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.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Greetings From Scranton, PA
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
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
Sunday, August 23, 2009
I Am Done Traveling
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
How to Avoid Being a Stupid American When Working in Europe
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.
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.
Monday, August 17, 2009
The (Long) Weekend Approval Matrix
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.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Sziget Gold
More to come on the Sziget Festival later.
Until then, Hungarian hip hop.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ll4yAKShAq4
Until then, Hungarian hip hop.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ll4yAKShAq4
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Sisterly Competition
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.
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.
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