A Passionate Nő

So I've had a strange couple of days....

2009-07-18T03:29:00.003+02:00

I have been back in the US since the first of July.

As the crispness of the experience begins to fuzz around the edges, the best way to describe my life is that I have had a strange couple of days.

I miss it.

The last couple of weeks in Hungary were really busy. I made new friends, who took me swimming in the Cave baths, I baked cookies for the remaining 18 of 22 classes, I travelled constantly with Tara for two weeks, I was spoiled to death by Jon and Franny, Tara and I went to a melon patch, chased both buses and cars waving, I won a fire jumping competition, My buddies helped my re-cram my life into two suitcases and sadly I said goodbye.

I hate to say good-bye, because it means an end of something amazing. Instead I prefer to say Hello.

Bookends

2009-06-03T16:54:00.002+02:00

I feel alternatively that I have just arrived, hot and sweaty into Ferihegy and that I have been here forever.

Things are both entirely similar and entirely different from late August and early September.

My kids are returning to the energetic state of chaos that surrounds new beginnings and endings. They still ask me if I am married, am I really 88, and other varied personal questions. Unlike in September I am no longer shocked by their curiosity.

In late May we went to another Wine festival in Etyek. Again Lauren, Lyla and I piled into the ancient yellow volan bus to trek the 45 minute journey. This time they did not meet me at the Bus station, and this time we knew where to go.

My music and Youtube education has grown thanks to Franny. I am learning new ideas about food from Jon. I am learning about physical presentation from Lauren and Lyla. I am learning Hungarian from Sani and Jeno. I am learning about fishing and wine from Tamas. I am learning patience and joy from my kids. I am learning to play Hungarian cards from 11b. I am learning about sewing, baking, traveling, dancing and BLISS in all its forms from the people around me.

I love being a teacher, because it means I never have to stop learning and pursuing knowledge.

I just hope I have taught my students something as well.

"Tomorrow there will be an execution"

2009-05-21T20:44:00.003+02:00

Is what one of my teachers told me, as I looked around at people tacking colourful banners around the school. My confused face must have given it away, because he looked at me strangely as I asked "Exhibition?"

I have had a delightful week of company. First Tara in Mariapocs then later a friend from Australia I had not seen in years.

Tara and I accompanied the teachers on a wine "tasting" in a small town just over an hour away from Heves. On the way there we made a pit-stop to drink wine, at some one's house...just because, and when we got to Nagyrede, it started with obligatory shots of Palinka. The night was spent talking to a teacher who has not spoken a word to me in the last 9 months that I have lived here, listening to the Bandis sing songs, nattering in Hunglish, eating amazing food, and dancing to Hungarian jazz under the stars.

Judit, Tara and I popped into my favorite flower shop, where the man behind the counter gave us free yellow roses each "for our birthdays"

There was a fashion show in school, including dancing Snow white and the seven dwarfs.

Tara, Jamie, Jeb and I chilled in Gyula for two days. I ran into an acquaintance, whom I have not seen in two years, but still remembered who I was (despite no longer having black hair). Odd, and nice.

I saw a play in Eger with the Cops. It involved Alien ghosts, a fold out book, a gangster, a robot, a bomb, an overenthusiastic cop, a mean caretaker, plum dumplings, and a girl in a clown suit called Hedgehog (sunni)... AND it was a musical.

I gave someone a hair cut. It turned out cute.

One of my private 11b students taught me how to play Hungarian cards. When the rest of the class came in, more people joined, and I ended up skipping lunch to play cards with my students.

The Folk Art museum ladies recognize me, as I have now been there at least 5 times (taking the tour). Twice in the last week. Although never having taken the tour in English, I have been the translator almost all of those times, even though my Hungarian is pretty bad and I only figured out the word for linen on the third time around.

One way to go shopping.

2009-05-14T14:42:00.004+02:00

I began to open the door into the teacher's snack lounge to spend time between lessons, when suddenly the door was slammed back and an angry voice yelled: "Csak lányok" (Only women). Two blue eyes peeked at me through the open crack of the door. Taking in my surprise, and that I am a girl, she shot off rapid fire Hungarian, and let me in quickly and closed the door behind me.

There in front of me stood one of the teachers half naked. She pulled on a shirt buttoned it up, and moved her arms in the familiar gestures of trying on clothing. Ignoring the shock of seeing one of my colleagues in such a state, I sifted through piles of shirts, track suits, and colourful pants. The teacher and the sales lady encouraged me to try something on, so I did.

There I was, middle of the room, about to try on a shirt when I realized while the door was blocked, the full length windows ground floor windows had only sheer curtains blocking us from the outside.

The windows look out to the entrance walk.

We had all of the lights on.

Well...that is one way to go shopping.

A wake up call.

2009-05-06T19:46:00.002+02:00

There are less than 5 full weeks of school left.

My seniors have graduated, in a flurry of flowers and poetic ceremony.

I will be following their exits with my own búcsú in under two months.

I am not ready to leave this life of miscommunication and hilarity.

Locsolkodás, érettségi, and Serenade

2009-04-28T20:37:00.008+02:00

The Thursday after spring break the No walked into 11d's classroom, to be greeted with a student jumping out of the sink closet and spritzing her with strong perfume. Shock, Surprise and Stink assailed all of her senses, forcing her to take a moment to re-group. It proves that even two days after locsolkodás, American teachers are not safe from fertility traditions.

The last few weeks the staff have been frantically prepping the 12th grade
students for their Maturity exams. This includes giving intense practice exams,
which they mostly failed. They have, however, led to some new favorite
Hunglish student-isms.

One of the Hungarian graduation traditions (unlike in the US,
graduation activities extend over at least a week) is called Serenade. It is exactly
what it sounds like. Students walk from teacher's house to teacher's house and sing
them songs. Both 12a and 12b are singing to me. The No is excited to see this
tradition up close, but would be more excited if it did not mean staying up
until after 2am. 12b is seranading her at 1am-ish.

Here is a quick guide to some important Hungarian terms for this post.

Locsolkodás: Easter Minda sprinkling, boys dash/sprinkle girls with water/perfume in exchange for money, eggs and palinka.

érettségi: Hungarian Maturity exam, think of a University entrance exam.
This is taken in the beginning of May for 12th grade, but can be taken earlier.

Seranade: Part of the Hungarian graduation traditions.

Part 3: Kalocsa and Holloko

2009-04-22T15:19:00.005+02:00

"Hey dude, I'm lost, I forgot where to go in the [town]" was how Easter Sunday should have started. I got off the bus in beautiful sunny Kalocsa at the wrong bus stop, and a short phone call to Franny later, I was headed in the right direction. Easter was delicious! Between Jon's AMAZING cooking and Franny's play list, Easter was lovely. We meandered the town, and dyed eggs with plants and onion skins. Franny and I were in charge of blowing the eggs out, so that we could dye just the shells. While the first one I did, to show Franny how to do it, worked perfectly, the next two I broke....finally culminating in an egg that defied physics and exploded up my nose. Too soon I was on the bus back to Budapest.

Prep work to dye the eggs

Washing the eggs

Jon making Deviled Eggs

Franny blowing out the eggs

Yummy! Lunch part 1 of 10

Holloko: I went to see the traditional Hungarian watering. I missed out on seeing a girl dressed in traditional dress getting doused with a bucket of water, but it was a good day nonetheless.

Ladies in traditional dress

Kids who ran around splashing people

Part 2: Bratislava, Brno, Budapest

2009-04-22T07:44:00.004+02:00

I met Jamie and Tara in Budapest and together we caught a late train to a former capital of the Hungarian territory...Bratislava. We slept poorly, meandered, and ate perogies.

   Train buddies
   Castle view
   A hat on a building!

Brno, a name I can not properly pronounce, but was stunning! We explored, and visited one of the most famous prisons in the Hapsburg empire. There I drooled over Handschrift documents on display, and later we popped into the Easter market. All too soon it was time to wait for the train and travel on our separate ways.

Budapest: I finally checked out the shoe memorial along the Danube. The weather was perfect to just chill out on its banks. I also popped into the Easter Market at Vorosmarty ter, and chilled out sipping tea.

Nagyszerű helyekre elmenni voltam!

2009-04-16T19:16:00.009+02:00

12 days and 7 cities later, I am home. I started in Szeged, then home for Student Days, then off on Spring break adventures in Brataslava, Brno, Budapest, Kalocsa and Holloko. While each one deserves its own post to properly encapsulate the insane adventures, instead I will give a short (well...I will try) blurb and photos.

Part One:

Perfect weather welcomed me to Hungary's sun city, Szeged. There I chilled with Jon and Franny. We ate AMAZING food, check it out on Jon's blog (especially the duck comfit...yeah I ate that, be envious!) We engaged in my favorite activities: walking around pretty places, enjoying the sunshine, making daisy chains and ATCs, Swinging on swings in a park, and hitting up a great museum. We made each other laugh and groan with silly Hunglish phrases all weekend long! (Oh for Bisztos!) Then on my way home, I met up with one of my crazy eighth graders, who found a better way to Heves than the one I was going. We were waiting at the Gyongyos bus stop, when another kid (not one of mine), asked Viktor if we were related. Viktor, who is short and dark, gave the new kid a funny look and told him I was the anyanelvi tanar. The new kid (a senior at one of the Gyongyos schools) spent the whole bus ride home arguing that I could not be 25.

Franny and I swinging

Working at the Pick Salami factory

Jon and Franny

Under the alter in Szeged

Part Two:

Exhausted I rolled into school to be greeted with Chaos. While Chaos is actually fairly normal, this was student directed chaos. At EJ we have 'Student days' where various classes compete against one another to become Student Principals for the day. They elicit votes by running various programs, Karaoke, Football, cooking and dance competitions, interrupting classes and creating a general ruckus. I checked out the archery on the first day. Some one's dad brought traditional Hungarian re-curved bows and real arrows, which he gave everyone a chance to fire. The next day I hung around the cooking competition, mostly to enjoy the day and for the entertainment of culture shock. Everyone from seventh grade on up were lighting fires in random places in the grass. Then cooking dishes in cauldrons, and for the older students drinking wine, on campus. All with minimal adult supervision. I can now tell everyone that my kids are all wonderful outside cooks! The next day, I judged a dog competition, watched break dancing, a dancing competition, meandered through classrooms and was collected by a non-English speaking student for the scavenger hunt. As he dragged me across campus, he would raise my wrist and mock other students passing. I was met at the end of campus with one of my students holding a live goose. Too soon it was time to run for my bus, and spring break had officially begun.

I visited 10b and tried on riot gear...hmmm maybe I do want it for class!

   9d's entry in the cooking competition
   Preping for the competition
   Eta and Kate supporting different classes

Kids watching teachers singing

How to look like Carol Brady in 5 easy steps:

2009-04-02T20:56:00.001+02:00

1) Go a local Szepsegszalon: Looking at my sister's photos, I noticed how dreadful my hair looked. It was shaggy and the old dye job had mostly grown out. So on Tuesday they walked to a local Szepsegszalon and made an appointment.

2) Make an appointment: This involved a lot of gestures and pointing, but soon enough we had figured out when and how much the hair cut should cost. Nevertheless, it wowed my colleauges and I was dubbed nagyon okos (very smart).

3) Show up to the appointment: I was running late, but made it in just in time.

4) More smiling, nodding and gestures to communicate with the hairdresser: The hairdresser asked if I wanted a 'trendy' cut, thinking of my students - spiky faux hawk mullets are currently in style - I refused. Instead I chose something out of a book, published in 1993. She whipped out not just sissors, but strange instruments of hair torture. Instead of watching the snippets of blonde and brown fall arround my feet, I closed my eyes.

5) Look in the Mirror: There staring back in the mirror was Carol Brady, albeit a slightly more modern version.

She trimmed up the back, and it is really cute.

Felejthetetlen het volt!

2009-03-29T21:43:00.004+02:00

My sister and her boyfriend came to visit. We explored Eger, Budapest, and Heves. It was lovely to have company.

The Minaret, this time I stayed on the ground

Eger

That is right, a tiny little girl with a re-curved bow that shoots real arrows. Only in Hungary...

Budapest at night
Statue on the Castle Hill

Fisherman's Basti

Metro 2 sign at Deak Ter

Marx and Engles at Statue Park

Yoga, dancing happy executioners...just another weekend in Heves

2009-03-27T06:31:00.005+01:00

At about 4pm, I grabbed my new mat and dashed out the door for the bus. Dressed in sweatpants and a long sweatshirt I boarded the bus amongst a bevy of my students heading home for the day. I was on my way to Tarnamera (a neighbouring village) for my first yoga lesson. After a long day I jumped at the opportunity for a small nap. I woke up with a start (thanks to one of my students), and walked through fat droplets of rain into the baroque inspired elementary school.

There were three ladies waiting. Awkwardly we made stilted conversation, and waited for everyone else to show up. Eventually we were settled into a room, calming music playing, candles glowing and a bunch of women stretching on the floor. The highlights of the evening included stretching, breathing, re-enacting Monty Python's school for funny walks, whispered instructions during the relaxing period causing me to giggle, wondering if the smell was from my mat or residual superglue from ATC making, and getting tucked in during communal nap time.

Two days later, was Saturday the 28th of March. Back in January the education ministry decided that we would need to work a Saturday to make up for having the 2nd of January off. Originally we were supposed to work it right away, but due to rising gas prices/the gas being shut off by Russia, it was postponed until the end of March. So Saturday morning, bleary eyed and rather cranky, we woke up and rolled ourselves into school. Saturday schools are one of my pet peeves. The children are inevitably crazy, and most of them just don't show up. So after a couple hours of trying to get the kids to focus on anything related to English, I exhausted. But there is no rest for the wicked, so at approximately noon, Judit and I piled onto a charter bus headed for Budapest.

We had gotten tickets for Experidance, a dance company that re-tells stories through dance. It was amazing. The dancer portraying Mattias Corvinus wore an extraordinary amount of eyeshadow, and gold. The costumes, scenery and dancing was stunning. They used a combination of Hungarian folk dance, ballet and modern dance. They even incorporated the 'Hungarian clap' demanding an encore to set the beat to a rousing chardas. Probably the most cheerful song, however was reserved for a comic dance of executioners, whilst the creepiest was reserved for the lawyers' dance.

Too soon it was time to get back on the bus and head home.

Babysitting: 12B style

2009-03-25T15:07:00.005+01:00

As the date of their impending freedom approaches, 12b's apathy towards the English language grows, and this results in both frustration and hilarity for their Anyanelvi teacher (the No).

One poignant example is today's class. The assignment in the Erettsegi (Hungarian maturity exam, much like the HSC in N.S.W., The Abitur in Germany or the Matura in Austria) book was to explain to the examiner why the student would be a good babysitter. They had to cover such points like:

Do you have any younger brothers or sisters?
What would you do to entertain the child?
What would you give the child to eat/drink?
What would you do in case of an emergency (ex. Crying)?

The No divided the class (about half of them were 'mysteriously' missing) into two teams. The boys opted to stay together, and so did the girls. Fluttering between them, the No tried to spur her students on to do the exercise, she received only blank looks and muttering in Hungarian. In the end, she sat with each group and asked them their responses. The girls gave fairly normal responses: Yes, I have helped look after children. We would give them fruit and vegetables. We would play ball and run with them, and in case of emergencies, we would sing to them, hug them or take them to the Hospital.

The boys, however gave a slightly different response. One of the boys kept repeating that he hated small children, and finally assisted his group (himself, one other official student, and one student who comes although he has already taken his language exam (he just sits in the back and listens to music)) with the following responses:

We would feed the children fruit, vegetable and beer milkshakes
We would take the kids to the pub and a metallica concert (lifted on shoulders so not to get squished)
In case of emergency we would take them to the hospital (yes, even if the kid is just crying).

Virag leszek: Adventures in Hevesi's nőnap celebrations.

2009-03-10T18:48:00.006+01:00

Heves loves women's day, which is a coincidence, because so do I.

On Friday the students swarmed and buzzed through the school, bearing arms full of flowers. The student porter popped his head into the staff room every two minutes to call various female teachers. I wasn't expecting any flowers, because in truth I had forgotten about it, and as it isn't mandatory, I did not expect much. Tibor, one of my 12d students cornered me in the hallway, and handed me a beautiful white carnation. Throughout the day, I was called out a couple of times (my favorite was Tomi in 10th grade, who saw me walking, and said 'Hey you, this is for you' gave the kisses and sauntered off). Finally done for the day, I walked out with six flowers decorated with ribbons and greenery. There is no feeling like receiving flowers.

However, it does come with its awkward moments. As an American, I have slowly adapted to giving the puszi kisses. I kiss my friends hello and goodbye, with barely a batted eyelash. However, students. That is just strange, but it is rude not to do so. It doesn't help that I never remember the right number of kisses, or which side goes first. This lead to a Friday full of bobbing, weaving and being called back by students to try again.

Saturday was our charity/women's day ball. A basic run down of a Hungarian ball: drinks, performances by students (usually), dinner, dancing, raffle and at midnight a second dinner. As per a couple weeks ago, I was slated to preform. So at 6:30 we showed up to the school. We were greeted by a couple of the teachers, giving last minute instructions to a large number of my students. They gave all of us girls (everyone but Jeb), Calla Lillys, and all of us a glass of champagne. One of the teachers showed us to our assigned table, and we then meandered about admiring the preparations. At about 6:45, I left my friends to join the others giving performances. My 12b boys (who were also reading poetry) asked about my stage fright (a phrase I taught them the week before), and 11d girls (who all looked pretty in their folk dancing costumes) admired Tara and Lyla's hair/makeup job. I was one of the last to preform, and my heart was beating so loudly I could not hear myself recite. It must have gone OK, because I got a standing ovation, and thumbs up from people I don't even know. Afterwards I tried to sneak up stairs with the help of one of my students (I was hiding behind him), but we got caught and told to not go upstairs yet.

Finally allowed to go upstairs, I was greeted with smiles and waves and a shot of Hazi palinka. Dinner was amazing, although we all got scolded for not having soup first. We danced (I got spun so much I almost threw up). Someone I had never met before asked Sani if he could dance with me, and someone else asked to take a picture with me. (I kid you not, although afterwards he told us he was one of my students' dad). At the end of the night, we were hanging out at the table, waiting for the raffle, when Csilla and all of the student waiter/waitresses walked up to us.

"Briggi, the students have a special task for you"

Oh no, I thought, what are they volunteering me to do? Turns out I was the raffle-puller girl. We had a ridiculous number of prizes (see Lauren's post for photos), and it took over 45 minutes and much confusion to pull them all.

Monday, we got more flowers. In seventh period the male teachers had arranged a party for all of the women who work at the school. At 2pm we walked into the lunch room, transformed into women's day party room. On Sunday Jeb had been looking for his favorite type of beer at the store, but could not find it. I think the male teachers bought it out, there was also wine, shots of Baily's, shots of cherry stuff, cakes, and of course more flowers and poetry. I never thought I would be drinking a) at school, b) on a school day, and c) served to us by our principal.

Wow. I love this Country.

Yesterday

2009-03-06T16:32:00.003+01:00

5:15 am - My alarm beeps an incessant demand to wake up...I hit snooze

5:23 am - Hit snooze...think about waking up. Realize it is a busy morning, and haul myself out of bed

5:30 am - whip up the brownies I promised Dia

6 am - Brownies are in the oven, and I drink luke-warm tea and have left over batter for breakfast

6:30 am - Fret about the fate of the brownies on facebook chat

6:31 am - pull out the brownies, begin to get ready

6:44 am - remember that Today is picture day, and we are supposed to look 'formal'...I have nothing formal, begin to look for something nice that Borris has not destroyed

7:30 found something, brushed hair, make up on....and look for boots to cover the fact that all my stockings are holey...

7:40 - Running Late! Run to school, passing several dawdling students.

8:00 - Just made it in before the bell. Look around...all of the other teachers are in suits, I feel really under dressed in a skirt, turtleneck and boots.

10 am - free period, chill out in Maria's office and wait for coffee.

10:05 Kata walks in and tells me there will be no performances (including mine) at the ball on Saturday, as she has been too sick to organize it. I am horribly confused and begin to wonder what I bought tickets to.

10:06 Relief sets in, as I realize I don't have to butcher the Hungarian language in front of all of Heves

10:07 Consider calling friends to ask if they want to cancel

10:08 Agi sweeps into the conversation about the ball/not ball. I still have to preform.

10:10 I go eat a brownie, and begin hard core poetry cramming.

Wednesday Afternoon Wishes

2009-03-04T15:11:00.001+01:00

I wish the weather was nicer -- Heves has been foggy and drizzly and grey since maybe Saturday.

I wish I had something to wear -- Bah, we have two formal events this week, first 12d's class portrait tomorrow, then on Saturday our ball. Between Borris' destruction of my clothing, my increased chubbiness, and a closet full of informal things, tomorrow's selection is slim.

I wish I had bought the cow-shaped Nintendo-like game at the market -- does that even need an explanation?

I wish I had a plan -- But, maybe I still have time.

I wish you were here -- I miss you.

"Adam loves you tanar-neni"

2009-02-27T19:34:00.000+01:00

Spring is coming.

The No can tell. Not only because it is light after 4pm, not only because there is less bite in the chilly gusts of wind that accompany her to school, but because her students may be beginning to crack.

This week students have professed love to the No in 3 separate classes. One student tacked variations of "and Miss has my unending love" or "Miss is very nice today" onto every sentence he had to read from the textbook. In a couple of her classes, the students keep asking about if the No has a boyfriend (hadn't we gone over that?). Got asked to party with two groups of students (one needed help asking, so paused after every word, waiting for his friend to whisper the next word to him). Two of her students have begged her (and I do mean literally on their hands and knees) not to bring them to the Osztifonok/confiscate their cell phone. One student resorted to throwing himself on the floor in the middle of the hallway during passing time, rolling around and intermittently making Monkey noises.

This behavior could also be partially attributed to the increased level of chaos that has reigned over our school. One third of the teachers have been out sick, while another healthy chunk are on the school ski trip leaving the rest of us to scramble to replace them. Replacement generally means that both advanced and beginner halves will be together in the same class. Or a German group and an English group will meet together. This means that either two lessons are being taught at the same time, by the same teacher (yes it is as confusing as it sounds), or a lesson which is too difficult for half and too easy for the other half. At the same time we are preparing for a Ball next week, which should include various performances. Due to the illness of the organizer, we only found out today who was definitely preforming.

There was also another dance last night. It was a Farsang party for the dormitory students. The No was invited, after participating in a passing-time dance party with the 11d girls. Not really knowing what to expect, the No tentatively approached the school at 5:30. She met with Zoltan (12d's Osztifonok) on the way, and the pair stumbled through broken Hunglish until they got inside. The No was pulled aside by one of her petite (but considers herself to be a tough guy) girls, and told she must judge. The talent/costume contest was pretty good. They boys showcased their sport skills. And the girls showed of dancing, costuming and acting skills. After which the No was shepherded into a small room and fed things. Then there was awkward dancing, and she made her escape.

All in all, it has been a strange, if wonderful week. Although it has given me new goals:

a) Learn to dance

b) Work on Hungarian...so I don't need a constant translator

c) Remember my umbrella at all times

d) REALLY have to work on sniffling giggles....it just encourages them.

"the basic rule of any investigation, not using special cars" pg. 80

2009-02-24T19:11:00.001+01:00

Ordinary. Life has become ordinary, but in the ordinary, we can find beauty. At least that is the idea behind Clare's 3BT. I found her blog back when I lived in Gyula, and have tried to make an effort, especially when stressed or worried, to remember the beautiful and ordinary things in my life.

Borris still destroys and turns things mysteriously pink (there was nothing red in that load...yet every thing turned out slightly pink...).

My new policy of not giving student's confiscated phones straight to their osztifonoks, but rather giving them a grace period, in which to hand in sentences, has both increased my wall of shame and decreased the number of phones I see. Plus, it is nice being called for by the student porter.

I only grimace slightly, when I have to substitute a class unannounced. With the number of teachers out either sick, or on ski week, I have made a concerted effort to check the wall of substitutions. However, sometimes, they forget to write them in until after the class is over. And, I just take it for granted that 11d and 9b will be the entire class, rather than divided by ability level.

Having a student ask to have extra conversation class, and actually talk!

Reading a delightfully silly book.

Nenis.

Learning an extremely cut down version of Dr. Suess' OH THE PLACES YOU'LL GO, in Hungarian. I cut it down, and the other teachers are translating it for me. I did do one whole sentence by myself though (maybe 3/4...I put the first person singular ending on the noun, rather than second person plural). While I quietly recite it to myself, teachers who do not usually talk to me, are willing to help me out with my pronunciation.

Going on middle of the day adventures to Eger on b-week Tuesdays.

My thinking-pregnant-thoughts at other teachers has apparently worked, and someone else is pregnant! Peter the German teacher says it is about 90% certain that we will get another schedule this year! (This will be number 4, for those of you counting).

Sani fussing over me when I am sick. Zoli (who by the way, is rather intimidating because he is HUGE..even 12d, his Oszti are intimidated), grabbing me on the shoulders and asking "Jol vagy?" when he thinks I am sad/sick. Jeno, who I can give makkos or dios or gries-teszta to. I don't like it, and he patiently teaches me Hungarian at lunch.

Our brand new official porter calling me into the booth at the end of the day. I gave him a chocolate chip cookie, because a few days ago he gave me weird-marshmallowy things. He called me over to give me a cake recipe, which he then explained slowly in Hungarian and hand gestures.

Packages.

"A good man, Edina thought. Question is, what is he good for" p 32

2009-02-16T17:14:00.000+01:00

The last two weekends can be summarized in the following words: Margie, Mangaliza and Mariapocs.

The first weekend in February I put on a dress, threw on some make-up, heels and waited to be picked up. Eltelka arrived and the pair of us drove into the heart of Andrassy ut. We were quite lucky and found a parking place almost directly in front of the Opera house. There we waited to meet with Margie and Hanna, who were also going to the Ballet. Adorned with fabulous paintings and guilt, the interior of the Budapest opera house was almost more amazing than the rendition of Anna Karenina being unfolded on the stage. Hours and coffees later, I stumbled home behind Lauren and Lyla. Saturday I visited, and ran errands with the Csibis. Later I met up with Lauren and Lyla again, and the three of us headed to the second round of Margie's birthday bash.

Sunday the girls and I met up with Jon and Franny at the Mangaliza festival. Mangalizas are an ancient breed of Hungarian pigs. They are hairy, large, and their meat has the healthy cholesterol. We fought through lines for food, which was delicious. Later I got to pet the babies, as they were driven past in carts. I fulfilled the advertisement's imperative: Pet and Eat.

The next week dragged by, as my bronchial cough developed into a nasty zombie inducing full cold. Feeling better, and armed with a flask of hot tea I boarded a bus for Szolnok at some ridiculous (ie before 7am) hour. This turned out to be the slowest bus in Hungary. Frustrated, flurried and worried messages zipped back and forth between me and Emily. A full twenty odd minutes late, the bus arrived. We got to the train station, bought tickets, jumped aboard the train and we were off. We were met in Mariapocs' bus station (a little shelter on the side of a highway), by Tara and her school's Director, who drove us the 30-45 minute walk into town. Margie made us pancakes, coffee and a disturbing liver/rice sausage (a gift from a student's grandmother). We sat around, chatted and later prepared ourselves for the ball.

If you ever want to feel like a rock star, and have no musical talent, go to Mariapocs. We walked in, dressed like bombshells, but not to the sparkly nines like some (glitter is an important part of all formal school occasions I've noticed). There we sat at a prime table, littered with alcohol, water and polgacsa all courtesy of the director. We watched adorable children sing, dance and preform. We then gorged ourselves on a fantastic dinner, then danced the night away. Second dinner at midnight, then a raffle, then more dancing, and we were exhausted.

The next morning, we were driven to the train station by the bleary eyed Principal. He had stayed at the party until 6am! The snow had started earlier on Saturday afternoon, and had not stopped when we walked home at 2am. Sani's car got stuck, so bearing our backpacks and purses, Margie, Jamie and I pushed his car out of the snowdrifts. The five of us had to walk along the tracks, as it was the only thing clear of the the foot or so high drifts. Walking along arms out for balance we made it to the platform, to await the slowest train in Hungary.

In Nyiregyhaza we parted ways. Emily and Jamie caught the first train home. Margie headed to Tescos to pick up supplies, while Tara and I headded into town for coffee. It was lovely to wander through the beautiful streets pock marked with ugly 60s style buildings. All too soon it was 2pm, and Tara's bus left. We made strange faces at one another as we tried to tell stories through the dirty plate glass windows of her bus. She pulled away, and I was left, kicking dirty snow into oily puddles for another hour before my trusted chariot whisked me home.

On my last bus home, I ran into a pair of students. One in 11d-beginners, and one a 12d German student. We communicated awkwardly. I laughed a little as one of their friends (not someone I teach) got on the bus, and almost sat next to me. Realizing who I was, he jumped back and politely said 'Csokolom Tanarno'. There I was, feeling grubby, with unwashed pigtailed braids, and a slight stiffness from sleeping on some one's floor, having a student treat me with cautious politeness, whilst asking me in the mix of German/English/Hungarian, that has become my daily lexicon, about parties and other teachers. I am glad, and amused that this is my life. I could not ask for much better.

"With Napoleon Brandy, made in France and not in Minnesota" p30

2009-02-11T08:09:00.000+01:00

Teaching stuff:

As a way to encourage students to push themselves out of their normal four sentences in Dialogues, I have created character cards. The trick is to incorporate the character into whatever dialogue we are working on. It forces them to be a little more creative, and think about how they are putting the vocabulary together. These are the characters I have so far:

A strict teacher
A Vampire
An obsessive comic book collector/artist
An angry waitress
A parent of 4 young children, who you are looking after during the dialogue
A university student
A Pirate
A Superhero (state your name and superpowers during the dialogue)
A caffeine addict, you need to drink at least four cups of coffee a day
Someone vain
You have a disease where you fall asleep every 5 minutes, but only for 10 seconds at a time
A presidential candidate (think about campaign promises)

If you have any suggestions for more that would be great! I am currently compiling a list of situation cards as well. I used these in my more advanced classes, but even then had to explain some of the vocabulary/concepts.

Giving blood....

2009-02-05T19:39:00.000+01:00

So while I may have failed to give blood, I did discover an interesting cure for low blood pressure (after a week of crazy students I have no idea why my blood pressure is so low that I can not give blood) and anemia. "Hus (meat-yup knew that one), Vitamins (tick again) es Egeri Bikaver" was what the doctor prescribed.

Neni: hungarian for matchmakers...

2009-02-04T19:16:00.000+01:00

My phone rang, and thinking it was Tara I picked up.

"Kezi csokolom, Laci itt" burbled the voice on the other line. Laci? I ransacked my brain. Good Lord...could it be?

Three hours earlier:

Sleepy and comfortably full from lunch (Makkos teszta which I gave to Urban Jeno and soup), I meandered my way home. I had not petted my favorite dog in a while, so I planned on stopping for a good ten minutes.

Walking slowly up, I saw the lady who owned the dog opening the gate to another lady. She saw me stop and hesitate. "gyere ide" (come here) she waved me in the gate. Thanking her, I promptly cuddled and petted the small waggling creature that lured me to her gate. The two ladies exchanged small talk, and asked my name. Then they called "gyere ide" and waved me inside. I was struck for a moment. It is a big deal to be invited into some one's house, and here were two strangers waving me in.

Inside we ate baked apples, and shared some small talk. Mostly the little old ladies chatted, and I nodded and smiled. My Hungarian is largely non-existent, so I smile a lot. We discussed grand kids, and one of the ladies, who will visit her daughter in Canada this summer, asked about help with English. "Absolutely" I said. So I gave the ladies my phone number. We also discussed one of the lady's 29 year old son. Now I should have been suspicious when they asked about my boyfriend...and my weekend plans. I told them about going to Budapest, and then to Mariapocs. I tried to explain that there was going to be a ball. However, I think I may have made a mistake, as the ladies started saying "Laci go Mariapocs" Confusion and smiling took over.

It was time to leave, and the lady who was visiting also got ready to walk home. We walked out together, and conversed in smiles (me) and rapid-fire Hungarian. She then invited me in. I demurred, but followed her in. She has an amazing house, which she showed me. Then, handing me a slip of paper with Laci (her son)'s phone number, we walked out.

I walked home, dazed but happy having met two new Hungarians.

So three hours later I was surprised when Laci called me. Our conversation ran something like this:

"Hello I am Laci, my mother told me to call you"

"Oh, ummm Hello. I am Briggi"

"Do you know why my mother asked me to call you?"

"Umm...not really. Maybe because I know that many people in Heves"

"My mother is a great organizer. Well shall we be friends?"

"Yes, I think so."

I think I have made a new friend.

Eger Weekend, taking tea, and one angry English teacher

2009-02-03T19:19:00.000+01:00

The No has been lazy about posting. Stuff happens but motivation to post has been gone, along with one of 11b's paper airplanes out of the window.

This weekend, a small CETP brigade came to conquer Eger. On Friday the No got to fuss and make mystery meat into something delicious. She thinks it was pork...but when meat selection consists of going to the butcher with crossed fingers...well it was delicious and probably not

liver.

Saturday they drank coffee and learnt to play poker, explored, ate Palikinta larger than their stomachs, went down to the Szepasszonyvolge and up the Minaret.

The Minaret, left from the Turkish times represents two of the No's greatest fears. Heights and spiral stairs. As anyone who has travelled with the No knows, it is not uncommon for her to have a panic attack ten steps up. But at about 11am on Saturday morning the No thought to give it a shot. Armed with 200fts and some very supportive friends she made it up. The claustrophobic stairs were worn, and there was no railing but Lauren and Lyla talked her up.

Note the look of both Joy for reaching the top (a goal she set at orientation), and blind panic.

Also look at the relief of being back on the ground!

Forralt bor, pizzas and additions to the drama wall later, the No's guests scattered and she was left alone in her flat. Picking up her pile of mending, she was working her way through it when the doorbell rang. It was Maria, her upstairs neighbour. Maria motioned for the No to lock her door and follow. Upstairs the little old Nenyi thrust first tea and cakes on a tray, then the No on her couch/bed. The No sat there, curious as to what was going on. Then Maria turned on the music. In rapid fire Hungarian, she explained it was the Csango (a group of Hungarians, who live in Transylvania and speak an OLD dialect of Hungarian) Himnusz (anthem?). Then they listened to a hard rock version of the Sekley Himnusz, then some romantic tenors. As the No wondered how she would make her escape, Maria suddenly stopped the music and pulled out a jacket. She fitted it to the No and then zipped it shut (this was the second jacket the No had received from a little old lady in her flat complex this week...) and with that tea was over.

This week in teaching:

Using Character cards is a good way to challenge the students to get away from the same four lines in their dialogues.

11b: One of the Students surreptitiously took photos of his teacher throughout the lesson. The No saw the cell phone and saw the photos. Going to delete it, she found the other 10. He was assigned to write "I will not use Attila's cell phone to take photos of my English teacher, because it is creepy and wrong" one hundred times before 2pm.

12d: Have taken to calling the No tanar Nenyi. She has decided that while it is cute from a seventh grader, it is not cute from a 12th grader.

7a: We are going to create our own comics. Joe has become Super-Joe and his archenemies is Luggage-head, who is evil because he has a headache. These were the examples I put on the board for the students. I look forward to their creations.

CETP culture shock bingo (finally)

2009-02-01T07:08:00.000+01:00

This is a short list complied of all the strange little moments, which have become quite ordinary parts of our lives. Collected over multiple weekends, with multiple CETP-ers, this list represents things that originally surprised/shocked/delighted us about Hungary.

Directions:

Place the following items into a grid.
When you have completed an item, fill in the grid square.
When you have completely filled out the grid, congratulations you have acclimatized to CETP culture shock.

Here is the list, if you have any suggestions/additions to the list, please feel free to comment below.

Drink a Boroscola
See a student drink
Get scolded for sitting on something cold
See a faux-hawk mullet
If single, have a Hungarian neni or bacsi try to set you up
See a castle outside Budapest
Get lost on Public transport
Sleep in a flat with more people than sleeping space
Eat fornetti/princess/polgacsa
Catch yourself using the stupid American excuse
Feel morally obligated to bring sandwiches on public transport
Visit a town/village that has vowel sounds that do not appear in English
Have a conversation in Hungarian
Pretend you do not speak English
Buy mustard/mayonnaise in toothpaste tubes
Palinka
Shamelessly make out on Public Transport
See a free-range chicken
See a shirt/jewelry with pre-trianon Hungary on it
Have someone thank you for being here
Get lost on Public transport
Be greeted with Csokolom
Watch someone consume more than 6 sandwiches a day
Buy clothing with incorrect English on it
Be mistaken for a Hungarian by a Hungarian
Be smiled at in the street by a Hungarian stranger
Be quizzed about your love life by your students
Be called Neni or Bacsi
Get recognized on public transport...extra points if it is by the driver/Kontroll
Be delayed by livestock
Gyula
Light your oven without burning yourselves
Be mistaken for a a Student
Eat Pizza with peas/corn/sour cream
Buy wine for less than 100 ft

2009-02-01T06:57:00.000+01:00

A short and unsatisfying answer to repetitive questions.

2009-01-30T06:41:00.000+01:00

A number of other CETPers on facebook have jumped on the bandwagon, and completed a meme of 25 random facts about themselves. At least two of them put down almost the same thing. This life, in Hungary is probably the most lonely experience in our lives, but also the most rewarding.

It is true. We are constantly questioned, by family, friends and acquaintances, about why we choose this life. Why are you here, why did you come back? Are you avoiding real life? This question still rolls around in my mind, since Sara's friend first asked me it. To this, I still have no better answer than I ever did.

This is how I roll...

2009-01-22T19:36:00.000+01:00

With one of my private students, we came across the term "this is how I roll." Which made me think of exactly how I roll as a teacher at EJK/G.

Today in first period only two girls showed up. I was confused, because no one told me that there would be a university presentation. Later another teacher spent 45 min looking for her class because no one told her either...yeah that is how we roll.

Second period was 9d. Already my largest and one of my most challenging classes, it was crashed by the other half of the homeroom class. They barged in yelling "Nincs tanar, Not the teacher" and sat down in my class. After just a moment's pause I gave directions to the German students (the class crashers) in German. This stunned most of my class into silence, because they did not know I spoke any other languages. Then spent the rest of the lesson shifting between being a Miss, a Tanarno and a Frau. A semi-bilingual teacher in a supposedly trilingual classroom with practically monolingual students...yeah that is how I roll.

Last period I spent 15 minutes with my class searching for an empty room. Having been told I was not in the classroom I have been using since the beginning of this schedule and all others on the first and second floors of both wings were being used. One third of the class was spent looking for a place to have class...yeah that is how we roll.

Three beautiful things about Thursday

2009-01-15T17:46:00.000+01:00

Mwah ha ha Marathon blogging week. Maybe it is the new year, maybe it is my new cheerful mood, but every day I discover or experience something I want to share.

1) Being walked to school by a man (aged somewhere between 75-80), who I met when he congratulated me on not slipping on the skating rink that used to be a pavement. We conversed, somewhat stiltedly but even then we were halfway there before the conversation got into words I did not understand.

2) Being able to print 11d's test, and laughing with the photocopying secretary at my bad stick figure drawing.

3) Talking to friends on skype about nothing in particular

Oh, and finding out that another teacher is pregnant. This is, however bittersweet because it means a new schedule just as I was adjusting to the last change in schedule. Hopefully I will not have any new classes....please.

Evil-alternate universe Wednesday

2009-01-14T16:23:00.000+01:00

SQUAAAAAALK

that is a tamed down estimation of the noise I made today when one of my 11d K girls snuck up behind me while I was petting a dog and tweaked my waist. She scared the heck out of me. I turned around, took out my earbuds blaring Mamma mia and heard the majority of the class laughing their asses off. I crinkled my eyes and said "not nice". The perpetrator, who is about 5'1'' and considers herself a tough guy, made the peace symbol and asked "we peace?" I nodded and was surrounded by 11d students walking towards their buses. Adam and some of my advanced girls offered me cigarettes, and others told me "Miss tudsz Magyarul" while others asked about my death metal preferences. I laughed, but secretly wished that they would speak this much English in class.

In 7a we are working on a flat stanley, because it practices letter writing. Going around to each group I asked what was the most important things we should include in the letter. We are idiots/We did bad things or some variation came up in every group. Confused by what my little angelic seventh graders could have done, they told me. "We poured water all over outside" (they are talking about the third story balcony), "so we slide. We are in trouble. They" (the Maintenance men) "screwed the door shut. Then we broke a window and broke the doors on the cupboards" I was flabbergasted.

In 12b, the student I saw at Unkium not only spoke in whole sentences, but lead part of the conversation.

What was going on today?

Hétfő, Hétfő...so good to me

2009-01-12T19:26:00.000+01:00

I love mondays.

This is probably the strangest statement that I have ever uttered/wrote, but nonetheless true. I love Mondays. B-week mondays to be precise. Two classes, that end early and give me time to catch up on the dreaded Naplő, but enough time to wander. Today I chatted with Bea, another teacher, went to T-mobile to fix my phone (I was locked out for a horrifying 24 hours....I am sadly co-dependent), check out our library, hit Profi and still get home in plenty of time for my private lesson.

Lessons with Kitti are my favorite part of Mondays. She is a Piano teacher who lives in my building. We chat about babies (her grandchildren and my fake niece), and work through the book. Today we played a game that practices large numbers, discussed quince and the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. Every week she brings me something, because she feels that I do not charge her enough for lessons. One week it was home-made apple stuffed pancakes, another week a CD, a necklace, last week home made quince preserves, and this week candy. Better than any treat she pulls out of her purse, I feel like I am helping her learn, which is the best feeling any teacher can have.

Hevesi Mexi-Buli: I heart people

2009-01-11T14:45:00.000+01:00

The most difficult thing about living in a country where you can not really speak the language is isolation. There are many different ways of dealing with this, and one is weekend get togethers.

The No had been missing MN tex-mex (differentiated from normal americanized mexican food, by being made by people who feel ketchup is a tad spicy) for the five months that she lived in Heves. Also, she needed an excuse to draw people into her awesome flat. The obvious answer: Mexi Buli.

Armed with tequila and a pot full of home-made salsa, the No welcomed the weekend posse.

Here is Franny and I sporting our mustaches

We ate burritos, drank margaritas, chatted, laughed and built the Soap opera wall. The cooking/prep work was made difficult by my lack of sufficient counter space (but as I used to have none at all, I can not complain too much. Thanks Mom, Dad, Viki and Ron for your reorganization skills/muscles) and kitchen utensils/ containers. Luckily Jamie brought a large frying pan, and Hanna and I decided that a large plastic tub was the perfect sub for a margarita jug. It was a blast. Then we went to the red shuttered Kocsma, where we played cso-cso and danced. My students, for most part, avoided eye contact with their up-tight American teacher. The main exceptions were a couple of 9b students (shame shame 14 year olds), an 11d student (who promptly made out with his girlfriend), and the 12b student who rarely talks.

All in all, a fabulous start to the year.

We are working...we aren't working....

2009-01-08T14:53:00.000+01:00

Jet-lagged and bleary-eyed the No showed up to school on Monday morning. Many of the other teachers looked at her surprised, because despite the No's assurances, they had not been sure if she would return to school. The No glanced up at the board that listed substitutions and general announcements. There she saw something about Szombaton (Saturday), but ignored it. She had been planning a Mexican/Hungarian fiesta for over a month. She had checked which Saturdays they would be working, sent out invitations and bought supplies at home.
So on Tuesday, when one of the teachers translated the message on the board to mean that we would be working on Saturday, the No was both disappointed and peeved. Flurried messages over facebook and cell phone assured that while there would be some cancellations, the Mexican party would continue. So, having rearranged her schedule the No was set. But the No forgot, she lives/teaches in Hungary. So, while she was surprised on Thursday by the news that Saturday school was moved from this weekend to sometime in March, she shouldn’t have been. The government moved the date of the extra working day, because of the gas crisis in Europe. In summary, the gas from Russia to Europe has been cut off due to diplomatic problems. This means that Hungary has to tighten its gas-using belt, i.e. gas in public factories has been cut off, and in Schools and universities, it has been cut down. Our second floor is cold enough that the students wear jackets and scarves during class. This means that in order to save gas, we do not have school on Saturday.

Catch up: Parents, Ribbon Ball and Christmas Break

2009-01-05T16:36:00.001+01:00

I have been on the go ever since Thanksgiving. The week after Thanksgiving my parents and their friends came to visit, we had our ribbon ball, and I went home for two weeks. As a photo is worth a thousand words, I will try to insert a few photos to summarize a couple photos instead of rambling re-tellings.

Our Girl

2008-12-16T06:45:00.000+01:00

Later I want to write a long post that combines my parent's visit to Hungary and our ribbon ball, but first I wanted to quickly write about Heves.

In of itself, it is not the most beautiful town in Hungary, nor is there lots to do. It has made the transition from Gyula, which is beautiful and active, really difficult. Some days I have struggled to find great things about Heves, and inevitably my mind wanders back to the bonfire on my name-day.

"People don't seem to like Heves because it is a great little city, but they like it because of the people" she said.

And this is entirely true. I really like the people here. Last week Eta, invited my parents to a wine tasting and then to her house. Her boundless joy and positive energy is wonderful. Judith and I communicate in English/german/hungarian, as we chat and she helps me with any questions I have. David, who runs the digital whiteboard room, occasionally plays electronic scrabble with me. Two of my private students tell me all the news I miss out on, such as the strike in Ferihegy. And Kitti and the rest of my neighbors. I give private lessons to Kitti from upstairs, because she wants to be able to improve her english for when she visits her daughter and grandchildren in England. We usually chat a little, and work through the book. She tells me about concerts, like the jazz concert that are coming to Heves, and sometimes brings me little cakes or sweets. Last night, she asked when I would be free to have dinner with the ladies in the building. She said that one of the neighbors had been asking about my plans, and if Kitti had seen "our girl"

And that summarizes it, our girl. The feeling of being included into the community. It is what makes Heves beautiful.

I've got good news and bad news...

2008-12-10T19:30:00.000+01:00

This is the sentence with which I have been beginning all of my classes. This week 18 of my 22 classes were supposed to have a test, which due to my inability to print their tests, have been either outright canceled or pushed back to January. So instead we have been playing games and having discussion days. This has lead to slightly more mayhem than usual, but only slightly.
However the relaxed atmosphere of my classes has thrown the differing levels of respect into sharp relief.

My kids ask, and say things to me that I would have been too mortified to ask any of my teachers. For example, I now know that not imagining my expanding pudge, because my 9b asked if I was pregnant today. And one of my shy 12B students, who is actually really good in English, caught up with me on my way home, and asked me how old I am, if I have a boyfriend, and will I go to the ribbon ceremony on Friday. Wictor, who got extra homework for cussing in class, tried to wheedle it down as I passed him on my way home.

On the other hand, they are also extremely old-fashioned in their respect. They call out greetings, both in English if they can, and Csokolom (I kiss your hand), if they can not. At lunch, teachers usually cut the line, which I feel a little guilty about. Today one of my girl’s waited for me to get my cutlery and then motioned me before her. Another student Gabor, chased me down to hand me a slip of paper that had dropped out of my pocket. Telling one of my classes that I was going home for christmas, a look of panic came over their faces and one asked "when are you coming back?" After I assured them that I would be back in January, they looked relieved, and said "good."

Krampus

2008-12-08T06:53:00.000+01:00

In Hungary not only does Santa Clause bring sweets on the 6th of December, but also his helpers are not the cute elves that the animated Christmas movies from the 50s have made iconic. Instead he is helped by the Krampus. This is, for all the No could understand little devils. They carry switches and give them to bad boys and girls.
In 10b, three of the No's most popular girls walked in on Friday wearing homemade devil horns. The No's curiosity caused her to throw over the lesson plan, cancel their test the following week, and spend the rest of the hour listening to her kids explain Krampus. They giggled a little at the concept that their teacher did not understand, and their explanations, which all 17 kids tried to do at once, were punctuated with drawing on the board, and the ever-present cries of Mit Csinalni? (What is going on?)
On Saturday evening I met a former colleague of my Father's for dinner, and his wife explained that Krampus in Austria was even more intense. That Santa and krampus came house to house, and Santa judged the child. The good children got toys and sweets, and the bad ones were put into a basket by the krampus and carted off. Added to this are the terrifying costumes of the Krampus, and I am glad that my childhood saw Santa’s helpers as little guys in pointed hats, who occasionally just wanted to be dentists.

No more Budapest

2008-12-01T21:30:00.000+01:00

My Chariot....

Don't get is wrong, the No loves the captivating capital of the entrancing country in which she resides, but...

Of the last 5 days, the No has been in Budapest every single one, slept only one night in Heves, and managed to make all but two of her classes. How could she pull off the amazing feat of working in one city while being official bum on couch in the fourteenth district of Budapest? Easy, spend lots of money and lots of time on the bus. Between Thursday and Monday the No has spent 15 hours and 35 minutes on the Bus. (and this does not include public transport within Budapest itself....)

Why you may ask would any rational person choose to spend 15 + hours in 5 days on a bus traipsing through rural and into urban Hungary? The answer, simply put is people and panic.

Thursday the No was lured to Thanksgiving dinner, a stupendous blow out with more people than space.

Friday the No had to return home to teach. Alone in her flat, lonely and procrastinating cleaning said flat, she was lured back to the capital by bowling, movies, pancakes and museums. Truth be told, she should have known she was traveling too much, when her bus driver into Budapest (who happened to be the bus driver to Heves at 7 that morning) recognized her, and when she asked for a ticket, he gave her a look which all too clearly asked 'Really?'

Sunday saw the end of the fun, and the now second trip home from Budapest this week.

Monday's round trip was caused by panic. Forgotten by the No, her passport had only two spaces left for stamps. This caused a problem as she intends to visit Minnesota over winter break, but must return. However, the embassy (where they handily can take 10 minutes to sew in new pages), is only open from 1-4 Monday through Friday. Mondays of the B week coincided as the only time in which the No could make the round trip to the embassy and still make all of her classes.

The best parts of the insanity, where the calm and beautiful moments (none of which were on the bus):

The majesty of the parliament in the foggy-drizzly weather

Eating long craved after Mexican

Going to an American embassy, by herself for the first time in her life

Students waving goodbye on the bus

Buying pretty glasses in IKEA, so now the No can drink out of more than just coffee mugs

The new girth of her passport, ready for new stamps and new adventures

Friends with directions, on the phone

Turkey is for the birds

2008-11-30T18:34:00.000+01:00

The No's heart pounded as she joyfully ran from class, out the door, out of school and onto the first bus out of Heves and to her second CETP Thanksgiving of the week. Jumping on the bus, bag and basket balanced precariously she reflected on the similarities of her baggage between this Thanksgiving trip to Budapest, and the one on Saturday to Ujszasz.

Saturday in Ujszasz was low key. Morning bus into Szolnok, where the No wandered the brand new and exciting AutoBusz station before meeting Emily and Tomi and catching a taxi for ujszasz. Margie, Jamie and Emily the major cooks of the lunch outshone themselves with an amazing feast. And the next day Tara and I ate bagels with Cream Cheese.

Thursday in Budapest was a tangle of maybe 45 Americans and Hungarians. Chatting, food, wine and occasionally dancing were also great but not particularity low key. Our hosts Ellen and Jake were warm and amazing as always. There were people the No had never met, and enjoyed meeting, in particular Angry Balint, and people she had not seen in a long time.

Like many Americans, the No ate too much, and has reflected on what she has been most thankful for this year. Dramatic and disastrous as it has been, with many small problems, one thing has remained constant and that is the love and support from her friends. This was never so evident as in Lauren and Lyla's post-T-day care of the No, who spent lots of Thanksgiving upset at the world. Even after her return to Heves, they checked up on her, and invited her back to BP for a relaxing and fun weekend, including renaming ourselves at bowling and tossing me my forgotten pan out of their third story window.

A Concetben

2008-11-24T17:37:00.000+01:00

5:30 rolled around on a Monday night and in the middle of east Enders, my doorbell rang. It was one of my neighbors upstairs picking me up to go to a concert at the music school.

She introduced herself as Maria, and reminded me to shut off my lights, close my closet door and grab my jacket. We walked out into the pitch-black night, and there in front of the block of flats, was a tiny little car. My knees hit my chin as I squeezed myself into the front seat. Before I even had time to buckle up Maria, who by the way is well over 60, was off like a shot. Knees at my chin, and being pushed back against the seat by the velocity of our break neck speed, our conversation was stilted, mostly because I did not want to distract her, and restricted to my 6 or 7 pat phrases in Hungarian.

The concert was lovely, and the entire row I sat in consisted of more of my 60+-year-old neighbors, or as I am pretty sure I heard my private student, who had invited me, tell her director the “Kolozsvari crew.”

During one of the speeches by the Flutist the entire hall broke out into a beautiful folk song that showed off the pentatonic scale of the traditional Hungarian music. Throughout the concert, Maria would randomly turn to me and pat me on my thigh. Sometimes I think that there is a sign above my head that invites Hungarian-speaking women over a certain age to grab me. In Transylvania, my newly met elderly host mother walked home with her arm around my waist, and hand sliding around my lower back. One of the teachers at school routinely grabs and holds me by my waist whenever she wants to talk to me. Everywhere I go, I am petted and touched.

During this concert I also experienced what has been called the Hungarian clap. Simultaneous clapping in complete unison. It was a little bizarre.

Maria dropped me off at the front and went to park her car. I started making myself tea and changed into my jammies, when my doorbell rang. It was Maria, who jabbered something at me in rapid speed Hungarian. Seeing my lack of comprehension, she pushed past me, through my messy kitchen, and into my newly cleaned dining room and pointed out the window, repeating the word for rain.

I finally understood that she wanted me to take in my giant carpet, which I had flung over my balcony in an attempt to air it and get some of the dust out of it. The two of us struggled to pull my giant floor sized rug up from over my balcony and roll it back onto the floor. I thanked her, and she darted back out of my front door.

Happy Thoughts

2008-11-24T08:27:00.000+01:00

There is a blog by Clare, called three beautiful things, that I love. Whenever I am homesick, grumpy or having problems in classes, her idea helps me put things in perspective.

Beautiful things so far-

Vivvi shouting 300 and waving a paper spear through the streets of Gyula

Tromping home grumpily to find a large bag of Nashi pears hanging on my door.

Being invited to folk dancing class

Jamie permitting herself to be my dressmaker's dummy, as I get people's opinions on a shirt I am altering.

Pumpkin pie for breakfast

Bagels with Cream cheese

My new green shirt/ dress

Being called Tanar-nennyi accidently be a seventh grader as he bolts out the door on Friday

Warm tea in Tranylvanian mugs

Unexpected dance partners

The sight of my principal pounding his non-existant beer belly in competition with the live band at Folk dancing class

Ticking new things off of my Culture shock bingo board

Playing activity

Really?

2008-11-10T11:06:00.000+01:00

The Nő walked into a class full of very large and very loud eighteen year olds. She got stares and exclaimations of confusion as she crossed to the desk, thumped down her books and waited for silence, hands on hips. Slowly, some of the students realized that the crazy american teacher, was not in their room by mistake but in fact was teaching them.
Quick buzz around the room, cell phones confiscated, and notebooks out, the Nő set the class to work on answering some introduction questions, and write down their own questions for their new teacher. The Nő deftly feilded the normal "what are your favorite colours? and "where do you live?" questions, but stumbled over the "How long are you staying?" and "How many kids do you have?" and "Do you have a boyfriend?" The Nő doesn't remember ever asking her teachers these questions.

One kid tried to wheel and deal with his new teacher, offering assistance in exchange for a 5. Another student told his new teacher that Gábor was hot. The Nő giggled internally, as the mirror translation does not mean the same thing in english as it does in Hungarian. This was evident as Gabor replied with much indignation, that No he was not hot, he had a girlfriend.

Today in 9b, the Nő's imaginary friend Joe, had a so-so break, because he broke up with someone, but is hot, and has a new boyfriend.

Friday in 9d the kids discussed their breaks and made their teacher blush. Not for the first time has the Nő cursed her pink cheeks.

And in 11d...well they are another kettle of fish.

All in all, the new schedule will be just a busy, frustraiting, hectic, crazy and strange as usual. The Nő is glad to be back.

New Schedule, New Beginning

2008-11-06T12:31:00.000+01:00

Monday morning I walked in to school refreshed from break, and excited to start the day, or at least see the other teachers. There sitting on my desk were three objects that I had not left there. One was a package from my fabulous mother, full of enough goodies that I will gain 200 pounds and have a diabetic shock if I eat it all.
The next was a letter from Austria, addressed not to me, but rather to the other non-Hungarian Briggi.
Finally on top was a small white slip of paper with my new school schedule. The return of two teachers has meant an entire overhaul of the daily plans. Not only are my classes in a completely new order, I have two entirely new classes. I look forward to another couple of weeks of getting lost, and trying to figure out how Week B has 23 classes, while Week A has only 21.
Coming back to school after a blissful two-week break, reminds me how much I appreciate and missed my kids. As crazy as they behave, and as much as they do not listen, forget their homework, and complain about working, it is all worth it. Helping even one student further their education, or understand something just a bit better, makes the bad days worth it.

Stuff we have done: (or holy cow, actual teaching stuff)

The monster mash: Used it as a listening exercise in two ways - as a cloze activity and as an action activity. Assign key words with an action, and when they occur in the song, students must make the action. This is better for younger students, highly energetic students and Saturday school.

The song/movie line dialogue: Another teacher from Szolnok suggested this activity, and so far it has worked really well. Have students write a line from a song or movie, and then collect them. Randomly hand them back to Students in groups and have them create a dialogue using these two lines.

Past Simple review dialogues: Asking students to discuss their break, write sentences on the board. Then circle irregular verbs and box regular endings to create visual difference, and go through regular and irregular verbs. Then ask about our example character…my crazy friend Joe’s break and then ask the students to box or circle the verbs. Then have them create short dialogues using at least six verbs, three regular and three irregular. This is meant as a review activity, not as a means to teach the difference.

After Obama's win on Tuesday, I now have a new name: HalloBriggiTanarnő has been replaced with ObamaistheWinnerBriggiTanarnő. Well at least in the hallway as I search for my classes.

No, I am not a late-enrolling Train student: Adventures in Szombathely

2008-11-06T12:30:00.001+01:00

The bus ride back to Budapest was full of the chatter of future plans. I happily dozed through last minute planning, as I had already arranged a visit to an old university buddy now teaching in rural Austria. So decamping from the bus, Lauren, Lyla and I smsed the guys, to arrange a last minute dinner party.

Gergo and Andy showed up, and the five of us ate Lauren and Lyla’s amazing dinner until late in the evening. So when it came time to wake up, I decided to take the later train I had found, instead of an earlier one. This turned out to be a mistake.

I arrived at Keleti and was immediately panic set in. There were ticket inspectors all over, and I had forgotten where to buy international tickets. Dazed, sleepy and panicky I bought a ticket to Jennersdorf where I would have to catch a bus to the village. I found the train to Szombathely, hopped aboard, found a seat and settled in.

I got a little suspicious when we passed Tata, and asked the girl sitting across from me if the train was going to Szombathely. She said it was, so I settled down. A few hours passed, and I looked at my diary with the connections written in it. I realized that I was on the wrong train; I had not taken the correct train from Keleti, and would miss my connection to Jennersdorf. In a panic I called Emily and Jamie. Between the two of them they broke the bad news, I would miss the last bus to the village by 10 minutes. So I decided to spend the night in Szombathely, explore a bit, and then head on to Austria. I dialed my friend’s number and got a strange garbled message. So I decided to remove two of the numbers and try again. This time the call went through, but was answered not by my friend, but rather by a harassed sounding Austrian woman. Mostly harassed because I tried twice more, and each time she sounded crankier.

So I walked into the Tourinform at the spacious and modern train station, where I was informed that it was unlikely that I would be able to find a hostel, because school was in session, but I should try number 23 in the catalogue. Hoping against hope I called. They had a free bed, but I would have to get there within half an hour. So armed with a map, I fought my way through the twists and turns of medieval street planning, and found it.

It wasn’t until I walked in that I realized that the Hostel was actually the MAV dorms. The courtyard had miniature train tracks and MAV paraphernalia. The porter was confused at first as I was obviously not a train-driving student. Later one of the secretaries came in, rapid fire Hungarian and several stamped papers later, and he was ebullient. Speaking slowly, clearly and slightly louder than normal, as if to someone hard of hearing, he walked me to the stairs and handed me the key to my room.

Later I explored the city, and crashed.

Erdély or Transylvanian travels

2008-11-06T12:28:00.000+01:00

The buzz of four phones going off at 4:30am forced our eyes open, and our bodies drowsily out of bed. The four hours of sleep, not nearly being enough to greet the day in any sort of joyful manner. However, our holiday had begun. Bundled to our eyebrows with backpacks and winter gear, Lauren, Lyla, Rob and myself trekked to the opposite side of Budapest to meet the bus. Arriving in front of Eotvos Kollegium, we looked expectantly for a bus, and were met with a largish van decorated with a water motif. Soon enough the nineteen odd people had boarded and we were off the Debrecen to pick up the rest of the party.

Twenty-one Americans, our fearless leader Hajni, Marika our guide and Attila our crazy driver packed into a bus that couldn’t fit a herring more if we had tried. Of our six-day whirlwind tour of Hungarian speaking areas of Transylvania, most of it was spent packed into the bus. Herrings crammed in hopping from village to city and beautiful mountain peak and back to village.

A quick summary of events:

I fell in love in Torocko, the first village where we stayed. His brown eyes and large ears, effortless energy, while Tara and I shared a room with a wood burning stove and he slept on our doorstep. In the morning he walked us to breakfast, then chased the cows walking themselves to the town center. Hajni told me he was a Transylvanian Hunter.

We were greeted every night, and unlike many of our companions not at breakfast, with shots of strong palinka.

Seeing Art Nouveau with a Hungarian folk art twist.

Stalking the streets around Dracula’s birthplace

Watching Hajni stammer and then refuse to translate an excessively dirty and inappropriate folk song, whilst the folk singers stared at her daring her to repeat what they had sung.

Climbing the Rakozi Var, and staring across the boarder of old (pre-1920) Hungary.

Eating a “snack” which accounted for more than three people would eat in a normal meal (there were actually two courses to the snack, along with the obligatory shots of palinka), then two hours later eating a main meal.

Staring at spires of ancient trees emerging out of the water of the Killer Lake.

Learning Folk dances at the rose-hip festival in a tiny village without streetlights. Not having enough willing men in our company, I learnt the male part, whilst Hajni danced the counterpart. It was the difficult stamping and spinning one. Later, bemoaning the fact that I had only danced the male part, Lauren offered to dance with me, but only if I asked in Hungarian. Borrowing Peti’s contribution to my Valami fontosat dictionary, I asked. Instead of a yes, I was met with a demand to ask if she, pretending to be a boy, had a girlfriend. I did, and was then told that because she could not lead, I would have to be the boy.

Our bus, being predominantly full of girls, was stopped by the Romanian police, and checked to see that we were not being transported for human trafficking.

Drinking the wizened blueberries from the bottom of the blueberry palinka.

On Sunday night, having a last minute dinner party with Andy and Gergo, when I tried to convince people I was a grandmother, and the guys told us it was cute when we tried to speak Hungarian.

And finally my favorite, our fearless leader, suffering from a cold announcing that her alternate major in university, had been witchcraft and that if any of us would fall into a stream and die, that she would come after us in the afterlife, and ‘GET US’

Quiet Weekends

2008-11-06T12:27:00.000+01:00

Alone for the weekend, I went to a Jazz concert then to the Student disco on Friday night.
As I watched students run the DJ booth, and marveled the dancing. I chatted with the teachers chaperoning the dance, and went home. Saturday was the first of the working Saturdays. Experience had shown me that students are extra squirrelly on Saturdays, so for the most part we had Halloween parties and listened to the Monster Mash. One of my students in 11 a offered me gerbils which she had brought to school in jam jars, and provided distraction during the Halloween party. I declined, and spent the evening visiting another teacher and her daughter in a neighboring village.

Bolodog Nevenapot

2008-10-14T11:05:00.000+02:00

October 11 is the most important day in Hungary. Actually it isn’t but it is an important day for me, because it is my (Briggi) name day. It is like a second birthday, when you bring cookies and cakes, and people give you flowers, gifts and good wishes. My name day was very happy, although a little bizarre.

Earlier in the week I met Etelka. She is another English teacher, who I had emailed with, but had been out sick. So shortly after I met her, she told me that on Saturday there would be a marshmallow roast, and would I like to go? Being tantalized by the prospect of marshmallows and in a yes-mood (which gets me into trouble, see the Hike of death in Gyula.) I quickly agreed to go. “Good,” she said “because Lozsi (our principal) wants a teacher from our school to go, because it is on school grounds and our students are invited.” I paled slightly “Ummm…there aren’t going to be any other teachers there?” I queried. “No, I can’t go, and it is a reunion of an English camp” she replied. So I got the language camp co-coordinator’s phone number and was told the time and place to show up, and that of course it was OK if other American teachers came. I quickly SMS-ed a bunch of teachers, using the same bait with which I had been caught, asking them to come.

Most people had plans or emergencies, but luckily two awesomely cool girls, Lauren and Lyla from Budapest did show. I baked them cookies as a thank-you. The three of us, armed with a basket of chocolate, cookies and Bolero vitamin juice tromped off to school. There we waited. And waited, and waited. I saw two of my students walking by our mini campfire and us; they glanced at me and ran away. Then Elteka and the Eger co-coordinators showed up. Turns out they were a religious group who ran the camp out of their church in Eger. It was interesting to chat with other native speakers, and Vivi, another student showed up with her mother. There was awkward conversation and smores for a little longer, then the two boys showed up again, and Vivi and the two boys conversed, and the conversation remained at a semi-awkward level. About half an hour later the students had gone, and the people from Eger had decided to follow suit. Etelka had only stayed about half an hour or so. So Lauren, Lyla and I were left alone on the abandoned campus with the remnants of the fire and the directive to wait for the groundskeeper so that he could lock up.

We did the most natural thing to do when one is stuck on campus. We checked out the dozens of random abandoned tractors that decorate my school’s campus, took strange pictures of each other and ordered pizza. I am a pizza ordering addict. I will admit it. So when time came to order the pizza, without a menu, I could recite about half of the types of pizzas from memory. Another sign that I order pizza too much, is that when I called they asked for my name, and when I replied “Briggi” (which is a Hungarian name), they knew the street, number and floor without my prompting them. After our pizza in the park of the school grounds, we left and walked to my flat. Having nothing else to do that night we did a pub crawl of Heves. All three pubs that I know of, two of them thanks to a facebook message from Jeremy. Unicum, which up until now I had been calling the red-shutterd kocsma, is hopping on a Saturday night. In fact it is crawling with my students (which we realized after we ordered), who all harassed me on Monday because they saw me drink a beer.
The girls and I sang and danced under the chestnut trees, because the gazebo reminded Lauren of the Sound of Music. We also called one of Andy’s buddies that we had met the last time I had been in Budapest, who promptly scolded us for not calling him before 9pm, and told us that next time we were getting together to give him warning. Chastened, the girls invited him to hang out next weekend with them in Budapest.

The next day we chilled out, made French toast, drank fake kir royals and watched oodles of French music television. I also conned Lauren into cutting first my bangs (which I can not do, because I do not have a mirror) and then into cutting my hair. I love it. It was all in all a strange and relaxing weekend.

The sad lament of Finom Oscar

2008-10-14T11:02:00.000+02:00

All that was left was a bloody sploge, some feathers, and a couple of choice inedible organs. This was all that was left of Finom Oscar on Monday morning. The No was devastated, now who would she chase down the streets of Heves, his ruddy orange feathers gleaming as he ran? Who now would protect her from rabid bugs on her way to school? And when she had had a bad day, who would she yell “you will be soo tasty one day” to? Only a month into life in Heves, and Finom Oscar was by far her favorite chicken.
But the gruesome death of her favorite chicken was only the beginning of an extraordinarily strange week.
During the week she began to put two and two (hopefully incorrectly), and is vaguely uncomfortable with the 11-D police class. Training to be policemen, the class is dominated by boys, boys who stare at their American teacher. Not the ‘I’m bored, stop speaking to me in this language I don’t understand’ stare that she gets from most of her classes, but a new and disconcerting one. They smile, and stare while they smile. L from BP suggested that the No should report them to their Homeroom teacher. However, the No has nothing concrete to report, no evidence that they tried to lift her skirt or pin something on her, just that they stare at her. This is not a reportable offence, because in Hungary it is not an offence at all. Men stare at women all the time. In fact, the No catches Attila and whom she thinks is the 11D homeroom teacher Zolika staring at her all the time. Perhaps they are just being friendly, like when one of the quieter and dignified 11 D students (who never smiles), popped into a classroom, gave the No a giant goofy grin and waved then ran out again.

They also may just like their American teacher because a few weeks back she did not bail out on the Stork day. Storks bring new things, so in Hungary they half welcome and half haze incoming ninth (and in our school seventh) grade students on the stork day. It involves public acts of humiliation and is run by older grades. Our school does things a little differently; they also haze the new teachers. Surrounded by a crush of students and some other teachers, the No was swept towards the gym. However she was stopped by a number of her 11D students, who were in charge, and decorated with eyeliner on her arms. Suitably resembling an artist’s canvas, she walked into the packed Gym, and was informed that she would be singing a solo of Madonna’s version of American Pie. Not knowing the lyrics, the No instead gave a slam poetry style recitation of ring around the roses. The students did not get off so lightly, and ran egg relays, swore oaths while standing on one leg, and had to pack into ‘nests’ that were so small that they had to hoist the lightest student on their shoulders just to fit. Giggles and smiles dispensed with, the Stork celebration was abruptly over and everyone went home.

The rest of the week the No awkwardly dealt with weeping students in two classes. Her pin-curled hair trying to eat anything not moving fast enough, watching Chicago in three of her classes, made applesauce out of a giganormous box of apples another teacher gave her, gobbling sweets from a package one of her awesome cousins sent, and added to the lies about her imaginary boyfriend/husband/roommate/buddy/mortal enemy Joe.

Attack of the Rabid Slugs, chickens training for sprints, or where are my classes?

2008-10-09T13:17:00.002+02:00

This week, the weather turned frigid, and the No still suffering from hill-rolling related rashes on her arms, shuffled around her unheated apartment. Only the third week of September and already she was wearing a third of her clothing at any one time. The rainy conditions brought out the slugs and snails. On her Monday journey towards the school, the No resembled a Russian ballet dancer, as she jumped and skipped around avoiding attacks of rabid and blood thirsty slugs.

The third week in, and the No still got lost on the way to her classes. It is not that she cannot find Room 108, or 224, but for each class there are three different possibilities in her schedule. The fourth and fifth weeks were not much better, and the No has heard that because of a returning teacher, everyone will get a new schedule as of November 1st.

I have visited Budapest both of the last two weekends; the first for a wine festival in a surrounding village and the other weekend to visit friends. Budapest throws into sharp relief not only the difference between the city and country life, and also the changes in myself.

When first landing in Budapest from Minneapolis one of the first things I notice is the complete lack of skyscrapers screaming competing to be the first to pierce the sky. There is more sprawl, but as most of Budapest was built at the turn of the nineteenth century the buildings are ornate and short. Coming in from the country four weeks later, I am overwhelmed by the busy pace and my inability to see the sky. Buildings looming overhead, and the multitude of neon creating a false dawn mess up my internal clock and make me feel claustrophobic.

One of the other big changes that I notice is the amount of English spoken. When arriving in Budapest, it seems as if there is very little I could understand and getting lost as the streams of language swam heavily past my uncomprehending ears. Now returning after living out of the city, I am almost queasy with the amount of English being spoken. Everywhere I go I hear tourists and expats, trying to listen in to all of their conversations makes me dizzy and my head hurt.

However probably the biggest difference is that I have yet to see prison-breaking chickens running sprints down the streets of Budapest. Nor have I seen tractors causing traffic jams, or public transport beeping at sheep and cows to move them off the road. While Heves and its surroundings may not be heart-stoppingly beautiful like Gyula, or breath taking like Budapest at night, the little things warm my heart.

Gulyas

2008-10-09T13:17:00.001+02:00

Chaotic beginnings aside, the weekend was lovely. Most of Friday, Johnny Walker and I skipped lessons in order to register in Eger. There, while waiting for the necessary new stamp in my passport, we found Tara. Together we rode back to Heves, and the geography teacher, after scolding me for not calling my colleagues when Tara was lost, showed us which bus we should take to Szolnok.
Cups of tea and scoops of ice cream later, we packed up and hopped on the bus. Emily, laughing at our bus antics, met us at the station.
That night T and I met some of Emily’s friends. We just chilled out, and I was kissed on the hand by some old guy, but in retrospect, at least he let go of my hand right afterwards, unlike the last guy who kissed my hand.

At the festival the next day we watched nun/rapping grannies and small children dancing to drinking songs. Later we met Jeb and Tomi. Together we ate a plethora of Gulyas and wandered through the stalls. Tara and I had a hill-rolling race, and although I won the battle, I lost the war. I rolled the fastest and the farthest, but Tara managed to find the section of the hill without stinging nettles and poison oak.
Later we met up with Attila, who ‘bought’ a belly dancer at a ‘slave auction’ for roughly $5. Despite only buying one, our table managed to collect all of the belly dancers, and Attila convinced one of them to dance on our wobbly table.
After the slave auction, a singer preformed old, and according to the Hungarian speakers, cheesy love songs. It was pretty fun, and Attila and I danced, because neither Emily nor Tara would dance with us.
All too soon the festival was over and we were whisked away to Ujszasz and J’s place. The next morning awesome J made us banana bread and pancakes. We wandered, found a castle, which had been converted into an old-folks home, and went back to J’s for lunch. Sitting on her kitchen floor, eating thick sliced bread covered in various condiments and Hungarian sausage, was peaceful and delicious. Then all too soon had to catch our respected means of transportation home.

Heves – a passionate little town that no one can get to by bus.

2008-10-09T13:16:00.000+02:00

I, the No, have a love/hate relationship with the bus. Mostly I hate it, with its sweaty riding, the inability to get up and walk around and go to the bathroom, the gimlet glares if you bring out a roast chicken and palinka (all of which are perfectly acceptable on Hungarian trains). So when I discovered that the train station is way outside and on the other side of town, but the main bus terminal lies tantalizingly just a minute up my street, I thought I would reconsider my old enmity.

So I bleary eyed left for Mariapocs, early one Saturday morning. I’ll admit it; I would not have looked forward to the five-hour journey even on a train. It went smoothly enough, I gracefully switched onto a large comfortable bus in Kalpona. I made it to Nyrighaza and other than an intense need to use the loo the ride had gone well. I met J and T and we wandered through Nyrighaza and later through the beautiful pilgrimage town of Mariapocs. We watched weary pilgrims process past us, and listened to the chanting of the faithful.
But all too soon our weekend was over, and it was time to face the beast…otherwise known as Public Transport in a Foreign Language.

Earlier in the weekend I got the beep beep of a text notifying me that I had less than 300ft on my phone, but had not found a place to recharge it. So, 5 hot and sweaty hours later on the bus, I should have not been surprised by the fact that I missed my stop.

I knew that I was supposed to get off in Gyongyos at 6:23, so at about 6:10 I began to look for a bus terminal. 6:23 came and passed as we stopped at small stops, but I was not too worried, as the bus had been 15 minutes late, and so I gave it a couple extra minutes. Then we passed the TESCOS, and I knew there was trouble. In my previous stay, I had visited Sara in Gyongyos, and we had walked to the outskirts of town and gone to the TESCOS, so when I saw it, I knew we had almost left Gyongyos.
In a panic I turned to the guy behind me and asked where the Bus terminal was. He replied that we would be there in about an hour. “The Gyongyos terminal?” I asked. “No the Budapest one”

Frantically, I texted Emily for help. She saved me on the phone front, which allowed me to call everyone I knew in Budapest asking if they knew if there was a bus back to Heves. No answer, no answer, no answer….until finally a returning teacher, who I had met at orientation answered. He did not have Internet however, and suggested I call Hajni, our amazing program director. She was able to find two buses back to Heves that night.
Later as we got off of the bus, the man who had sat behind me, asked if he could help me find my way. Turns out he was a student returning to Budapest from a weekend at home, and he very kindly found the platform I was to wait at and walked me there.

So after my Budapest adventure, I was a little hesitant when T, was to take the Bus to meet me in Heves. I warned her of the Gyongyos stop, and was assured that she would not be going through Gyongyos, but would be arriving at about 9pm.

At about 8:45pm I got a phone call. “Are you already here?” I asked groggily waking up out of quick nap. “Nooo,” a faint voice called over the phone, “I got off at the stop, to change buses, but my next bus is not on the list at all. Do you know where Dekt is?”

Not having Internet, I could not help much. So as I called Emily, who knows everything, T called J, who had Internet, No longer a tri-fecta, we worked as a quadfecta trying to get our friend out of Dekt.

An hour and a half later of chaos and frantic text messages, our efforts to get her to Heves by Bus had failed. Our program director had found her a place to stay in Eger, and T had new advice for all CETP-ers trying to get to Heves: “never go into Dekt.”

Chicken or Fish?

2008-09-13T08:15:00.001+02:00

Begin at the Beginning: This is my second adventure as an English teacher in Hungary, and because the name of my town is Heves (Passion), the temptation to write this blog as a soap opera is overwhelming. Sometimes written in third person

Chicken or Fish?

Three in the morning, and the No who had been on the road for over 12 hours, found herself stranded in Detroit. The eternal line, which had stretched out before her had slowly dwindled as she neared the counter. She faced a frazzled looking attendant with hope and trepidation. Quickly she handed over her itinerary and tried to drown out the loud arguments of other passengers behind her. “We will not be booking any more flights, you will have to do it tomorrow. It is too late, and we are going home,” shouted one attendant. Two passengers returned with rage and exasperation. The boiling emotions made everyone anxious. The No stared at the frantically typing attendant before her, worried about being stuck at just the first leg of her journey. The attendant looked up, their Eyes met, and she handed the No a small bundle of papers. She flipped through a place to sleep for the night and a dozen or so other papers and a new ticket.

The next morning, she awoke re-checked her huge packs, and looked at her new flight. Her jubilation at receiving a ticket died when she saw the connection: only an hour to transfer from the large international terminal in Frankfurt am Main, to the smaller one. One late boarding plane and 12 hours of flying later, the No had only 1 hour to make her connection. Huge csiga shell backpack thumping against her back, she ran, lost through the maze of terminals. Two slow moving security checkpoints and a passport check and a long marathon like run later she arrived five minutes after the hour. Panting and drenched with sweat she stammered out the little German her adrenaline-addled brain could grasp at. The No must have looked like Frankenstein’s younger less attractive and hysterical sibling, judging by the attendants’ responses. One ran down the gateway while the other two assured her that she made the flight and punched her ticket. Wandering down the boarding gateway she was met with the running attendant who offered her a large cup of water and two large wet wipes, and again assured the No that she would be fine, and that the flight was still waiting. She struggled into her seat, and used the wipes to help cool her face. Her seatmate lent across her and pointed both of the air conditioning jests straight at her. Later after she had cooled down, he pointed out major rivers as they flew over them. It was a relaxing end, the No was sure to the drama of the last two flights. They touched down gently, and rolled up to the airport. The No fully recovered the little German her non-frantic brain could remember thanked the flight attendants as she de-boarded the plane. Once to the baggage terminal, she made a beeline for the trolleys, remembering the difficult struggle it was to carry them herself in Detroit when she had to leave the airport. Ready, she waited impatiently. Just on the other side of the wall was a friend, waiting for her. The carousel lazily drifted past. Red bags, green bags, black bags, duffle bags….everything but her luggage. Lost, or at least misplaced was the verdict that led her into yet another line. Four other people waited before her, and while she waited, she noticed an older lady in a wheelchair having communication problems with the Hungarian staff. “May I help?” she offered. The problem was where to send the lady’s luggage, as she was booked into an Iris hotel, but the staff said that there was no Iris in Budapest. It could be the Ibis, but the lady said what she wrote down, was all that she had. The No, tried to help, and succeeded in only being able to help the lady fill out the forms, and assure her that the clerk would return her ticket once he had all of the necessary information. Then, as the lady was whisked away, she gave her own information. Two minutes later, she was through the double doors and a new year had begun. The year of NO.