Adventures in the 'Pest

Rejoining the world

2010-08-08T18:54:00.000-07:00

Hi friends,

I have a new cell - 617 875-5821.

I ordered a new computer (despite my being turned down for a Best Buy credit card today. Why wouldn't BB want to extend me and my new student status credit?)

I just went to Pizzeria Uno.

Yup, I am not in Hungary anymore.

Call me.

Szia Friends!

2010-07-27T00:30:00.000-07:00

Hi friends,

Given I am moving to Boston, this blog is coming to a close. Thank you all for reading (hi, mom!), and I will keep you updated on my life through my new blog “Adventures in Business School.” Just kidding! Even I wouldn't subject you to that.

acbochicchio@gmail.com
abochicchio@mba2012.hbs.edu
US phone # and address TBD

Szia!
Alex

So, What Did You Learn during Your 14+ Months in Budapest?

2010-07-25T00:51:00.001-07:00

It’s all relative.

I am surprisingly patriotic.

Learn to be patient.

Get to the point.

Don’t be apologetic.

Don't ask if you don't want to know.

Close the bathroom door. Completely.

Croatia

2010-07-20T02:05:00.000-07:00

I maintain that Croatia is the most beautiful place on earth.

It is also the hottest. I love bikram yoga, but I don't know how I feel about bikram living.

View from our patio onto the Adriatic and Lokrum. Yes, you can hate me. I will hate myself when I am snowed under in Boston mid-October.

The Stradum running through the center of Dubrovnik served only as a conduit to obtain octopus salad and gelato.

How can you not take pictures of this? Actually pretty easily. All of the beautiful photo ops are courtesty of Alyssa and Lexipoo.

We took a ferry to the Elafiti islands of Kolocep and Lopud.

While Lyss and Lex played scrabble on the boat, I learned that my apartment in Boston didn't work out. What is a five letter word containing three vowels for my mortgage broker?

We took a break from the sun to visit Restaurant Gverovic Orsan in nearby Zaton Bay. During the time of Dubrovnik Republic, Zaton Bay was where Dubrovnik’s noblemen preferred to summer. Today, it is where Lyss taught us how to eat oysters.

Did ya know that although oysters have two sexes, they may change sex one or more times during their life span?

Furtheremore, opening, or "shucking" oysters has become a competitive sport. Oyster shucking competitions are staged around the world, including the annual Guiness World Oyster Opening Championship in Galway, Ireland.

Unfortunately making strange faces while drinking wine is not a competitive event. This was my response when Alyssa told me do my "Alex" look. Skeptical with a hint of lazy.

We not only had a wonderful time, but also Alyssa and I escaped Croatia without our usual traveling mishaps. And now I probably jinxed Alyssa, who currently is boarding a Titanic-sized cruise ship.

T-2 weeks in the 'Pest!

Exit Festival

2010-07-19T04:49:00.000-07:00

Vacay’s theme was juxtaposition: drinking rocket fuel with old men in front of garbage cans in Serbia and discussing “three things that get us out of bed each morning” on the beach in Dubrovnik.

Granted, that “morning” we got out of bed at noon.

But first, Exit.

Exit Festival was started in 2000 by three University students from Novi Sad. Initially the festival had a heavy political bent, protesting the government under President Slobodan Milošević. Now the festival is less controversial and more on point with its original mission of providing relevant entertainment to Serbian youth with a social conscious.

Crossing the Hungarian-Serbian border to get to Exit was bizarre. Over half of the cars had Dutch plates but were driven by gypsy families literally spilling out into the street. Passing a car on the two-lane highway in Serbia was like a game of chicken.

Between concerts, we visited the communist beach built as a “present for the people." Speakers blared techno music, and tattooed, chain-smoking mothers bounced their children to the constant beat. Death by skin cancer is a tertiary concern to secondhand smoke and alcohol poisoning.

Matjaz texted some good advice: "Hey Alex, once you are at the beach, don't go swimming. I know you like it, but this river passes through some big cities."

But there was nothing like the silent disco. When I finally made it into the tent, a 12-year old Serbian girl plopped a pair of giant earphones onto my purple afro. I then tuned into one of two DJs silently spinning on stage and danced away in my adult romper.

It was cool taking off the earphones and hearing everyone singing along to different songs.

Alyssa was really good at Peaches.

Time for a vacation.

Flashback

2010-07-03T09:08:00.001-07:00

Nostalgic after our 5-year college reunion, my first post-college roommate forwarded me this email (blitz) exchange dated 8/02/2005.

*******
From: Alex
To: Tracey
Date: 8/2/05

9:01--alex wanted to get to work before 9 to show that she is a good analyst. unfortunately, she was a little late and arrives to work a bit sweaty and flustered. she shares an elevator with the scary MD who doesn't know her name and makes it even more awkward than it should have been. newsflash: alex is awkward and apparently thrives on awkward situations.

9:10--9:30--alex spends many minutes trying to use the copy machine. apparently, there is touchpad where you are supposed to press the word "copy," but this fact elludes alex for quite some time. alexis feels triumphant that she has accomplished something.

9:45--there is still no work for alex to do. she surfs "Deutsche Bank's employee perks," but it looks too much like online shopping so she stops. she then receives 3 emails. unfortunately all of them are from her mom.

10:57--VP asks Alex if she "was the best in her training class." Alex faces a dilemma--does he want her to be an assertive employee and answer "YES!!!" or be an honest person and respond, "hell no"..? Alex contemplates her answer for a bit too long, and the VP frowns, questioning her mental capacities.

11:15--Alex breaks up the day with a trip to the coffee machine.

11:55--Alex goes to lunch with 5 male (older) members of her group. They are loud, boisterous, and swear a lot, so Alex doesn't say much, but eats her sandwich quietly (although she has forgotten napkins). Her fellow co-workers ask her one question, which she doesn't hear, so she answers "yes." Apparently, this wasn't a "yes or no" question, as her lunch companions stare questioningly back at her with looks of pity/disdain(???) on their faces. However, the Cosi Lime Chicken sandwich is quite tasty.

12:52--Alex has yet to do any work.

1:18--Alex wonders what she will order for dinner.

2:05--Alex decides to email every person she ever has known in Dartmouth/high school/elementary school/life. This takes some time. However, she is nervous about sending emails over her work email, so writes them in microsoft word (to appear like she's doing work), and copies and pastes them into her alum account. So far, Alex has received 0 responses. Except from her mom. That does not count.

3:01--Alex thinks she fell asleep for a bit. The past twenty minutes/6 hours/6 weeks seem like a blur.

*************************
From: Tracey
To: Alex
Date: 8/5/05

9:11 - tracey comes in late to work

9:15 - tracey eats the yogurt she brings for breakfast

9:30 - tracey gets a call from her boss who is out of the office today. she manages to scrape together some important questions to sound like she's doing work. she hangs up the phone and adds two things to her "to do" list. now she has three things on her to do list.

9:37 - tracey takes a blitz break

9:42 - tracey puts in her country music cd and annoys her coworkers

10:04 - tracey accomplishes one of the things on her to do list

10:07 - tracey accomplishes another thing on her to do list

10:15 - tracey takes a blitz break

10:22 - tracey learns that she is in fact going to nevis. tracey also learns that it will just be herself and her boss in nevis. tracey wonders if they will be sharing a hotel room and gets nervous.

10:52 - tracey signs for a package. the package is not for her.

10:53 - tracey gets hungry and thinks about the salad that she made for lunch.

10:54 - tracey realizes that lunch is two hours away.

********

Fam Time

2010-06-27T10:44:00.000-07:00

Exciting developments in Boston coupled with continued insomnia sponsored this lazy post.

Happy Pop's Day!

Dad's middle name is Joseph, so his monogram is PBJ. How cool is that?

Maybe Dad got into Mom's vicodin.

On second thought, looks like they shared it.

Dartmouth '05 Reunion

2010-06-27T10:24:00.001-07:00

I always liked school superlatives.

Least Changed: Olivia Whitinger – MIA since arriving at school, except for a text on Saturday morning: “I cannot find my pants.”

Best Smile: Alyssa Hochman

Best Catchphrase: “Go Daddy!” – Codi calling out to the ’96 rowers while lounging by the river

Strangest Compliment: "You look like a stewardess."

Biggest Faux Pas: Alex calling someone a d&!# not knowing he was standing right behind her.

Frattiest: Founding members of KDE

Others:

Most Missed: John Helmstedder III
Most Likely to Succeed: Matt Oppenheimer
Most Likely To Surprise Us All: Kate Schoener
Cutest Couple: Brian Edmonson & Nate Gorence
Inseperables: Megh Duwadi & facetime
Best Conversationalist: Abi Ridgway
Most Stylish: Krista Oopik
Best Eats: Bagel Basement
Ladies’ Man: Sean Robinson

Evil Pimms

2010-06-14T00:46:00.000-07:00

Saturday night can best be summed up in Angelica's text:

Evil Pimms! After my second cup I decided I needed to dance, and the next thing I know it's 4 AM. I'm incredibly sweaty, my phone has died, and people are looking for me saying my husband is worried sick. I should also mention I found Tim drinking straight from the bottle of Pimms, like a pirate.

They weren't always pirates.

We were celebrating the England vs. USA soccer football match which ended in a draw. It was a proud day for American ex-pats in Budapest until the Hungarian American football team joined us at the bar and reminded everyone why foreigners think Americans are douches.

Luckily, Krista and I were there to redeem America's reputation.

If you define redemption as being unable to follow the football match, eating hamburgers and drinking Pimms like it was my job.

And deciding to go spelunking at the Palvolgyi Cave on Sunday.

In unrelated news, Kris introduced me to the skinny arm.

According to legend, if you shout the name of your favorite dish into the Laszlo Lakatos Chamber, the dish will be waiting for you in your kitchen.

Unfortunately upon our return home neither a pig roast nor blueberry pancakes were waiting for us.

(Can you guess which one was Krista's request? Hint: her favorite website is shouldieatbacon?.com.)

While the rest of the world focuses on the World Cup this week, I will reserve my energy for the not-so-young and occasionally-hustling Boston Celtics. Kris, you might want to purchase a romper for the occasion. Go Cs!!!

The Hungarian Debt Crisis: Deserved or Characteristic Pessimism?

2010-06-09T02:06:00.000-07:00

IMF dismisses Hungarian debt crisis claims
Posted June 8, 2010

The International Monetary Fund (IMF) has dismissed comments by Hungarian officials that the country faces a Greek-style debt crisis.

At a meeting with Luxembourg's prime minister Jean-Claude Juncker - who heads the Eurogroup of finance ministers - IMF chief Dominique Strauss-Kahn said Hungary's finances pose "no special reason for concern".

Mr Juncker echoed the IMF's thoughts, saying he did not see a problem with Hungary, only with its politicians, who he said talked too much.

In an attempt to shed some light on the Hungarian economic situation which Hungarian politicians I do not understand, I conducted a mock interview with google search and the (small) part of my brain that remembers I was an econ major.

Q: What exactly is a debt crisis?
A: A domestic debt crisis occurs when a country cannot service its debts due to lack of access to capital. Because lenders are less willing to lend to countries at risk of default, a debt crisis is self-fulfilling. Think of it in terms of The Real Housewives of New Jersey: Danielle is a struggling country on the verge of sanity default, and the capital is friendship. (Theresa would have been too obvious an example.)

(Rhetorical) Q: I thought Hungary already had a debt crisis.
A: Hungary was the first EU member to obtain a bailout in 2008, lining up $26.9 billion in emergency loans after investors cited the country’s heavy foreign-currency denominated debt. While initially the foreign loans provided access to “cheap” capital, Hungarians increasingly were exposed to rising debt payments as the forint fell against the euro and the franc.

Q: So why the recent panic?
A: Until last week, Hungary was run by Prime Minister Gordon Bajnai’s Socialist government, who succeeded in bringing some stability to the Hungarian economy through the bailout funds and tax increases and other austerity measures. As a result, Hungary reduced its budget deficit to 4% of GDP in 2009 from 9.3% in 2006. However the newly elected, right-wing Fidesz government now claims the former government had manipulated budget figures and lied about the real state of the economy.

Q: How does Hungary compare to Greece?
A: Greece’s 2009 budget deficit was 13.6% of GDP versus 4% in Hungary, and Hungary’s external debt is about half that of Greece. Furthermore, Hungary is outside the euro zone and therefore not bound by its one-size-fits-all monetary policy, giving the Hungarian central bank more flexibility to respond to the ups and downs of the economy.

Q: Comparatively things don’t sound too bad. Is this just a case of Hungarians being typically pessimistic?
A: Although the budget deficit may be manageable, the Hungarian economy remains vulnerable. In recent years millions of Hungarians took advantage of cheap Swiss and Euro-backed loans to finance cars and houses and are now facing foreclosure. Imminent defaults are compounded by an unemployment rate hovering around 12% with little hope of improvement due to government commitments to cut spending as part of the bailout fund package.

Q: What next?
A: Although in a better position than Greece, Hungary is fighting an uphill battle. For an economic turnaround, the country needs fundamental and sustainable changes: right-sizing the budget, the return of foreign investment, and job growth stimulus. In a government as bureaucratic and corrupt as Hungary’s, this will be a Herculean task.

Content?

2010-06-07T00:29:00.000-07:00

With the European economies already in turmoil, a tactless Hungarian politician unwisely told the press that Hungary had "a slim chance to avoid the Greek situation".

Contentment = x1(GDP growth) + x2(transparent government) + x3(national obsession with ice hockey or cricket) + x4(height of population) - x5(proximity to Russia)

I guess it's time to buy a bicycle, join a sports club, and ship any senior citizen friends to another country.

Hungarian Eats III: The Hungarian Breakfast

2010-06-03T05:41:00.000-07:00

While lauded as the most important meal of the day in the US, breakfast is the bastard child meal of Hungary: illegitimate and of dubious origin. Hungarians rarely eat breakfast; and if they do, it isn’t balanced or nutritious.

However who am I to criticize Hungarian eating habits, given Hungarians are substantially thinner than their American counterparts? While any of the below popular breakfast options would send me straight into crankytime a sugar coma, Hungarians seem to be doing just fine. I guess when you have bigger things to worry about, breakfast is no biggie.

Expresso: Pretty much the standard breakfast. Hungarians do not drink giant cups of coffee brewed with lots of water the way Americans do, and you can tell a tourist a mile away if she is carrying a “takeaway” cup. Cappuccinos are another caffeinated option and served in miniature cups. Don't ask for low-fat milk.

Turo Rudi: The go-to breakfast (snack, lunch, dinner and dessert) option found in the dairy case of any supermarket or convenience store. This uniquely Hungarian candy bar is made of a sweetened compressed cottage cheese dipped in chocolate and one of the don’t knock em’ til you try ‘em eats. At any given time, 12 out of 100 Hungarians are consuming Turo Rudis. One Turo Rudi makes a snack. Two make a meal.

Pogacsa: These rich pastries are everywhere, including the vending machine at work. A savory breakfast option, Pogacsa range in size from a donut hole to bagel, meaning they range from between 500 and 5,000 calories.

Jo Reggelt: Hungary’s answer to the granola bar. While these Muesli cookies are a bit bland, they make me feel smart because I know their name means “good morning.” While I thought Muesli was the quintessential European breakfast, I haven't seen anyone eat it outside of a hotel continental breakfast. That being said, why have a hearty bowl of Muesli when you could have Nougat Bits, cottage cheese covered in chocolate or a butter scone instead?

Cereal is without a doubt my favorite “American” breakfast. Yours?

An Offer She Can Refuse

2010-06-02T04:19:00.000-07:00

My first week in Hungary, I joined practically every ex-pat group in Budapest to make friends. Because I didn't have any.

Although I rarely go to events anymore, I am on still on the mailing lists. Hence this email.

Hello Alexandra. I am [x] currently living in Budapest. I am 24 years young. I read with interest your profile, and will be happy to meet with you and get to know you. I invite for a drink this week. My greatest passions are guitar, foreign languages and practicing massage. I want to be straight with you about what I need. I am not looking for a life partner, nor am looking for a woman-friend. I am looking for a woman whom I will bring extreme satisfaction, caress, and pleasure, who will allow me to make her happy. I do feel that you are the right girl. So, waiting for your positive reply.

The next time I compare dating in Hungary to looking out over an expanse of frozen tundra, please remind me that I voluntarily declined an offer of satisfaction, caress and pleasure. Because, honestly, I don't know if I can fit even more satisfaction, caress and pleasure into my life.

Varnaland

2010-06-01T02:13:00.000-07:00

Although I can check off Bulgaria on my map, I don’t feel like I really have been there. Maybe it is because we arrived in Varna at 4 AM on Saturday morning. Maybe it is because I spent 75% of the time lying prone by the pool and the rest of the time trying to convince Susan to get ice cream with me.

Varna was beautiful, although not beautiful enough to motivate me to buy new AA batteries for my camera. I had been trying to piece together some history on the region for you but then decided just to let Wiki do its thing and do what I do best: make lists.

Over the weekend I read Netherland, a novel in which the protagonist Hans, an equity analyst, begins stock recommendations with an unrelated but smart observation or fact to gain the audience’s respect. Then he says whatever the hell is wants about the price of oil.

Likewise I am sharing a few observations and facts about Varna/Bulgaria so you can impress your friends. However, I cannot guarantee that the observations are smart. After all, I was pretty f#*ked up on gelato.

Didya Know...?

The communist government renamed the city Stalin from 1949 – 1956. Apparently it didn’t have the same come-hither-tourists ring.

After this guy, I had thought Budapest was the Ed Hardy-wearing capital of the world; I was wrong. It is Varna.

When Bulgarians waggle their heads Indian-style, it means yes and when they nod, it means no.

When I first moved to Budapset, my mom kept asking me how I liked Bulgaria.

A Bulgarian invented the first electronic computer, and the country has been called the Silicon Valley of Europe.

Bulgaria and Denmark were the only two countries to save their Jews during the Holocaust.

What are some good Boston/Worcester/New York facts? I need to impress some peeps come September...

P'Bux

2010-05-28T04:26:00.000-07:00

If Budapest is Dunkin’ Donuts, Prague is Starbucks: prettier and more polished but at the end of the day serving the exact same thing: Central European attitude with a shot of communist history.

Disneyland Staromestske Namesti , the old town square, is beautiful. And please note we did not take the above analogy literally; that ain’t no S’bux cup.

(For better or for worse, Nina and I feed each other’s mutual love for abbrevs and slang. I apologize if that has resulted in an incomprehensible post.)

The “Revolution” statue constructed from keys was built only a few months ago, begging the question: are the Czechs revolting against this?

It is not every day one sees a cowboy aspiring to become an F-1 racer.

The metronome in the distance replaced the behemoth Stalin Monument, which stood for only seven years. The sculptor Otakar Švec killed himself shortly before completion of the monument; he is one of many Czechs who chose suicide over communist oppression.

The metronome symbolizes that all time is relative. Or reminds me that despite 12 years of piano lessons, I still am mistaken for a beginner.

On a brighter note, the Czech Ice Hockey team defeated Russia on Sunday to win the world championship. Just like the C’s will defeat the Magic tonight and go on to win the NBA championship.

Much as one prefers to lounge in Starbucks rather than Dunkin’ Donuts (unless it is pumpkin donut time at DD), the Prague Castle trumps the one in Budapest.

And my lame analogy is done. I obviously have had too much of the ‘feine myself this morning.

The First Rule of Budapest Is:

2010-05-26T09:04:00.000-07:00

Unlike Tyler, I have only three rules of the 'Pest.

I intend to share these with all visitors upon arrival; unfortunately, I usually forget. Now you cannot say I didn't warn you.

1. Avoid Chinese food buffets (Kinai Bufe) at all cost. Just assume they intend to poison you and hit up the sketchy gyro stand instead.

2. Heed the little green crossing man.

3. Never hail a taxi; call the special number.

Did I forget anything? What are the rules for where you live?

A View From the Apt Which Will "Make You Drop Your Knickers"

2010-05-21T15:58:00.000-07:00

Because why not do a photo shoot alone in the bedroom?

Yoga Pose May: Hungarian Style

2010-05-20T07:42:00.000-07:00

When I lived in Boston, I would leave Equinox yoga classes feeling pretty proud of myself. Not only had I done something “good” for my body, the instructor invariably told me I had good energy, tried really hard that day, or liked my T.J. Maxx yoga top. The sauna and locker room were pretty nice too.

Yoga in Hungary is a bit different.

Gauranga leads hot Ashtanga and Agni classes in the basement of the only vegan restaurant in Budapest Atma Center. I love Gauranga. I fear Gauranga.

Although he leads classes in Hungarian, Gauranga corrects me in English. And by corrects me I mean he asks me in a deadpan voice why am I not working in his class? Meanwhile I barely can grip the mat because I am drenched in sweat.

(Sorry for the visual.)

Gauranga has no problem “adjusting” me into positions I didn’t know existed or, if I did, would not dare to try. I am embarrassed to admit that I actually have cried (yes, cry. And I don’t cry.) in class before. G’s response? “Stop crying.” (I thought the sweat dripping down my face would have masked the tears but apparently G is as wise as he is sadistic.)

I also never have felt as “straight” or tall or wonderful as I do when I leave class. The euphoria continues for about two days or until I completely forget what actually happened in the basement torture chamber. Then I go back for more.

Thankfully, tree pose or Vrksasana has never inspired tears, just glares from G.

The purpose of tree pose is to improve balance and strengthen legs.

1. Stand in mountain pose or Tadasana.
2. Bend left knee, bringing sole of left foot to right inner ankle, shin, or thigh (never to the knee).
3. Push left thigh out and press left foot into right ankle/shin/thigh. Keep hips square.
4. Focus on a stationary object (i.e. not me if I am doing yoga with you).
5. Raise hands from heart center to ceiling with palms touching. Open arms to side.
6. Repeat with right foot.

I probably should have taken this picture before class.

If you are ever in Budapest, let me know. We can go see G together, cry, and then talk about how awesome we feel. I can promise you it will be a special experience.

Welcome to Budapest

2010-05-20T00:58:00.001-07:00

Mr. & Mrs. Z,

Your daughter Nina arrived safely in Budapest last night.

We celebrated her arrival in typical Hungarian fashion with a palinka tasting. An ironic event since all palinka tastes the same - terrible. Pear palinka with honey may as well be charcoal palinka with lighter fluid.

Vanity almost precluded me from posting this picture. And I think it was only palinka #2 (of 8).

Luckily food was served with each course, causing Nina and I to admit - yes, we do like mayo despite protests to the contrary. Add it to the list.

This is a girl who just arrived to Budapest via Frankfurt via Montreal. Let's give her a hand.

Actually, let's give her a bed. 1/2 of mine to be exact.

Hungarian Eats Week II: Chicken Paprikash

2010-05-18T02:31:00.001-07:00

It is only fitting that our first recipe is Chicken Paprikash. Like many of Hungary’s signature dishes, Chicken Paprikash originated as a herdsmen’s stew, reflecting the importance of livestock and a nomadic lifestyle during the Middle Ages. Says Wikipedia.

The base of any Herdsmen’s stew, which also includes goulash, is a heap of paprika added to onions which have been fried in lard until light gold in color (I just wanted to use the word "light" to describe HU cooking). Only Chicken Paprikash is served with noodles.

This is my adaptation of the Chef Parade recipe. I have made this recipe three times, and it has been delicious each time. Making the dumplings is the most fun part. Let me know what you think!

Chicken Paprikash with Dumplings
Serves 4

Chicken Paprikash
4 pieces of chicken
2 onions
Paprika (sweet or hot)
2 tomatoes
2 red peppers
1 tsp. salt
1 cup sour cream
2 tbsp. flour

Dumplings
2 eggs
1.5 cups flour
Salt
Water

Stir fry the finely chopped onions in oil until golden. Remove from heat and stir in paprika (to taste – I used ¼ cup) and one cup water.

Add the whole chicken pieces and return pan to the stove. Add roughly chopped pepper, tomatoes and salt. Add lid, reduce heat, and simmer until chicken is tender.

In a separate dish, mix flour and sour cream. Add a spoonful of the chicken liquid to sour cream mixture (to increase temperature) and whisk until smooth. Remove pan from burner and stir in sour cream mixture. Return to stove and bring to boil. Serve over dumplings.

To make dumplings, mix eggs, flour and salt and add water to get a consistency similar to pancake batter (don’t make too watery). Use a cheese grater to strain dumpling batter into boiling, salted water (this will be messy and awkward but it works!). Cook dumplings for 2-3 minutes.

Etyek

2010-05-17T00:30:00.000-07:00

To test my newfound knowledge of European wines, we headed to the Etyek Wine Festival on Saturday. I wore my Celtics t-shirt and fleece but more appropriate attire would have been thigh-high wellies and a giant poncho.

Or spiked cleats as I nearly wiped out walking down the cellar steps.

Because of the weather.

In fact, the entire day became a bit messy - both physically and morally.

My favorite cellar obviously was the one which paired wine with chocolate.

Which was worth standing in the middle of the road to flag down a bus. Will.get.run.over.for.chocolate.

Luckily the pictures stop here, but I believe a higher power canceled Sunday's road race due to "inclement weather." Or maybe the race organizers went to Etyek too.

Tommy Point

2010-05-14T04:43:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I forgot to mention one of my hobbies when in the US is following the (no longer) young & hustling Boston Celtics. The highlight of my life as of age 16 was Sports Guy Bill Simons' posting my comment on his now defunct digital city site - I had suggested the networks add to the TV screen a barometer which measured Tommy Heinsohn’s blood alcohol level during games so viewers knew how much credence to give his comments.

If NBA.com claims that LeBron and Cavaliers didn't lose series; Celtics won it, I can only imagine last night Tommy was saying things like:

“The 2009-2010 Celtics Team would have ENSLAVED the [plural noun misinterpreted as a racist slur when in fact was the first thing Tommy saw upon looking up from his Jack and Coke] on the 1966-67 Philadelphia 76ers.”

“If Rondo were a woman, I would take him home with me tonight. In fact, maybe I will anyway.”

“Zydrunas Ilgauskas! Zydrunas Ilgafdhddjshfdjhfdsjfshkdhk! Zydrunas Ilganevergonnawinachampionship!"

Let’s just give the entire team a Tommy Point.

Overseen in Budapest

2010-05-14T00:55:00.000-07:00

Further confirmation why you shouldn't eat sushi here.

Hobby Lobby

2010-05-13T06:33:00.000-07:00

I used to have an inferiority complex about hobbies. Maybe due to permanent brainwashing from b-school applications, I was convinced hobbies had to be extreme activities about which I was PASSIONATE. Which explains this disaster.

Only recently did I realize the things I enjoy (running, yoga, scrapbooking, traveling, writing) are hobbies too, albeit hobbies more reminiscent of a suburban housewife than a SWF.

Yes, these are the things I think about at a 6:30 AM spin class based entirely on McCoy’s Another Night (which I enjoyed, perhaps making my list of hobbies also reminiscent of a teenage boy on spring break in Amsterdam).

The above musings obviously beg the question: What are the popular hobbies in Hungary?

Cleaning one’s flat. This is by far the most common answer to “what did you do this weekend?”

Being a “sportman” (or “sportwoman”). This phrase never gets old. I also love that in addition to soccer, water polo is both a popular sport and source of national pride.

Attending Metallica concerts. Metallica must tour 6-8 months of the year in Central and Eastern Europe. I would too if I had such a devout fan following. Literally the entire office is leaving at 3 PM today in preparation for tonight's concert.

Learning a 4th or 5th language. Further feeding my hobby inferiority complex.

So, what are your hobbies? As of April 25th, my sister Kara’s was not wearing underwear.

Hungarian Eats: Week I

2010-05-11T05:05:00.000-07:00

I begged; a few of you clicked.

You asked; I answered.

To kick off the weekly Hungarian Eats post, I proudly introduce the Top Hungarian “Don’t-Knock-‘Em-Til-You-Try-‘Em” Eats.

Ham-flavored spreadable cheese. That’s right; I went from Hungry Girl-approved Laughing Cow light cheese wedges to this. Don’t judge. At least I don’t pull out this when purchasing.

Goose cracklings. Fried goose skin is the Hungarian equivalent of Pringles: Once you pop you just can't stop...until you develop severe gastrointestinal problems.

Beet ice cream. Little did I know that my quest for the best beet salad in Boston was child’s play compared to the beet options in Hungary.

Gypsy roast. I was happy to discover that this specialty is indeed a slab of roasted beef and not another way to persecute the gypsies.

Bread topped with lard and onions (different from Langos). In its continual quest to sweep the best drunk food awards, Hungary offers this salty snack at both upscale winebars and dives. Just accept that lard likely isn't much worse for you than the latest ingredient food purists are rallying against, and don't breathe on anyone for five days.

Crazy Idea

2010-05-10T04:54:00.000-07:00

I am going to be in Cambridge for at least the next two years, have a lousy housing lottery pick, mortgage rates are low...is it totally crazy to look for an apartment to buy in Harvard Square?

Maybe. But I did move here and that was pretty random.

If anyone has advice about or names of agents for this process, can you please let me know? As a first step, I am talking with Boston Real Estate and Boston City Properties today/tomorrow (just found them online).

In honor of making big-girl decisions, let's join McSweeney's in paying homage to my favorite group of girls, all grown up.

Happy Mama's Day!

2010-05-10T00:51:00.001-07:00

For Mama's Day Weekend, I got Mama Boch all to myself in Paris.

(Although I did half expect to find Gracie & Olivia in her suitcase chowing down on the Peanut Butter Puffins I had asked for. In fact, Peanut Butter Puffin would be a perfect nickname for Gracie.)

I wish I looked this good post-transatlantic flight.

On Friday night, we went to a wine tasting at O Chateau, the former personal wine cellar of Louie XV.

Our sommelier Anselme declined to answer when asked his thoughts on Two Buck Chuck. He however did compare over-oaked Californa wine to doing sexual things to Pinocchio.

My favorite wine was the sensual Cotes du Rhone Village, spicy with a hint of eucalyptus. I even could detect the earthy minerality indigenous to the region.

Yeah right! By wine #4, our notes mainly consisted of making fun of the other (much more knowledgeable) people at the event.

You would look this happy too.

For some reason, the Lourve was really funny that night.

Mom was eying the chandelier in Napolean’s apartments for our dining room at home.

Mama Boch and I have the same vacation style: lazy with a hint of (unpictured) gelato.

Best Mama's Day ever!

Boldog Szuletesnapot!

2010-05-05T08:19:00.000-07:00

Hungarians celebrate both birthdays and namedays, special days designated for a person’s name based on religious or famous figures and historical events. Some names have seven namedays a year (you pick one to celebrate); some names have none (you pick a random day).

Birthdays are a more intimate affair celebrated by close friends and family; namedays are casual. Because women typically are given flowers on their nameday, flower prices can rise around the dates of popular names.

My namedays are March 18 and May 18. So no worries if you missed my birthday – you will have another chance in two weeks.

Can you imagine having to remember the namedays of all of your family and friends? If you live in Hungary, chances are you know at least 11 Janoses, a name with 13 potential namedays. I would astound you with the resulting number of permutations, but I forgot all math above a sixth-grade level after sixth grade the GMAT.

When I asked my coworker Geza how Hungarians celebrate namedays, he replied, “Drink.”

When I asked my coworker Geza how Hungarians celebrate birthdays, he replied, “Drink.”

So I did.

Roadtrip

2010-05-03T01:21:00.001-07:00

Sus and I roadtripped to Slovenia this weekend.

Super-cursory Slovenia primer: Slovenia is the wealthiest ex-Yugoslav state, formerly comprising 8% of the population and 20% of GDP. Given its relative prosperity, the rest of Yugoslavia was not surprised when Slovenia declared independence in 1991. Although it bombed the country for ten days, Yugoslavia ultimately let Slovenia succeed because the majority of the population was Slovene (and not Serbian). Besides, the army had more important things to do - like bombing orphanages in Sarajevo.

Slovenia joined the EU in 2004 with the highest GDP per capita of any new member state. The country’s culture varies by region; the north reminds me of Austria, the east has a Mediterranean feel; the south shows Turkish influence.

Our first stop was Lake Bled, although GPS tried really hard to get us to drive to Croatia instead.

It is tradition for the groom to carry his bride up the steps of this church; the bride must remain silent during the ascent.

Sounds like the beginning of a healthy relationship.

When I first googled "Lake Bled", I learned the area was famous for its Kremna rezina.

I then told Susan a weekend in Slovenia sounded like a great idea.

We spent Sunday in the capital, Ljubljana (Looby-ahna).

Crouching apparently alleviates my fear of heights. And feeds my fondness for alliteration.

I kept imagining the mushroom soup in a bread bowl was a giant cupcake.

And no, there was no drug use over the weekend. Why do you ask?

According to Greek legend, upon triumphant return home with the Golden Fleece, Jason slayed the dragon by the banks of the Ljubljanica River.

In unrelated news, no matter what travel books claim, Slovenia tops every other country in gelaterias per capita. I tried every flavor except for "Obama."

If Slovenia were a gelato favor, it would be cream - fresh, rich, appealing but not particularly exciting.

TMI?

2010-04-29T01:57:00.000-07:00

My friends make fun of me for constantly asking questions. But really - I am interested; when I don’t ask questions is when I don’t care. Perhaps I should take this seriously and ditch b-school for a journalism degree, but in the meantime I will settle for continuing to bug friends, family and other unlucky peeps.

My favorite question is asking someone to describe his/her typical day. I like picturing that person living her “real” daily life, especially if I don’t know too much about it. It also helps my self-esteem to hear that other people too some nights get home from work, preemptively download turn on Millionaire Matchmaker, and don’t move from the couch.

Given this, I am just gonna assume you are interested in my daily life too. And since I spend the majority of my waking time at work…

Why, hello little car that gets me to work each day ~12 km outside of the city in Budaörs.

Morning commute: 20 minutes. Evening commute: 20 minutes – 2 hours. Road rage: you betcha.

I am not kidding when I tell you I work in an industrial park behind Tesco and Kika.

At least we have the Buda hills in the distance.

My windowless office explains my constant ignorance about the weather.

Alex: Let’s get drinks outside after work!
Susan: It’s downpouring.

Lack of windows coupled with being located on the first floor is why you shouldn’t take my threats to jump out of the window too seriously.

I also want to point out this is my 100th blog post. I don't know whether to be proud or ashamed. I will choose the former and the latter only when the number of posts begins to exceed the number of profile views (pro forma of course for my own clicks).

P.S. Dad, "TMI" stands for too much information. So when Mom and Kara start discussing Bethenny's "surprise" pregnancy on The Real Housewives of NYC, just say "TMI." Then call me so I can join the conversation.

Budapest Boy

2010-04-23T12:02:00.000-07:00

Zurich may be unaware, but UBS set up a Budapest satellite office at Vigyazo Ferenc utca 3.

Pros vs. the Weehawken office:

You can foam roll while on conference calls.

Other professionals won't think you have scabies if you eat lunch alone.

You cannot walk down the street without an Eastern European woman striking a pose.

Easy access to bone marrow (and not the New Jersey mafia hit-related kind).

Cons vs. the Weehawken office:

BOYI(nternet) cord.

Trash Day can complicate the commute.

This could happen at any minute.

Dear Icelandic Volcano

2010-04-19T06:24:00.000-07:00

I am trying to look on the bright side of things given you have detonated my plans to come home to Boston this week.

1. I have a new roommate.
2. My name isn’t Eyjafjallajokull.
3. I don’t live in Iceland.
4. Speaking of cold countries, I am happy I don’t live in Finland either.
5. I have the opportunity to prove Boyle's second law: work expands to fill the amount of (newfound) time one has to complete it.

Sincerely,
Alex

Megh's First Week (of X)

2010-04-18T12:28:00.000-07:00

Dinner at Olimpia was delicious but bizarre.

Alex: “Can you please tell me what is on the menu?”
Waiter: “No.”
Susan: “Are you serving goose?”
Waiter: “No.”
(The first course was foie gras.)

Boston hosts its annual marathon this weekend; Budapest hosts its annual throw-out-your-trash-on-the-street-day. Unfortunately, the gypsies got to the good stuff before we did.

Unable to fight the forces of the Icelandic eruption, DJ 279 was stuck in London and the Urban Tribe dance party canceled.

Luckily, Szimpla Kert is as dependable as Shy Ronnie is shy.

Megh & Sus.

After this, I walked down Frat Row to pound a cutter at Bonesgate.

Megh upon realizing he may never be leaving Budapest.

No matter the view from the Erzsébet Bridge, Budapest is no New Hampshire.

The Truth (and not Paul Pierce)

2010-04-18T12:24:00.000-07:00

Susan is CORRECT (she texted in her response)! Despite his Spartan, Franz Joseph-like sleeping habits, Megh does enjoy the decadence of Nougat Bits.

2 Truths & A Lie

2010-04-15T06:59:00.001-07:00

We need to make this blog interactive or else it is won’t last much longer. Let’s play a game.

Who can spot the lie?

1. Megh does not share my well documented love for Nougat Bits. This has caused me to question his taste buds, judgment, and humanity in general.

2. There is a stack of jars next to the bathroom sink at work. Under closer inspection, I discovered they are filled with urine.

3. The plethora of one-way streets makes Budapest difficult to navigate. Last night I realized the one-way street next to my apartment had changed directions since the morning. I realized this while driving down it.

Ode To Meghers

2010-04-14T12:06:00.000-07:00

In addition to all of the goodness that comes with Megh visiting this week...

I came home to a perfectly made couch-bed.

Any why yes, Megh did lovingly fold my baby blanket. Which I need for warmth. And love.

Sex In Abu Dhabi

2010-04-12T01:00:00.001-07:00

Maybe they too meant to go to Dubai but actually booked tickets for Abu Dhabi.

5 Biggest Travel Mistakes (So Far)

2010-04-09T01:24:00.000-07:00

You would think I would be good at traveling given I do it a lot. Au contraire.

5. Codi and I running on the Las Vegas Strip while on vacation.

Fat guys drinking mile-high margaritas at 10 AM and heckling us: "Why are you running?!"
Codi: "Because we don't want to look like you!"

(Ironic, eh?)

4. Camping. Every time.

3. Booking a ticket to Abu Dhabi instead of Dubai.

2. Arriving at the gate one hour early and proceeding to miss my plane while discussing a coworker's love for corn nuts.

(Reenactment one year earlier at Bowery Bar; a pose otherwise known as the Jason-Kane-Crossing-The-Delaware stance.)

1. Alyssa and I packing our paper tickets in our (checked) luggage while flying home from Barcelona. We had to buy new tickets from Heathrow to Boston for the exact same seats.

QED - I am lucky I get to work each morning.

And...I'm Done Rambling About Sarajevo

2010-04-08T05:31:00.001-07:00

Contrary to what the below post may have indicated, I assuaged my guilt for knowing so little about the city by eating and drinking my face off.

But first I checked my gat at the mosque.

Sarajevo rightfully deserves its nickname "Little Istanbul." Although Affans and Omar were not there to show us around the city, Amitabh and I met two Bosnian-Canadians who showed us their favorite cafes/restaurants/sisha joints.

I'm moving here: doner kabobs, baklava, pite, sahlep
What the hell did I do to myself?: cevapi

The correct way to drink Turkish coffee is to slurp; the mixture of air and coffee should form an "aromatic cushion" within your mouth, adding more texture and smell to the drinking process.

Or you could use the coffee as a dipping vehicle for Turkish delite.

Although UN forces tried to supply the city with food during the war, there were severe shortages. Out of desperation, the inhabitants of Sarajevo dug a 1 km tunnel from a garage in the city to a house outside of JNA control, where they could receive supplies from other cities in Bosnia.

This 1 meter x 1 meter tunnel not only transported food and supplies to civilians but also all of the weapons used by the Bosnian "army" during the war.

Seriously?

Seriously.

A lot of stuff went underground during the war; Sarajevo even held the annual Miss Sarajevo contest in a hotel basement.

Not so much Miss Sarajevo as Miss I'm-Gonna-Imbibe-That-Homemade-Wine.

Mama Boch Is Famous!

2010-04-08T00:41:00.001-07:00

Let's just say yesterday's conference call marathon resulted in some googling of family members/friends/people whom I stalk.

Sarajevo 101

2010-04-06T01:29:00.001-07:00

Prior to this weekend, the only things I knew about Sarajevo were from reading Zlata’s Diary courtesy of the Kerr Elementary School book fair and watching archival footage of the 1984 Olympics on NBC.

I cannot imagine anyone knowing less about the history of Sarajevo than I did as of last Friday, but just in case, here is a quick primer.

Sarajevo is the capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina (one country, two “states”). Before gaining independence, BiH was one of the six federations, along with Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Montenegro, and Macedonia, comprising the former Yugoslavia. The most ethnically diverse state, Sarajevo was home to Bosniaks (Muslim), Serbs (Orthodox), and Croats (Catholic).

Following the fall of communism, Slobodan Milošević consolidated power within Serbia and its capital, Belgrade. This contributed to Slovenia, the wealthiest state, declaring independence in 1991. Croatia did the same later that year.

Although Milošević and the Yugoslav People’s Army (JNA) waged war on Croatia, BiH thought it would be safe given its large Serbian population and proclaimed independence on March 3, 1992.

BiH fatally underestimated Milošević’s desire to keep Yugoslavia united and, by April, the JNA had completely surrounded and blockaded Sarajevo, located in a valley. Thus began the longest siege of a capital city in the history of modern warfare.

The Sarajevo makeshift “army” had no weapons and was no match for the JNA. However, as our tour guide Ellie explained, Sarajevoans believed they would be killed if they surrendered so continued to defend the city out of desperation. Throughout the three year siege, more than two million artillery shells hit the city, and 11,500 civilians died. UNICEF estimates that 40% of the 80,000 children in the city were directly shot at by snipers and 39% saw at least one family member killed.

The Holiday Inn, built for the Olympics and located along Sniper Alley, was the one relatively secure hotel during the war.

Not wanting to get involved in what they incorrectly believed was a civil war, the United Nations finally issued an ultimatum for Serb force to withdraw from Sarajevo in late 1995. Shortly thereafter, Bill Clinton helped negotiate the Dayton Agreement, effectively ending the warfare. It is estimated 200,000 people (out of an initial population of 4 million) died in BiH as a direct result of the war.

TBC (I promise I did more than wander around Sarajevo paraphrasing Wikipedia).

Overseen in Budapest

2010-03-30T07:42:00.000-07:00

I mentioned prostitution was a problem here.

Vienna II

2010-03-29T05:32:00.000-07:00

Lex and I met up for the weekend in Vienna (Wien). Although we stuck to our plan of eating and drinking our way through the city per usual, we managed to include a bit of culture in between mouthfuls of apple strudel.

During my first trip here with Papa Boch and Aunt Anne-Marie, I learned that if a souvenir wasn’t edible, it was based on a Klimt painting. This time I wanted to see some non-postcard sized Klimts.

With Lex and google as my personal art historians, I learned that Gustav Klimt was one of the leaders of the Vienna Secession, a group of artists that broke off from the Association of Austrian Artists in 1897. There is no unifying artistic style behind the movement; rather the artists were rebelling against the traditional, academic nature of Austrian art.

After wandering around Naschmarkt, we stepped into the Secession Hall, a gold-domed building constructed as an exhibition hall for the artists associated with the movement. Picking up a flyer at the front desk, we learned this month’s exhibit was a swinger’s club Element6, part of a project by Swiss artist Christoph Buechel. Doors open every night at 9 PM and erotic attire is encouraged.

Because we were petrified we didn’t have the right clothes, we declined the invitation. Instead we went to the Leopold Museum, bought some postcards, and ate gelato.

(Vienna has the highest concentration of gelaterias outside of Italy. Lex will fill you in on Art Nouveau; I will update you on the important stuff.)

My favorite artist from the Vienna Secession was Egon Schiele. His paintings are sinewy and disturbing and mesmerizing. He died at age 28 from the Spanish flu epidemic.

One movement; two styles (three allegations of immoral behavior involving minors).

The Embrace (Schiele)

The Kiss (Klimt)

The most delicious Viennese dish we tried was Krautfleckerl, buttery cabbage pasta (one of the few versions of the recipe which does not explicitly state lard as a key ingredient).

Happy birthday, Little Lex. Haven’t you always wanted to celebrate your 27th with me, Gustav, and Egon?

Ewww

2010-03-25T03:34:00.001-07:00

Horrified by my google image search for "sketchy Turkish bathroom," I was going to spare you a visual of the restaurant bathroom in Istanbul. However, Kelly found a sanitized pic.

Imagine this with no TP, no cleaning supplies, and the floors and walls dripping in...liquid. It was my squat workout of the week.

(The whole experience reminded me of the Curb episode where Larry accidentally pees on the picture of Jesus, an act misinterpreted as a miracle.)

OK, enough bathroom talk for the day.

Domesticity in Hungary

2010-03-22T05:13:00.000-07:00

I just called my family in Boston, and my mom told me they had been talking about how “restless” I am. Well, I pretty much agree with that. However, I have had a decidedly un-restless weekend here in Budapest. With which I will now bore you.

After stalking Gauranga on his blog, I learned my beloved yoga basement studio had moved from across the street to across the city. Because I can no longer make the classes during the week, I took my first class in almost a month on Saturday morning. It was amazing. Bikram and I have rekindled our special relationship, if only for casual weekend flings.

It FINALLY feels like spring in Budapest, so I did my favorite thing – wander around the city. I bought stuff I didn't need at the Great Market Hall, found a birthday present for El Nino, and confirmed gyros in Budapest are better than ones in Istanbul. Life is good.

With a newfound confidence in Hungarian cooking , Susan, Kelly, and I cooked a Hungarian dinner. Despite the inevitable ingredient-purchasing mishaps, the Pancakes Hortobágy and meggyes pite were delish. That being said, cold eggs would have tasted good if accompanied by three bottles of wine.

When Susan tells you she is a bad cook, do not believe her.

Why wouldn't we take the exact same picture three times.

This reminded me of my favorite dinner growing up - mom's pancakes for dinner. Any other recipe from the back of a Bisquick box was a close second.

We made the second, less authentic pastry with Susan's Del Monte 100-calorie mixed fruit cups.

I celebrated the continued awesome weather on Sunday with a looooooong run around Margaret Island. I sported my new spandex running pants and felt like a legitimate runner. Especially compared to the pack of middle-aged women jogging in blue jean vests.

Speaking of running, I have been ravenous since the half-marathon. I usually cook meals for the week on Sunday, so decided to recreate the most “filling” meal I could think of – Collis’s African Peanut Soup. You NEED to try this.

And now I am about to meet Andrea, who is visiting for a few days. Excluding my slight wine hangover, if this was not a wholesome, domestic weekend – I don’t know what is. Really the only thing left to do is buy myself a sweet blue jean vest.

Istanbul

2010-03-18T01:26:00.001-07:00

Kelly and I celebrated the anniversary of one of Hungary's many unsuccessful attempts at revolution with a weekend trip to Istanbul.

Being the crazy that I am, I asked Cem for a detailed itinerary. Which I highlighted.

We stayed in Sultanahmet, the old town and touristy part of the city. Calling Istanbul colorful would be an understatement.

Spurred by my newfound love of the hookah following my trip to Dubai, we took the metro to Tophane, a neighborhood home to about 30 identical sisha places.

Everyone was incredibly friendly and generous, if sometimes a little pushy. When we asked the waiter how to get to Taxism, he called over his friend whom walked us part of the way there.

In Taxism, we tried guvec and drank raki, basically Turkish ouzo. We also met Affans & Omar, our new friends and tour guides for the rest of the trip. They taught us a few Turkish words; Kelly did well, but Affans told me I had a "lazy mind." I maintain that I just have problems rolling my r's.

Our new friends drew us a map for Sunday's excursions.

We began the day walking through Gulhane Park ("flower farm") to have breakfast overlooking the Bosphorus.

After touring Hagia Sophia, we took off our shoes, converted our pashminas into head scarves, and checked out the Blue Mosque. It was gorgeous.

I have no idea why I refused to show my teeth in all pictures this weekend.

The bazaars were much more colorful and bustling than the ones in Dubai. Turkish D was a disappointment, but the "hygiene" fish sandwiches and baklava were delish. On an unhygienic note, I WISH I had taken the picture of the bathroom in the cafeteria where we ate. Consider yourself lucky.

Affans read the remains of the Turkish coffee. Kelly hoped this was just a superstition because his reading went something like "Alex is jealous of Kelly and will try to harm her in her sleep." Lazy yet dangerous.

Budapest and Istanbul are both known for their bathhouses. In Budapest, you lounge around in the pungent thermal baths, trying to ignore the couple getting it in on next to you. In Istanbul, you are assigned a large Turkish woman who looks you in the eye and informs you that you are now her baby. She then proceeds to wash, scrub, and massage you while you lie on a marble platform in the middle of a steamy room.

I arrived back in Budapest...very clean.

TGIF

2010-03-12T12:48:00.000-08:00

It's been a rough week at work, so between that and my obsessive (and so far unsuccessful) search to find the season premiere of The Real Housewives of NYC online, I don't have much going on. Which means I will continue to milk last weekend.

I wish I were enough of a badass to run wearing that.

That would be Cem's bum.

Who needs Chanel when you have snap bracelets?

Ralphie and I were the only ones who thought the free Ovaltine bars were delicious.

We decided everyone looks better in black and white.

Or wearing a mining light.

Contrary to the above photo, Cem did leave his post to run the race.

My little Lexipoo.

I am off to Istanbul tomorrow so will have new stories soon. Hopefully ones involving bathhouses and large Turkish women with loofahs.

Paris Semi

2010-03-09T14:12:00.001-08:00

I could get used to living in Paris. I mean I don’t speak French or have any real ties to the city except for an intense love of crepes and nutella, but that seems like enough.

We all trickled into the city on Friday night and spent the evening negotiating sleeping arrangements and accidentally ordering warm milk in cafes.

I realized it was going to be COLD for the race when Lex and I biked to Parc Floral on Saturday morning to drop off our medical forms, and I lost all feeling in my hands. We spent the rest of the day strolling around the city, saying deep things like:

"The subway ride took 40 minutes. We have to run that tomorrow?"

"I love how all of the buildings are so structured in an unstructured way."

I also spent a significant amount of time trying to convince the others that macaroons we bought at a specialty pastry shop were just as good as the macaroons sold at the McDonalds at Versailles.

Besides seeing Lex & co., the best part of the weekend was the actual race. Lex, Oppy, and I ran together, starting and ending in the Parc and looping around the city center. I don't know if it was the course or running with friends or if my brain went numb because of the cold, but the time flew by.

The end of the race was a mob scene; we elbowed our way non-climactically to the finish line, and I think Lex beat up an old woman for a banana. I didn't see it go down though because I was busy tripping Oppy so I could steal his Powerade.

I’m definitely ready for a full marathon. Boston 2011, here I come.

We headed back to the apartments only to realize that - being so laser-focused on the race - the runners locked themselves out of their apartment. No worries! Surely the landlord has an extra key.

He doesn't? No worries! I am sure we can call a locksmith.

Four hours later, we finally got into the apartment - just in time for me to grab my stuff and head out to the airport.

The race pics from the website are fairly frightening, so I'll only post two. Oppy, I'm including yours because you look badass. Lex - how did you manage to have no pictures (I think Cem had 12)? Did you delete them??

Partners In Health

2010-03-05T05:25:00.000-08:00

I am leaving cold, windy Budapest for hopefully not so chilly France this evening. Thank you to everyone who donated to Partners In Health on behalf of the Haiti relief effort. I will fill my momyou all in on everything when I get back.

In related news, today Sus sent me this picture from last month's Lunar Party. Henry (right) is the medical director of PIH. And please be assured that your money is funding aid to Haiti and not supplying the country with sequined devil horns.

Let's Make A Deal

2010-03-03T05:08:00.000-08:00

I am on a continual quest to find new music. My favorite is alternative/indie-rock, although I am a sucker for popified-punk (my all time favorite concert was Papa Roach junior year of high school when Coby Dick sweat on me. Judge away).

I keep a running list of songs I hear and like on my blackberry - one of my six allowed lists - and rip out magazine pages mentioning good bands.

(I also rip out random magazine pages and throw them on the floor when I am in reading in bed at night to remind myself to do something the next day. This makes absolutely no sense and is why the next morning a New Yorker article titled "Detroit in Ruins" can be interpreted either as a reminder to download an Eminem song or run the dishwasher.)

Then every few weeks I plant myself in my 1.5 chair and pull up each song on iTunes to determine if it is worth $1.29 based on the 20-second sound byte. To get all econ-y on you, my utility derived from getting good music far exceeds any amount of time or money I spend obtaining it.

Following a particularly disappointing list-to-purchase conversion ratio, I was ecstatic when I received a package from Nina this week containing a few new (to me) CDs. Which got me thinking.

I like music and have the privledge/curse of easy access to Euro pop, techno, punk, and even Hungarian rap. You like music and have access to music that likely never will make it to Hungary.

If you send me new music (even the names of songs so I can download them), I will reciprocate. If Deane liked tolerated Lady Gaga's Telephone, I know you will enjoy my Eurotrash-tastic spin mix (slated for official release in Fall 2010).

What have you got to lose? Besides time, effort, and good taste?

Prolific Blogger

2010-03-02T13:27:00.000-08:00

As you can tell, I am updating the blog more frequently with shorter posts. This is good because it forces me to write and, in extreme cases, reflect on what I am doing. This is bad because you will be forced to read about my boring daily life (assuming others actually read this).

Over the past month, I have done my half-marathon long runs on the gym treadmill. They have been miserable. In addition to people peering over my shoulder and commenting when I change the pace, the electrcity shuts off at random times.

Optimistic Alex would consider this interval training. Unfortunately, only cranky Alex frequents the gym.

My last long run was so mind-numbing that it took me almost an entire week before I could convince myself to return to the gym, undoubtedly negating all benefits of the training run.

This is why I decided to run outside this weekend. However, given the more-February-than-March temperatures and howling wind, I needed a kick in the butt to get out the door. This is where it gets embarrassing.

I have been relying on running blogs to stay motivated for the Paris semi. Sunday morning I literally sat in my chair and a half and read Runner's Kitchen until I got pumped, put on twelve layers, and headed over to Margaret Island.

It worked. I felt as if I were part of a group of fellow running crazies, dodging the debris kicking around in the wind. And if I clenched and unclenched my fists every 500 meters or so, my fingers didn’t get too numb. It by far was my best and longest run since the summer and reminded me that I run because I actually like it.

Boo-friggin-yah. I gotta do something to keep the endorphins flowing prior to springtime.

Yum-O

2010-03-02T06:32:00.000-08:00

Friends, get excited because I now know how to make Chicken Paprikash, Nokedli, Goulash, and Somloi - a popular Hungarian dessert made by layering chocolate and vanilla sponge cake with vanilla custard, raisins, walnuts, chocolate sauce, rum and whipped cream.

Of course, I only snapped a picture of the dessert.

This weekend I got a bunch of people together for a Hungarian cooking class, and it was delicious. The most fun part - besides eating the results - was making the nokedli using a cheese grater. I do not know if I was licking my lips or rationalizing buying a grater to try this at home.

Since New Year's, I have kept my resolution of learning how to cook by experimenting. It took me 4+ years post-college graduation to transition from eating dinner at work or considering half a box of cereal dinner (please disregard last night) to cooking for myself, but better late than never. Sometimes the results are good; sometimes I have a week's worth of gross lunches following a botched meal. But at least I no longer have steady-state mercury poisoning as the result of an all-sushi diet.

I remain cautiously optimistic.

Witness This

2010-03-01T14:50:00.000-08:00

I skyped this weekend with KVS, one of my best friends from college and a freelance writer in New Orleans. (One of my favorite memories of New York is when KVS was in charge of making and taking pictures of the recipes featured in New York Magazine each week. Her pictures then were turned into sketches, so every so often I would open a NYM and see a drawing of my hands. Or Megh’s.)

The longer I am here, the more accustomed I am to having stupid conversations (“Hi, I’m Alex. I am American. I like the beach.”), so it was nice to talk with someone who knows me so well. KVS also can relate to some of my feelings about living in Budapest as she moved to New Orleans last year knowing only a couple of people.

Like anything, transplanting to Budapest and New Orleans has its ups and downs, but KVS described it perfectly; sometimes you just want someone to “witness” you. Like if I weren’t to run around Margaret Island in the morning or walk around Tesco during lunch because my office makes me claustrophobic, would anyone notice? This has to be part of the reason why everyone and their mother has a blog or twitter account.

(For the record, the aforementioned “anyone” excludes my mom. One Friday night when I worked at DB, I didn’t respond to my mom’s email because I went to bed at 7 PM after pulling an all-nighter. The next morning I awoke to ten messages from coworkers whom my mom had called trying to track me down.)

At the same time, not having many people “witness” you is kinda fun and part of the appeal about moving to a new city in the first place. So it goes both ways.

And I am sorry to say that you now are witness to my sulking following the mysterious Govinda closure and ramblings resulting from not having moved from the couch except to get up and pour another bowl of cereal. Nougat Pillows, I am cheating on you.

Yup, I'm Being Dramatic

2010-03-01T13:48:00.000-08:00

If you are reading this - especially given my lack of consistent posts - chances are that you know me pretty well and that I am q to v obsessed with routine.

Well, one of my favorite routines is now in limbo as I rushed home from work tonight to make the 7 PM Govinda hot yoga class...and the yoga studio was gone. What used to be a Hare Krishna gift shop / steamy makeshift yoga studio morphed overnight into two empty rooms with nothing but a cleaning lady mopping the floors. The only word I understood was “Nem.” No.

I really hope Govinda is doing an annual cleaning, but I doubt it given its usual attitude toward cleanliness.

Feeling irrationally defeated, I returned to my apartment to try to google my way to an answer. No dice but I did find the blog of my favorite/most hated yoga teacher, Gauranga. This man is amazing, but he has almost made me cry twice, and I haven’t done that over sports…in a long time.

Please, Govinda, come back to me. You are my happy place.

Happy Valentine's Day

2010-02-15T03:03:00.000-08:00

Why yes, I AM Jess & Henry's vacation photographer.

Theorem: The Cafe Kor waitress is out of control with a camera.
Step 1: I subtly place camera on table.
Step 2: Waitress eyes camera.
Step 3: Photo shoot commences.
Step 4: Alex has 12 pictures at dinner from which to choose.
QED

Theorem: People will take a red and silver theme party at the New York Palace very seriously.

Proof: Please see above picture.

Like I said, I was just the photographer - I didn't ask questions.

Kara, thank you for your email. In a super weird way, you kinda made my Valentine's Day.

Alex Vagyok

2010-02-11T00:01:00.000-08:00

There are 300 people working at my company’s Hungarian office. About 40% are women. As far as I know, there are two single-stall female bathrooms in the building. I drink at least one coke zero each day, and my New Year’s resolution was to drink more water. Ergo, I spend way too much time waiting in line outside of the bathroom.

Usually I just smile at the 20+ colleagues whom inevitably walk by while I am chilling outside of the bathroom. However, today one of my coworkers Zsolt whom I had never talked to before stopped and told me he had found my plug.

That is strange. I like to keep my plug private.

OH! My blog!

Hi, coworkers whom I didn’t know were reading this!

Alex vagyok. Sajnálom, hogy nem beszélek magyarul. A magyar nyelvtanulásom nem ment jól. Kérem legyen szíves beszéljen hozzám angolul.

Blasé Ex-Pat or American Tourist?

2010-02-10T02:03:00.000-08:00

I waver back and forth between being in and out of my element in Budapest. I may never be completely comfortable shouting the familiar Hungarian salutation in public, but I can order off of a menu like nobody’s business.

The past weekend summed up the juxtaposition.

Blasé Ex-Pat: I met up with a few friends for drinks on Friday night and ran into multiple people I knew at the bar. Most notable was Paul, the first friend I made in Budapest after he responded to my desperate “Are you there, Friend? It’s Me, Alex” couch-surfing plea my first weekend in the city. I wondered why we drifted apart until he texted me the following night asking if I wanted to troll for girls with him and his friend.

American Tourist: One of my three tenets of living in/visiting the ‘Pest is one must call a taxi to avoid being ripped off by gypsy cabs. On Saturday night, I followed my advice, called CityTaxi, and proceeded to climb into a CityLine cab. Those tricksters. It wasn’t until I paid six times the standard fare that I realized gypsy cabs now are going so far as to mimic the names and logos of legitimate cab companies in the city.

Blasé Ex-Pat: My destination was the spa party at Rudas Baths advertised as “an outstanding cultural event that attracts the youth…at the beginning, the young people just wander around, but as soon as it gets hot, the corners become shady and everyone starts enjoying the party as much as they can.” While I unfortunately missed the “whale stripping,” I did enjoy the trapeze artists, belly dancers, flame throwers, and my backstroke/shoulder roll dance moves. Other highlights of the evening included my refusal to leave the bath until it was completely drained and new habit of writing in the passive voice.

American Tourist: I have a track record of being pulled over by the police while driving, and my Pavlovian reflex kicked in on Sunday afternoon when I saw a cop car heading for the shoulder. The subsequent conversation between the non-English speaking police officer and me was very confusing because for whatever reason he couldn’t understand why I had voluntarily offered myself up for a ticket (aka bribe). That combined with eating buffalo wings and potato skins at a Superbowl Party at T.G.I. Friday’s made for quite the American Sunday.

So, Skiing...

2010-02-08T03:41:00.000-08:00

My first ski trip had its ups & downs.

Highlights were Saturday AM ski lessons with a cute instructor and a fellow student my age (since there was a good chance I would have been paired with a 3-year old based ability), hot chocolate and gluhwein, and Fuzzy Duck (more on that later).

Lowlights were having my skiis stolen after the aforementioned Saturday lesson (I now own a set of 1 year old skiis currently being used/sold by someone in the greater Slovakia area), and a mini freak-out when attempting to ski down a mountain on Sunday. And by mountain, I mean a gently sloping hill. Or a plateau with a slight incline.

I pretty much looked like Tiny Tim all weekend.

Susan on the other hand looked great despite protesting she was not a good skier.

Never having been skiing before, I didn't realize skiing in Europe merely is a means to travel from one bar/pub to another on the slopes.

The Igloo held a dance party on Saturday night where two of the three top contestants had to be 55+. The victor Olga may or may not have used her winnings for a hip replacement.

Tim & Co. introduced Susan and me to Fuzzy Duck, a drinking game which gets expotentially more complicated when played inebriated.

Susan drew a "Crazy Duck" and was tasked with lying facedown on bar while calling whale noises to Dave, who was somersaulting down the hall.

Reason #157 Why I Love Sus - She did it.

I am sure this describes your last skiing experience also.

Well, They Have French In Common

2010-02-02T05:38:00.000-08:00

Hi friends,

A few Dartmouth friends and I are running the Paris Half-Marathon on March 7th to raise money for Haiti via the organization Partners in Health (PIH).

As reports have shown, recovery groups are not having trouble mobilizing aid post-earthquake; they are struggling to handle the influx of capital. PIH is a fab organization to support because they have the experience and local community infrastructure and staff to effectively deploy aid.

I know many people want to donate to the Haiti relief effort, so hopefully you will consider this a good, personal means to do so.

Donate Here

I will keep you updated on the fundraising as well as my training/race results. In a freak running accident, I pulled my chest muscle two weeks ago but as of yesterday I am back in business. Me, the communist gym, and the slightly creepy, weight-lifting guys who hover behind me and comment whenever I change the pace on the treadmill.

Thanks, friends!

Dubai (Not Abu Dhabi)

2010-01-25T03:23:00.000-08:00

I have a tendency to visit places I don’t know much about, and Dubai was no exception. (Ignorance evidenced by my accidently booking a ticket to Abu Dhabi, another city in the United Arab Emirates that happens to share many of the same letters).

What I learned:

The UAE is (somewhat arbitrarily) comprised of seven city-states or emirates, each governed as an absolute monarchy by a ruler or shiek. The local government is determined by the respective shiek, which is why alcohol is allowed in Dubai while prohibited in several of the other emirates. Dubai has the largest population and the second-largest geography, behind the capital Abu Dhabi.

Arabic is the official language of Dubai while English is the lingua franca. However, Hindi, Urdu and other Asian languages are often spoken due to the largest immigrant population, with the largest groups from India and Pakistan. Likewise, there is a large non-Muslim population, although Islam is the state religion, explaining the rise of the burkini.

Life is good for the native Emirati, who make up less than 20% of the population in Dubai; the shiek provides them with a free apartment, healthcare, and education. Life is not so hot for the immigrants, who receive no such assistance and provide cheap labor for the multitude of construction projects in the city. It is unclear just how exploited the laborers are. On one hand, the “underclass” works in difficult conditions for little pay, and the media has reported indentured servant horror stories. On the other hand, Dubai provides jobs for immigrants that otherwise may be unemployed in their native countries, and entire villages in Indian and Pakistan are financed through remittances.

In both the private and public sphere, Dubai is filled with airbrushed images of the smiling shiek, Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum. (You just get an un-airbrushed image of a smiling me.) The blatant propaganda/reverence combined with the endless skyline gives Dubai a futuristic, shiny and slightly creepy vibe. In a city comprised mostly of immigrant laborers, I only felt the presence of an underclass when I was driving to the airport at 6 AM and the highway was jammed with school-buses carrying workers to their jobs. Many construction workers live in the building on which they are working because it is too inefficient and/or dangerous to leave when their shift is over.

Unlike Abu Dhabi, Dubai doesn’t have a natural resource (oil) to support the economy and instead relies entirely on tourism and commerce. Given the macro-economic environment, Dubai has occupancy rates of ~20% and many construction projects are in limbo. However, I cannot imagine the city “brimming” even in a good economic environment. There is literally too much infrastructure built or in the process of being built.

I agree with Amitabh: I would short Dubai.

More pics and stories to follow shortly.

D&L’s Excellent Adventure (As Expressed Through Poor Poetic Verse)

2010-01-12T00:26:00.000-08:00

The Good

Communism is red
Lake Balaton is blue
Deane and Luke like langos
Almost as much as I do.

The Bad

Communism is red
Gellert Baths aren’t exactly blue
Deane doesn’t like secondhand smoke
There was nothing we could do.

The Ugly

Communism is red
This is a ditty
Although Café Godot wasn’t open
I’m guessing Goomba wasn’t pretty.

Visit To Statue Park

There once was a man named Lenin
Who sent Europe into a tailspin
After the fall of the wall
His statue not small
Was moved to exile next to Stalin

Good Morning Sunshine

2010-01-08T05:36:00.000-08:00

I was excited this morning to find the two blogs I follow most closely collide over my favorite subject: Penelope Trunk gave a critique of Gretchen Rubin’s recent book “The Happiness Project".

Nothing in Penelope’s post was too revolutionary – happiness is contagious and being actively aware of and interested in your own happiness increases happiness – but it did spark an interesting debate: are being interested in your life and being happy with your life mutually exclusive?

Penelope says it is; people are drawn toward either happiness or interestingness at the expense of the other.

I disagree, as evidenced by the disparate subjects of my two favorite blogs (happiness; intentionally provocative career advice). It all boils down to one’s definition of happiness.

I can see how the two could be mutually exclusive if you define happiness as contentment. You have a comfortable, relatively happy life in Boston but you get antsy and move to another country because you want to experience new things. Once you arrive there, you meet many interesting people whom you never would have met had you stayed in Boston, see places you never knew existed, and get a kick out of the bizarre language, food, and customs. At the same time, you decidedly are not content. You accidentally shoplift. You have superficial relationships with your coworkers. You are homesick.

But if your definition of happiness permits being uncomfortable and confused, then you still can be happy. Although not necessarily content.

Many people admit in retrospect they were happiest during a journey to achieve a goal. And I would think journeys are interesting - as long as they are to pursue something you care about.

Perhaps this is all rationalization about choices I have made, but it seems very dangerous to think life cannot be both happy and interesting.

And for the record, this is my third favorite blog. So perhaps I shouldn’t draw too many conclusions from my blog preferences.

Best Hungarian-English Pluralisms

2010-01-06T07:18:00.000-08:00

Pluralizing words in English often makes no sense. Why in the world do I drink beer (plural) but have a few beers?

Not exactly acing my own Hungarian lessons, I can imagine how difficult it is for Hungarians to learn English and deal with our random grammar rules. But it still is funny to hear slip-ups ever so often. My favorite common plural "mistakes" are:

Shrimps
"I love little shrimps in my fajita." -Iguana Bar & Grill, Budapest

Fruits
"...identifying low-hanging fruits." -Every board presentation I have ever worked on

Monthies
"How many monthies have you lived in Budapest?" -Co-worker

Testicles
"Relax your testicles." -Govinda Yoga Instructor
(OK, so this one was a complete mistake; I think she meant tendons or muscles or something but she mentioned "relaxing our testicles" throughout the entire 1.5 hour class.)

Holiday Recap

2010-01-05T04:03:00.000-08:00

Per tradition we began Christmas Eve with a visit to Bob's Diner in Millis. Uncle Jay looks is unhappy because the kitchen was unable to make his first request; he was later satiated with a Bob's Big Breakfast.

Next year we need to go after 11 AM to take advantage of Bob's deep fryer.

We returned home to continue cookie decorating and, in a bout of clairvoyance, I adorned Rondo with holiday-inspired shoes. However, unlike Donny Marshall, I did not criticize Rondo for wearing them.

Is there anything more beautiful than a heaping pile of Little Nasties?

We all agreed Olivia (black one) got shafted on her holiday frock, so Mom & I rectified the situation at TJ Maxx the following Saturday.

Feliz Navidad.

Uncle Jay gave an animated fireside reading of Mom's annual Christmas (4-page news)letter.

The pile of clothes on Dad's left likely first will be worn...around 2018.

We had a delicious Christmas brunch. This photo will be included in Mama Bochicchio's Holiday Recipes book slated for publication Summer 2010.

Blast from the Past - Mama and Papa Bochicchio's New Jersey Christmas 1982. (Who are those blonde-haired, blue-eyed children?)

Grandma, Aunt Anne-Marie & Uncle Tony.

Again, how many sets of children did my parents have before my sisters and I?

I love this picture. Typically Dad reserves this level of concentration only for Yankees games legal briefs.

Awwww...Christmas dresses. Now only the dogs sport them.

Kara and Krista both sporting Mogley-esque haircuts.

In related news, Nina's fab bf Jeff gave her a flip video for xmas.
Nina, Lynettey & the Fam threw a Christmas / welcome-back-from-The-Pest party on Sunday.

Countdown to Boston

2009-12-24T21:37:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-18T06:57:00.000-08:00

(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

2009-12-18T03:16:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-17T02:01:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-16T07:42:00.001-08:00

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

2009-12-16T06:54:00.000-08:00

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?

2009-11-19T08:03:00.001-08:00

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

2009-11-17T05:52:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-16T03:17:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-09T01:28:00.000-08:00

(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!

2009-10-31T10:25:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-10-26T13:11:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-15T14:05:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-15T09:50:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-13T00:26:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-10T10:43:00.001-07:00

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

2009-10-05T07:58:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-04T14:32:00.001-07:00

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

2009-10-02T05:02:00.000-07:00

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!

2009-10-01T06:19:00.001-07:00

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

2009-09-30T07:01:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-13T10:19:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-10T13:46:00.001-07:00

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

2009-09-07T06:55:00.000-07:00

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!

2009-09-04T03:12:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-01T01:20:00.001-07:00

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

2009-08-30T08:27:00.000-07:00

#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

2009-08-27T04:11:00.001-07:00

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.

Hungarian Oxymorons

2009-08-26T05:26:00.001-07:00

1. Wearing a facemask but no helmet while biking.
Source: Most bikers.

2. Drinking a diet coke with typical Hungarian lunch fare.
Source: Me.

3. Complaining about politics and not voting.
Source: 64% of eligible voters.

4. The actual number of cars in Budapest and the number of cars the roads are built to support.
Source: HU government.

5. Promoting Nougat Bits cereal under the Fit & Activ brand.
Source: DE-VAU-GE Cereals Holding GMBH.

6. Stereotypical Hungarian passive mentality and driving style.
Source: All drivers.

7. The size of cars and the size of parking spaces.
Source: HU government.

Greetings From Scranton, PA

2009-08-24T02:58:00.000-07:00

Hi Marilyn and Paul:

Well, now it's official. As you can see in the attached photos, the highway department put up the "Bochicchio Blvd" street sign in Daleville, PA, within the past two weeks. Although the photos don't show it, this new road leads to the new North Pocono High School. The car in the photo of Bochicchio Boulevard is exiting from a Rite-Aid Pharmacy parking lot. Rite-Aid and the new high school are the only buildings on this magnificent "boulevard".

Given that anyone with the name "Bochicchio" has a reputation for imbibing large quantities of alcoholic beverages, it probably isn't just coincidence that Bochicchio Boulevard intersects with Drinker Turnpike.

Hope all is well at your house.

Uncle Bob

I Am Done Traveling

2009-08-23T04:10:00.000-07:00

I thought the low point of the weekend (Jackie and I traveled to Barcelona for the holiday weekend) was on Friday night. I was sandwiched on the hostel futon between a Brit born in 1991?!!? and a loquacious porn producer (whom looked like he was born in a year more like 1971). Then I met Jack, another Brit and recent Swine Flu survivor. Jack promised he was no longer contagious. I prayed Jack wasn´t the third in our triple dorm room.

I have come to a sad realization: I am too old for the #1 party hostel in Barcelona. And not like a little too old - like get me the hell out of here before I push the girl from Arkansas asking me where to buy hash off of the balcony-old (answer: Placa Reial). Granted it is my fault for not doing much research before booking the hostel.

The city feels pretty much the same as when I studied and lived here six years ago during my sophomore year of college. Oveja Negra is still the tourist bar du jour; Bar Estudantil serves the same cafe con leches; and the fashion is still the same colorful craziness that only the super confident, gorgeous or wackjobs can pull off. The only thing missing is the chirimoyas at the La Boqueria - apparently the amazing fruit is not in season until September. Guess I will have to come back then.

Today is my last day in Barcelona, and I wanted to try to find Pepita & Maria Del Mar, my host family when I lived here. I bet Pepita wouldn´t remember me. She had a lot of exchange students and was not the brightest candle in the menorah (thanks for that one, Jackie). Pepita often forgot my name and things like, serving dinner before midnight, but she was unforgettable. I also wanted to see Alyssa´s host family in the neighboring apartment and find the answers to burning questions such as whether Maria Del Mar found a husband (Pepita´s number one grievance while I was living with her) and what happened to Diego on the telenovela.

However, when I jumped on the Number 9 bus to get to Zona Franca from the University, I realized I somehow lost my wallet (and a shopping bag containing a present for my sister) between getting coffee twenty minutes ago and that moment. Oops. I retraced my steps but no luck. I am now back at the hostel, more grumpy than ever, and canceling my credit cards online. I am an idiot.

At least I only have nine hours until the 11 PM flight back to Budapest.

How to Avoid Being a Stupid American When Working in Europe

2009-08-19T01:54:00.001-07:00

Although Budapest is stunning, my office in an industrial park outside of the city reminds me that yes, I do live and work in post-communist Central Europe. Instead of hitting up Starbucks for a grande soy misto each morning, I begin the workday by emphatically smiling and waving at the parking attendant, three receptionists and any coworkers whom I pass in the hall in an attempt to compensate for my limited Hungarian vocabulary. Apparently I equate borderline-manic cheerfulness to not acting like a stupid American. Here are a few other suggestions.

Realize you are in a fortunate position.

Local friends and coworkers always - and incredulously - ask me, “Why did you ever move here?” They cannot fathom why I voluntarily would leave America to live and work in Hungary. And the answer is that I have it better than they do. As an American, I make significantly more than my local counterparts and am able to take advantage of the great things Budapest has to offer without dealing with the crap – the high taxes, currency fluctuations, and corrupt national healthcare system.

On the flip side, most of my (educated, English-speaking) coworkers have never been to America. Until recently the U.S. rejected most of their applications and it was prohibitively expensive. I am kidding myself to think that I have had the same opportunities as my coworkers.

Be aware of America’s influence.

America has influenced the history of every country in Europe. As a result most Europeans are knowledgeable about American politics and culture and feel no qualms passing judgment or sharing opinions on the U.S. The average American does not have the same informed view of Europe. And why should he? Unlike Europeans, Americans do not have the need to look for culture and opportunities outside of their own country.

But I live and work in Budapest now so I better understand how America has impacted Hungary. If I don’t, I either can say nothing or talk out of my ass when my coworker criticizes American foreign policy in front of me. And it is only when Americans argue about something about which they have no clue that Europeans think they are stupid.

Have wine at lunch.

Previously I worked in jobs where I ate lunch (and often dinner) at my desk. Here the office moves at a much slower pace, and I need to acclimate myself to the office culture or I will drive myself, and my coworkers, crazy (I already am accused of being “too serious”).

The best advice a fellow ex-pat gave me prior to moving here was to be patient – patient that I didn’t get a computer until my second week of work and patient that I just received an auto-reply from a coworker saying that he will have “limited availability to email for the next EIGHT weeks.” And taking time out of the workday to relax isn’t such a bad thing – I doubt I would have been able to write this post during the workday while ibanking (although thinking about it, investment bankers now probably have plenty of time to blog…)

Flirt.

I have not heard the phrase “sexual harassment” once since moving abroad. When my male coworker mentioned that a female controller had a “very sexy voice” and he would like to “make lots of babies with her,” I laughed it off as harmless. And much like I have learned to eschew takeaway coffee, I no longer think twice when my female coworker arrives to work sporting a hot pink mesh tank top. Europeans simply do not take sexual banter and expression as seriously as Americans do and there is not a suing culture here.

Remember you are American.

While Europeans (and many Americans) clearly dislike many Americans stereotypes, they are also envious of other American traits such as happiness and confidence. Just because I live in Budapest does not mean I need to embrace the passive and pessimistic “Hungarian mentality.” Yeah, I don’t want to stand out for being ignorant, defensive or loud. But if I stand out for being confident and freakishly cheerful, bring it on.

The (Long) Weekend Approval Matrix

2009-08-17T02:46:00.000-07:00

Highbrow / brilliant: Wonderful trip to Venice (although it almost was Prague...).

Highbrow / Despicable: Venetians used to put accusations about neighbors into designated boxes throughout the city.

Lowbrow / brilliant: There are wine bars scattered throughout the city where you fill up your water bottle with vino. One liter of water costs 3 EUR. One wine refill costs 3 EUR.

Lowbrow / brilliant: Sziget festival featuring the Hungarian Blondie, Hungarian hip hop (go to the video link in yesterday's post!) & friggin' amazing gypsy music. In Jackie's words, "Bonnaroo is so 2004."

On an unrelated note, my mom argues that posting a comment here is tantamount to brain surgery, but I was just able to do so very easily on my sister's site.

- Click on the comments link below my entry.
- Write something awesome. Compared to the writing above, it probably will be.
- Select comment as "name/URL" in the drop down box.
- Write your name or someone else's name (no URL needed) & click continue.
- Click post comment.

If it really is this easy, I expect some comments, mofos.

Sziget Gold

2009-08-16T02:04:00.000-07:00

More to come on the Sziget Festival later.

Until then, Hungarian hip hop.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ll4yAKShAq4

Sisterly Competition

2009-08-11T02:57:00.001-07:00

My sister Kara sent me an email that she was starting her own blog. She is very funny, so I bet her blog will be very funny.

Then I read her first post:

Welcome.

I’m starting this blog for two reasons. One: because my sister has a blog and its only my sisterly nature to be uber jealous (regardless if I actually like it or not). Two: to have an outlet for my thoughts which float around and never really seem to materialize into anything good except the teen angst which I should have grown out of years ago, but that I still seem to harbor and express to the general public at the most inopportunistic (I don’t think that is even a word) times. Three: because I don’t have the journalist prowess (or the social skills) to ever write about the art that I look at. Four: to give some homage to my favorite artists and ridicule ones I am not so keen on. Oh...and to have a place to display and get feedback on my own paintings. Hope you enjoy these writings. Feel free to comment away.

Besides the fact that she listed four reasons, she wrote that she is uber jealous REGARDLESS IF SHE ACTUALLY LIKES MY BLOG OR NOT. Oh wow, those are fighting words.

In other news, I will stop reading blogs and go back to work.

Why Do All of My Friends & I Have the Same Name?

2009-08-09T03:16:00.000-07:00

Friday, 11:40 PM - I pick up two of my best friends, Alexis & Sasha, at Ferihegy terminal 1. Already the weekend is a success because I wasn't pulled over in transit, and we listen to Better Than Ezra on the ride home. Lex lives in London and recently started a job at the Skoll Center at Oxford's Biz School. Sasha spent the last month studying Russian in St. Petersburg and starts at the Kennedy School in two weeks. My friends are smart. And pretty.

Friday, 11:30 AM - Lex and Sasha's only requirement for the weekend is to spend as much time as possible in the sun - something which apparently is difficult to do in London and St. Petersburg. I give them the walking tour of Budapest, starting with the Basilica and ending at Kertem, a garden bar at the edge of Hero's Square. During our excursion, Alexis receives an email from (iphone-happy) Mrs. Ett and learns that her great grandfather was a cantor in the synagogue in Budapest. We add the synagogue to the weekend to-do list.

Saturday, 9:30 PM - We meet Jackie and Susan at Holdudvar on Margaret Island to celebrate Susan's birthday. Dinner is yummy - nothing like Paprika chicken and bacon dumplings to shore up your stomach for a big night. Susan looks wonderful and tells us she was hit on by a lesbian at her high school reunion in Georgia last weekend. A lesbian who recently was released from jail after serving time for attempted murder. So we also celebrate that Susan made it back to the Pest alive.

Sunday, 12:30 AM - Marcus joins us and suggests we move the party to Rio. I know it is a good decision when this is the first man I see at the club.

Sunday, 3:30 AM - Lex and Sasha meet two Scandanavian guys. One of them has dark hair and eyes. When Lex asks him if he originally is from Sweden, he looks thoughtful for a moment and asks the girls if they ever have heard of a "small country called Syria."

Sunday, 4:02 AM - We head to Piaf, a bar which I later learn from Geza is a good place to meet rolling potatoes. An expressive, 80-year old lounge singer is performing, so we really can't ask for a better way to end the night.

Sunday, 4:42 AM - It is unclear whether Sasha is dancing or reading the menu.

Sunday, 2:10 PM - Instead of recapping the night over brunch, Lexi, Sasha and I gossip in the women's-only thermal bath at Gellert. When in the 'Pest, do as the Budapestians do.