Happy Valentine's Day

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

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?

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...

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

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!