Top 10 loves continued!

5. I love catching adults doing things they should probably have never started doing in the first place but definitely should have outgrown by the fourth grade.  The first time I saw a person eat his own boogers is a memory that for some reason my mind has held onto and perfectly preserved like the ancient Egyptians with their pharaohs.  I was in the second grade, new to the school and sat toward the back of the room, the perfect location for wearily observing my fellow peers.  One day while amusing myself by watching my classmate Mark determinedly digging around in his nose for the perfect little morsel, I watched in confusion and horror (and as my memory recalls, slow motion) as his finger, with said morsel perched atop it, travelled from his nostril to his mouth.  Instinct told me to cry out and warn him, “Mark wait! You don’t know what you’re doing!” certain that he just must not realize that while probing around in his nose, something attached itself to his finger which was now about to enter his mouth!  It wasn’t until his lips closed around his finger and I heard the satisfying slurp as he sucked it off that I realized that this action was completely deliberate.  I was disgusted yet intrigued that someone would intentionally eat something that came out of their nose.  And now, ever since that day sitting in the back of Mrs. Marafino’s 2nd grade classroom, anytime I see someone picking their nose I wait anxiously, eyes fixed on them, to see if whatever they find up there will be deemed as trash or treat, snot or snack.  Mark was the first but he was definitely not the last and I have seen many a booger consumed since, usually by children.  However, there is the occasional adult who just never grew out of that phase, who still craves the salty snack so conveniently provided by our own bodies.  I was walking home from a festival in the park the other day when I saw a grown man eating his boogers, in broad daylight, masses of people all around and zero attempt at discretion, as if it were a completely acceptable adult behavior.  I stood and stared, also with zero discretion, as his finger repeatedly traveled from the inside of his nose to the inside of his mouth, numerous times, like he just couldn’t get enough of a good thing.  

6. I love that rather than just being a tool for recreation as they are in the United States, Razor scooters have inserted themselves in Budapestian society as a practical and widely-accepted means of transportation.  Before I came to Budapest, I thought of razor scooters as a short-lived fad among young children and adolescents.  You can imagine my delight then when I saw an entire family, mom, dad and three kids in-tow, scooting their way across one of the many bridges over the Danube.  As with the booger snacking, this would be the first of many such sightings.  Adults of all ages, men in suits and women in heels can be seen daily zipping around the city to their various destinations with the wind in their hair, sun on their faces, and youthful zeal in their swinging leg pushing them along; a significantly more pleasant commute than sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic. 

7. I love when things get lost in translation.  Have you ever used google to translate a web page into English and even though it’s riddled with grammatical errors, most of the time you can pretty much get the gist of what it says, but then sometimes it’s just a bunch of random words all jumbled up into one nonsensical mess?  So we were eating out at a Chinese restaurant last week and even though I love the act of eating to a degree above that which is probably considered to be healthy, my favourite part of the meal actually came at the end, when the eating had ceased and we were given the bill (This is usually my least favourite part, unless someone other than myself is paying for it, then it feels kind of exciting like I just won something).  Included on the receipt amongst the carbonated water and unexceptional vegetarian egg rolls and fried rice was “Exploding fried potato silk”…..perhaps also known as potato chips?  Hash browns? We’re still trying to figure it out.

8. I love how kids have no concept of time.  In my church I teach a Sunday school class for kids ages 5- 11.  I usually like to start off the class by asking them to share something good or exciting that happened to them during the week.  We had a cute 5-year-old girl who was in our class for the first time last Sunday so I explained what we did at the start of each class and began with the kid at the end of the row opposite her so she could have time to think of something.  When it got to be her turn I said, “Okay, what is something good or fun that you got to do this week?”  And she sat there for a minute in her red fluffy dress, dangling her feet clad in sparkly red shoes as she thought real hard before looking up at me and saying in her sweet little voice that was almost a whisper, “Um, I don’t know what a week is.”  Amazing.  Not the only time I’ve felt jealous of a five-year-old.

9. I love good live music that really makes you feel.  Jare and I recently went to see Austra a Canadian band we like, at a venue just a walk away from our flat, and you know how even though you are alive you can sometimes feel kind of dead (ok, “dead” sounds a little melodramatic, you could substitute the eloquent “blah” for dead here if you’d prefer) but you don’t even realize that you feel that way until something happens that makes you feel alive again and you think “Oh yeah, I remember this feeling!”  Well that something was Austra and their mystical, enchanting, theatrical, and completely uninhibited ways. Watching them onstage with their neon makeup and eccentric clothing, they seemed free of fear and had this liberating air of complete disregard for social pressures and constraints.  The lead singer’s  free spirit was infectious and spread throughout the entire audience until we were all jumping and dancing to her magnetic voice accompanied by the band’s electronic sounds that were sometimes so loud it vibrated the inside of my face and made my nose tickle.  Other than the lack of space for adequate twirling, arm flinging and body flailing, it was one of those perfect rare moments when I was exactly where I wanted to be, doing exactly what I wanted to be doing and I loved life, and I think I loved it so much because I felt alive you know? I mean really alive, like every cell of my body had been woken up, and I could suddenly see things more clearly and feel things more vibrantly.  I felt perfectly happy, free of worry and stress caused by the silly things in life that unnecessarily crowd my mind with anxiety.  it was perfect and I felt completely lost in the moment and my mind felt free and inspired and we were both suddenly convinced that making music and performing shows like this was exactly what we needed to be doing and everything else that did not directly contribute to achieving that goal was an unnecessary distraction in our lives that should be immediately done away with.  That feeling lasted until the next morning when we woke up and continued to go about business as usual, but every now and then, we see or experience something again that makes us believe or maybe reminds us rather, that we are meant for something greater than the day-to-day grind we are currently caught up in.  There’s this aching desire to do something great with our lives, to create positive change in the world.  Somehow though, that feeling fades so quickly, like it’s just a glimpse that you get, but how do you hold onto that feeling and turn that glimpse into a gaze so you don’t wake up the next morning and just go about your lives exactly as you did before when you were ‘dead’ and didn’t even know it?

Why do we not act on those feelings? Why do we let them slip away while we simultaneously slip back into complacency instead of dropping everything right then and chasing after them? Is it because there’s too much risk in it?  Is it because we worry that by so doing, we would not be able to fulfill our other responsibilities and therefore let others down? Is it because it perhaps requires doing something outside the norm and other people won’t understand? I get easily frustrated and overwhelmed sometimes with this heavy feeling that my life and the things I’m doing are not necessarily meaningless but not meaningful enough and I am not the big positive force in the world that I want to be.  I get down on myself for not doing things every day that really matter.  Like what are we doing sitting in classes for hours a day when there are people to feed, songs to write, the sad to uplift, and gardens to grow?  Jaron wisely points out though, that the steps to achieving something great are more often than not mundane, monotonous, seemingly selfish, and boring but if you can have the foresight and the patience to wade through that monotony to the point of it paying off, you can do really really great things.  I think it’s daunting to leave the beaten path, the surety and stability of a well-traveled road with its ruts already worn in for you to follow, and head off into the tall grasses of uncertainty where lies the possibility of losing your way or encountering danger.  But somewhere there in the chaos of the tall grass lies also the possibility of finding something far greater than perhaps you’d have ever found while clinging to the safety of the road already traveled by so many who have gone before.   

10. I love space heaters. I just love them so much.  Would you believe that along with an immersion blender and a bottle of beer, that this blessed apartment came stocked with a space heater as well?! Amazing.  I’ve developed quite the intimate relationship with this wonderful grey little gizmo. We never stray too far from one another and spend a large portion of every day in close contact.  Wherever I go it goes and provides me with a constant stream of hot air like the Sirocco winds from the Sahara (minus the dust).  The only thing keeping me from taking it to bed with me is the bold lettering on top that says “DO NOT COVER!”  I fail to see the risk involved in this though.  The only downside I can really think of to snuggling with it under the blankets is that maybe I die of shock when, as I’m falling asleep, I notice that the ten little icicles I’m accustomed to having attached at the ends of my feet as I climb into bed have suddenly become ten piping hot little sausages and actually, when you think about it, is that really even a downside? I mean dying in my bed blissfully happy with toasty warm toes?  Doesn’t sound like too shabby of a way to go if you ask me.  Not too shabby at all.    

Next week: Extreme disparity in the animal world 

Let me introduce you to my friend Keaira

So Jaron has been learning a lot in his program about the business world and as is to be expected when being introduced to the enthralling information which the subjects of accounting and economics have to offer, he has a desire to share that newly-acquired information with me.  and although my brain has the absorbent capacity of a no-name- non-quicker-picker-upper Bounty paper towel when it comes to topics like accounting and economics, there are a few drops that it manages to suck up and retain.  

Let’s take opportunity cost for example.  Opportunity cost: the value of what is forgone or sacrificed in order to have something else.  This is different for everyone according to their current needs or wants and priorities.  So for this year in Budapest, we could say that Jaron has sacrificed fun and time with his wife (kind of synonymous those two) in order to learn how the “invisible hand” turns the wheels of the economy, that elasticity is more than just a necessary feature for every waistband, that absolute advantage is preferable to comparative advantage, and to learn the mysteries of how to ensure a production that meets the quantities indicated by the production possibility frontier.  While fun with wife in exchange for lasting knowledge may be a worthwhile temporary trade, it means that I’m short a husband and a friend the majority of the time, and seeing as how Jaron is kind of my only friend here, I tend to get a bit lonely.  I mean, I’m easily able to fill my days with wonderful things like exploring Budapest, which is an amazing city with endless churches and streets and museums to explore, with food, I get an unusually high level of satisfaction from concocting new meals and recipes and have succeeded in producing surprisingly good vegetable samosas, chapatis, veggie lasagnas, soups, raw vegan energy bars, raw nut milk, and nearly mastered the art of raw vegan chocolate making, I paint till my eyes hurt and practice the guitar till the tips of my fingers feel bruised (actually I don’t but I should be). I fill my days. But I still miss human interaction and since it’s not every day that a group of fun British men willing to let me gamble away their savings comes rolling through town, I set out to find another outlet to fill my social needs.  

Enter youtube sensation Keaira Lashae, a beautiful, curvy, spunky woman who teaches Zumba from her living room.  As we were shimmying together in my kitchen to the beats of her music selection and her encouraging words, I found myself responding to her comments and chuckling at her humor.  I realized that I liked her company. I liked having someone to talk to.  It felt good to have another voice in the room, even if it was coming from my computer speakers.  Keaira opened my eyes to a whole world of possibilities and potential friendships.  I have her to thank for my current chummy relationships with the likes of Gillian Michaels, Chris Freytag, Denise Austin, and other sensational youtube fitness personalities.  We hang out at my place for about an hour every day.  They are always available, always have motivational things to say to me, consistently energetic, and when I’m sick of one, I just have one of the others over and never have to worry about them getting offended.  It may not be a legitimate relationship or ideal, but it fills the void, and they smile at me, which, in spite of their good looks and ridiculously perfectly toned bodies makes them more approachable and less intimidating than the unsmiling strangers on the street.

Top 10 list of things I love:

1. I love walking by an old building and experiencing the cool air and musty smell that wafts up from their basement windows.

2. I love our apartment.  I love its high ceilings, the super efficient shutters outside the windows that make it so dark it seems like it’s the middle of the night even though the sun has been out for hours, our down comforter that keeps me toasty on the coldest of nights, our balcony, the smell of smoke that permeates our entire apartment when our neighbors are smoking in the stairwell, the hospital and therefore the many hospital patients smoking in their fuzzy pink and blue bathrobes across the street, the lovely older lady on our same floor who hates wearing a bra but loves wearing a tank top while she’s hanging clothes outside to dry.  There are many things to love about our apartment, but I have to say that the thing I love most about it is that it came fully furnished, not only with furniture mind you but with towels, sheets, cleaning supplies, random and completely uncoordinated artwork on the walls, dishes, an immersion blender, and a bottle of beer in the fridge.   All of these accoutrements were taken advantage of right away except the bottle of beer.  Since we don’t drink alcohol it just sat there in our fridge unmoved for the better part of a month, until one evening when I was home alone, feeling bored and missing Jare, one thing led to another and I convinced myself that I couldn’t just let it go to waste and since I didn’t have any friends whom I could give it to, I would just have to make beer bread with it!  So I did just that and it was amazing and the easiest bread I’ve ever made in my life.  I love beer bread.

3. I love walking.  I prefer walking to taking the metro to explore the city because when I walk I get lost slower.  I figure with my track record, I’m inevitably going to get lost but if I’m walking, it talks longer.  Plus, when you walk somewhere you see and experience so much more that you would have otherwise missed had you taken a faster method such as the metro or bus.

4. I love how the clothes people wear here are chosen with complete disregard for the actual temperature outside and influenced wholly by the date.  There seems to come a day when the collective understanding is reached that summer is officially over and therefore any outfit which does not include a sweater and scarf is deemed inappropriate.  It’s the most amazing phenomenon, like there’s this rule that everyone strictly follows, that on a specific day everyone is to don their scarves, sweaters, jackets, and boots –and everybody does it, really, and I’m pretty sure it’s on the very first day of autumn because I first noticed it on the same day that google’s doodle was a cute little animated man jumping around turning green leaves on trees all the beautiful yellows and reds of autumn, indicating I’m fairly certain, the commencement of fall.  Even though it wasn’t even all that cold outside yet I thought I better follow suite.  So against reason, I made an attempt at conforming, and it was even with a bit of enthusiasm that I slipped my cozy sweater over my head and wrapped the familiar scarf about my neck, fully equipped to face the blustery autumn air.  I only lasted five minutes outside before the scarf was frantically being unwound from my stifled neck and it became absolutely necessary to remove my sweater before all the water I drank previously was lost through my armpits.  I’m now back to lighter clothes and regardless of the date, will remain so until a significant drop in the temperature indicates the necessity to do otherwise. 

Tomorrow: Top 10 list of things I love continued

Budapics

View of the Buda side from a bridge

Parliament 

Jare's place of residence during the daytime - Central European University's business school

Apparently Freddie Mercury attempted to buy this castle after their Magic Tour in 1986 .  It was first completed in 1265 and housed the Hungarian kings in Budapest

Chasing aces with a bevy of Brits

Desperate times call for desperate measures

There I was, sitting around a table in a pub in the late afternoon with eight middle-aged drunk British men, a hazy cloud of smoke hovering above us.  My palms were sweaty, heart thumping in my chest. Chasing aces was the game and the stakes were high. It was down to the last three. One of us would either walk out of there $80 richer or with empty pockets.  It all depended on how the next three rounds panned out.  Had you asked me that morning what my plan for the day was, my response would have been very different from the day’s actual proceedings and I dare say, would not have included gambling with a bevy of charming boozy Brits either.

The day started out normal enough with the usual oatmeal and bananas for breakfast accompanied by a little reading followed by a brief workout.  I’d heard about a horse racing festival going on in the main park the following day and decided I would go see how the set up was coming along.  The most ambitious of the booth owners had already set up shop and were busily cooking and selling all kinds or delicious looking foods and assortments of sweets.  I passed by an impressive looking table covered in perfect pyramids of what I initially thought were regular chocolates.  Upon taking a closer look I spotted the heavenly word ‘Marzipan’ on nearly every tag placed in front of each chocolaty mound.  Had they been cheaper or I richer, my lack of decision making capabilities coupled with my sugar obsession would have undoubtedly resulted in the purchase of at least one of each, but alas, they were anything but cheap so I painstakingly settled on two. So I had just purchased some overly priced but totally worth it from the looks of them marzipan chocolates and was feeling all bubbly inside as I reached my hand into the bag, still undecided whether or not I would save any to bring home for Jare.  My fingers just barely brushed the dusted cocoa surface of one of the little delectables when a blond man with the build of a Viking walked up to me and asked if I had a spare hour.  I looked at him incredulously with double raised eyebrows since in my old life a spare minute was hard to squeeze out of the day. “A spare hour?!”  Then I remembered that this is my new life, and in my new life I don’t have work or school or friends with which to fill my days.  I did have a spare hour.  In fact, I had five. At the time however I did not expect to spend all of those five with him.  He asked if I would be willing to help him and his friends out and pointing to one of those group tour bikes across the plaza offered me all the free beer I wanted if I would just help them pedal around the city for an hour.  Did it cost anything? Not a dime, he said.  What if I don’t drink?  Not a problem, he said. Deal.  He walked me to the bike, introduced me to his friends and went off to scout for one more peddler. Once said peddler was procured we were off!  With Oasis’ ‘Wonderwall’ blaring and all of us singing along at the top of our lungs we cruised (at the slowest pace possible to still qualify as cruising) around the city handing out cups of beer to homeless men and any other soul they deemed fit for a free beer along the way.  People were waving, taking pictures, and the drivers who weren’t angry at being stuck behind us were pointing and smiling.  We even got a delivery van to push us along for a bit until the pressure of his van against the bike broke his headlight.  The tour ended on a street known for its hip pubs and cafes.  Jare was still at school and this lot proved to be much more fun than wandering around alone so I went in with them, they bought me a peach juice, and roped me and another couple into a game of cards. I told them I didn’t gamble or have any money with me with which to gamble anyhow, so one of them contributed my share into the collective pot and with that, secured my spot in the game.

 

and so there we were. $80 on the table and it was down to three.  The cards were dealt and before I had time to comprehend what had just happened, I was out.  Just like that? I was crushed.  Minutes after the game began I set about in my mind fantasizing about how many weeks of groceries that money could buy us, or maybe Jare and I could splurge a bit and eat out at a restaurant other than our go to $1 falafel pizza joint! You see, I had already spent the winnings in my mind before the game was even over and when I lost I didn’t just lose the money, I lost all the hopes and dreams that came along with it. I said my goodbyes and with head hung low, started on my way home. Jare had called about a half hour earlier and told me he was home.  I planned on going home a few short minutes after speaking with him but the image I had of myself reaching across the table and victoriously scooping the winnings up into my arms held me hostage there until the bitter end. I had to see it through.  I had a chance at winning!  I realized that it was the exciting prospect of taking the pot that kept me there longer – the thought of “free money” was so appealing.  Then I got to thinking, what does that say about me? Does that make me lazy? Does it mean that I don’t like to work for my money?  That I’d rather be given things in life than earn them?  In my mind, these were not good traits to possess.  I felt a bit troubled about these new self-discoveries but told myself it was a one-time thing and promptly dismissed the thoughts.

A few days later I found myself in the women’s bathroom in a shopping mall guiltlessly wrapping copious amounts of toilet paper around my hand and stuffing it into my bag.  I opened the stall door to find the squat cleaning lady standing outside it. I quickly averted my eyes and kept them fixed on the tiled floor as I hurriedly walked past her and out the door, all the while feeling her eyes burning a hole in my bag. Did she know?  Could she tell that I had wads of stolen mall toilet paper in my bag? I only glanced back over my shoulder once before reaching the doors to the outside and was relieved to find that she was not hot on my heels.  When I arrived home I promptly unpacked the toilet paper from my bag and with satisfaction placed it neatly on the toilet back.  “there,” I thought to myself, “that’ll last us about three days.” instead of the look of pride and adoration I had anticipated seeing spread across Jare’s face when I told him I had stolen toilet paper from the mall bathroom, he looked at me perplexed and with concern in his eyes as he asked, “Why?”  It wasn’t until then that I realized just how far gone I was. The appeal of free money is understandable, but getting excited over free toilet paper when you can get a pack of 8 rolls for a dollar is just weird.  Who does that? How did I get here?  How did I become this person who gambles and steals???  What has become of me??!!!  Desperate times my friends. Desperate times.

We have been living here for about a month now and paying for things like rent, food, health insurance, and pesky exorbitant residency application costs, which actually wouldn’t have been a problem had the government loan we were so heavily relying on come through already.  But it hadn’t, and the already meager funds in our bank accounts were ever dwindling, creating a proportional rise in my anxiety levels in response.  The end result was a desperate girl forced into a life of crime, gambling, and having to choose between chocolates when really she’d prefer to have them all.  What kind of a life is that?   

Well it’s a week later and our loan has finally come in.  I’d like to say that it was out of desperation that I behaved the way I did; that it was desperation which made me giddy at the thought of easy money and turned me into a crazy lady in a bathroom stall frantically stuffing toilet paper into my bag.  But I’d be lying if I did.  Even though our bank accounts are replenished and my anxiety is practically nonexistent, I still swipe the extra napkins from our table in restaurants and slip them into my bag and it is very likely that I will make an unnecessary  trip to the bathroom next time I’m at the shopping mall and help myself to inordinate amounts of their toilet paper.  I found 50 euros lying next to 100 Czech koruna on the ground on my walk home today and the excitement I felt when wide-eyed I picked it up and stuffed it into my pocket was equal to that which I would have felt had I found it just after spending our very last penny.  So I guess it isn’t just desperate times that lead to desperate measures. Maybe I just like the easy money and free stuff after all.

next time:  zumba with Keaira Lashae and my list of loves

Playing in the mud

week three and I am feeling a bit more settled in, I venture a little further out every day and don't get lost, well not nearly as lost as i did the first day.  Google maps is my hero and my crutch.  I still feel a bit weary of hungarians as they unabashedly stare at my clothes or my feet as i walk past them simply because i'm wearing flip flops on a rainy day. I wonder if they've ever considered the fact that skin dries quicker than socks, and flip flops quicker than sopped in shoes or boots.  i caught myself thinking, "oh i should probably change my shoes to something more appropriate when i go out again later..." but no, I say! NO!  if i feel inclined to wear sandals in the snow then i most certainly will.  why should i adhere to their social norms unless I see sense in them or by so doing i can become a better person? because really, when you think about it, social norms are more often than not so vacuous that you wouldn't want to be considered a conformer to them anyway.  that being said, I hereby pledge that i will not allow the bullying glances of others to alter my behaviour or clothing just because it is not "normal".  i will be myself around everyone, no matter how different I am from them, or they from me.  (in my mind, this statement is followed immediately by a curt nod of the head, with arms folded defiantly across my chest) :)  

So I guess when I say I'm feeling more settled in, it also means that I'm settling into myself and my own skin a bit more here too.  First two weeks of anything new, always an uncomfortable and stretching growing period.  Love it and hate it.  actually no, I mostly just hate it, but i love the results after all the unfamiliarity and discomfort and anxiety have subsided.  you should know that group email updates consist primarily of the positive.  Rarely in such emails will i insert the drab, dull, disturbing, yet honest facts about an experience, and if i do, it is often glossed over and laced with humor, making it come across as frivolous so as not to incite pity or worry.  while they are not untruthful, they may not always contain the whole truth. I would not consider them glamorized by any means; the good things really are that good, but there is of course bad long with the good, and that bit just usually gets omitted.   seeing as how this is not a group email, i will make you privy to some of the nitty gritty particulars of life in hungary thus far.  I also think the negative has just as much place and merit as the positive and it is sometimes with a bit of hesitation or regret that i refrain from elaborating on it in emails home.  so I guess this is just a bit of a disclaimer that these posts might sometimes be negative or have an occasional complaint sprinkled in with the goods. while lists in writing scream "tactless" to me, they help me organize my thoughts and save me from having to come up with transition sentences to connect them.  hence the following list: (note, I’m a little behind, so these posts took place a little over a week ago) 

Sep. 13  

1. I don't know why this is, but for some reason I feel timid and anxious here more than I ever have before in a new place. I’ve traveled a fair amount, I’ve experienced being in a new country before, not able to speak the language, why does it feel so different this time? I have to work myself up to going outside alone, going into grocery stores, post offices, engaging in any transaction that requires interaction with another person.  I feel like I have the word "FOREIGNER" plastered to my forehead in large bold letters, which for some admittedly irrational reason in my mind carries with it the same type of embarrassment and negative attention as the scarlet A donned by Hester Prynne.  I feel like everyone can see right through to my squeamish insides.  i think it's a combination of not knowing my way around yet and worrying about getting lost, of having gotten used to having jaron with me all the time and now being on my own most of the time, and not being able to speak or understand the language at all.  I am a mute!  I've been here less than ten days.  i think it'll get better.  i continue to dislike the first two weeks of anything new because it is unfamiliar and therefore uncomfortable.  But in the same breath, there is worth in those two weeks and they result in growth and more strength....because they are unfamiliar and therefore uncomfortable.  i think we need to be uncomfortable on a regular basis in order to reset priorities, keep our minds clear and unpolluted, and avoid complacency.  i also think there are very great rewards to look forward to after drudging through the discomfort but I'm trying to figure out if there's a better way to go about it. who wants to drudge? ever? even with a great reward awaiting you at the finish line.  I feel certain that there must be a way to not drudge through the muck but rather to puddle jump and slosh and skip through it with rain boots on and i'm determined to find that way.   one way that is helping with this is trying to have fun with the things that i usually deem negative or unsettling.  see #2 for further explanation. 

2. people here don't ever smile back at you, EVER. this has always been an irksome thing for me i think because it is such a phenomenon in my mind, i mean, i just don't understand how it is not someone's natural reaction, almost like a reflex, to smile back at someone in response to them smiling at you, even a slight little hint of a grin.  it is entertaining for me to walk around and smile at people and not just fleetingly but to hold their gaze and smile at them, willing them to smile back at me.  if they choose not to smile back I at least want them to squirm a little bit and feel uncomfortable with their decision.  when i see people staring at my flip flops or pants, i also like to stare at them and wait for their gaze to drift up to my eyes and just look at them, smiling like yeah, I've been watching you all along gawking at my bare toes.  contrary to what you might think though, this action gives me little satisfaction because from what i've observed thus far, they just don't seem to feel embarrassed at all that they were caught staring.  I might have to throw in a slight head nod or little up down eyebrow action, you know, the "hey, i'm flirting with you" kind of eyebrow raise.  and while it may be ineffective at evoking smiles and eradicating judgmental stares, it makes the muck of the first couple weeks a little less mucky. 

next time: Zumba with keaira lashae and desperate times call for desperate measures: turning to a life of thievery and gambling to make ends meet!

Flight to Budapest

I was so excited i could hardly stand it.  Just a couple short hours away from arriving in Budapest and seeing Jare.  Sat next to a lovely elderly Dutch woman named Analise and chatted with her one part of the way and dozed the other amidst a sea of grey, white, and bald heads.  Most of the plane was occupied by a senior tour group.  Landed, got my bags, and walked right outside, worrying along the way that I had somehow bypassed customs and the passport checkpoint.  Either they didn't have one there, or I've just unwittingly pulled a fast one on Hungary and snuck (I checked and according to Mirriam Webster, the word 'snuck' is totally acceptable), myself right in.  I waited outside for a little bit and before too long Jare and I spotted each other through the window of his bus as he goes slowly riding past.  Seconds later we had one of those epic airport hugs; we're getting awfully good at those.


First impression of Budapest is that a lot of it reminds me so much of Slovenija.  The exact same grocery stores we shopped at, the people rarely if ever smile back at you, the cobble stone walkways, the buildings are old, the apartment buildings and even elevators are so much the same, beautiful buildings and parks and churches it's amazing.  There is some really cheap eat out food and some really nice places, a ton of places that have outdoor terrace seating, you'll see a ton of people sitting and eating and drinking outside, there are really posh shopping areas downtown and really great cheap thrift stores scattered all over town.  There is a little bit of everything and a little something for everyone.  Bakeries everywhere! yeah!!!! my fav and one of the several smells i first noticed here, the others being somewhat less pleasant and consisting of cigarette smoke (lots of people smoke here, lots), dog poo (bc they often poo on the sidewalks, most people pick it up, but not everyone), big hunks of meat being cooked on a spigot (schwarma kebab joints), and urine! (many members of the male species love peeing on the sides of buildings, I mean really love it)  

Things I love right away include the tube system (metro) which is so wonderful and convenient, you would never have to have a car here )nor would you want one really, why drive when you can walk, bike, or ride transport everywhere?), people watching, and the architecture.  They have really outstanding buildings with so much detail and intricate sculpting work and they have been investing a lot into restoring all of their buildings so they really look amazing and they are proud of their city's structures which is neat.  The churches are beautiful, their sculptures and monuments are really incredible and there is a beautiful castle and amazing bridges over the danube and the parliament building is crazy, kind of similar to london's with its many spires and intricate work and it is really large and such a 'catch your eye and hold it' kind of a building.  There is also this fantastic little island on the danube that you can reach by one of the bridges and it has this great track (like a red rubber track) all the way around its perimeter with a perfect 5k distance.  really great bike lanes are everywhere in the city too.  I love it here.  It's a really amazing city.

Jare's orientation is going really well. he loves his classmates already, a lot of them sound really great, kind of fun quirky interesting bright people.  His classmates are from all over, U.S., Hungary, Slovakia, Vietnam, China, Poland, Finland, India, Pakistan, Russia, France, Germany, Mexico, and a couple others.  There are close to 20 different countries represented in his class, so neat!  I met a couple of them this weekend, we went to a flea market together, which was the COOLEST! it had everything, old stuff new stuff, really amazing old stuff!  we even found a silver bridge, not the kind arching over a body of water but the dental kind, heaped among a pile of jewelry and old keys.   
I love our apartment.  Jare did a fantastic job picking it out.  4th floor, balcony, spacious, high ceilings, furnished with everything from a bed to an immersion blender, both of which we feel are equally necessary.  it's really perfect.

The blog begins!

I put a lot of thought into the name of this blog, seeing as how it would be my very first one and all, and came up with a variety of ‘B’ words to potentially follow the word ‘Budapest’, forming an alliteration of sorts.  I think alliterations are neat.  Not only do they roll off your tongue nicely but they help phrases and lists stick in our brains more successfully.  As it turns out, there is a plethora of wonderful ‘B’ words out there, which made choosing one for the title a bit difficult; and it had to be just one, multiple seemed a bit kitschy.  So in the end, I was able to settle on one only after making the compromise that the second and third runners up would receive notable mention. 

The very first one that struck my fancy was ‘Babeldom’.  Budapest Babeldom.  Sounds nice doesn’t it? Babeldom is a confused sound of voices, which is exactly what Hungarian sounds like to me.  Hungarian is unlike any language I’ve ever heard before in my life, which makes sense seeing as how it is unlike any other language in the world, besides Finnish, and even that quite distantly.  The other word I considered was ‘Blague’ which was funny to me because it sounds like Blog, which of course is what this is, but it actually means pretentious nonsense, which I also thought was just so fitting seeing as how I’ll mostly be writing down my random thoughts and observations on the bionomics of Budapest, the different experiences I have and situations I find myself in, which is most likely to be mostly nonsense.  To assume that anyone would be interested in reading my nonsense seems a bit pretentious to me, hence the perfectly suited word blague for the title of my blog.  “However,” I reasoned to myself, “I enjoy reading other people’s blogs, perhaps there are a select few who might enjoy reading mine as well?”  So to those select few interested in reading my nonsense about organisms called people interacting in their environment called Budapest, welcome to Budapest Bionomics!