Countdown to Boston

I always look forward to going home for the holidays but am especially excited this year. It’s not like my life in Budapest isn’t good; things are great or at least no worse than they would be if I lived in Boston. So why have I been obsessed with all things Christmas for the past month and a half?

I often feel uncomfortable here – whether I am trying to do Agni yoga in Hungarian or my coworkers abruptly stop all conversation when I walk into the office kitchen. This is not necessarily a bad thing, and part of the reason I wanted to live abroad in a non-English speaking country was to be out of my element, but it has been difficult not having a familiar, happy place (hanging out with my best friends or being lazy on my couch in Boston with the dogs) where I can go to recharge.

Let’s take last Wednesday morning.

Walking into the office, I run into Zoli, the guy in charge of company cars. I say hi and a few words in Hungarian, and Zoli avoids eye contact and nods (my Hungarian lessons are a disaster; my revised tactic is to smile like a lunatic and greet everyone I see). When I get to my desk two minutes later, I have an email from Edina that Zoli wants to arrange a “programme” with me. I respond, “That would be great!!!” because if you don’t use excessive punctuation or emoticons in email, you are perceived as an unfriendly bitch. After a few more emails, it is decided I am going with Zoli and Csaba – another guy who works with the cars – to Zoli’s house for lunch, which will be cooked by his wife, Viola.

This wouldn’t be so strange but I don’t speak Hungarian, and Zoli and Csaba certainly don’t speak English. We end up having a hilarious lunch where Zoli’s wife cooks a delicious, HEAVY meal of garlic soup (sorry, coworkers), meat in creamy sauce, cucumber salad, and roast potatoes, and we mime and communicate in broken English and Hungarian.

Lunch was awesome but at the end of the two hours I am ready for a nap – and not just because of the heavy meal. But I cannot take a nap because I need to go back to work and keep up the Alex-represents-Americans-well routine.

So I am V to E excited to come home to a place where my family and friends already know me, and I don’t have to try to articulate my personality through hand gestures and simple sentences. And Christmas traditions like Bob’s Diner, Dutch Baby, and Mama Bochicchio’s annual holiday (news)letter make the holidays even more familiar and comforting.

See you all in Boston soon!

Blast From The Past

(I do realize I just did a 180 - not posting for 1.5 months to updating the site with alarming frequency. Yes, I am still employed.)

But I had to share the most recent post from my sister Kara's blog The Art Cart, ruminations on the New England art scene. The first two paragraphs cracked me up.

Most of the time I am incredibly irked when celebrities try to "multi-talent" themselves. One of my favorite examples is Ms. Simpson-Wentz. It became pretty obvious, after her stint on SNL, that she could not sing. Then she tried her talents on the big screen, then on the small screen and then she tried to name a baby (Bronx Mowgli?!?).

I'm really sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Simpson-Wentz but the last time I called a child Mogley my little sister was trying to slide down the banister at our house. She had a Buster Brown hair cut and the only clothes she had on were some white undies. She reminded me of the kid in the Jungle Book and so I started calling her Mogley's Butt (I got grounded for that, if you're wondering).


Me, Cuz Anthony, Cuz Jennifer, Kara, Cuz Lauren, Krista (aka Mogley's Butt) a few years prior to the aforementioned incident.


Kara, you seem to be sporting a Mogley-esque haircut yourself...

My New Year's Resolution...Probably More Than You Wanted to Know

When I get stressed, I write lists. In high school, I was borderline obsessive. Every Friday night I would write a “to-do” list for the weekend on a legal notepad, put it on my desk, and not relax until every item was crossed out. I toned it down in college because I didn’t want my roommates to think I was psychotic, but the fixation didn’t go away. I now limit myself to six simultaneous lists on my blackberry notepad; any more and I feel the need to keep a list of my lists, which even I realize is ridiculous.

Living by lists creates two problems. First, I waste an incredible amount of time making lists when I could be doing stuff. Second, I focus on knocking off items on my list rather than solving the underlying issue or problem.

This is why my (early) New Year’s resolution is to start solving problems even if they don’t fit nicely into list format.

(This epiphany sounds incredibly stupid in writing.)

Mindlessly browsing the Internet Inspired by this post, I took action. Like Gretchen, my body temperature stays around negative 20 degrees. Right now I am sitting at my desk wearing a shirt, sweater, fleece, scarf and winter jacket. Balazs next to me is wearing a t-shirt. I actually make decisions whether to do things based on how long I will have to be outside. Pathetic, right? And I start ski lessons this weekend.

So I went to Tesco and bought a space heater for my office. Then I googled “long underwear for women that you can’t see under clothes” and ordered several pairs. Five minutes of not-so-strenuous thinking and problem solved (well, TBD).

And the best part? I put “buy heater at Tesco” and “order long underwear” on my to-do list.

Hungarian Thanksgiving In A Box

Given that I was in my homesick phase of living abroad, I was V to E happy when my friend Susan offered to host Thanksgiving dinner at her apartment.

I offered to bring desserts and hit up Tesco on Monday night. Learning from previous experience, I opted to print out pictures of the "unusual" ingredients I needed rather than play charades to try to mime baking powder. I had mixed results - shortening and nutmeg are not sold in Hungary, but I did finally locate the brown sugar.

I picked up the remaining ingredients at Whole Foods when I visited Alexis had a b-school interview in London the next day. However, Gatwick security did not agree that my pumpkin puree was a solid and unfortunately confiscated all three cans at the airport.


I had a lot of fun cooking / baking the next night. I originally thought this was squash but it tasted like a giant sweet potato.


Who needs shortening when you can use the metric system equivalent of 3 cups of butter?


Catered by The Marriott, Thanksgiving dinner literally arrived in a box. This was a huge improvement over Susan's first Thanksgiving in the 'Pest when she bought a six-inch turkey sub from Subway, disassembled the sandwich and ate the turkey with a side of frozen veggies.


Susan assembled a motley ex-pat crew of a German, a Brit, another American, and an Australian-Hungarian.


Dinner was delicious and, more importantly, a lot of fun. However, I was taken aback by post-dinner comments about how full everyone was. I was full too; but this is THANKSGIVING, people. At home Mama Bochicchio goes all out for Thanksgiving every year. This is a woman who shops at BJs for three people, so you can only imagine the quantity of food she prepares for a full-on family gathering. Combined with being an incredible cook, my mom prepares enough food for 40 (there are at most ten), and everything is too delicious not to try. My sister Krista literally has an annual routine to maximize Thanksgiving consumption, waking up early to have a sizeable breakfast to "stretch out her stomach" before going back to sleep.


Thanks for a great night, Susan!

Good Blogger

We had our company holiday party last Friday night, and it was everything I could have hoped it to be...

But first, let's take a trip down memory lane to last year's M/C holiday party. Given that all of the associates had played instruments at some point during childhood, we decided to provide the evening's entertainment by seranading our colleagues with holiday songs.


Ed played the guitar and sang (and was GOOD!), Hoop did the same (ditto), Nate played the drums, and I played the keyboard. The songs were simple, but we had to practice. A lot. The highlight of the night was when one of the wives approached me and asked if I had learned the piano solely for this performance (I took piano for 12 years). However, the night was a success, including the fact I didn't demolish anyone's pool table.


This year's company holiday party was billed as a night of "eating, drinking, salsa and poker." Actually that is a lie - I have no idea how it was characterized as the invitation was in Hungarian.

Upon arrival, the Hungarian CFO took me aside, reached into his jacket pocket and offered me a shot of his homemade pallinka. I had known Hungarians trump Americans when it comes to drinking, but BYOP to an open bar takes the cake.

My social confidence fortified, I had a fun dinner with coworkers. Salsa dancing began around 9 PM when dancers in figure skating outfits started pumping the crowd. I was feeling good from the pallinka - but not that good - so I left the table before one of the dancers could grab me. I want to learn salsa; I do not want to learn salsa in front of 300 Hungarian coworkers.

A few drinks later, the finance team was ready to dance. The dance floor was for at least 100; there were 12 of us. But it didn't matter, and when Balazs requested Lady Gaga, it REALLY didn't matter.

I made it home around 1 AM for a good four hours of sleep before my flight to Frankfurt in the morning.

Hungarian holiday parties - I am Q to V impressed!

Bad Blogger

Since everyone is just now receiving my postcards from my trip to Rome in early November, this is a good place to start...


I met mom and dad in Rome; mom had a conference there and dad joined her. Our hotel was behind the Spanish Steps, the site where Alyssa once spotted Scar Jo, and I bought the my Universita di Roma t-shirt - which I still wear today - during my sophomore Latin class trip.


Trevi Fountain was less than a ten minute walk from our hotel, but we never took the same route twice. Once we even took the metro because Dad was determined to get our money's worth out of the "Roma pass."


The Colosseum was spectacular. Considering the criticism Americans receive for insensitivity to violence, it is amazing to think that a fun day in Rome was a trip to the amphitheater to see thousands of gladiators, crimials and animals fight to the death.


I can almost picture Marcus Aurelius bringing Marcus and Sextus to the games and admonishing Sextus for throwing hard boiled eggs at the lower balcony. Meanwhile, Cornelia is sulking back at the house while helping Aurelia prepare the late afternoon meal. Uncle Titus (sporting his pink shoes) has made up an excuse to skip the games and is cruising the baths for men. Life is as it should be in "Ecce Romanae Vol. I."


One of our funniest meals was at a small restaurant near Piazza Navona where we befriended a bunch of rowdy, middle-aged Germans. At one point, mom gave one of them her phone number, and they promised to visit us during next year's Boston Marathon. Stranger things have happened. And my parents do like "German people."


Dad contemplating life and religion in the Vatican.


Dad's coworker directed him to her friend's restaurant, a local place we never would have found on our own. The food was authentic and delicious - and so plentiful that we didn't even make it to the main course, which is saying a lot for the Bochicchios. I am not sure why I look much boozier than my parents in this photo.

Rome is a cool place - friendly people, great food and wine, and a Roman ruin down every street. I am diggin' my last name right now.

Slovak Punk Band or Super Mario Character?

1. Konflikt
2. Hammer Bros.
3. Chain Chomp
4. Genius
5. Goomba
6. Problemy
7. Bob-omb
8. Cenzura
9. Zona A
10. Lakitu

Slovak Punk Band: 1,4,6,8,9
Super Mario Character: 2,3,5,7,10

An Idiot’s Guide to Hungary Part I: Politics

I have been here way too long not to understand the difference between Hungary’s Prime Minister and President or why Hungarians have a telecom-like affinity for political acronyms. This is by no means a comprehensive analysis; rather it is an exercise for me to string together a few coherent sentences sourced via Wikipedia about the current political situation in Hungary.

Since its transition to a multi-party political system in 1989, Hungary holds Parliament elections every four year. There are no major ideological differences between the main two political parties, both of whom contain ex-communist members and seem to concentrate on attacking each other rather than verbalizing or executing their platforms. MSZP, the socialist party in power since 2002, unsuccessfully campaigned against extending Hungarian citizenship to ethnic Hungarians in neighboring countries, advocates free markets, and includes former communist party leaders.

The majority believe Fidsez, the conservative party, will gain control of Parliament following the April 2010 elections not because they inspire confidence or are less corrupt than MSZP but simply because the public is tired of MSZP. Many ex-communist countries have experienced a similiar power flip every four years; it is believed the Hungarian socialist party extended their reign to two terms only by buying votes. Given the 2006 election turnout of 40%, elections are yet another forum in which Hungarians evidence their apathy.

Elected by Parliament, the current President, Laszlo Solyom, has no official party affiliation. Serving largely as a figurehead, the most interesting things about Solyom are that he refuses to visit the US as long as he is fingerprinted at the border, and Slovakia belligerently refused him entry this summer, heightening the ongoing tension between Hungary and Slovakia.

The office of the Prime Minister is more interesting and legitimate position. Ferenc Gyurcsany, of the ruling socialist party, made an unexpected announcement in March to step down as Prime Minister due to plummeting popularity. In addition to being criticized for his handling of the country’s economic crash and KGB ties, Gyurcsany's reputation was badly damaged in 2006 when state radio broadcast a speech in which Gyurcsany admitted lying about the state of the economy to win elections a few months earlier. The broadcast sparked weeks of protests and riots that left hundreds injured (perhaps caused by Hungarian Masculinity?). The non-controversial entrepreneur, György Bajnai, succeeded Gyurcsany in a so far successful attempt to avoid scandal until the next election.

Relative to other aspects of their lives, Hungarians can get riled up about politics. However when I asked one coworker why she did not vote in the EU Parliamentary elections this summer, she responded, "It was raining."

Part II to come: the Hungarian economy.

Along For The Ride

I have been delinquent about updating the blog because I have been feeling rather apathetic - apathetic about Budapest, Europe, and life in general. I should have known this was coming since upon my arrival in Hungary seasoned ex-pats warned me about the cycle of emotions caused by moving to a new country.

1. Honeymoon period (June through August)

Everything was so NEW and INTERESTING! I began Hungarian lessons to embrace the culture and attended weekly couch-surfing dinners to meet “real” Hungarians. Being badly treated by a waiter wasn’t annoying; it was an authentic Hungarian experience! Oh those Hungarians, and their complex, pessimistic attitudes shaped by trying years under communist rule. Spurred by Hungarian suspicions of Americans and people in general (a recent survey found that 2/3 of Hungarians view others as “untrustworthy” while the majority view themselves as honest), I was determined to prove I was an empathetic, humble, socially-conscious American.

2. Annoyance (September through October)

It is no longer quaint that dry cleaners are not open on weekends or dairy goes bad after three days due to lack of preservatives. Hungarian is very difficult to learn and, frankly, an ugly and dying language – so why bother? It is not funny and deserving of a blog post when the gym randomly decides to open at 10 AM on a Tuesday, and I arrive at the office at 6:45 AM sans shower and in my gym clothes. And I do not always appreciate my coworker’s Hungarian honesty, which includes remarks such as “you look terrible” or “you look glum.” I do look glum – I just received a notification that my electricity will be shut off unless I pay my bill – the same bill I paid three times both online and at the post office.

3. Homesickness / Apathy (November)

So, things take three times as long to get done here – whatever. The best advice a fellow ex-pat ever gave me was to be patient; the advice has been spot-on but difficult to follow given my type-A personality and fondness of checking items off of to-do lists. I knew I was homesick when in London last week I got ridiculously excited by the familiarity of the Starbucks red snowflake holiday cups and Christmas lights in the department stores. Unsuccessfully having tried to lengthen my time home over the holidays, I am counting down the days until Christmas.

4. Zen (Here’s hoping)

Not exactly zen-like by nature, I am hoping the emotional rollercoaster will culminate in acceptance and enjoyment of a new culture and increased appreciation for the US. Or at least that is what my b-school essays said. I mean, if I cannot enjoy a culture in which people peace out of work at 5:30 PM to concentrate on their personal lives, I have issues.

Throwback

(Actually written November 4th)

My relationship with my bff Nina can be traced back to our mutual love of lists, abbreviations (abbrevs), and emails written in haiku. As such, here is a life update in the aforementioned Japanese art form.

Going to London
Although it is a work trip
Must spoon Alexis*

The Brits really love
Their little gold pinkie rings
They look kind of fem

Would Thanksgiving din
Survive if mailed to the ‘Pest?
Let’s give it a try

I apologize
This blog entry really sucks
Not life exciting

*Alexis Ettinger who currently resides in London

Happy Halloween!

I have heard the sign of an intelligent person is learning from past mistakes. Unfortunately, I have been less than intelligent over the past week.

Who uses a parking break? Apparently most people in Hungary. I first learned this when my coworker Edina drove my car this summer, and the car started smoking and screeching when I drove it home later that night with the parking break unknowingly activated. Oops. It happened again this week, but at least I knew what the smell of burning tires meant.

Step aerobics class. I tried a step class once in Boston and walked out after five minutes. I fully support most aerobics classes (some are friggin’ hard!) but am not crazy about simultaneously hopping over a step and memorizing a dance routine while being surrounded by coordinated, graceful women (although in Boston there was always the token gay guy). While incredibly alluring outside of the gym, my go-to shoulder roll wins me no points in step class. However, when my coordinated, graceful coworker Csilla asked me to attend a step class with her on Wednesday, my brain replaced past experience with desire to make a friend. This was not smart. Taking an advanced step class in Hungarian might have been my most negative experience since moving here. I would tell you more about, but literally I start twitching when I think about it.

My commute. With no traffic, my commute to work takes 13 minutes. However, I refuse to accept that there is and always will be traffic and leave my apartment exactly 13 minutes before I need to be a work. Understandably, this often creates problems. In a related note, I will be asking for books on tape for Christmas this year. Preferably something uplifting to dull the pain of being a well-paid excel and powerpoint monkey.

HBS website. According to the HBS website, HBS has been sending out first round interview invitations for the past two weeks. This was not an issue in my life until I logged onto the website on Thursday and learned this. After the initial freak-out (I have not received an interview), I decided for my own good I should stay off the site to avoid stressing and the resulting range of emotions.

So, HBS doesn’t want me? What is wrong with me?
Whatever – too bad for them. I’ll just go somewhere else and kick ass there. Somewhere else like…shit, that means I need to apply somewhere else.
&%?$#@

In a related note, I visited the website for the last time one hour ago.

In retrospect, after reading my entry, maybe no business school should accept me.

Happy Halloween! I just found the one Halloween party tonight in Budapest and I will be in attendance along with my turkey baster!

Hungarian Name or Unit of Measure?

1. Nimrod
2. Nibble
3. Ferenc
4. Jansky
5. Garn
6. Nandor
7. Attoparsec
8. Zeteny
9. Janka
10. Sydharb
11. Virag

Top 100 Hungarian Baby Names: 1,3,6,8,9,11
Unit of Measure: 2,4,5,7,10

________

Poll Answer: All of 'em are Hungarian. For those of you familiar with Adam Sandler's Chanukah song, I hope you realize that Paul Newman's half Jewish, Goldie Hawn's half too. Put them together, what a fine-looking Jew!

It's Not That I'm Lazy; It's That I Just Don't Care

I attended a “Top 50” management meeting this week (the fact that I actually don’t manage anyone is I guess a moot point). The meeting was held CEE (Central / Eastern European)-style, meaning we spent three days in an isolated castle in Bohemia. Because the company is suffering from poor morale due to the recent restructuring and “headcount reductions,” we spent half of Thursday discussing and brainstorming solutions to address key areas of employee discontent.

Employee issues seemed to boil down to lack of communication. Lack of communication between top and middle management. Lack of communication between middle management and “the bottom.” Lack of communication among the country business units.

(How can you hear the terms “middle” or “top management” and not think of Office Space…I'd like to move us right along to a Peter Gibbons. Now we had a chance to meet this young man, and boy that's just a straight shooter with upper management written all over him.)

I will not bore you with specifics because frankly I am sick of the topic and do not want to get fired if someone from work reads my blog. But I did think it was interesting that the consultant hired to run the session encouraged that all communication be done using “offshore English.” The consultant defined offshore English as “language devoid of slang, idioms, sarcasm or humor.” Basically it is like reading the Dartmouth Review.

Upon moving to Hungary, I quickly learned sarcasm is not easily translatable. This is a typical conversation I used to have.

Me: Hi, my name is Alex Bochicchio.
Co-worker: You have a boy’s name! Hello, I am Gabor.
Me: It’s nice to meet you. What nice weather we are having! (Weather is my default topic. If I start talking to you about the weather, chances are we have nothing to talk about.)
Co-worker: Yes. Your name is so long with so many letters.
Me: Yes it is! It took me years to learn how to spell it.
Co-worker: You do not know how to spell your name?

So I understand that standardized English should be used in a workplace with mostly non-native English speakers. But that is no fun because it is difficult to express your personality using sterilized language.

I have been frustrated with my lack of and superficial relationships with coworkers and perhaps this is why. In the US, I often communicated through subtle sarcasm (although honestly often I was the only one who was amused), and I cannot do that here. I subconsciously translate my thoughts into sentences which can be communicated to non-native speakers or I run the risk of being misunderstood or appearing unable to spell my name.

And I am the native English speaker. I am sure my communications problems pale in comparison to non-native speakers.

No wonder Europeans believe so strongly in the social lubrication known as alcohol.

A Guide to Dining-Out in Hungary

1. Do not order the vegetarian option. Hungarians are carnivores and generally skeptical of anyone who is not. Consequently do not order the vegetarian dish because the restaurant likely is making it for the first time. Also, when perusing the menu, note that Hungarians consider people who eat chicken and beef but not pork “vegetarians.”

2. Listen to the waiter. Hungarian food can be strange. I like almost anything (herring, bone marrow, Lucky Charms) but even I haven’t been able to stomach certain meals. When the waiter suggested that my dad not order the “poppy seed dumplings” because it was an “acquired” taste, my dad was wise to change his order.

3. Stay away from dishes named after other nationalities. This advice especially applies to the American salad (a bowl of mayonnaise accompanied with julienned vegetables) and Spanish paella (in Hungary it apparently is acceptable to use sauerkraut as a main ingredient in paella).

4. Order exotic meat dishes only at more expensive restaurants. If your venison or duck costs less than four euros and is covered in a thick cream sauce, aren’t you a little worried that you are eating cat?

5. Grilled probably means fried. Now when I order grilled “csirke” (chicken), I almost expect it to come breaded and deep fried with a side of fries. Not that I am complaining. It is like a higher power is telling me, “Silly Alex – why even try to be healthy?”

6. Don’t dismiss a restaurant just because it offers a tourist menu. Budapest understands the importance of tourists, and the best restaurants often have an English or tourist menu.

7. But do dismiss all “Kinai” or Chinese buffets. This is my third rule when visiting Budapest. Trust me.

Bochicchio Weekend

What else would we do on Saturday night other than head over to the annual Palinka and Sausage Festival at the Buda castle (not to be confused with the much more castle-like-looking Fisherman's Bastion nearby). It was pouring outside but it was probably good that we concentrated on keeping our food dry rather than on what we actually were eating.


We learned a lot about each other & our family on the trip. Aunt Ann-Marie told me Dad kept a list of every movie which opened in New York after 1964 (now I know where my list-making obsession comes from). AAM learned their father fought at Normandy. And we devised a barter system upon Dad and AAM's return to the US - Dad will give AAM the Bochicchio history book in return for the recipe for Grandma's anisette cookies (aka the original "Little Nasties").




On Sunday night, we went to the opening of Bluebeard's Castle, a one-act opera by Hungarian composer Béla Bartók. After our long opera experience in Vienna, we were happy that Wikipedia said the opera "lasts only a little over an hour."

According to Wikipedia, Bluebeard brings his new wife Judith home to his castle for the first time. Upon arriving, Judith insists that all the doors be opened to allow light to enter the gloomy castle. Bluebeard refuses, saying that they are private places not to be explored by others, and asks Judith to love him but ask no questions. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, Judith doesn't take this as a hint to bolt.

Judith gets her way and all seven doors are opened. Behind the seventh door are Bluebeard's three former wives, who are mute and dressed in heavy jewelry and black robes. Despite her protests, Judith is forced to put on the same dress and disappears behind the door. The background fades to black and the opera is over.

This is probably a comedy by Hungarian standards.


About to leave, we notice that no one else is leaving the opera house. Because I am a bad Hungarian student, I cannot read the program but can make out the word "twice." I don't want to stick around to find out what "twice" means, but Dad and AAM overrule me. We return to our seats for the second act of the reportedly one-act opera. The second act is the first act all over again. One opera. Twice.


You may think Dad & AAM look so happy because there was no "thrice" part of Bluebeard's Castle, but this picture was taken minutes after they found out the Red Sox were swept.



Overall, the only disappointment of the weekend was that we missed this:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/10/09/miss-plastic-hungary-2009_n_316181.html

Vienna Weekend

Pops & Aunt Anne-Marie. Dad got a chance to practice his German. He did not refer to himself as a jelly donut.


We visited both the Schonbrunn (summer) and Hofburg (winter) palaces and toured Empress Elisabeth's private rooms. Elisabeth was renowned beauty and dedicated the majority of the day to her ankle length hair, extensive skin routine and gymnastics exercises.


Eating sweetmeats NOT sweetbreads before The Magic Flute aka The Longest Opera.


Depending on your nationality, in Bratislava, Pressburg or Pozsony.

Dachstein, Austria

My coworkers and I went on a weekend excursion to the Alps. I thought we were going on a hiking / camping trip. We actually were going climbing.


After renting via ferrata equipment (belts & helmets) in town, we took the lift to the top of Dachstein. Please note Robert (left), organizer of the trip and experienced climber, and his expression, which pretty much translates into "what the hell have I gotten myself into?" It would have been awkward for him to explain on Monday why GTS was down five employees.


Learning how to use the equipment.


About an hour and a half later, we take a "short" break at the top of our practice climb.




Geza, what are you doing?


Unfortunately, I do not have pictures of the subsequent "real" climb.

Leaving Geza and Gabor back at the lodge, Balazs, Robert, Tunde & I began a steeper climb. 20 minutes into the trek, I realized this was totally different from the practice run. We were really high. And I am really afraid of heights. I made a deal with myself that from then on I would not look down.


This tactic worked for a while until Tunde got nervous and stopped climbing. I stopped too, and that was when I made the mistake of looking down. Good lord.


Tunde and I did not finish the second climb, but overall it was an awesome day. Especially in retrospect now that I am safely on the ground.

The best part was during the second climb a couple of climbers literally skipped over me and scurried up the mountain without clipping themselves in! Oh my god.

On Sunday, we went on a much more tame hiking trip which did not require helmets.


Not a bad way to spend the weekend.

You Get What You Ask For

I understand that a lot of the world does not have a favorable impression of the US and am fascinated by the topic of how other countries view America and Americans. That being said, I probably should not have brought up the topic with my coworkers, four Hungarians and one Slovak, in the middle of a four hour hike in the Alps this weekend.

The response I got was that America / Americans always butt in where they don't belong. I understand this sentiment and agree to a certain extent - most Americans agree Vietnam was a disaster, and the majority of Americans believe it was a mistake to invade Iraq. My response to my coworkers was that there is a gap between what the majority of informed Americans want and how the US actually acts. Obviously this is a huge problem.

Feeling compelled to defend the US at least a little bit, I then pointed out that the US "butted into" WWII and asked my coworkers if they thought the US involvement in the war was a good thing. I thought this was a rhetorical question. However the response I received was "yeah I guess it was good, but they should have gotten involved earlier."

Although you shouldn't fault someone for stating their opinion (especially when asked!), I was annoyed at how my coworkers were defending their position. So they are criticizing the US for not getting involved earlier in WWII but for becoming too involved in other conflicts? That seems like a specious argument.

Sensing my annoyance, my coworker told me that he was sorry that he shattered my illusions that America was beloved by all countries. I am naive, but I am not stupid. And the fact that he believes I think this after knowing me and having multiple discussions about this topic with me pisses me off.

I know America has and continues to f-up. But I also believe that it has done positive things for other countries. And the fact that my coworkers refuse to acknowledge this is what made me mad.

I think my coworkers see America as an easy target on which to blame the historical plight and current situation of their country. I say this because they also frequently blame the EU and other "higher powers" for their problems. This seems like a cop-out.

On the other hand, I am probably too quick to the defend the US. However, for as many faulty "illusions" I have about the US, it seems fair that that other countries also reevaluate their "illusions" about the US as they may be based on similarly faulty arguments.

Why Today is Great

1. I now have an automatic garage door opener. Upon giving it to me, the receptionist commented "how modern" our building was.

2. Do you remember Codi's "tackys" outfit in college - the one-piece jean jumpsuit? My coworker wore that today.

3. I made trail mix for this weekend's hike in memory of the Dartmouth swim team's annual hike to Mt. Cardigan and m&m game.

4. My sister Kara wrote a blog entry which basically calls artists egotistical narcissists. Haha.

http://karasartcart.blogspot.com/

(second entry down)

Let’s Have a History Lesson!

I started and then stopped a blog entry when I went to Bratislava last week. Since then I completely have lost my train of thought. Thus, the list format once again.

I.

Poland always has had a good relationship with the US – more so than other countries in the region. Polish special forces took part in the 2003 invasion of Iraq, making it one of only three US allies to take part in the initial fighting. Poland was also one of the earliest and biggest contributors to the fight in Afghanistan, with 1,600 soldiers.

However, the Poles are increasingly worried about Obama’s “conciliatory” foreign policy towards Russia. They view Russia as a massive, irrational threat to the region, as evidenced by Russia shutting off its oil pipeline through Ukraine during a cold spell last winter. The pipeline supplies 1/5 of the natural gas consumed in Europe.

Obama recently announced his decision to withdraw from plans to build a missile defense system in Czech and Poland, a plan which Russia had strongly opposed. And unfortunately, Obama made the announcement on September 18th, the 70th anniversary of the Russian invasion of Poland. Whether or not Obama made the right decision, Obama and the US are severely declining in popularity in Poland.

II.

In Bratislava, I stayed at a “boutique” hotel with cool art and chocolates in the rooms (yeah, it doesn’t take much). However, the best thing about the hotel was that you could request a “lady’s chamber” - a small room which looked like a dollhouse, with a slanted ceiling and dormer windows. I stayed in a big-girl room on this trip, but maybe next time.

III.

There has been tension between the Hungarians and Slovaks since Hungary was stripped of most of its land after WWI. And relations recently have become “frostier” according to the Budapest Times. This summer Slovaks passed a law making it illegal to use Hungarian or “incorrect Slovak” in public places. This may not have been a huge deal, but hundreds of thousands of Hungarians live and run businesses in Southern Slovakia. In retaliation, the Hungarian Minister of Foreign affairs recently was quoted referring to Slovakia as a “younger brother that needs to be taught European manners.” Snap!

IV.

I have mentioned before the pull-over-happy crazy traffic cops and their penchant for bribery – whether it be in the form of cash or cake. I was driving with my boss Gerry to the hotel, and a cop stopped us right before we were about to drive over a bridge. Gerry and the cop then proceeded to have a standoff: the cop browsed Gerry’s (Irish) passport and twirled his pencil; Gerry refused to reach for his wallet. After fifteen minutes, Gerry gave up. Outcome - Slovak cop: +EUR 50; Gerry (& everyone else in the car): -15 minutes of our lives.

I Am Back

Oh, I'm back. B-school apps were annoying, but first-round is done, and I plan on a straight copy & paste to get me through the second round. Which will explain things if I don't get in anywhere.

It is amazing how a silly process which requires only a couple of recommendations and a few essays about the thing you know most about – you – can be so stressful. I am sorry to everyone to whom I have been a biatch this month as a result of doing apps on weekends and trying to figure out what exactly is my “career vision.” I also want to let it be known that I wrote I was the “longest tenured employee” at the Sherborn Sandwich Company under my employment experience. Even Karen, the woman who left for a rival sandwich shop after another coworker began having an affair with the local cop with whom Karen already was having an affair, started after me. I am full of interesting things to write about; unfortunately, most of them do not answer the question “what is your greatest mistake and why?”

I think I will celebrate with a Hungarian langosh / pallinka bender. Scratch that. This weekend, I am going camping with coworkers in Dachstein in Austria, which is more akin to The Sound of Music. My coworker Robert emailed around a packing list, which includes these items:

- Head-torch – I actually have one of these in Boston. My eccentric (crazy) aunt gave it to me for Christmas years ago. It is a combination head-lamp / head-magnifying glass. I have never used it but have kept it in case I ever want to go spelunking.

- Pallinka – Robert, are you serious? Pallinka is a q to v potent, and I can barely converse after drinking it much less scale a mountain. I plan to abstain (sike!).

- Some food (chocolate bars, sweets...) – Man, I like how you think!

Just call me Fraulein Maria.

18th Budapest International Wine Festival

Literally every weekend there is a wine festival in Hungary, and the biggest one was this weekend at the Buda castle. Susan and I met up with a couple of her coworkers, picked up a wine glass and a pouch to hold it in, and tried...more wine than I have ever seen before in my life. My favorite was the Oremus Tokaji, the sweet Hungarian white wine.

In addition to the wine, highlights of the evening included:

Neutralizing the effects of copious wine consumption with toki pompos, Hungarian pizza with sour cream, bacon, cheese & onion.

Procuring a salsa dancing partner - although Susan's coworker may not have remembered agreeing to this, I have a witness.

My cabdriver asking me if I liked the Boston Celtics when I told him I was from Boston. Umm YES?!?!

Lame

Hi friends,

This blog is going to take a little hiatus while I spend the rest of the month doing business school applications! Oh yes, my brain needs to focus all of its creativity on the apps, especially given the following excerpts from my essays in their current form:

HBS is the next step and ideal training ground to help me achieve my career goals given the program’s general management and leadership focus.

No matter which problem I choose to solve, I need strong business fundamentals and interpersonal skills to execute my vision.

I realized I wanted to expand my perspective outside of my Ivy League finance bubble...*

*Oh yeah, I am applying to Ivy League MBA programs - may want to change that sentence...

I would be laughing too if this wasn't ACTUALLY THE STATE OF MY ESSAYS!

Haha, ok, it's a little funny.

On the other hand, maybe I will post more frequently as a procrastination method. Only time will tell.

Hungarian Randomness

I.

Last week I was at my friend's apartment and ended up hanging out with Shaney, one of the construction workers rennvoating the apartment. Shaney is a soft spoken, unassuming guy except on the topic of "communist run" companies such as the BKV, or public transportation system in Budapest. It is a game for Hungarians to ride the metro without a ticket, and Shaney is no exception. Last time Shaney was ticketless and got stopped by a controller, instead of pretending to be foreign (which he usually does), he put on his sunglasses and pretended to be a deaf mute. The controller wasn't buying it, but Shaney kept on staring straight ahead as the increasingly irritated controller yelled at him. Then at the next stop, Shaney blindly put his hands out and stumbled down the stairs and onto the street.

II.

I always see Asian tourists taking pictures around the city but yesterday I saw a family take turns photographing each other drinking from a public water fountain.

III.

It is a law in Hungary that you need to drive with your lights on, no matter what the weather or time of day. I don't like this rule because the more often I drive with my lights on, the more likely I will forget to turn them off when I park the car. However, if I ever try to dodge this rule pulling out of the parking garage on a bright, sunny day, the parking attendant Andrew raps on my window with a concerned look, "Safety first Alex, safety first."

IV.

Over the past two weeks, I have seen a plethora of eye patches around the city. Now I don't know if it is a fashion trend or if there are a lot of blind or injured people all of a sudden, but I do know that I might need to get one. In case I ever get stopped on the metro and need to pretend to be a deaf mute.

Szia Jackie!

Last Friday night I said goodbye to my wonderful friend Jackie who is moving back to NYC. This brings up a lot of questions: with whom will I eat sheep's cheese on the side of the road? Who will make CDs for future road trips and educate me on 60's funk & soul? One solution - Jackie, you gotta come back.


We go to Corvinteto, Budapest's only rooftop bar.


Awwwwwwwwww, so cute. Then per usual the night devolves.


Better Bobby hold onto my purse than me as I have a history of losing it.


I seem to be wearing the same dress in all of my pictures from Budapest. I promise I wash it.


I think the question is why not pick someone else's nose?


My "sad" face attempt because Jackie is leaving. But it just comes off as...strange.

Unusual Forms of Exercise Observed in Hungary

1. Running (lumbering)in moon shoes.

2. Wearing crazy high heels to work the calves muscles.

3. Outrunning the underground metro.

4. Pedaling a three person bike.

5. Dancing to gypsy music.

Three Weekend Anecdotes

#1

We celebrated Jackie’s last night in Budapest at Corvinteto, a bar atop Corvin department store in Blaha ter. I sat next to Janos, a Hungarian in his mid 40s who grew up in the former Yugoslavia. After the obligatory “how do you like Budapest” chitchat, he asked me about my impressions of Hungarian men. Besides my coworkers, I don’t know too many Hungarian men so didn’t have much to say besides that they really seem to like Ed Hardy.

Janos took the opportunity to explain his Hungarian man theory. According to Janos, Hungarian women lost respect for Hungarian men when they did not resist sufficiently the Russians during the Revolution of 1956 (despite 2,500 Hungarians being killed in the conflict). As a result, Hungarian men have been determined to win back the adulation of their women since the fall of the wall in 1989.

How does one do this? Body building. Janos explained the proliferation of gyms and supplements in Hungary in the 1990s was due to men toughening up to impress the ladies. And when Hungarian women still preferred foreigners over fellow Hungarians, Hungarian men concluded the next logical step in the quest to win the respect of the women was to “look dangerous” with visible tattoos and piercings.

If this doesn’t turn you on, I don’t know what does.


#2

I started business school applications this weekend and actually wrote the following sentence in an essay:

For these reasons, I am confident that I can provide a unique perspective to class discussions while considering and respecting the views of my classmates and professors.

Wow. These essays are gonna be…winners.

#3

Because I get pulled over more frequently than I care to admit, my friends have tried to give me advice about how to deal with Hungarian police officers. However, I have stopped short of keeping a 20,000 forint bill in my glove department because I am not clear on the penalties in the event I accidentally try to bribe the one honest cop in Budapest. I have heard cops demand between 2,000 to 50,000 forints depending on situation.

Apparently this is not always the case. My friend Anita recounted that her friend – let’s call him Csaba – recently was pulled over for a minor offense. The police officer strolled up to Csaba’s window and asked him if he “liked cakes.” Of course Csaba did – who doesn’t like cakes? Just wierdos and people who are lying to themselves on the Atkins diet. The cops then told Csaba that they liked cakes too. And that there was a cake shop down the street.

Csaba escaped a ticket by buying a cake for each of the cops who pulled him over. Question: were these cops idiots for not trying to get more money out of Csaba or are THEY THE SMARTEST COPS EVER?

Barcelona in Pictures

OK, in retrospect maybe the weekend wasn't as bad as I made it seem in my life-hating, post-wallet loss post.


This above picture pretty much sums up the trip. Did I seriously live here at one point? If so, why was I constantly looking at the map and was the one person who got pickpocketed?


The first stop was obviously La Boqueria on Las Ramblas.


I wish I could have said I tried this.


Jackie has been waiting eight years to have Spanish melon again. One person's chirimoya is another person's honeydew.


Jacky Alexandra Barcelona, WHAT?


Duda was one of the managers of our hostel. Duda has a lotta love to give and "digs my energy." If I was high as a kite all of the time, I would dig my energy too. I wear my "Sant Jordi" hostel pin for Duda.


Aforementioned porn producer. Alleged porn producer.


The second reason I came to Barcelona: churros & chocolate.


Flamenco in Placa Reial.


A really sad attempt to mimic flamenco poses in Placa Reial.


My gazing lovingly at Jackie caught on camera.


Resting after sightseeing in the 90+ degree heat. And by sightseeing I mean walking 500 meters and eating a gelato.


The girl travels right.