, there was a little guard house.

Around all of it was a fence.  I would have guessed the fence would have been made of stone and had heads or screaming people on it, but instead it was just simple metal.  Who knew the devil orders his fencing from the same place as any normal business?

There wasn’t and fire.  No screams.  No flying dragon creatures.  Just red buildings labeled “Hell” with a big picture of Satan.  There was even an exit for Hell on the nearest roundabout.

I always imagined it was a little bit bigger. (click image to see larger)That’s when it hit me.  This wasn’t the Hell to which evil people go when they die.  It was the energy drink company!  Why shouldn’t Hungary produce an energy drink like this?

The moral of the story is obvious.  If you’re driving through the Hungarian countryside and think you’ve made a mistake that doomed your soul, don’t panic.  It’s just an energy drink factory.  On that note, don’t act like a video game character and rush in to fight demons, it’s probably just full of factory workers.

The only lingering question is if they have any employees named Dante…

 We wouldn't want someone to miss the turn. (Click image to see larger)

Hungarian word of the day:

Pokol

This is pronounced “poe-coal,” and it means “hell” (at least, that’s what the dictionary told me).

Free Time Has Become Study Time

School has begun.  I’m now officially a student of the Corvinus University of Budapest (School Of Management - MBA program if you really want to know).  Tomorrow will mark the start of my third week, and I’m happy to say I’m loving it.  I’m not, however, loving studying.  I have to admit that.

The public transport I ride to school is a little more modern than this, but I like this color better! (click image to see different size)Some good things:

I have really cool classmates.  My “group” consists of 10 people (supposedly – two of them have yet to show up) and everyone is from a different country.  That means lots of interesting cross-cultural experiences.  Plus, I’m getting really good at mimicking new accents.  If my business career falls through, I always have the comedic impersonator field to fall back on.

The classes are interesting.  Let me rephrase that – all but one of the classes are interesting.  Friday morning between 9 and 12 is now officially the worst three hours of the week.

Free coffee.  That’s right, there are coffee machines in my classroom.  I’m pretty sure my hands will be permanently shaking for the rest of my life.

Some bad things:

Early mornings.  Right now, I have class every day of the week (this will change soon because of an intensive class).  I start at 9 am every day except for Thursday.  It’s not that bad though because of the free coffee.

Studying.  I don’t like it.  It’s better to study something that I find interesting than something I don’t, but that doesn’t make it fun.  A similar comparison is that it’s nicer to eat a caterpillar than a cockroach.

Now.  What’s wrong with right now, you ask?  That I should be studying (see above).  I guess I’ll get back to it…

Not the coffee I drink at school, but this one was delicious too! (click image to see different size) 

Hungarian word of the day:

Egyetem

It’s pronounced “Eh-dj-eh-tem,” and this word means “university.”  Very useful for me!

In The Sky Or On The Ground

Airplanes have changed the way we travel.  They have reduced week long trips into a matter of hours.  It sounds like a great improvement, but is it really?

The way that people used to travel by car. (click image to see larger)Fortunately, those hours that I was speaking about are not short hours.  They are long hours.  Very, very long hours.  They allow you plenty of time to think.  You can really evaluate the positive and negative aspects of this modern way of travel, and it makes you wonder how much better it really is.

Living in Europe and calling America home has caused me to cross the Atlantic an upsetting amount of times.  The first few times I did it, I couldn’t believe how exciting and adventurous it was.  Just like a kid about to go to Disneyworld, anticipation would keep me from sleeping the night before.

Now, I just dread it.  You have to spend hours waiting for planes, being crammed into a tiny seat, being harassed by security checkpoints and border guards, traveling to and from airports, and eating high priced food with absolutely no taste (except preservatives).  All for what?  So you can start in one continent and end up in another in about a day.

About 100 years ago, I assume people would leave their local area and make their way to a train station.  They would then take a series of trains to the nearest sea port.  Then, it was onto a boat that would slowly float across the globe.  Once they hit land again, it was back onto trains until they got to their final destination – or as close as a railway could take them.

The way Red Bull encourages people to fly (and swim). (click image to see larger)I’m sure that way of travel wasn’t as fun as it sounds.  It takes much longer, and probably isn’t as comfortable as I imagine.  But, it does sound cool, doesn’t it (just think pirate ships and horse riding bandits)?  I always love the views out the windows of trains, and you can stretch out and walk around when necessary.  I’ve never taken a ship across an ocean, but it also sounds pretty nice (depending on the type of boat, of course).  I’ve seen the glamorous ships in old movies – if they don’t hit an iceberg, life looks pretty grand.

This is probably the point where you think I’m crazy.  Why would anyone want to take a much longer trip just to be a little bit more comfortable?  I have my reasons.  Oh, do I have my reasons.

I’m tall.  That means my knees are constantly crunched into the seat in front of me on a plane (before the person decides to recline for their own comfort).  Then, the dry air starts to get to me.  It feels like you’re in a metal tube that’s designed to drain your body of any moisture, and drinking liquids doesn’t seem to help even the slightest bit.  Plus, there are the smells.  Many people have a bit of a stench after a few hours of this, and those aromas get circulated over and over again.

That’s not even to mention things that can also happen in other forms of travel – such as miserable temperatures and lost luggage (two things I’m quite familiar with).  Nor do I mention the positive things – like little TVs that show movies you don’t really care about on screens you can’t see through headphones you can’t hear.  I can’t imagine life before all of those.

The Budapest airport, very early in the morning. (click to see larger)Anyway, I have a point for all of this.  I recently made the crossing back to Europe, and it was monumental for multiple reasons.  Where should I begin?

I flew on a 747.  I’ve been flying my whole life, yet, those jets have always avoided me.  I angrily look at them through the terminal windows and consider changing my flight path just to get on one (as if my money would allow for that).  Finally, Chicago to Frankfurt gave me my wish. Aren’t my goals impressive?

What’s better than flying on a 9 hour flight in a 747?  Sitting in the exit row, of course.  Don’t take this the wrong way and think that I had 3 extra inches of leg room.  There were at least two rows missing in front of me – it was for an actual door (not just a little push-out window).

There weren’t personal TV sets, but the plane had them on the ceiling.  Towards the end of the flight, they showed a documentary on Manta Rays.  This sounds like a negative, but it’s not.  Only at this stage in international travel is my mind in a state to enjoy a documentary like this.  I probably learned something, but I can’t remember.

Now, for the downsides.  There was a rather fat man sitting next to me.  That wouldn’t have been a problem except he squirmed a lot while he was sleeping, and he slept most of the time.  I almost opened the emergency door and gave him a little shove.  That would’ve taught him.

The way that I'd really like to travel! (click image to see larger)He was awake a few times during that flight, and two of them happened to be takeoff and landing.  What motivated him to wake up?  The flight attendant who had to sit in her little jump seat right across from him.  He decided that he loved her and spent all of the ascent hitting on her.  It would’ve been funny if she could walk away.  Or if I could walk away.  But, we couldn’t.  We were both trapped and he seemed to not know or not care that she wasn’t interested in him.  He was persistent, I’ll give him that.  It just felt awkward.

During the takeoff, he learned that she would soon be on the flight to Denver where she would have a one or two day layover.  What a coincidence!  He lives near there!  That was an exciting realization.  While landing, he asked if he could show her around Denver when she was there.  Politely, she declined.  I exited the awkward, recycled air of the jet as soon as possible.

The last comment about my awesome seat was the location.  It was right next to the bathrooms, so there were a lot of people walking by and standing around.  This sounds bad, but I enjoyed it.  The two movies they showed weren’t very good (before the Manta Rays, of course), and I had watched one on my previous flight, so these waiting people provided my in flight entertainment.  Except for one little girl – she glared at me every time she had to go to the bathroom (a surprisingly large amount of times).  I suppose she thought I was the reason the plane smelled.

In conclusion, get an exit row for Trans-Atlantic flights.  It’s worth sitting next to a creepy men who hits on flight attendants.  But, if you’re short, please save those rows for us tall people.  We would really appreciate it.  Oh, and glance behind you before you recline.  Your little bit of comfort can make grown men cry.

 My Lufthansa 747 from Chicago to Frankfurt. (click image to see larger)

Hungarian word of the day:

Repülőgép

Pronounced roughly ”Reh-pool-ooh-gape”, this word means ”Airplane”.  It could be a repeat word, but it doesn’t matter, it’s important.

The Iced Coffee Battle

My iced coffee from Starbucks in Colorado. (click to see larger)Coffee is one of my favorite things in the world.  Being a night person, I have to drink massive amounts of caffeine to wake up – and stay up – during the day.  If anyone ever makes a cartoon series about my life, my character will likely always have a cup of coffee.

Unfortunately, one of coffee’s main traits is something that isn’t always helpful to my comfort.  It’s hot.  Sipping on a mug of hot coffee is amazing on a cold winter morning, but not so great on a stifling summer afternoon.  Hence, someone came up with the invention of iced coffee.

I’m not a coffee historian, so I don’t know who the first person was to drop ice in their hot, bitter drink.  I can imagine it was some frustrated man who happened to be sweating away inside of a hot business suit, and he decided he couldn’t take it any longer.  In an attempt to cool off, he bought a giant bag of ice to dump over his head.  Some fell into his cup and a new drink was born.

As usual when having too much coffee, I’m getting off topic.  Today, I’m going to compare the iced coffee I find in Hungary with the iced coffee I drink in the U.S.A.  In short, they’re very different.

Maybe this cocktail bus in Budapest will make me iced coffee... (click to see larger)U.S. iced coffee tends to be a large cup that’s full of watery coffee.  Most people add cream and sugar, but I think that highlights the bad parts while destroying the good stuff.  The important thing is that it’s ice cold, and it comes in a big cup.

Hungarian iced coffee tends to be different.  More than once, I’ve ordered iced coffee and received hardly any coffee.  The cup usually contains a lot of ice cream, a lot of whipped cream, and a little bit of coffee.  It’s almost like ordering an ice cream with a little coffee on top.  But, is that really a bad thing?

Now I’m sure there are places in Hungary that would give me the American style, and no doubt there are places in the U.S. that would throw some sweet stuff in with my drink.  The part I find most interesting is the generalizations involved.  American foods are known for being unhealthy and served in massive quantities, while European cuisine is usually smaller portions of higher quality.  So, the portion size matches up here, but the health aspect doesn’t.  Nutrition isn’t my area of expertise, but I assume a watery cup of coffee is healthier than a few scoops of ice cream and whipped cream.

All that being said, why am I even talking about this?  It’s summer and it’s hot, so drink some iced coffee.  That’s all I’m really trying to say.  If you like ice cream, toss it in.  If you don’t, leave it out.  As a cold weather loving person, I just try to find ways to stay cool.

 Not iced coffee, but it is in a mug from the University of Colorado! (click to see larger)

Hungarian word of the day:

Jég Kávé

Pronounced “Yay-g cah (like CAT without the T) –vay.”  It means (maybe) iced coffee.  I’m pretty sure this is what I’ve read on Hungarian menus, but I’m on the other side of the world so it’s hard to check.

Fire The 4th Of July

It's always a nice feeling to see this flag flying and realize I'm at home. (click to see larger)To celebrate the birth of my country, there's one tradition that we like to follow:  blow things up.  That's right, on the 4th of July everyone takes the day off so we can remember those great people who declared us an independent nation more than 200 years ago, and then we like to have a party.  We grill food, watch baseball, and, most importantly, set off fireworks.

Or, maybe not this year...

Hard to see, but that's an American flag on a burned hill in Colorado Springs. (click to see larger)I suppose when you're in a state that's so dry it has been burning for weeks, you get a little bit sick of anything containing the word "fire".  In what seems to be a fair rule, fireworks are banned this year.  Our night skies weren't lit up with colorful explosions.

This isn't completely different from normal years.  Private fireworks have been illegal in Colorado just about every year I've lived here.  I think that law is what keeps the Wyoming economy alive since the Colorado natives have to hop across the border to buy them.  They're not illegal in Wyoming because there's nothing to burn down.  As a matter of fact, that state might not have any actual residents - just people from Colorado who commute to run fireworks stands every morning.

Anyway, how do you celebrate without fireworks?  I drank beer and watched baseball.  Does that cover it?

I spent last 4th of July in eastern Hungary where I was educating a Hungarian girl about the traditions.  Without a barbeque grill, I cooked hamburgers on the stove.  It was absurd how much I paid for "American Hamburger Buns," but it seemed necessary.  They actually turned out pretty good.  Since a girl was helping me, I even neglected to burn them like I usually do.

With no patriotic tunes on the Hungarian radio, I was forced to turn to YouTube for the soundtrack.  Everything went well, except there weren't any fireworks.

A deer enjoying the freedom to eat plants right in front of our fence - apparently I'm not intimidating when holding a camera. (click to see larger)That's why this year seemed so exciting.  I would be in my native land with other people who cared about the day.  I'd hear the same old songs while eating the same old food and watching the same old fireworks.

After watching the city burn and seeing smoke still coming off the mountains, it didn't seem right to have a barbeque.  So, we headed to a restaurant.  In a grand sense of irony, we went to what I thought was an American restaurant, but the pictures on the wall looked just like communist murals.

Last year:  4th of July in Hungary with American songs and hamburgers.

This year:  4th of July in Colorado with communist paintings and no fireworks.

Sometimes I just don't understand my life.  Does travel bring me closer to home?  Or, do I just have my head screwed on backwards?

I'll be back in Hungary by August 20th, so I'll get to see fireworks then.  If they get cancelled for some reason, I'll set myself on fire and jump up and down.  Stay tuned for that...

My mom loves the flowers that she can hide from the deer and other animals, and they help me remember it's summer. (click to see larger).
UNKOWN Hungarian Word of the Day:

Firework

I don't know it, and I left my dictionary in Hungary.  If you know it, help me out.