My first six weeks back in the United States have been hectic. Two weddings; three weekends in Chicago; a trip to Minneapolis; two trips to Crandon, WI; and what seems like a ton of catch-up work both around the house and to complete my teaching certification.
Add to that a sudden change of plans.
Cori and I will not be returning to Hungary this fall. However, I fully intend to enroll in a teacher exchange program within the next five years. I have recently accepted a position teaching history and working with at-risk students at Germentown High School. I'm excited about the opportunity to begin working "for real" after six month of student teaching and a year of education classes. We will likely sell our house and move somewhere north of Milwaukee.
In the coming weeks I will continue working to compile a formal pictoral presentation on my time in Hungary, and plan to invite friends, family and the community to a public showing. Stay tuned for details, or email me if you wish to be notified when a date and place are set.
Until then, viszlat, szia and hello!
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Slovenia. For real.
(Due to a series of blogger.com failures, pictures associated with this post can be accessed by following the various links included)
When you travel, travel through the back door. That's the Rick Steves philosophy.
Rick is the author of a series of travel guides, and host of a PBS travel show. During my three months in Eastern Europe, my weekend journeys have depended on the contents of his "Best of Eastern Europe 2005." The fact that it's a year old means the prices have undoubtedly gone up and a couple restaurants have closed their doors, but by and large, the information is spot on. It was good enough, in fact, that I purchased "Best of Eastern Europe 2006" from amazon.com and had it shipped to my dad a few weeks before he flew across the Atlantic to visit.
This post isn't a Rick Steves advertisement, but his philosophy of leaving the beaten travel path enough to experience true local culture is one I have adopted. In fact, as I walked the streets of Prague, Budapest, Vienna, Ljubljana, Piran and Eger, I found myself feeling sad for the throngs of tourists sitting at the overpriced, Westernized, streetside cafes and restaurants along Vaci Utca and similar thoroughfares eating from the "Tourist Menus."
So, it was this philosophy that led Cori, my dad and me to the Deluk home in rural, southern Slovenia.
It was sweltering in Slovenia. The three of us sat down for lunch last Friday in 35 degree heat (that's 95 to you and me). I know it was 35 because Mario told me.
Mario speaks no English, but we communicated using a combination of German, Italian, Slovene, and a heavy dose of body language. We ate in the backyard of Mario Deluk's vineyard, about 10 kilometers from nowhere, which is another 30 minutes from Piran, the now-well known (to this blog's readers) Slovenian Mediterranean coastal village. The only way we discovered Mario's eatery was because the lone English speaker at another winery told us about it. We had stopped at that winery after spotting some inviting road signs. But they were closed, preparing for a large party that evening. So we took the rental and drove 3 or 4 kilometers down the narrow gravel road "to the first house on the right after the asphalt road that goes up the hill. It doesn't look nice, but you'll get a lot of food for almost nothing."
As promised.
When we arrived (And there's absolutely nothing marking this location as a restaurant...not a sign, an awning or a parking lot) two heavy set women were working in a kitchen that would have made satan sweat. After a couple mintes of awkward miscommunication (no one there spoke any English, although German or Italian would have helped) I was able to gesture "eat" and we were told with a smile to sit. No other diners were there, only a little girl in a swimsuit who I presume was a grand daughter. The girl would later get in trouble because the dog she was supposed to be watching climbed onto a table and pulled a large cut of pork from a heaping plate of meat. Thankfully this was her table, not ours; But, we all laughed. That is until "Mama" came out of the house. Mama, we later learned, is Mario's 84 year old mother. When we told the shirtless Mario, "no one takes any 'guff' from Mama," by pounding our fist on the table, he laughed from his belly and poured himself more wine.
Shortly later, my dad turned to us and asked, "how will we tell them what we want to eat?" I told him, "I think we're going to eat whatever they bring out." First we got soup. "Soopa Istria" as Mario called it. This thick, hearty soup included large chunks of Slovenian bacon (that means the rind was too touch to chew through. While tasty, you had to swallow it somewhat whole), and plenty of carrots, beans, garlic and potato.
When we each finished our bowls (Cori even ate everything...except the bacon), we all agreed we were full. But, we couldn't stop the waves of food Marianna (Mario's wife) kept bringing from the kitchen. Next was home made gnocchi with large chunks of beef. The gnocchi was Cori's favorite, and it were great. Later on, we watched as Marianna made more gnocchi in the kitchen for a 60th birthday party that they were hosting that night.
During the meal Mario told us we were 15 meters from Croatia. Pointing to his vinyard he said "Hrvatska," the Croatian word for Croatia. Marianna then made a swimming-like motionand we figured Croatia was on the other side of the small creek running behind the house. My dad jokingly asked if Mario had ever shot at Croatian soldier. I was momentarily uneasy with the comment, but Mario releaved my concerns with a hearty laugh, then added to my releif and made me laugh when he mimiked shooting a machine gun while shouting "Kalashnikov," the inventer of the "AK-47," the famous Russian military rifle. Aah, the fun you can have with heat, wine and the inability to speak a common language.
The next plate was piled on with various grilled meats: cased and uncased sausage, veal, pork and another meat which was good and could have been lamb or mutton but we're never really sure. Mario also gave us salad greens with fresh tomotoes and olive oil.
All the while Mario was pouring us wine. His wine. He makes 4500 liters or red and 12000 liters of white a year. He started by bringing us a platter with three glasses or white and three of red, unsure of which we wanted, and unable to communicate the point. Cori drank the whites, my dad and I had the reds, and within minutes Mario was up from the table and back again carrying a carafe of red and a glass for himself. He joined us at the table and the "conversation" continued.
Later, he took us into his wine cellar and poured us glasses straight from the vats. At this point there was all sorts of laughing, picture taking, hand shaking, hugging and cheek kissing. My dad asked if he could buy a couple bottles, so Mario left before returning with two, one-liter, plastic water bottles, filled 'em up, and screwed on the caps.
Wine tasting Slovenian style.
As we sat in the car looking at the map trying to figure out where we were and how to get back to nowhere so we could eventually return to Piran, Mario appeared with a single, freshly picked daisy for Cori.
The perfect ending.
The whole afternoon (and it was a whole afternoon, about 3 hours), including the two bottles of carryout wine, the 1, 2 or 3 bottles that we must have drank at the vinyard, the soup, the salad, the gnocchi, the piles of meat, the glasses fresh from the vats, the plate of sweets, the once in a lifetime cultural experience, and the fresh daisy cost ... about $50.
Part of me hopes to return one day, but I don't think I will. I don't want to risk losing these perfect memories.
When you travel, travel through the back door. That's the Rick Steves philosophy.
Rick is the author of a series of travel guides, and host of a PBS travel show. During my three months in Eastern Europe, my weekend journeys have depended on the contents of his "Best of Eastern Europe 2005." The fact that it's a year old means the prices have undoubtedly gone up and a couple restaurants have closed their doors, but by and large, the information is spot on. It was good enough, in fact, that I purchased "Best of Eastern Europe 2006" from amazon.com and had it shipped to my dad a few weeks before he flew across the Atlantic to visit.
This post isn't a Rick Steves advertisement, but his philosophy of leaving the beaten travel path enough to experience true local culture is one I have adopted. In fact, as I walked the streets of Prague, Budapest, Vienna, Ljubljana, Piran and Eger, I found myself feeling sad for the throngs of tourists sitting at the overpriced, Westernized, streetside cafes and restaurants along Vaci Utca and similar thoroughfares eating from the "Tourist Menus."
So, it was this philosophy that led Cori, my dad and me to the Deluk home in rural, southern Slovenia.
It was sweltering in Slovenia. The three of us sat down for lunch last Friday in 35 degree heat (that's 95 to you and me). I know it was 35 because Mario told me.
Mario speaks no English, but we communicated using a combination of German, Italian, Slovene, and a heavy dose of body language. We ate in the backyard of Mario Deluk's vineyard, about 10 kilometers from nowhere, which is another 30 minutes from Piran, the now-well known (to this blog's readers) Slovenian Mediterranean coastal village. The only way we discovered Mario's eatery was because the lone English speaker at another winery told us about it. We had stopped at that winery after spotting some inviting road signs. But they were closed, preparing for a large party that evening. So we took the rental and drove 3 or 4 kilometers down the narrow gravel road "to the first house on the right after the asphalt road that goes up the hill. It doesn't look nice, but you'll get a lot of food for almost nothing."
As promised.
When we arrived (And there's absolutely nothing marking this location as a restaurant...not a sign, an awning or a parking lot) two heavy set women were working in a kitchen that would have made satan sweat. After a couple mintes of awkward miscommunication (no one there spoke any English, although German or Italian would have helped) I was able to gesture "eat" and we were told with a smile to sit. No other diners were there, only a little girl in a swimsuit who I presume was a grand daughter. The girl would later get in trouble because the dog she was supposed to be watching climbed onto a table and pulled a large cut of pork from a heaping plate of meat. Thankfully this was her table, not ours; But, we all laughed. That is until "Mama" came out of the house. Mama, we later learned, is Mario's 84 year old mother. When we told the shirtless Mario, "no one takes any 'guff' from Mama," by pounding our fist on the table, he laughed from his belly and poured himself more wine.
Shortly later, my dad turned to us and asked, "how will we tell them what we want to eat?" I told him, "I think we're going to eat whatever they bring out." First we got soup. "Soopa Istria" as Mario called it. This thick, hearty soup included large chunks of Slovenian bacon (that means the rind was too touch to chew through. While tasty, you had to swallow it somewhat whole), and plenty of carrots, beans, garlic and potato.
When we each finished our bowls (Cori even ate everything...except the bacon), we all agreed we were full. But, we couldn't stop the waves of food Marianna (Mario's wife) kept bringing from the kitchen. Next was home made gnocchi with large chunks of beef. The gnocchi was Cori's favorite, and it were great. Later on, we watched as Marianna made more gnocchi in the kitchen for a 60th birthday party that they were hosting that night.
During the meal Mario told us we were 15 meters from Croatia. Pointing to his vinyard he said "Hrvatska," the Croatian word for Croatia. Marianna then made a swimming-like motionand we figured Croatia was on the other side of the small creek running behind the house. My dad jokingly asked if Mario had ever shot at Croatian soldier. I was momentarily uneasy with the comment, but Mario releaved my concerns with a hearty laugh, then added to my releif and made me laugh when he mimiked shooting a machine gun while shouting "Kalashnikov," the inventer of the "AK-47," the famous Russian military rifle. Aah, the fun you can have with heat, wine and the inability to speak a common language.
The next plate was piled on with various grilled meats: cased and uncased sausage, veal, pork and another meat which was good and could have been lamb or mutton but we're never really sure. Mario also gave us salad greens with fresh tomotoes and olive oil.
All the while Mario was pouring us wine. His wine. He makes 4500 liters or red and 12000 liters of white a year. He started by bringing us a platter with three glasses or white and three of red, unsure of which we wanted, and unable to communicate the point. Cori drank the whites, my dad and I had the reds, and within minutes Mario was up from the table and back again carrying a carafe of red and a glass for himself. He joined us at the table and the "conversation" continued.
Later, he took us into his wine cellar and poured us glasses straight from the vats. At this point there was all sorts of laughing, picture taking, hand shaking, hugging and cheek kissing. My dad asked if he could buy a couple bottles, so Mario left before returning with two, one-liter, plastic water bottles, filled 'em up, and screwed on the caps.
Wine tasting Slovenian style.
As we sat in the car looking at the map trying to figure out where we were and how to get back to nowhere so we could eventually return to Piran, Mario appeared with a single, freshly picked daisy for Cori.
The perfect ending.
The whole afternoon (and it was a whole afternoon, about 3 hours), including the two bottles of carryout wine, the 1, 2 or 3 bottles that we must have drank at the vinyard, the soup, the salad, the gnocchi, the piles of meat, the glasses fresh from the vats, the plate of sweets, the once in a lifetime cultural experience, and the fresh daisy cost ... about $50.
Part of me hopes to return one day, but I don't think I will. I don't want to risk losing these perfect memories.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Economic woes
I have many anecdotes that highlight the inherent difficulties (cultural, infrastructure-based, and bureoucratic) Hungary will have to overcome before its economy is able to get onto the right track. Over the coming months I'll share some of them here. Here's a news report that covers
the result of these difficulties as Hungary teeters on the brink of economic meltdown.
It's not a pretty picture.
the result of these difficulties as Hungary teeters on the brink of economic meltdown.
It's not a pretty picture.
Monday, June 26, 2006
We're coming to America
10 days of barnstorming around Eastern Europe have come to a close and now we say goodbye to Hungary.
It's 7:06 AM. Cori, my dad and I are in Szolnok, all packed up, waiting for a friend to arrive to take us to the train station. From there we will take a train to Kobanya-Kispest on the edge of Budapest. There we will board a bus for Ferihegy airport where Cori will split from my dad and me. Cori's flights take her through Amsterdam and London to Chicago, while we fly direct to New York before heading to the windy city. Despite this, we depart 5 minutes apart, and arrive within a half hour of each other. Cori and I will take a Greyhound bus to Madison where he parents will pick us up. My dad will spend the night at nat's house before driving home in the morning.
We'll see you soon.
It's 7:06 AM. Cori, my dad and I are in Szolnok, all packed up, waiting for a friend to arrive to take us to the train station. From there we will take a train to Kobanya-Kispest on the edge of Budapest. There we will board a bus for Ferihegy airport where Cori will split from my dad and me. Cori's flights take her through Amsterdam and London to Chicago, while we fly direct to New York before heading to the windy city. Despite this, we depart 5 minutes apart, and arrive within a half hour of each other. Cori and I will take a Greyhound bus to Madison where he parents will pick us up. My dad will spend the night at nat's house before driving home in the morning.
We'll see you soon.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Going back for more
Apparently, this won't be just a 3 month trip.
Cori and I have decided to move to Hungary, Szolnok specifically, and teach next year on a full-time basis. We have to be in Budapest by August 25, and our contracts take us through June 30, 2007. It's far too early to say what will happen at Christmas, but we can say that if anyone is interested in take a trip to Eastern (or Central as the locals call it) Europe in the next year, you have a place to stay, and possible travel partners!
Cori and I have decided to move to Hungary, Szolnok specifically, and teach next year on a full-time basis. We have to be in Budapest by August 25, and our contracts take us through June 30, 2007. It's far too early to say what will happen at Christmas, but we can say that if anyone is interested in take a trip to Eastern (or Central as the locals call it) Europe in the next year, you have a place to stay, and possible travel partners!
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Back in Prague
Less than two weeks after leaving the Czech Republic capital, I have returned. Cori, my dad and I got here late last night (we missed the 10:30 AM train from Budapest, so we took the 2:30, getting us in shortly before 10 PM). After some walking, we arrived at our hotel, showered, and went to bed.
It's morning now. I'm letting Cori and my dad sleep in as they really need the rest. Once they wake up, we'll be off to see Prague Castle, and old town square.
It's morning now. I'm letting Cori and my dad sleep in as they really need the rest. Once they wake up, we'll be off to see Prague Castle, and old town square.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Yippie!
"Better late than never."
Cori was scheduled to arrive in Budapest around 4:15.I finally saw her at 8:20.
A delayed flight from Chicago to London; two terminal transfers and an endlessly long security line at Heathrow; and a lost bag at Budapest contributed to the delay (Let's all hope that bag gets delived to Szolnok tomorrow as promised).
But, it was simply wonderful to see Cori after 9 long weeks apart, the longest such stretch since we met in 1998 (I have even more respect now for deployed military personnel and their families).
We hopped the bus to the train station, waited there nearly two hours for the next train to Szolnok, and finally arrived at my flat around 12:30 AM.
Time to get some sleep. Cori's excited to see the city and the school tomorrow, and I'm excited to show them to her!
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Health officials working overtime
More bad news for the health of Hungary:
Well, that's a little ways from here, about 100 km. But, since I don't raise birds, not to worry.
Hungarian authorities have informed the European Commission of a confirmed outbreak of avian influenza in a domestic flock of geese in Bács-Kiskun (BAYCH-KEESH-koon), in the south of the country.
All 2,300 geese in the flock were immediately culled upon suspicion of the virus and all poultry, including farmed ducks and geese, in the 1-kilometer radius around the outbreak, are also being culled today. Rigorous control and monitoring of other holdings in the surrounding area are being carried out.
If confirmed as an outbreak of H5N1, this would constitute the fifth outbreak of highly-pathogenic H5N1 avian influenza in domestic poultry in a member state of the European Union (previous outbreaks occurred in domestic poultry in France, Sweden, Germany, and Denmark).
Well, that's a little ways from here, about 100 km. But, since I don't raise birds, not to worry.
I'll have my water with gas, but without bacteria please
Discouraging news from northeastern Hungary:
You never want to "fall ill." That sounds especially unpleasant. Thankfully, Szolnok isn't experiencing the flooding that Miskolc is. Our water's tasty.
MISKOLC, Hungary -- Some 1,200 people in northeastern Hungary have fallen ill from drinking contaminated water, the director of national epidemic affairs said yesterday.
Flooding caused by heavy spring rainfall contaminated the spring water that flows into the city water system, experts said.
On Thursday, residents of the city of Miskolc (MEESH-kolts) - some 160 km northeast of Budapest - (and some 70 km northeast of Szolnok) began showing first symptoms of bacterial poisoning, falling ill with diarrhea, vomiting and fatigue.
You never want to "fall ill." That sounds especially unpleasant. Thankfully, Szolnok isn't experiencing the flooding that Miskolc is. Our water's tasty.
Hmmmm....
From the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
"Mala was observed being alone with the student at least three times..."Does anyone else find this statement amusing?
Monday, June 12, 2006
World Cup o' Goulash
Hungary isn't in the World Cup, but that hasn't stopped the locals from getting excited about the games. When it comes to football, Hungarians are just as European as the Germans, French and Italians, only not as talented. 
Nonetheless, they love to watch the games on TV. So, in downtown Szolnok they have erected a giant tent where fans can buy beer and food and watch all the games on big screen TV's.
Not being a soccer fan back home, I know little about the game, but that gives me a good reason to talk to the nearby Hungarians to ask questions. Once they know I'm American, they come to expect questions about football.
Tonight Chad and I watched USA get routed by the Czechs. I'm glad I wasn't wearing one of those Alan Jacksonesque American flag button downs shirts...it would have been very embarrassing. And the US loss would have also made it difficult.
The Hungarian locals were rooting for Czech Rep and Italy in the games against the US and Ghana respectively. Asking around, however, I think the most popular teams in Hungary (besides the poor Hungarians who haven't been good since 1954 - and I can tell you all about it because all the football fans here talk about it) are Great Britain, Spain, and Brazil. There's nothing like following a winner, huh? I joked with them that they were alienating their neighbors by not supporting Ukraine, Croatia, and Serbia & Montenegro. Heck, I'll root for Mexico.
On a positive note, I did get the chance to meet and chat with Chris, the husband of Zsuzsa, a teacher at Varga. Chris studied German, Economics, Education and Phy Ed, and has picked up just enough
English by watching TV and film to speak quite easily with me. He's a very talented guy. We had a nice conversation about sports, both football and NBA basketball.
(From left, Juli, me, Chris, Zsuzsa, Chad)
Many friends have asked me to return to the tent to watch Germany vs. Poland Wednesday night. We'll see if Cori feels up to it.
And that brings me to the best news of all. Cori arrives Tuesday afternoon! I will take a train to a bus to the Budapest airport to meet here. We should be back in Szolnok by 7:30PM local time!
We are both very excited. There are so many places, people and experiences I want her to know.
Nonetheless, they love to watch the games on TV. So, in downtown Szolnok they have erected a giant tent where fans can buy beer and food and watch all the games on big screen TV's.Not being a soccer fan back home, I know little about the game, but that gives me a good reason to talk to the nearby Hungarians to ask questions. Once they know I'm American, they come to expect questions about football.
Tonight Chad and I watched USA get routed by the Czechs. I'm glad I wasn't wearing one of those Alan Jacksonesque American flag button downs shirts...it would have been very embarrassing. And the US loss would have also made it difficult.
The Hungarian locals were rooting for Czech Rep and Italy in the games against the US and Ghana respectively. Asking around, however, I think the most popular teams in Hungary (besides the poor Hungarians who haven't been good since 1954 - and I can tell you all about it because all the football fans here talk about it) are Great Britain, Spain, and Brazil. There's nothing like following a winner, huh? I joked with them that they were alienating their neighbors by not supporting Ukraine, Croatia, and Serbia & Montenegro. Heck, I'll root for Mexico.
On a positive note, I did get the chance to meet and chat with Chris, the husband of Zsuzsa, a teacher at Varga. Chris studied German, Economics, Education and Phy Ed, and has picked up just enough
English by watching TV and film to speak quite easily with me. He's a very talented guy. We had a nice conversation about sports, both football and NBA basketball.(From left, Juli, me, Chris, Zsuzsa, Chad)
Many friends have asked me to return to the tent to watch Germany vs. Poland Wednesday night. We'll see if Cori feels up to it.
And that brings me to the best news of all. Cori arrives Tuesday afternoon! I will take a train to a bus to the Budapest airport to meet here. We should be back in Szolnok by 7:30PM local time!
We are both very excited. There are so many places, people and experiences I want her to know.
So that's what you think of the States
Yes, I am still working on a number of posts as promised last week. It seems as though my free time has become limited lately. During my 9 weeks here I have met many people, and am becomming integrated into a social circle. It's a great thing: no more lonely nights sitting in my flat; The opportunity to really find out more about Hungarian culture and world views. But, it also means less time to write and reflect as I'd like.
I'll get to them.
In the meantime, here's something I found quite interesting.
The other day a student stopped by my flat. She was looking for Chad, the other American at Varga, but he wasn't home. So, she knocked on my door and handed me a short essay. She asked me to give it to Chad later.
She left, and I looked at the title, The Differences between the USA and Hungary. My interest was piqued.
Here it is in full, as written by the student (She's in 11th grade)
I'll get to them.
In the meantime, here's something I found quite interesting.
The other day a student stopped by my flat. She was looking for Chad, the other American at Varga, but he wasn't home. So, she knocked on my door and handed me a short essay. She asked me to give it to Chad later.
She left, and I looked at the title, The Differences between the USA and Hungary. My interest was piqued.
Here it is in full, as written by the student (She's in 11th grade)
The Differences between the USA and Hungary
America is a dream for me. This country is the land of the promises, chances and a much better life. In Hungary, you have to be lucky to get in a good university, to get a very good job with a satisfied payment. The lifestyle is also different. In America,
people aren’t as depressed as in my country. They live in another way. For me, as a student the differences for what I’m jealous for are that the school’s life, the system itself and the driving license. At the age of 14, you can get it and it’s easier than in my country. You have to be 17 and it’s harder. There are differences between the traditions e.g. in case of Christmas and Halloween. You can famous and rich easier. I think almost everybody want to go to America to make their life better. It’s the Promises land! I’m really jealous of you, because you’ll leave Hungary and continue your life in the states. I’m planning to continue my studies in the States (as you know) because of the differences between the 2 country.
Finally, I think America is so attractive for everyone who do not live in America. That’s the biggest difference, because Hungary isn’t so attractive.
Hope you enjoyed it!
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Cheaters
There was more cheating by the students during my second exam last week. Nothing serious, no cheat sheets or plagerizing, but the student’s eyes were wandering more than an 18-year-old’s during spring break. I circulated around the room, I made eye contact, I tapped on desks and anything else I could think of to let the students know I was watching them.
Afterward, I sat down with Marianna, the chair of the English department and the teacher I feel most comfortable talking to about these things. She said Hungarian law prohibits teachers from downgrading based on behavior, and cheating is considered a behavioral issue! She told me when Hungarian teachers enforce cheating (and they don’t always), they often cross out the portion of the test they believe the student was cheating on and make them rewrite it (remember, most if not all history exams are essay). Or, they might take the test away and have the student retake it either as a written exam or orally. So, there’s no disincentive for the students to cheat. The worst that can happen is they have to redo the test. The best is that they ace it. I suggested perhaps in the future the penalty for cheating should be extra work. Marianna agreed that was a good idea.
I followed up on my talk with Marianna by talking to the students about cheating. I devoted an entire class period to the topic.
I started by listing some of the differences between education in America and Hungary. I told them they seemed to work harder on the whole, that they seem to memorize facts more effectively, and that they are outstanding at mastering theoretical math skills.
Pride beaming in the room.
However, I also say I think their history education lacks in the area of critical thinking exercises.
Some heads nodding affirmatively.
I say I think American math teachers do a better job teaching applied mathematics.
Instant outcries of criticism of the American math teacher in Szolnok.
I also tell them I have seen more cheating in my 2-plus months in Hungary than I did in a lifetime of American schools.
A few chuckles.
I explain that in America, if a student is caught cheating he or she would likely get a zero on the test or assignment, and a second instance of cheating could result in being suspended from school. A third strike and you’re out – expulsion in some cases.
Horrified looks, jaws getting closer to the floor.
I ask them if they think a lot of students cheat in Hungarian schools.
General agreement, yes.
I write “cheat” on the board. I ask what other areas in life do people cheat.
In sports – like they pay off the referee. People pay the police.
“You mean they bribe the police, like when they get pulled over for speeding?”
Yeah.
“How much do you have to pay them to get away?”
Maybe 2500 forint.
“Hmm, I’ll have to remember that.”
Smiles
“Where else do people cheat?”
Silence.
“On their taxes? Do people tell the government about every single forint they earn?”
Laughter – no!
What about cheating on your spouse?
Blank stares.
“Cheating on your husband or wife.”
Oh, yeah, that’s bad!
“What’s another word for cheating? How else can we describe the word?”
A pregnant silence…Not telling the truth? Yeah, dishonesty.
“Can we call that lying?”
Yeah.
“How many of you have lied to a friend?”
Silence
“No one?”
One hand.
“Ok, one person isn’t lying right now.”
Nervous laughter.
“How many of you have had a friend lie to you?”
A roomful of hands. I laugh.
“I guess there must be one or two people going around lying to everyone, huh? Ok, how did it feel to be lied to?”
Bad. I was mad. Sad. Hurt.
“What did you think of your friend afterward?”
I didn’t know if I could trust him anymore.
“And every time someone lies to us, we get a little bit lonelier, because that’s one more person we have to think twice about trusting again. Has anyone been lied to by their parents?”
One hand – the same one who admitted she lied to a friend.
“I’ll bet that really hurt, because we trust our parents more than anyone else.”
A sad look from the girl. Silence elsewhere.
“Who’s cheated in school at some point? I have.”
All the hands slowly go up.
“Why did you do it?”
Because we need to get 5’s to get into a good University. Because we want to get good jobs.
“Uh huh. I understand that. But, when you get that 5 after cheating are you as proud of it as you would be if you didn’t cheat?”
But the Universities don’t care about pride.
“No, it doesn’t seem they do? Do you care about being proud of yourself, of the job you do?”
Well, yeah, but the school only takes people who have 5’s.
“So, you’re willing to give up your personal belief in being proud of your own work to please the University?” I write “individual” on the board and circle it. Then I write “others” on the board and circle it. I draw an arrow from “others” to “individual.”
“Many others put a lot of pressure on us to do things in life, that maybe we wouldn’t do if that pressure wasn’t there. Most of us hope to get into a good university. Then what? You’ll get a good job, make good money, buy nice things, meet someone, fall in love, marry, have children, perhaps travel, learn some skills, take up hobbies, send your kids off to school, retire, relax, go to the nursing home, and die.”
Laughter.
“It’s a good plan. But what’s the one common theme between all those parts of life: university, job, relationship, family, hobbies, retirement, death? Who’s the only person that’s a part of all these “stages of life?”
We are
“Exactly. When you stop and look at all the things you have done, the wealth you have built up, the people you have met, the children you have raised, the places you have gone, what happens if you may have only achieved it because you cheated? Don’t answer it, just think about it.”
“I’m not going to suddenly change your life today, but I want to bring something to your attention. When you cheat, when you lie, you hurt others. They have to think before they can trust you again. You have made them lonelier. But, you have cheated yourself most. Whatever gains you make when you cheat are tainted. You didn’t really earn that “5.” That job really isn’t yours. The things you own were bought with lies.”
“We’ve all cheated in one way or another, and we all will do so again. But, I certainly hope the next time you consider cheating these thoughts will cross your mind, and perhaps, just maybe, you’ll feel a tinge of guilt deep down in your stomach, because you'll know you're not really “earning it.”
Total silence, eyes all fixed on me
“You guys have a great weekend, I’ll see you next Tuesday."
"Only one week left in school!”
Have a nice weekend Mr. Aronow!
Afterward, I sat down with Marianna, the chair of the English department and the teacher I feel most comfortable talking to about these things. She said Hungarian law prohibits teachers from downgrading based on behavior, and cheating is considered a behavioral issue! She told me when Hungarian teachers enforce cheating (and they don’t always), they often cross out the portion of the test they believe the student was cheating on and make them rewrite it (remember, most if not all history exams are essay). Or, they might take the test away and have the student retake it either as a written exam or orally. So, there’s no disincentive for the students to cheat. The worst that can happen is they have to redo the test. The best is that they ace it. I suggested perhaps in the future the penalty for cheating should be extra work. Marianna agreed that was a good idea.
I followed up on my talk with Marianna by talking to the students about cheating. I devoted an entire class period to the topic.
I started by listing some of the differences between education in America and Hungary. I told them they seemed to work harder on the whole, that they seem to memorize facts more effectively, and that they are outstanding at mastering theoretical math skills.
Pride beaming in the room.
However, I also say I think their history education lacks in the area of critical thinking exercises.
Some heads nodding affirmatively.
I say I think American math teachers do a better job teaching applied mathematics.
Instant outcries of criticism of the American math teacher in Szolnok.
I also tell them I have seen more cheating in my 2-plus months in Hungary than I did in a lifetime of American schools.
A few chuckles.
I explain that in America, if a student is caught cheating he or she would likely get a zero on the test or assignment, and a second instance of cheating could result in being suspended from school. A third strike and you’re out – expulsion in some cases.
Horrified looks, jaws getting closer to the floor.
I ask them if they think a lot of students cheat in Hungarian schools.
General agreement, yes.
I write “cheat” on the board. I ask what other areas in life do people cheat.
In sports – like they pay off the referee. People pay the police.
“You mean they bribe the police, like when they get pulled over for speeding?”
Yeah.
“How much do you have to pay them to get away?”
Maybe 2500 forint.
“Hmm, I’ll have to remember that.”
Smiles
“Where else do people cheat?”
Silence.
“On their taxes? Do people tell the government about every single forint they earn?”
Laughter – no!
What about cheating on your spouse?
Blank stares.
“Cheating on your husband or wife.”
Oh, yeah, that’s bad!
“What’s another word for cheating? How else can we describe the word?”
A pregnant silence…Not telling the truth? Yeah, dishonesty.
“Can we call that lying?”
Yeah.
“How many of you have lied to a friend?”
Silence
“No one?”
One hand.
“Ok, one person isn’t lying right now.”
Nervous laughter.
“How many of you have had a friend lie to you?”
A roomful of hands. I laugh.
“I guess there must be one or two people going around lying to everyone, huh? Ok, how did it feel to be lied to?”
Bad. I was mad. Sad. Hurt.
“What did you think of your friend afterward?”
I didn’t know if I could trust him anymore.
“And every time someone lies to us, we get a little bit lonelier, because that’s one more person we have to think twice about trusting again. Has anyone been lied to by their parents?”
One hand – the same one who admitted she lied to a friend.
“I’ll bet that really hurt, because we trust our parents more than anyone else.”
A sad look from the girl. Silence elsewhere.
“Who’s cheated in school at some point? I have.”
All the hands slowly go up.
“Why did you do it?”
Because we need to get 5’s to get into a good University. Because we want to get good jobs.
“Uh huh. I understand that. But, when you get that 5 after cheating are you as proud of it as you would be if you didn’t cheat?”
But the Universities don’t care about pride.
“No, it doesn’t seem they do? Do you care about being proud of yourself, of the job you do?”
Well, yeah, but the school only takes people who have 5’s.
“So, you’re willing to give up your personal belief in being proud of your own work to please the University?” I write “individual” on the board and circle it. Then I write “others” on the board and circle it. I draw an arrow from “others” to “individual.”
“Many others put a lot of pressure on us to do things in life, that maybe we wouldn’t do if that pressure wasn’t there. Most of us hope to get into a good university. Then what? You’ll get a good job, make good money, buy nice things, meet someone, fall in love, marry, have children, perhaps travel, learn some skills, take up hobbies, send your kids off to school, retire, relax, go to the nursing home, and die.”
Laughter.
“It’s a good plan. But what’s the one common theme between all those parts of life: university, job, relationship, family, hobbies, retirement, death? Who’s the only person that’s a part of all these “stages of life?”
We are
“Exactly. When you stop and look at all the things you have done, the wealth you have built up, the people you have met, the children you have raised, the places you have gone, what happens if you may have only achieved it because you cheated? Don’t answer it, just think about it.”
“I’m not going to suddenly change your life today, but I want to bring something to your attention. When you cheat, when you lie, you hurt others. They have to think before they can trust you again. You have made them lonelier. But, you have cheated yourself most. Whatever gains you make when you cheat are tainted. You didn’t really earn that “5.” That job really isn’t yours. The things you own were bought with lies.”
“We’ve all cheated in one way or another, and we all will do so again. But, I certainly hope the next time you consider cheating these thoughts will cross your mind, and perhaps, just maybe, you’ll feel a tinge of guilt deep down in your stomach, because you'll know you're not really “earning it.”
Total silence, eyes all fixed on me
“You guys have a great weekend, I’ll see you next Tuesday."
"Only one week left in school!”
Have a nice weekend Mr. Aronow!
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Posts to come
I planned to write tonight on four different topics, but blogger.com was down. So, with bedtime well past, I only have a few minutes to tell you what keep an eye out for:"Weekend in Prague" aka "Disney World without the mouse"
"Hairless" aka "I didn't know the first setting on the clippers would be that low"
"Baseball, Hungarian style" aka "Run! But, drop the bat!"
"My new photo plan" aka "Small doors, big ideas. I think I'm going nuts"
Talk to you soon.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Czecking in
Tomorrow morning (Friday) I'll take the train to Prague, Czech Republic for the weekend! Nearly everyone I've spoken to says it's a wonderful city. I know little about it, other than that it's the tourist mecca of Eastern Europe, there are many pick pockets there, and it has a great music scene (including jazz).
My train from Szolnok leaves around 8:30. In Budapest I'll change trains and take an 8 hour ride straight to Prague (or Praha in Czech). Fri-Sun nights I'll sleep in hostels, and Monday night I'll take a night train back to Budapest, arriving around 7, then it's back to Szolnok by 10.
The trip takes me through Slovakia, and near Poland. I considered taking a train Sunday night to Krakow, Poland, which I hear is beautiful. But, I really want to focus in on one place and get to know it a bit. There will be other opportunities to get to Krakow I hope.
Finally, after this trip I will have been in 4 of the 7 countries that border Hungary. Still to go: Ukraine, Romania and Serbia (no longer Serbia and Montenegro). Romania is an easy one; Nearly a third of the people there are Hungarian. Ukraine is far and poor, but my grandfather was born there so I want to visit. Someday I will, but not in the next month. Serbia night be tough. It's not the most friendly place in the world. Maybe a can steal a visit on a day trip.
I'm sure I'll have a lot of pictures to share when I return on Tuesday. I'll try to write a few words from the hostels on the road.
Sziastok (plural form of "bye"...akin to "bye y'all")
My train from Szolnok leaves around 8:30. In Budapest I'll change trains and take an 8 hour ride straight to Prague (or Praha in Czech). Fri-Sun nights I'll sleep in hostels, and Monday night I'll take a night train back to Budapest, arriving around 7, then it's back to Szolnok by 10.
The trip takes me through Slovakia, and near Poland. I considered taking a train Sunday night to Krakow, Poland, which I hear is beautiful. But, I really want to focus in on one place and get to know it a bit. There will be other opportunities to get to Krakow I hope.
Finally, after this trip I will have been in 4 of the 7 countries that border Hungary. Still to go: Ukraine, Romania and Serbia (no longer Serbia and Montenegro). Romania is an easy one; Nearly a third of the people there are Hungarian. Ukraine is far and poor, but my grandfather was born there so I want to visit. Someday I will, but not in the next month. Serbia night be tough. It's not the most friendly place in the world. Maybe a can steal a visit on a day trip.
I'm sure I'll have a lot of pictures to share when I return on Tuesday. I'll try to write a few words from the hostels on the road.
Sziastok (plural form of "bye"...akin to "bye y'all")
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Back to Buda
The weather has been really "eastern bloc" lately. Today I actually broke out the leather jacket for the first time since early April. It's seems especially miserable compared to the sunshine and 80's back home.
Friday night I returned from a 24 hour visit to Kalocsa, a small city (18,000) in southern Hungary. I visited Harpswell (yes, that's her name. It's a small town in Maine). She's an American English teacher in the CETP program (same one that brought Chad and Emily to Hungary). I went there mainly to check out the community, the gimnazium (high school) and the elementary school. Cori and I are considering teaching there next year.
Returning to Szolnok, I hurried to Jazz Club, for the Oxford Language School English party. I had agreed to work the party (sit and mingle with the English students). The night was fun. We played trivia games, impersonated celebrities, sang karaoke. Of course, since is was in a bar, as the night wore on, people loosened up more and more.
Saturday I relaxed in my flat, before heading to Budapest Sunday. Actually, I wanted to go to Tápiógyörgye for an archery festival, but as I walked to the train station in the morning, the rain started to fall, washing away any intentions I had to walk around a remote field dodging 11th century arrows. So, instead I was off to the magical Hungarian land of concrete.
It's nice sometimes just to get out of Szolnok, away from my flat, my teaching responsibilities, and all who know me, and get lost amid 3 million Hungarians and a couple ten thousand tourists.
("Anonymous," a statue in Budapest's City Park honoring the unknown monk who, during the 11th Century, penned the first history of the Hungarian people. It is said that if you touch the writer's pen you'll have good luck. Unfortunately, I found this out after I visited.)
I spent much of Sunday afternoon sitting under an umbrella on a cafe patio sipping coffee and reading The Eclipse of the Crescent Moon.
Later, I walked along Andrassy Utca, past Oktogon Tere, to Hosok Tere, or Hero's Square. The momument memorializes the great Hungarian kings, beginning with Arpad, and continuing through Stephen (St. Istvan), Bela IV, Matthias Corvinus, and Rakoczi, among others. Beyond this is City Park. This day the park was home to a festival, perhaps Native American. Oddly, however, among all the dream catchers, pan flutes and fry bread, an Irish band played the main stage. What a strange cultural salad bowl I was in: lost in a sea of Hungarian speakers listening to a man with a heavy Irish brogue sing in English and then speak broken Hungarian between
songs while Native Americans and Native Canadians peddled "traditional" wares to the curious locals. Aah, the benefits of a free market economy.
(Vajdahunyad Vara, a 19th Century, non-functional castle located in Budapest's City Park. It was built to demonstrate - likely to tourists - the various architectures present throughout Hungary)
Monday I got up early (after a night at the $12 ABB Youth Hostel), showered, and was (apparently) the first one out of the hostel. It's sort of a small victory for me to be the first one up at a hostel...no fussing with a wet bathroom, no waiting for the shower, etc. I headed off to find some kave and pogacsa and "have a morning."
First stop: St. Istvan Basilika. In front of the city's largest church I sat and read my travel guide book while drinking amerkai kave (basically a double shot of espresso) and eating saytos pogacsa (cheese pastry).
After an hour waking up, I went to the House of Parliament for the 10 AM tour. It's a fairly difficult bureauratic process to get on the tour. First you have to line up outside a fence gate, about 30 yards from a door marked "X." Inside that door, people are buying tickets. Everytime a tourist exits the door, the security guard opens the fence gate and lets another person or two in. Once inside door "X" I had to wait in another line for the tickets (I've learned many times that Hungarian people are some of the best at waiting...a trip to an American DMV is no sweat for these hardy folk). In line, I could hear other American tourists being told that the 10AM English tour was full, and they were being booked for the noon tour. Disappointed but not rebuffed, I figured I would ask for the 3PM tour, allowing me to see other sights in the meantime.
I don't know if it was my feeble attempt at Hungarian kindness, or my dashing looks, but the once cold, obviously former communist era ticket seller, softened.
"Csokolom. Jo napot kivanok" I mumbled (CHO-kuh-loam: literally "I kiss your hand." YO nuh-pot KEE-vuh-no: "good day"). Both very formal and standard things to say to an older woman.
I asked for one ticket and she asked if I was a student. I produced my Concordia University card, and viola, I the ticket price plummeted from 2500 huf to 1250! She then handed me my ticket for the 10AM tour!
I wanted to wave it around in the faces of the disappointed American tourists who didn't come prepared with the Hungarian greeting (or the dashing looks)! But, the hunble gentleman that I am, I ambled back outside, back into another line, to wait for the tour.
(Afterward, I strolled along the bank of the Duna (Danube) walking past a stirring memorial to "the victims shot into the Danube by Arrow Cross Militiamen in 1944-45")
Lunch was at Fat Mo's Speakeasy. Home to nightly jazz, blues and small band swing. Good stuff from what I read. I'll make an effort to return in June with Cori and my dad. Another good sign: when I sat at the table, the paper placemat features four American newspaper front pages from the prohibition era. Two of them were The Wisconsin News (an early 20th Century Milwaukee newspaper owned by famous media magnate William Randolph Hurst...later it would become the Milwaukee Sentinel, which in the mid-1990's merged with the Milwaukee Journal to form the Journal-Sentinel)
I spent the rest of the day exploring Buda, the older of the two cities (Pest being the other) and Gellért Hill, named for the Catholic bishop who was martyred there in the 11th century. As the story goes, he was put inside a barrel, then nails were driven in, and the barrel was tossed down the rocky escarpment. At the bottom and inspection of Gellért's battered body revealed he had miraculously survived the trauma. So, like any good pagan, they drove a spear into his chest then stoned him.
(I did manage to slay a dragon during the afternoon, but hey, it's all in a day's work.)
On Gellért Hill one finds the Gellért Hotel, featuring the best known of the generally famous Hungarian thermal baths. The city is filled with them. Also on the hill is the Cave Church. Completed in 1924, the church was operated until WWII. Following the war the Soviets kept it closed down, and infact damaged a large portion of while road building. The monks built a concrete wall to close off the church, thus preserving it until today. It was reopened less than 20 years ago.
I took a swift train back to Szolnok (1h 30m compared to the grueling 2:45 train I took to BP Sunday). When I did something in Szolnok I hasn't done since being here: I ate Mcdonald's (about 6 weeks ago I had Mickey-D's while in Budapest - you might remember I found out they charge for ketchup). And was it ever good.
I'm lovin' it.
Friday night I returned from a 24 hour visit to Kalocsa, a small city (18,000) in southern Hungary. I visited Harpswell (yes, that's her name. It's a small town in Maine). She's an American English teacher in the CETP program (same one that brought Chad and Emily to Hungary). I went there mainly to check out the community, the gimnazium (high school) and the elementary school. Cori and I are considering teaching there next year.
Returning to Szolnok, I hurried to Jazz Club, for the Oxford Language School English party. I had agreed to work the party (sit and mingle with the English students). The night was fun. We played trivia games, impersonated celebrities, sang karaoke. Of course, since is was in a bar, as the night wore on, people loosened up more and more.
Saturday I relaxed in my flat, before heading to Budapest Sunday. Actually, I wanted to go to Tápiógyörgye for an archery festival, but as I walked to the train station in the morning, the rain started to fall, washing away any intentions I had to walk around a remote field dodging 11th century arrows. So, instead I was off to the magical Hungarian land of concrete.
It's nice sometimes just to get out of Szolnok, away from my flat, my teaching responsibilities, and all who know me, and get lost amid 3 million Hungarians and a couple ten thousand tourists.
("Anonymous," a statue in Budapest's City Park honoring the unknown monk who, during the 11th Century, penned the first history of the Hungarian people. It is said that if you touch the writer's pen you'll have good luck. Unfortunately, I found this out after I visited.)
I spent much of Sunday afternoon sitting under an umbrella on a cafe patio sipping coffee and reading The Eclipse of the Crescent Moon.
Later, I walked along Andrassy Utca, past Oktogon Tere, to Hosok Tere, or Hero's Square. The momument memorializes the great Hungarian kings, beginning with Arpad, and continuing through Stephen (St. Istvan), Bela IV, Matthias Corvinus, and Rakoczi, among others. Beyond this is City Park. This day the park was home to a festival, perhaps Native American. Oddly, however, among all the dream catchers, pan flutes and fry bread, an Irish band played the main stage. What a strange cultural salad bowl I was in: lost in a sea of Hungarian speakers listening to a man with a heavy Irish brogue sing in English and then speak broken Hungarian between
songs while Native Americans and Native Canadians peddled "traditional" wares to the curious locals. Aah, the benefits of a free market economy.(Vajdahunyad Vara, a 19th Century, non-functional castle located in Budapest's City Park. It was built to demonstrate - likely to tourists - the various architectures present throughout Hungary)
Monday I got up early (after a night at the $12 ABB Youth Hostel), showered, and was (apparently) the first one out of the hostel. It's sort of a small victory for me to be the first one up at a hostel...no fussing with a wet bathroom, no waiting for the shower, etc. I headed off to find some kave and pogacsa and "have a morning."First stop: St. Istvan Basilika. In front of the city's largest church I sat and read my travel guide book while drinking amerkai kave (basically a double shot of espresso) and eating saytos pogacsa (cheese pastry).
After an hour waking up, I went to the House of Parliament for the 10 AM tour. It's a fairly difficult bureauratic process to get on the tour. First you have to line up outside a fence gate, about 30 yards from a door marked "X." Inside that door, people are buying tickets. Everytime a tourist exits the door, the security guard opens the fence gate and lets another person or two in. Once inside door "X" I had to wait in another line for the tickets (I've learned many times that Hungarian people are some of the best at waiting...a trip to an American DMV is no sweat for these hardy folk). In line, I could hear other American tourists being told that the 10AM English tour was full, and they were being booked for the noon tour. Disappointed but not rebuffed, I figured I would ask for the 3PM tour, allowing me to see other sights in the meantime.
I don't know if it was my feeble attempt at Hungarian kindness, or my dashing looks, but the once cold, obviously former communist era ticket seller, softened.
"Csokolom. Jo napot kivanok" I mumbled (CHO-kuh-loam: literally "I kiss your hand." YO nuh-pot KEE-vuh-no: "good day"). Both very formal and standard things to say to an older woman.
I asked for one ticket and she asked if I was a student. I produced my Concordia University card, and viola, I the ticket price plummeted from 2500 huf to 1250! She then handed me my ticket for the 10AM tour!
I wanted to wave it around in the faces of the disappointed American tourists who didn't come prepared with the Hungarian greeting (or the dashing looks)! But, the hunble gentleman that I am, I ambled back outside, back into another line, to wait for the tour.
(Afterward, I strolled along the bank of the Duna (Danube) walking past a stirring memorial to "the victims shot into the Danube by Arrow Cross Militiamen in 1944-45")
Lunch was at Fat Mo's Speakeasy. Home to nightly jazz, blues and small band swing. Good stuff from what I read. I'll make an effort to return in June with Cori and my dad. Another good sign: when I sat at the table, the paper placemat features four American newspaper front pages from the prohibition era. Two of them were The Wisconsin News (an early 20th Century Milwaukee newspaper owned by famous media magnate William Randolph Hurst...later it would become the Milwaukee Sentinel, which in the mid-1990's merged with the Milwaukee Journal to form the Journal-Sentinel)
I spent the rest of the day exploring Buda, the older of the two cities (Pest being the other) and Gellért Hill, named for the Catholic bishop who was martyred there in the 11th century. As the story goes, he was put inside a barrel, then nails were driven in, and the barrel was tossed down the rocky escarpment. At the bottom and inspection of Gellért's battered body revealed he had miraculously survived the trauma. So, like any good pagan, they drove a spear into his chest then stoned him.
(I did manage to slay a dragon during the afternoon, but hey, it's all in a day's work.)
On Gellért Hill one finds the Gellért Hotel, featuring the best known of the generally famous Hungarian thermal baths. The city is filled with them. Also on the hill is the Cave Church. Completed in 1924, the church was operated until WWII. Following the war the Soviets kept it closed down, and infact damaged a large portion of while road building. The monks built a concrete wall to close off the church, thus preserving it until today. It was reopened less than 20 years ago.
I took a swift train back to Szolnok (1h 30m compared to the grueling 2:45 train I took to BP Sunday). When I did something in Szolnok I hasn't done since being here: I ate Mcdonald's (about 6 weeks ago I had Mickey-D's while in Budapest - you might remember I found out they charge for ketchup). And was it ever good.
I'm lovin' it.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Photos are now online
I am the champion!
I have finally signed up with www.flickr.com and have most of my travel photos posted online for your viewing pleasure.
To the right of this post you will find the link to my pictures. Either bookmark it, or check back here: it will always be on the right sidebar.
Note: Kag, MEA and Nat, it was very easy to get set up with Flickr...uploading the pictures was a relative snap. So, hint, hint. Where are the pictures from Costa Rica!?!?
I have finally signed up with www.flickr.com and have most of my travel photos posted online for your viewing pleasure.
To the right of this post you will find the link to my pictures. Either bookmark it, or check back here: it will always be on the right sidebar.
Note: Kag, MEA and Nat, it was very easy to get set up with Flickr...uploading the pictures was a relative snap. So, hint, hint. Where are the pictures from Costa Rica!?!?
Friday, May 19, 2006
Ups and Downs
I had a moment this week that I haven’t had since I’ve been in the classroom: a feeling that I wanted to be anywhere else but here.
It’s difficult enough for an American to teach 16th and 17th century European history to a bunch of 17 year old Hungarians. It’s even more difficult when that American hasn’t studied European history since he was 15 years old…and even then wasn’t the greatest student of history. This is the situation I find my self in, and while most days I manage to get through, this week I had a class that I just wanted to escape from.
I spend at least a couple hours each day reading the textbook Varga provided me, then I go online to read more about the subjects, to add to my knowledge base (because the English translation of a 16 year old Hungarian textbook coving topics like “The 30 Year’s War,” “French Absolutism in the 16th Century” and “Consolidation of Feudalism in Central-Eastern Europe and Poland” (I have no idea why Poland isn’t included in “Eastern Europe”) isn’t exactly the clearest, most understandable teaching tool for an American who has learned more about history in the past three years than he did during the previous 27). Then I write my lecture notes.
This week I was in class and started to talk about how the Czech language didn’t have words to differentiate “Czech Republic” from “Bohemia,” except I said Bavaria. I went on for a minute or so comparing Czech to Bavaria (while the students stared blankly) before Zsolt, the best history student in my class, and often a royal pain in my ass (“Michael, if Spain and France were enemies, how did Spain send troops to The Netherlands? Would they have to pass through France?” or “After the Bohemians threw the two Catholics out of the Prague Castle window, did they burn the castle?” “I really couldn’t tell you Zsolt”) asked if I meant Bohemia, which of course I did. So, I admitted my mistake, and already feeling self-conscious about my lack of knowledge on the subject, felt even worse when I heard a few students chuckling.
As the class grinded on, it seemed my grip on the students’ behavior was weakening. After stopping a few times to ask students to pay attention, I reached a point where, in my mind, I wanted to give up, to walk out of that hot, stuffy room and start again another day. Of course I made it through the class, and afterward felt wiped.
The next day I had the same group of students for history and was very apprehensive to start class. Within the first minute, Zsolt was talking to another boy while I was trying to start the lecture. I paused, looked right at him, and sternly, asked him “Zsolt, could you please showme some respect and not talk while I’m talking?” I got the sense he was actually considered my request. I could see the wheels turning in his head. After the longest 5 seconds in history passed, he nodded in agreement. To my surprise, for the rest of the period he and everyone else were actually respectful and engaged in the lesson. As this continued, my confidence slowly returned and midway through the class, I was back on top. I was able to drop in a few jokes, sprinkle in some factual nuggets that I found on the Internet, and generally had a very good class. When the period ended, the students left on a good note, wishing me a good weekend and vice-versa. One student, Ricsi, or Richard in English, even stopped up front to tell me about a Hungarian history festival taking place next weekend in Tápiógyörgye. It celebrates Arpad, the great 10th Century Magyar tribal leader and first king of Hungary.
I guess, like life, teaching is a series of ups and downs. We try to minimize the downs while attempting to extend the ups for as long as they’ll cooperate. Wednesday was a big down. Thursday was up…I’m trying to stretch that into next week.
It’s difficult enough for an American to teach 16th and 17th century European history to a bunch of 17 year old Hungarians. It’s even more difficult when that American hasn’t studied European history since he was 15 years old…and even then wasn’t the greatest student of history. This is the situation I find my self in, and while most days I manage to get through, this week I had a class that I just wanted to escape from.
I spend at least a couple hours each day reading the textbook Varga provided me, then I go online to read more about the subjects, to add to my knowledge base (because the English translation of a 16 year old Hungarian textbook coving topics like “The 30 Year’s War,” “French Absolutism in the 16th Century” and “Consolidation of Feudalism in Central-Eastern Europe and Poland” (I have no idea why Poland isn’t included in “Eastern Europe”) isn’t exactly the clearest, most understandable teaching tool for an American who has learned more about history in the past three years than he did during the previous 27). Then I write my lecture notes.
This week I was in class and started to talk about how the Czech language didn’t have words to differentiate “Czech Republic” from “Bohemia,” except I said Bavaria. I went on for a minute or so comparing Czech to Bavaria (while the students stared blankly) before Zsolt, the best history student in my class, and often a royal pain in my ass (“Michael, if Spain and France were enemies, how did Spain send troops to The Netherlands? Would they have to pass through France?” or “After the Bohemians threw the two Catholics out of the Prague Castle window, did they burn the castle?” “I really couldn’t tell you Zsolt”) asked if I meant Bohemia, which of course I did. So, I admitted my mistake, and already feeling self-conscious about my lack of knowledge on the subject, felt even worse when I heard a few students chuckling.
As the class grinded on, it seemed my grip on the students’ behavior was weakening. After stopping a few times to ask students to pay attention, I reached a point where, in my mind, I wanted to give up, to walk out of that hot, stuffy room and start again another day. Of course I made it through the class, and afterward felt wiped.
The next day I had the same group of students for history and was very apprehensive to start class. Within the first minute, Zsolt was talking to another boy while I was trying to start the lecture. I paused, looked right at him, and sternly, asked him “Zsolt, could you please showme some respect and not talk while I’m talking?” I got the sense he was actually considered my request. I could see the wheels turning in his head. After the longest 5 seconds in history passed, he nodded in agreement. To my surprise, for the rest of the period he and everyone else were actually respectful and engaged in the lesson. As this continued, my confidence slowly returned and midway through the class, I was back on top. I was able to drop in a few jokes, sprinkle in some factual nuggets that I found on the Internet, and generally had a very good class. When the period ended, the students left on a good note, wishing me a good weekend and vice-versa. One student, Ricsi, or Richard in English, even stopped up front to tell me about a Hungarian history festival taking place next weekend in Tápiógyörgye. It celebrates Arpad, the great 10th Century Magyar tribal leader and first king of Hungary.
I guess, like life, teaching is a series of ups and downs. We try to minimize the downs while attempting to extend the ups for as long as they’ll cooperate. Wednesday was a big down. Thursday was up…I’m trying to stretch that into next week.
Best of...
Most of the Americans I have met in Hungary are members of an international teaching program called CETP. Emily and Chad, here in Szolnok are a part of the program, and while Chad and I strolled along the streets of Ljubljana one night a few weeks ago the world proved to be even smaller yet when we ran into a group of 5 CETP teachers from Hungary who were on a weekend adventure of their own.
Many of these teachers keep blogs of their own, and I've come across a few postings I think deserve the attention of my readers.
Jeremey (who happens to be from Fond du Lac, WI) offers a wonderfully written piece on "why he came to Hungary." Anyone who has ever considered traveling to this part of the world should take a moment to read it. It's spot on.
After a few more minutes of exploring Jeremy's blog, I found another entry even more moving. If you are a teacher or someone with a place in your heart for compassion, please read it.
I know there are many other worthwhile CETP blogs, and I'll make an effort to pass along the best as I find them, but I've spent too much time already pouring over Jeremy's writings for one day.
Many of these teachers keep blogs of their own, and I've come across a few postings I think deserve the attention of my readers.
Jeremey (who happens to be from Fond du Lac, WI) offers a wonderfully written piece on "why he came to Hungary." Anyone who has ever considered traveling to this part of the world should take a moment to read it. It's spot on.
After a few more minutes of exploring Jeremy's blog, I found another entry even more moving. If you are a teacher or someone with a place in your heart for compassion, please read it.
I know there are many other worthwhile CETP blogs, and I'll make an effort to pass along the best as I find them, but I've spent too much time already pouring over Jeremy's writings for one day.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Need a car on the cheap?
Last week I mentioned the Trabant.
Now, you can have your very own communist-era car for less than $150.
Now, you can have your very own communist-era car for less than $150.
Hoops in Hungary
Last weekend the Szolnok Olaj lost to Paks (Poksh), thus ending their season with a first round playoff defeat.Last week I attended games 2 and 4 of the best of 5 series between the two teams. These were my 2nd and 3rd Olaj games since coming to Szolnok. (Olaj means oil...the team is partially owned by MOL, the Hungarian gas and oil company. Olaj is pronounced "OH-lie").
An American friend, Emily, described the Olaj games well in an earlier post on her blog, and again in this posting.
Finally, Emily wrote about the most recent games, and included translation of some of the many chants the fans perform. (Warning, most are sexually vulgar! Don't read if you are easily offended!)
(Chad and Juli enjoy the halftime festivities)
(Sometimes, no, oftentimes, the fans get a bit angry. Here we see some Szolnok fans - below - having words with the Paks fans - sitting behind the protective - yes protective - netting)
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Steves got it right
I was reading travel guide writer Rick Steves' website tonight and discovered that his description of Slovenia's capital city (Ljubljana) is right on:
It's only been a week since my visit to Ljubljana so my impressions of the city are still fresh in my mind, and they align with what Steves had to say.
Slovenia's capital, Ljubljana (pronounced lyoob-lyonna) — with a lazy old town clustered around a castle-topped mountain — is often compared to Salzburg. It's an apt comparison, but only if you add some breezy Adriatic culture, throw in a Slavic accent, and sub in local architect Jože Plecnik for Mozart.
Ljubljana feels much smaller than its population of 300,000. Festivals fill the summer, and people enjoy a Sunday stroll any day of the week. Fashion boutiques and cafés jockey for control of the old town, and the leafy riverside promenade crawls with stylishly dressed students sipping kava and polishing their near-perfect English.
It's only been a week since my visit to Ljubljana so my impressions of the city are still fresh in my mind, and they align with what Steves had to say.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Hungarian driving
I've commented to some of you about the terrible Hungarian drivers. Here's a newspaper story that confirms it. Since being here I've seen the worst exhibition of driving skills (or lack thereof) in my life. 
Add to that narrow road riddled with potholes and devoid of shoulders and you have a recipe for disaster.
If I did drive in Hungary, I might consider a Trabant, an old relic of the socialist era. With the potential for fender benders and car theft, this seems like a good option.
The whole mess makes me a bigger fan of taking public transportation in this country, especially trains.
Add to that narrow road riddled with potholes and devoid of shoulders and you have a recipe for disaster.If I did drive in Hungary, I might consider a Trabant, an old relic of the socialist era. With the potential for fender benders and car theft, this seems like a good option.
The whole mess makes me a bigger fan of taking public transportation in this country, especially trains.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Slo-what-ia?
During the past weekend, I traveled with Chad to Slovenia, the westernmost part of the former Yugoslavia. It's a tiny country, smaller than New Jersey, squeezed between Italy (near Trieste and Venice) and Croatia. It shares a tiny border with Hungary, but the 8-hour train ride from Budapest took us through Croatia's capital of Zagreb, before entering Slovenia. 
As we chugged along the bank of the Sava River, east of Slovenia's capital city Ljubljana, farmland quickly turned into densely tree-covered rolling hills and bluffs. Both of us were amazed at the natural beauty of the countryside. Nearly every hill was topped with a steepled church. Nearly all the homes were clean and in good repair (compared to parts of Hungary and Croatia, that's saying something). And behind many of the homes were small family vineyards.
We arrived at Ljubljana Sunday evening around dinner time, went to the TI (tourist information) at the train station and got tips on where to eat and where to hear live music that evening from Alenka, then headed to the hostel Celica to check in. Celica is an old prison that has been converted into a beautiful hostel. Chad and I were on the second floor of cells. Each room is decorated differently. Ours was pretty plain (the way I wanted it...I wanted to feel like I was sleeping in a cell, not an art gallery), others were quite extreme.
After dinner at Fuculus (great brick oven pizza) we strolled to Prešeren Square, named for the country's most famous poet (and writer of the Slovenian national anthem...although at the time he wrote the poem that would become the anthem the country was part of the Habsburg Empire and was some 70 years from independence). Sitting on the square we tipped back a couple Unions (OO-nee-uhns), one of two beers made in Slovenia...and they're quite good (dare I say better than Hungarian beer?)
The next day Chad and I took a walking tour of the city, where we learned that Slovenia was, for years, part of the Roman Empire, then part of the Habsburg Empire, then part of Yugoslavia, before finally becoming its own nation for the first time in history on 26 June 1991.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, we wanted to rent a car and head south to Piran, located on theAdriaticc Sea. Unfortunately no rental company had a cheap car for us so we took the bus. I realized that was a better option that renting a car when I started falling asleep.
When I awoke, the bus was just passing over a ridgeline and for the first time in my life I glimpsed the Mediterraneann Sea! Really the Adreatic, it's the water that lies between Italy and the Balkann Peninsula from Greece to Slovenia.
Piran is a tiny (pop. about 2000) seaside village that looks like it hasn't been updated since medievall days. The streets are very narrow, cobblestoned, and wind every which way. Even as I write this I continue to be amazed by the thought of walking home down a narrow cobblestone street, climbing a flight of old, handcut stone steps to a flat in a building that has been sitting on that location for more than 300 years. It's a magical little village
and, I imagine, a dream retirement location for many Slovenians.
Looking out across the sea, one can see the Italian city of Trieste, and if the weather is right, Venice. During the time of communism residents of Yugoslavia would travel to Trieste to purchase western goods helping that city become a sort of regional marketplace. But, since Slovenia and others gained independence Trieste has fallen on hard times. Venice, meanwhile, continues to be a tourist Mecca.
That evening we dined at an outdoor cafe overlooking the central square. Chad and I each ordered squid, mine fried, his grilled. Both were wonderful as we exchanged portions. The highlight of the meal was the mixed salad. After 5 weeks in Hungary, I realized I hadn't had a real lettuce salad during that time. Every salad I've had in Hungary has had one piece of lettuce laying on the bottom, with chopped paprikas (peppers) and onions, a few tomatoes, and possibly corn, piled on top.
That evening we stopped into a tiny pub on the tip of the peninsula, ordered a couple Unions, and sat on the patio. There we met Vladimir, a 65 year old half-Slovenian, half-Russian. He had retired a year earlier and purchased a flat in Piran overlooking the sea. If Hollywood made a movie about our trip, Sean Connery would be cast to play Vladimir. He told us all about his family history (his Russian grandfather was an officer in the Russian army before fleeing the country just prior to the October 1917 revolution. While emigrating they reached Istanbul where his grandmother said she disliked boats and headed for the nearest country where the family would be safe. That decision put them in Slovenia).
As if that story wasn't interesting enough, his Slovenia grandfather was Fritz Reiner who conducted the Chicago Symphony Orchestra from 1953-63, and earlier in his career, while teaching at Curtis Institute, found an understudy in Leonard Bernstein.
It rained the entire next day. We spent the morning in Piran sitting at an outdoor cafe sipping
cappuccinoo and staring at the sea. That afternoon we headed back to Ljubljana via the Postojna (poh-STOY-nuh) Caves. a 200-km system of underground caverns, and a popular tourist stop.
Back in Ljubljana we returned to the same pizza place as two nights earlier, thensoughtt out a movie theater to catch a film. We found one that was playing Inside Man, in English, with Slovenian subtitles.
At 2:30 AM we boarded the train for Budapest, and eventually arrived back in Szolnok around 1:30 PM that day.
In all, Slovenia is an absolute gem of a country. We didn't have time to visit the Julian Alps and Lake Bled, but that leaves me a good reason to return.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As for the title of this post, there's a funny, and embarrassing story behind it:
"The only thing I know about Slovakia is what I learned firsthand from your foreign minister, who came to Texas."
- George W. Bush, to a Slovakian journalist
(Bust had actually met with Dr. Janez Drnovshek, then Slovenia's prime minister)
As we chugged along the bank of the Sava River, east of Slovenia's capital city Ljubljana, farmland quickly turned into densely tree-covered rolling hills and bluffs. Both of us were amazed at the natural beauty of the countryside. Nearly every hill was topped with a steepled church. Nearly all the homes were clean and in good repair (compared to parts of Hungary and Croatia, that's saying something). And behind many of the homes were small family vineyards.
We arrived at Ljubljana Sunday evening around dinner time, went to the TI (tourist information) at the train station and got tips on where to eat and where to hear live music that evening from Alenka, then headed to the hostel Celica to check in. Celica is an old prison that has been converted into a beautiful hostel. Chad and I were on the second floor of cells. Each room is decorated differently. Ours was pretty plain (the way I wanted it...I wanted to feel like I was sleeping in a cell, not an art gallery), others were quite extreme.
After dinner at Fuculus (great brick oven pizza) we strolled to Prešeren Square, named for the country's most famous poet (and writer of the Slovenian national anthem...although at the time he wrote the poem that would become the anthem the country was part of the Habsburg Empire and was some 70 years from independence). Sitting on the square we tipped back a couple Unions (OO-nee-uhns), one of two beers made in Slovenia...and they're quite good (dare I say better than Hungarian beer?)
The next day Chad and I took a walking tour of the city, where we learned that Slovenia was, for years, part of the Roman Empire, then part of the Habsburg Empire, then part of Yugoslavia, before finally becoming its own nation for the first time in history on 26 June 1991.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, we wanted to rent a car and head south to Piran, located on theAdriaticc Sea. Unfortunately no rental company had a cheap car for us so we took the bus. I realized that was a better option that renting a car when I started falling asleep.
When I awoke, the bus was just passing over a ridgeline and for the first time in my life I glimpsed the Mediterraneann Sea! Really the Adreatic, it's the water that lies between Italy and the Balkann Peninsula from Greece to Slovenia.Piran is a tiny (pop. about 2000) seaside village that looks like it hasn't been updated since medievall days. The streets are very narrow, cobblestoned, and wind every which way. Even as I write this I continue to be amazed by the thought of walking home down a narrow cobblestone street, climbing a flight of old, handcut stone steps to a flat in a building that has been sitting on that location for more than 300 years. It's a magical little village
and, I imagine, a dream retirement location for many Slovenians.Looking out across the sea, one can see the Italian city of Trieste, and if the weather is right, Venice. During the time of communism residents of Yugoslavia would travel to Trieste to purchase western goods helping that city become a sort of regional marketplace. But, since Slovenia and others gained independence Trieste has fallen on hard times. Venice, meanwhile, continues to be a tourist Mecca.
That evening we dined at an outdoor cafe overlooking the central square. Chad and I each ordered squid, mine fried, his grilled. Both were wonderful as we exchanged portions. The highlight of the meal was the mixed salad. After 5 weeks in Hungary, I realized I hadn't had a real lettuce salad during that time. Every salad I've had in Hungary has had one piece of lettuce laying on the bottom, with chopped paprikas (peppers) and onions, a few tomatoes, and possibly corn, piled on top.
That evening we stopped into a tiny pub on the tip of the peninsula, ordered a couple Unions, and sat on the patio. There we met Vladimir, a 65 year old half-Slovenian, half-Russian. He had retired a year earlier and purchased a flat in Piran overlooking the sea. If Hollywood made a movie about our trip, Sean Connery would be cast to play Vladimir. He told us all about his family history (his Russian grandfather was an officer in the Russian army before fleeing the country just prior to the October 1917 revolution. While emigrating they reached Istanbul where his grandmother said she disliked boats and headed for the nearest country where the family would be safe. That decision put them in Slovenia).
As if that story wasn't interesting enough, his Slovenia grandfather was Fritz Reiner who conducted the Chicago Symphony Orchestra from 1953-63, and earlier in his career, while teaching at Curtis Institute, found an understudy in Leonard Bernstein.
It rained the entire next day. We spent the morning in Piran sitting at an outdoor cafe sipping
cappuccinoo and staring at the sea. That afternoon we headed back to Ljubljana via the Postojna (poh-STOY-nuh) Caves. a 200-km system of underground caverns, and a popular tourist stop.Back in Ljubljana we returned to the same pizza place as two nights earlier, thensoughtt out a movie theater to catch a film. We found one that was playing Inside Man, in English, with Slovenian subtitles.
At 2:30 AM we boarded the train for Budapest, and eventually arrived back in Szolnok around 1:30 PM that day.
In all, Slovenia is an absolute gem of a country. We didn't have time to visit the Julian Alps and Lake Bled, but that leaves me a good reason to return.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As for the title of this post, there's a funny, and embarrassing story behind it:
"The only thing I know about Slovakia is what I learned firsthand from your foreign minister, who came to Texas."
- George W. Bush, to a Slovakian journalist
(Bust had actually met with Dr. Janez Drnovshek, then Slovenia's prime minister)
Monday, May 08, 2006
Ljubljana
I've spent the past 24 hours in Slovenia's capital city of Ljubljana (loob-L'YON-uh) and it's been wonderful. The city's population of about 300,000 makes it large enough to offer cosmopolitan style but small enough to maintain a personal image.
In the middle of Ljubljana is a medieval castle, sitting atop a wooded hill, overlooking every corner of the city. The narrow, cobblestone streets immediately surrounding the castle make up the city center, a spiderweb of medieval design with all sorts of charm.
The city seems to have a young spirit built on art, music, history and education. It's a fantastic place to visit and I imagine an even better place to live.
This afternoon we'll rent a car and drive to Piran on the Adriatic coast. Oh, and the weather is beautiful!
In the middle of Ljubljana is a medieval castle, sitting atop a wooded hill, overlooking every corner of the city. The narrow, cobblestone streets immediately surrounding the castle make up the city center, a spiderweb of medieval design with all sorts of charm.
The city seems to have a young spirit built on art, music, history and education. It's a fantastic place to visit and I imagine an even better place to live.
This afternoon we'll rent a car and drive to Piran on the Adriatic coast. Oh, and the weather is beautiful!
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Seniors say "goodbye"
Last week was the last in high school for seniors in Hungary. Beginning this week, they are taking their Érettségi Vizsga (AIR-et-sheg-ee VEEJ-guh), or graduation exam.
It was a special week, with the seniors taking part in various traditions, demonstrating their respect for the teachers, loyalty to the school and closeness to each other.
Each day the seniors came to school wearing formal clothes: dressing in colors according to their student groups (A, B, C or D). Throughout the week senior classes assembled outside the staffroom waiting for their teacher to exit.
When the teacher came out the class serenaded him or her, and presented the teacher with flowers before escorting him or her to the classroom.
(Chad, another American teacher; and Marianna, the English department chairperson, listen while the seniors serenade from outside the building Thursday evening)
On Thursday evening the seniors and faculty held a farewell party.
Each senior group made a presentation that included a “roasting” of their favorite teachers and usually a slideshow of their years at Varga. The teachers also prepared four Hungarian songs to sing to the students (I mostly mumbled and hummed).
(At the mics are, from left, Gergõ and Berci)
Friday was a very special day. All students dressed formally, and each underclass decorated classrooms with flowers and balloons to honor the seniors. (Hungarians go through an amazing number of flowers.)
Then, at noon, all classes ended for the day and the seniors gathered by group on the 3rd floor. While holding hands and singing, they slowly snaked their way throughout the entire school, including through the staffroom where the teachers were assembled. The songs were generally reflective, often sad; Some of the students cried as they walked, as did some of the teachers and underclassmen as they watched.
The “parade” ended in the courtyard where the seniors stood by group, and the rest of the school assembled to watch. A student from each group spoke, as did the principal. Then an award was presented to the “teacher of the year” as voted on by the students. When this ended, the school day was over.
Then, Saturday morning the students gathered again in the courtyard, this time with their families, and said a final farewell to the school and faculty. From there they walked down the streets of Szolnok (along with the seniors from the other secondary schools in the city: the cops blocked off the streets) with the faculty walking along the sides, arms locks, essentially creating an alley in which the students walked.
It was a very moving week, and one that I only wish we could duplicate in the States. The students here have so much school and class pride (as opposed to spirit: Here it's much more reverent), a lot of respect for their teachers and a strong interest in maintaining traditions. It was an awesome experience and one I won’t soon forget.
It was a special week, with the seniors taking part in various traditions, demonstrating their respect for the teachers, loyalty to the school and closeness to each other.
Each day the seniors came to school wearing formal clothes: dressing in colors according to their student groups (A, B, C or D). Throughout the week senior classes assembled outside the staffroom waiting for their teacher to exit.
When the teacher came out the class serenaded him or her, and presented the teacher with flowers before escorting him or her to the classroom.(Chad, another American teacher; and Marianna, the English department chairperson, listen while the seniors serenade from outside the building Thursday evening)
On Thursday evening the seniors and faculty held a farewell party.
Each senior group made a presentation that included a “roasting” of their favorite teachers and usually a slideshow of their years at Varga. The teachers also prepared four Hungarian songs to sing to the students (I mostly mumbled and hummed).(At the mics are, from left, Gergõ and Berci)
Friday was a very special day. All students dressed formally, and each underclass decorated classrooms with flowers and balloons to honor the seniors. (Hungarians go through an amazing number of flowers.)
Then, at noon, all classes ended for the day and the seniors gathered by group on the 3rd floor. While holding hands and singing, they slowly snaked their way throughout the entire school, including through the staffroom where the teachers were assembled. The songs were generally reflective, often sad; Some of the students cried as they walked, as did some of the teachers and underclassmen as they watched.The “parade” ended in the courtyard where the seniors stood by group, and the rest of the school assembled to watch. A student from each group spoke, as did the principal. Then an award was presented to the “teacher of the year” as voted on by the students. When this ended, the school day was over.
Then, Saturday morning the students gathered again in the courtyard, this time with their families, and said a final farewell to the school and faculty. From there they walked down the streets of Szolnok (along with the seniors from the other secondary schools in the city: the cops blocked off the streets) with the faculty walking along the sides, arms locks, essentially creating an alley in which the students walked.
It was a very moving week, and one that I only wish we could duplicate in the States. The students here have so much school and class pride (as opposed to spirit: Here it's much more reverent), a lot of respect for their teachers and a strong interest in maintaining traditions. It was an awesome experience and one I won’t soon forget.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Hungarian Bar Food
While 
in Eger I had my first taste of one of Hungary's most popular snack foods: Fatty bread.
This is a slice of thick white bread topped with red onions and paprika, then melted pork fat drizzled over the top.
I ate it cold, so the fat was a bit like crisco. Not that appealing, but still tasty...and oh-so-good for the heart, I'm sure.
While visiting the Eger wine caves (and there were about 100 of them in the so called "valley of the beautiful women") we ran into this pair of men. They paid three musicians 10000 ft (about $50) to trail them around the circle while they sang songs...quite a sight!
Chad buying a liter of Egri Bikaver, or Bull's Blood, a Hungarian red wine made by blending multiple grape varieties. Total cost for a liter: 1000 ft, or just under $5.
After we got our wine, we had musical accompaniment as well.
in Eger I had my first taste of one of Hungary's most popular snack foods: Fatty bread.This is a slice of thick white bread topped with red onions and paprika, then melted pork fat drizzled over the top.
I ate it cold, so the fat was a bit like crisco. Not that appealing, but still tasty...and oh-so-good for the heart, I'm sure.
While visiting the Eger wine caves (and there were about 100 of them in the so called "valley of the beautiful women") we ran into this pair of men. They paid three musicians 10000 ft (about $50) to trail them around the circle while they sang songs...quite a sight!
Chad buying a liter of Egri Bikaver, or Bull's Blood, a Hungarian red wine made by blending multiple grape varieties. Total cost for a liter: 1000 ft, or just under $5.
After we got our wine, we had musical accompaniment as well.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Quick update
I didn't have as much time tonight since returning from Eger to write a detailed post, but I wanted to give you a peek at the great weekend in Hungary's wine country.
First, the terrain is reminiscent of northern California with rolling hills and patchy vegetation. Certainly the climate is different (much colder winters and cooler summers than northern California) but it still works for grape growing).
I hope to provide more details tomorrow, but here are a few shots to hold you over.
Emily, Chad and I pause for a picture. In the background you can see the wall of Eger's Castle. This defensive fortress allowed the Hungarians to withstand Turkish soldiers in the 16th Century.
Oh, look. Here you can see a Hungarian soldier (the man on the left) dealing a blow to a pair of Turkish invaders (I don't know the two women in front, but I waited for what seemed like an age to get a picture with as few as two people in front of the statue...at one point there was a woman actually riding the horse)
The Egerites withstood a Turkish attack for 39 days in 1552, turning away 40,000 Ottoman soldiers with the strength of just 2000 men, women and children holed up in the castle, shooting arrows, throwing rocks and pouring hot out on the Turks. About 40 years later the Turks came back and that time easily defeated the Egerites.
From left, Juli, Chad, Emily and I sample our first Eger wines (Inside, two middle-age Hungarian men had obviously been there a while as evidenced by the volume and quality of the Hungarian songs there were belting out).
By the way, I have moved into a new flat. This one is owned by the school and will cost me near nothing over the next two months. The previous flat, while okay, ended up costing a lot more than first thought. I'll get some pics of this new place posted soon.
First, the terrain is reminiscent of northern California with rolling hills and patchy vegetation. Certainly the climate is different (much colder winters and cooler summers than northern California) but it still works for grape growing).
I hope to provide more details tomorrow, but here are a few shots to hold you over.
Emily, Chad and I pause for a picture. In the background you can see the wall of Eger's Castle. This defensive fortress allowed the Hungarians to withstand Turkish soldiers in the 16th Century.
Oh, look. Here you can see a Hungarian soldier (the man on the left) dealing a blow to a pair of Turkish invaders (I don't know the two women in front, but I waited for what seemed like an age to get a picture with as few as two people in front of the statue...at one point there was a woman actually riding the horse)
The Egerites withstood a Turkish attack for 39 days in 1552, turning away 40,000 Ottoman soldiers with the strength of just 2000 men, women and children holed up in the castle, shooting arrows, throwing rocks and pouring hot out on the Turks. About 40 years later the Turks came back and that time easily defeated the Egerites.
From left, Juli, Chad, Emily and I sample our first Eger wines (Inside, two middle-age Hungarian men had obviously been there a while as evidenced by the volume and quality of the Hungarian songs there were belting out).By the way, I have moved into a new flat. This one is owned by the school and will cost me near nothing over the next two months. The previous flat, while okay, ended up costing a lot more than first thought. I'll get some pics of this new place posted soon.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
More flood pictures
The Tisza isn't rising any longer here in Szolnok...but it isn't receding either.
A few kilometers south of Szolnok the Tisza is joined by the River Koros, and a Hungarian friend of mine, Julia, lives in a village near the confluence. That region is being hit hard by the floods and many people have been evacuated. I've told Juli that if her family needs help sandbagging, she can call me.
Meanwhile, Sunday I captured some good pictures of the Tisza at flood stage:
Efforts to create mini-locks by sandbagging (note the tree in the distance underwater)
This home has been underwater for weeks. The windows you see are on the second story!
If you didn't believe me that the windows are on the second story, look on the left of the home...that's a basketball hoop!
I think the "Parking" sign should read "Mooring"
A few kilometers south of Szolnok the Tisza is joined by the River Koros, and a Hungarian friend of mine, Julia, lives in a village near the confluence. That region is being hit hard by the floods and many people have been evacuated. I've told Juli that if her family needs help sandbagging, she can call me.
Meanwhile, Sunday I captured some good pictures of the Tisza at flood stage:
Efforts to create mini-locks by sandbagging (note the tree in the distance underwater)This home has been underwater for weeks. The windows you see are on the second story!If you didn't believe me that the windows are on the second story, look on the left of the home...that's a basketball hoop!I think the "Parking" sign should read "Mooring"
Monday, April 24, 2006
Hungary like Iraq?
Hungary's second round of national elections took place Sunday and the outcome in the race for controlling party and Prime Minister remained unchanged from the vote two weeks ago.
In a commentary posted in the Brussels Journal a link is drawn between Budapest and Baghdad, with respect to the Hungarian people opting to reelect an incumbent even during a time when the nation's economy is fast falling behind those of nearby countries like Czech Republic, Croatia and Poland.
If your interest in geopolitics has been piqued by that article, give this one a try. Russia controls one of the world's largest supplies of oil and natural gas, and in the past few years, and especially in the past few months, Vladimir Putin has put the squeeze on former Soviet countries like Ukraine and Belarus, raising gas prices until those country's leaders are essentially forced to make deals with Russian supply companies allowing them to build or control miles of distribution networks between Russia and the European Union. All this sets up the potential for Russia to hold a very powerful trump card over fledgling Democracies in the east of Europe, and economic superpowers in the west.
If you study the European map through the ages, you'll be hard pressed to find a period lasting longer than 50 years in which political boundaries didn't change and national monuments weren't felled. We shouldn't be so foolhardy as to think that this everlasting struggle for power has ended. We should instead be looking forward to realize the next source for a global shift. It seems likely energy will be the flag-bearer of change.
In a commentary posted in the Brussels Journal a link is drawn between Budapest and Baghdad, with respect to the Hungarian people opting to reelect an incumbent even during a time when the nation's economy is fast falling behind those of nearby countries like Czech Republic, Croatia and Poland.
If your interest in geopolitics has been piqued by that article, give this one a try. Russia controls one of the world's largest supplies of oil and natural gas, and in the past few years, and especially in the past few months, Vladimir Putin has put the squeeze on former Soviet countries like Ukraine and Belarus, raising gas prices until those country's leaders are essentially forced to make deals with Russian supply companies allowing them to build or control miles of distribution networks between Russia and the European Union. All this sets up the potential for Russia to hold a very powerful trump card over fledgling Democracies in the east of Europe, and economic superpowers in the west.
If you study the European map through the ages, you'll be hard pressed to find a period lasting longer than 50 years in which political boundaries didn't change and national monuments weren't felled. We shouldn't be so foolhardy as to think that this everlasting struggle for power has ended. We should instead be looking forward to realize the next source for a global shift. It seems likely energy will be the flag-bearer of change.
Laundry
As much as I disdain laundry day in the States, here in Hungary it's a real chore.Saturday I spent the day doing laundry, using the machines in my flat. I have a washer, and a "drier," which is essentially a centrifuge. Now, this is more than many people have. Most have a washer similar to mine, only some have the centrifuge. A handful of people are starting to purchase full size washers, but I haven't met anyone yet who owns a drier as we would call it in the States. However, I strongly believe that during the next five years full sized washers will be nearly ubiquitous, and "American" driers will start to enter the market.
To give you an idea of how long it took me to wash all my clothes (all is a relative word. In my case, it's a week's worth of shirts and two pairs of pants, along with socks and underwear...not that much), while I was washing them I watched Road to Perdition. Then I watched it again with the director's commentary on. Then I watched all the deleted scenes. Then I went back and watched a handful of my favorite scene again.
Finally I was done doing laundry. The next day I had to fold all the dry clothes and put them away.Laundry starts off with the unsuspecting victim having to place the washer in the bathtub, or somewhere where water can be easily added to and removed from the machine (the beach is another nice place to do laundry in Hungary I suspect). Then, using the shower nozzle, the machine is filled with water and just a small amount of detergent (Beware! Use as much detergent as you would in the States and you'll be walking around smelling like an alpine prairie).
Then the clothes are added. On average, I can get one pair of pants and two shirts into a load, or, four t-shirts will fit at once. In other words, "don't overdo it." I made that mistake the first time and the amount of time I spent "unclumping" the clothes cost any time I saved by having larger loads.
Once the machine is full, it's turned on and small disk at the bottom spins, hopefully encouraging the water and the few articles of clothing to spin with it (Again, too much clothes and they aren't going anywhere).
I leave the machine on for about 10 minutes, then return to empty it and start over with a "rinse" cycle. Here you can see how I drain the water (simply lower the hose and gravity takes over).
After two cycles like this, I've learned that it's best to rinse each piece of clothing under the shower head to wash off the remaining detergent.
I then load the centrifuge. This unit is about one-third the size of the washer and can handle 2 or three t-shirts or one pair of jeans.
When you close the lid, the tub in the machine starts to spin. About two-thirds of the time it "tilts" because the clothes are not perfectly balanced and I have to open it and reposition what's inside. 
Once I achieve a good balance it enters high speed and water starts to trickle out of the drain (into the well placed wash tub). 60 seconds of spinning leaves clothes a "light damp" and then to get shaken out and placed on the drying rack or over chairs in the flat.It's a painfully slow process and one that leaves your dried clothes misshapen, haggard and crispy. It also changes how I dress. At home I never wear a shirt twice without washing it. Here, a button-down might get a third trip around the block before it sees my bathtub.
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