Guest Blogger - Balazs Losonczy

The poll hasn't quite closed yet but it looks like Balazs is going to win by a landslide. Balazs is my coworker whom you've read a bit about - he is one of the funniest people I have ever met. And if he is so funny in English, I can only imagine what he is like in Hungarian. Friends, meet Balazs. Balazs, friends. Enjoy!


I wish I could be a candidate for being the next U.S. president with this 77%. :-)

The reason why it took me so much time to post an article in the blog was up to my shyness and the heavy workload we have to cope with here at GTS...

Well I think in my first note I would go back to the corruption in the health system in Hungary...I have just seen on TV that there is a heavy discussion going on about the State being part of National Health Care system in the U.S. and due to our experiences here in Hungary and probably in Central Europe as well I would not suggest it at all however I have to say it is not as bad as it was written down through Adrienn's experiences [doctors told Adrienn’s family that they would have to amputate her father’s leg following a skiing accident. However, after the family gave the doctors a large sum of money, the amputation was no longer necessary]. It is true that a huge sum of our salary goes to the State as a health contribution and unfortunately we do not receive too much in return but still the quality makes some progress. The main problem with this system is that we do not have a chance to step out of it since the contribution is deducted automatically and most of the people who can afford it go to private clinics in case of need and pay the bill instead of giving "halapenz" to the doctors. Of course just like anything else this has some advantages.

From my personal experiences I can tell you how I survived the mandatory military service that used be a one year service with basically no salary and one year out of job for doing nothing (it is not like the Marine Corps). After all my university papers expired someone suggested to me to go to a psychologist and pretend to be someone who has panic being in a community...(this is absolutely not me)...As there was no other option I went to the doctor and at the first visit I had to go though a one hour chat with nurses and doctors where they wanted to collect evidences about my illness. It was really horrible to answer questions like these:

How do you feel getting on a bus or on the subway?
How do you make contact with a girl when you want to have a date with her? How often do you have sex? Of course I did not even know this word....
What do the others think of you at the work place..?

and so on...

After this one hour I was completely convinced about the need of "halapenz" and whenever I had to go back for further check-ups I "contributed" the doctors to avoid similar situations...

OK: How are you? - I was the witness of this conversation between Alex and Geza and have to admit it is partly true [the June entry titled Happiness is Not a Fish You Can Catch]. This is something that is very often discussed in an international environment in Hungary. When you ask this question to a Hungarian guy it might be the start of series of complaints, however I would not definitely link it with "Hungarians being so negative" - it is just up to the different cultures. It is true that most of us do not even try to see the bright sides of things but somehow this formal way of general daily contact is missing from our culture. That is why it is always great to welcome someone from abroad and drink palinka and exchange experiences and culture it is a benefit for everybody. :-)

A Comedy (in Retrospect) of Errors

My best friends from college tell me that I live in my own world. I don’t see it; but I guess I wouldn’t even if it were true. Well, last night I was completely in my own world. My own, little bizarre universe of one.

I left work at 11 pm last night (atypical) and was starving. I didn’t have much food at home (the yogurt and bread I bought this weekend was already bad) so I decided to pick up something on the way home. What is kinda healthy and good for dinner? Subway! I spent way too long parallel parking in front of the store (the parking spaces are the size of a small car) only to realize Subway was closed.

No worries! I would grab something else. I walked down Vaci utca. Everything was either closed or a sit-down etterem. Again, no worries! I walked over to my trusty gyro / currency exchange joint in back of the Marriot. Gyros there are delicious and cheap – 630 forint (€2.2). Unfortunately, I had a grand total of 600 forint in my wallet as I had spent more than I thought at Margaret Island this weekend. Sketchy gyro joints don’t take credit cards.

30 minutes later I was back in the car with no food.

As I started weaving my way through the one way streets to go home, I reached a dead end. Not like a cul-de-sac dead-end, but like a pole in the middle of the street. There were cars parked on either side of me, so I backed up the length of about three Olympic size pools, stopping multiple times to straighten out the car. I cannot believe I didn’t hit anything/anyone.

I was a little (a lot) grumpy by the time I got home and started to make PBJ sandwiches on crackers. Well, I dropped the jelly getting it out of the refrigerator and glass shards literally reached my bedroom at the other end of the apartment. This is why I mopped and vacuumed my apartment for the first time at 12:30am last night.

I finished off the night by watching an episode of Weeds where Nancy is abused my her druglord lover. No wonder I had strange dreams.

I just reread the above entry and realized it is pretty lame. I am hoping you find my night funny slash endearing slash something but don’t feel bad if you don’t. If you wrote about your (boring) night on your blog, I probably wouldn’t care either.

On a more positive note, I used skype for the first time on Sunday night! I talked to some of my favorite people in the world, Ms. Katie Van Syckle and my fam. I tried talking to Olivia (my dog) but she was just confused as to where the voice was coming from. The best thing about skyping was that my mom was talking to me while wearing a pink doo rag with a picture of a (female) pirate on it. I kid you not.

The Budapest Diet

You asked; I answered.

Recently transplanted to Budapest Alex Bochicchio spends her days off exploring the region, sampling the local cuisine and reading Eastern European guide books hoping to gain insight into the local culture and separate herself from all of the “other” tourists. She plans meals on what foods she can identify in Tesco and has all but given up the gym. Sounds like a regular twenty-something, down to her rationalization of liquids qualifying as a meal. She likes anything pickled. “The food here expires quickly so you need to eat what you buy fast. And if that means having half a block of cheese, a bucket of pickled cabbage and blackberries for dinner, so be it,” she explains. Read more about Bochicchio’s dining quirks in this week’s Budapest Diet.

Saturday, July 25

10:50 a.m. I begin to eat a pear I bought yesterday at a farmstand only to realize it had gone bad. Instead, I eat a very juicy and delicious nectarine. Then, I make steel cut oatmeal (which my mom brought over from the US) on the stove and add some milk and one artificial sweetener tablet that never quite dissolves. Cereal is my favorite food in the world, but I could eat en entire box without getting full, so I usually stick to oatmeal. And Hungary has the most amazing cereal options. My favorite is “Chocolate Pillows” which are hollow puffed rice squares filled with nutella. It really is a crime calling this a cereal and duping people into thinking it is a breakfast food.

3:07 p.m. I have a cappuccino and an almond paste filled croissant while writing at Marmote’s Café near the Basilica. I thought I ordered a regular croissant, so the almond filling was a surprise.

3:57 p.m. I walk home next via the road next to the river and stop at a booth selling pastries. I am a sucker for any sort of food from a booth because I equate food stands with authenticity. I buy a blackberry beigli, which is rolled pastry filled with nuts or fruit. I obviously have a ridiculous sweet tooth. I promise myself the pastry is for later, but eat half of it when I get home. I have some yogurt too.

7:49 p.m. I meet up with my friend to go the Suzanna Vega concert at Godor Club. We each have two gin and tonics each and split a package of ropogos, a Hungarian pretzel stick which put American pretzels to shame.

10:59 p.m. A couple friends and I go out on Margaret Island. We begin the night by drinking vodka and red bulls at Holdudvar. Except I don’t like red bull so I just drink straight vodka. Then, my friend suggests taking tequila shots but only if we get “gold” tequila, which I never have tried. Instead of salt, you lick cinnamon off of a lemon, take the shot and finish off with the lemon wedge. I can never go back. The grilled sandwich stand next to the bar looks amazing but we decide to wait until the end of the night for late-night food.

3:50 a.m. One of my favorite things about Budapest is that there are gyro and kabob stands literally on every corner. While waiting for a taxi (you need to call one here to avoid being ripped off by gypsy cabs), I get a chicken gyro. It is heaven. They grill the pita in front of you, slice off strips from the rotating hunk of meat (I don’t want to know how it gets like that), and add an unidentifiable blend of sauces. I always get extra chili sauce. It is the end of the night so it doesn’t matter that I spill gyro juice all over my (white) shirt.

Sunday, July 26

10:30 a.m. I wake up and drink lots of water. And pop a couple of Advil. I am very happy I have non-drowsy meds because sometimes I don’t and need to make the decision whether to endure a headache or knock myself out for most of the day.

11:31 a.m. There is no such thing as brunch here, so if I need a hungover brunch, I need to make it myself. I defrost some spinach, crack a couple of eggs and make a omelet. Then I toast a piece of bread in my oven and add a spread of soft cheese I just bought. When I bite into the cheese, I realize it is “ham” flavored. Kinda weird, but also kinda good. I want something sweet after breakfast so I have a rice cake with nutella. I need to be careful with the nutella as it has the power to render me helpless to its cravings.

1:32 p.m. I have some diet coke. I drink way less than I did in the US but I know it is still bad for me. Then, I remember what I drank last night and comparatively it isn’t too bad.

3:33 p.m. I get the student special from Govinda, the Hare Krishna restaurant across the street from my apartment. The student special includes a vegetarian dish, a slice of some sort of fried vegetable (today was eggplant) and one piece of what I can only describe as fried naan. When they have beet salad, I buy that too but they didn’t have it today. The food is a little greasy, but so, so delicious. Amazing how those things go hand in hand.

4:32 p.m. I am not hungry in the least, but I have some ropogos anyway.

8:30 p.m. My friend who is a fantastic cook makes a dinner of chicken paprikash and egg noodles. It is amazing. Chicken paprikash is my favorite Hungarian dish and actually pretty easy to make – you sauté chicken, onions and garlic, add a ton of paprika and other spices, simmer in chicken broth and add in sour cream to finish it off. We also have Greek salad and a bottle of wine I brought over.

11:01 p.m. I make lunch for work the next day. I used to eat at Tesco or Kika with my coworkers but I cannot eat fast food or heavy Hungarian food for lunch every day. The meal that put me over the edge was a stew at Kika that consisted of a few vegetables, lots of pork and a ton of French fries all smothered in brown sauce. Topped with grated cheese. I fell into a coma upon going back to work and decided I needed to make a few changes. I sautéed frozen vegetables, tofu and soy sauce in a pan for lunch the next day. When I am lazy, I don’t even cook the veggies and tofu and just heat them up in the microwave at work. Not fancy, but also not coma or heart-attack inducing. I prefer to clog my arteries mainly on weekends.

11:41 p.m. I must confess I had a little more nutella. Like I said, I am powerless to that stuff.


Marcus, Calin & Jackie on Saturday night.


Yup; I'm wearing Anne Taylor at a club.


If this isn't Eurotrash, I don't know what is (please see bracelet and hang ten sign).

T-Shirt Slogans in Budapest

“I go to strip clubs…for the music.” [worn by young girl]

“CZECH me out.”

“Angel sent from above BE WARE!”

“Clothing optional beyond this point.” [words across the chest of a (large) woman]

“KGB is still watching you.”

“You couldn't get laundry detergent but you could get your brain washed.” [memories of communism]

“Like their sisters in the west, they would have burned their bras if the stores had them.” [more communist nostalgia]

Weekend in Bohemia

We decided to postpone the road trip to Bosnia due to not wanting to drive through the night and the fact GPS does not map roads in Bosnia. It was probably a smart decision.

Instead, Jackie, my new friends Leslie and Bobby, and I decided to visit Cesky Krumlov in the Czech Republic with an overnight stop in Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia. Many Hungarians refer to Bratislava by its former name, Pozsony, because they are still bitter that the city is no longer part of Hungary following the Treaty of Trianon which stripped Hungary of most of its land after WWI. History lesson over.

We arrived at the Backpackers' Hostel in Bratislava around 10 PM on Friday and explored the city for the next few hours, including scaling a wooden statue, which Jackie claimed was made of "hard hay." The capital is small, and we finished touring the historic center and castle the next morning. Overall Bratislava is charming but does not have the pulse of a more exciting city like Budapest or Prague. (For those of you unfamiliar with my George Washington Crossing The Delaware Pose, please see the picture below.)




During the drive though Austria to Cesky Krumlov, I swear my cheeks became rosier and I had an urge to yodel. Below is a small key that shows the color variation in the landscape between Hungary and Austria.


Cesky Krumlov is built around the winding Vlata River and home to the second largest castle in Czech. The small city looks like a town out of a fairytale, but I could not tell how much of the city had been restored to its original state following the Velvet Revolution versus how much had been built to please the tourists. The local food was not too exciting (although fried food with potatoes and bread dumplings always tastes good) but the beer was great. It better have been; Czech has the highest beer consumption per capita in the world.



Although we wanted to go rafting on Sunday, the weather was chilly and we walked around the town and castle area instead. I am wearing the same outfit in all of the pictures because I was forced to buy a pair of boys' XXL sweatpants in a tourist shop on Saturday night when I literally lost feeling in my legs (people were wearing ski jackets and hats). I need to learn to stop packing for the prior week's weather.




Breakfast at our hostel, Krumlov House, was one of the best parts of the trip. The visitors were thoughtful travelers in their 20s and 30s, and our conversations gave me new ideas for articles and places to visit. I also perfected the art of making French press coffee, so my sister Kara will be proud!

Ways I Have Tried to Embrace Hungarian Culture and My Success So Far

Scale: 1-10

1 HELL NO.
10 I’m doing it now.

Relying less on the crackberry – 7
Would be higher except my home Internet is spotty, and my slightly anti-social nature prefers emailing to talking on the phone.

Giving up “takeaway” coffee - 9
I am embracing the sit-down, small cappuccino lifestyle although this switch largely stems from my not wanting to look like an American tool by carrying around a huge paper coffee cup.

Not staring at people’s outfits and haircuts – 4
People here can look pretty ridiculous. Granted I probably looked strange too when I stepped outside to grab breakfast only to discover that the bakery next to my apartment was inexplicably closed at 10 AM on a Saturday and ended up trekking through the middle of the city in my pajamas. Remember Kate’s skunk hairstyle on Jon + Kate plus 8 (soon to be Kate + 8 minus whatever babies Jon gets custody of)? That would be a conservative hairstyle here.

Contributing to the highest divorce rate in the EU – 1
Even though my mom continually asks me whether I have met Prince Vladimir yet (is that even a Hungarian name?), my marriage - and thus divorce - prospects are looking slim. The aforementioned Kika guy has made no advances since my last post.

Engaging in intense PDA - 1
Please see above response.

Embracing the fanny pack - 10


Learning the language - 4
This score is low not due to lack of trying – I have Hungarian lessons at 7 AM every Monday. The first week I learned the alphabet. There are 14 vowels, including four variations of "o" which all sound like someone dressed up as a ghost trying to scare kids on Halloween. My co-workers compound my confusion by not always telling me the correct way to say something in Hungarian. For instance, now I know there is a one letter difference between the phrases “How are you” and “You are pee” (yeah, like urine).

I Love My Mom

This is the comment my mom posted under my last entry.

Honey, I have noticed that I am the most prolific commenter to your blog, which has to be a total bummer for you. I mean--your mother!?!?!? But, I do feel for your situation as I have spent the last 30 years writing things that 99.999....% of the time get no reaction from anyone. It's hard to know what to think? Is what I'm writing so stupid that it's not worthy of comment? Or, are they so overwhelmed with the brilliance that they don't dare comment? Or, do they just not care? I have a feeling that a number of people are enjoying your updates but have not managed to navigate the difficulties of posting a comment. You might consider resorting to threats such as, "React or I'll stop writing!" Even that probably won't get much of a reaction, but it might make you feel better. Anyway, I hope lots of people are sending emails directly rather than posting comments. Love you, moms