I, Muehlenhaus. U, Riedermaus.

Miskolc as seen from a Communist... cell phone tower?!

It has finally cooled down a bit in Budapest. The gray clouds are beginning to remind me of Duluth or State College, and they make me happy. This past week was interesting. I began my second session of Hungarian language classes. I have a new teacher, Kati, who seems a little more involved and intense than my last one. (Not that the last one was bad, but he didn’t really assign much homework and didn’t really let us practice speaking. He just went over grammar and vocab and it was all mostly memorization.) Kati is more into having us speak to one another in Hungarian and after reading a section on calling a repair person for a washing machine, for example, she has us role play different scenarios that are similar – making us learn how to use the language in a real situation. It’s kind of nice, actually, but a lot more work, and therefore more exhausting.

The other students in the class are about as eccentric as a new incoming graduate student class. Total nerds for the most part, but there is one person I’ve bonded with quite well in the first week – a German from Bremen named Durte. (I don’t know how to spell it, but this is how they pronounce it in Hungarian.) As the Dutch men go on tearing apart Hungary and questioning the origins of particular words in Hungarian – asking the teacher why Hungarians say “durva” instead of the Dutch version of the word which is much more Hungarian sounding than the actual Hungarian word, etc., it is nauseating listening to these people at times – Durte and I just roll our eyes and wait for the coffee break. But the coffee break doesn’t always come when it should, as the Dutch don’t drink coffee and don’t want a break – they want to learn for four hours straight! And they are kind of outspoken about this, even purposefully glancing at their watches in an irritable fashion when Kati starts wrapping up the class with 10 minutes left. One of them actually said – but we still have 20 minutes – when Kati started going over the homework. Northern Europeans… they live by the fuckin’ clock!

As for the coffee breaks, it generally means that the group reluctantly saunters out of the little apartment we use as our makeshift classroom, and start shuffling down to the local Mini ABC (basically a kiosk with junk food). Even though two of these people don’t even want to take a break, they move at a snail’s pace and then stand on the street talking about how far behind Hungary is, etc. There is a Northern Irish guy too. He is nice, but he can’t seem to stop telling stories from his life, even though they are quite unsolicited. His Hungarian is going to be better than any of ours, as he tells these stories in Hungarian even if he doesn’t have the vocabulary, so it normally takes the whole break. But Durte and I have gotten out of this groove. On Friday we both ran… watching the group move really slowly behind us, and having sat for three hours without getting up, we both just started running to a café about two or three blocks away. It felt great! It is the first time I’ve run in months, and to get away from the incessant, banal chatter was relieving. We ordered a couple of espressos, but then before we knew it, the group was outside of the café and came in. They sat near us – we were at the bar, so to speak – and then went about ordering lunch and tea, even though it is only a short break. We were quite trapped at this point. But well… I don’t know where this is going. The people in my class drive me insane. One of them is cool. I like my teacher. I don’t know how she deals with us. Done.

Last week I pretty much spent all of my time outside of class sending desperation emails to the people I would like to interview – not receiving anything in reply – and working on my Geography of Europe course. I have a syllabus outlined, a website started, and I’ve begun making a bunch of flash card maps in Flash for students to study with next semester. The country name one is done, and now I’m working on capitals and cities. Luckily, I happened to spend my first summer of unemployment – in 2000 – digitizing a map of Europe in Freehand. The fjords in Norway took days alone. But I did the whole damn thing, rivers and everything, and now I have my very own, Macromedia/Adobe friendly map of Europe. Of course, it was a complete waste of time now that you can import shape files, etc., but I can honestly say that every map of Europe I am going to use I made from scratch, which makes me feel pretty powerful… although, really it should only induce thoughts of a wasted summer.

Thursday evening I met up with Krisztian. After he got done with a tedious meeting at 5:30 or so, we met in the Nyugati metro, and then went over to his apartment. I was hauling a bag of dirty laundry. We had dinner and drank a couple of beers while my clothes were in the wash. He had downloaded several seasons of South Park, so we sat and watched a couple of the better episodes. He has an excellent DVD player, as it plays DIVX… I need to get one of those, but I suppose I’ll have to persuade Birgit that we need one first. (I suppose “need” is a bit strong but…)

After my laundry was done, we went and met a couple of his coworkers (okay about eight of them) at a pub near Moskva Square. It was a nice outdoor, garden pub. But I was really fried, so to speak, and Krisztian was exhausted, so we left fairly early, at 11 or 11:30 and headed home. I fell asleep watching repetitive coverage of the London transit bombings.

Friday… Friday… class was bearable. Afterward, I went to my new favorite Internet café, run by a really friendly lady that doesn’t treat me like the scum of the Earth because I’m a foreigner. (The place really close to my apartment, and the international train station, noticeably hates pretty much all foreigners and even a lot of Hungarians. The service there is comparable to that of a State College diner, which is to say none at all.) I spent the afternoon writing futile emails, surfing the web a bit, and waiting for my cousin Peter to arrive. On Wednesday evening, Thursday morning for me, he had written that he was coming to Hungary on Friday! I wasn’t really shocked, but it didn’t leave much room for planning.

The directions weren’t very clear on where I should meet him. So I was grumpy all day from nerves – coupled with a hangover from the night before. I had given Peter my address, but then I had also told him that maybe it would be easier if he just told the Mini-Bus to drop him off at the Hilton nearby. I told him if he wasn’t at my apartment by 11:30, I would go to the Hilton to meet him. At 10:25, I began waiting outside on the street corner, which on a Friday night is inundated blue collar workers tossed off their asses, drinking beer outside of the little non-stop shop on the corner. At 11:30, I started getting a little nervous. I went into a pub half a block away that has Internet access and checked to see if Peter had emailed – perhaps he had missed one of his three connecting flights, I figured. Better to know than to stand waiting until five in the morning, I figured. I came back out and decided to wait until 11:45, as I figured maybe he hadn’t had enough time to go through customs, etc. And then… the Airport Minibus pulled up! I waved the driver, he pulled over. Peter hopped out. It was surreal. We came up and dropped his bag off and then went off to find him some food and get him his first Hungarian beer. He had some goulash – we got there just in time, as the kitchen was closing – and we downed a “korso” of Dreher each. He was totally zoned out. He hadn’t slept in two days, had layovers in Detroit, Paris, and Rome, and suddenly found himself in the center of Budapest at midnight on a Friday. There were roving bands of drunk teens, 20-somethings, and drug addicts running around like mad dogs. It was really interesting to watch my beleaguered cousin’s face the whole night. He said he had no idea what to expect in Hungary, but from what he was seeing – mostly hot women dressed up to go out – he was impressed!

He just woke up. It is 1:50 p.m. Saturday. In the meanwhile I went and bought him a towel, worked on my Flash maps for the class, and stitched together some panoramic shots taken from the television tower in Miskolc and at places in Budapest. Boring life this past week, but the next week promises to be entertaining – showing the seedier sides of Budapest to my cousin!

Oh yeah, one last thing! I'm pumped! I have now gone six days without a cigarette! I don't even crave them anymore, except for when I'm stressed, which is all the time, but... at least when I'm sleeping I don't think about them... unless I am dreaming about drinking, in which case I am always smoking. But... well, yeah, it isn't that bad quiting this time. Easier than any other time. The addiction aspect is so overblown!

No, that is not the sound of a distant burp. Rather, it is a Hungarian way of saying "in Wien." I quite like Bécs over Wien, but the Austrians have traditionally refused to adopt anything Hungarian -- except for the Becsi Salad as I was informed by a very outspoken waiter one evening -- so Wien it stays for most people. But it remains a Bécs to me.

I left by train at 13:00 on Friday. Intercity trains are a helluva a lot nicer than the standard Hungarian trains. I hadn't remembered just how gargantuan the difference is in quality, comfort, and civility on these sleek new trains. I sat and read a book on Foucault -- not by him but on him -- and an "Economist" I picked up in the train station. I finally listened to my MP3 player for one of the first times since coming to Hungary. Normally I feel stupid listening to headphones in front of people. Moreover, most places in Hungary (e.g., on the tram, street, or in a cafe, are loud already, so I don't really want to blow my eardrums out by cranking my music loud enough to hear it). The train was different. Save for a very loud Italian family that was earning glares from more than a few people in the train car, it was quite quiet on the InterCity. The Italians disappeared to the wine car after about ten minutes anyway, so I just listened to Sigur Ros and chilled. It was very relaxing.

The passport check hopped on -- double-standards for the new members of the EU -- but they didn't give me any grief. Or anyone actually. They just brandished their pistols and walked through, trying to look important. (Their days are numbered, though, as they really aren't needed anymore.) And then we pulled into Vienna. Sissi was there to meet me, as she said she would be. She looks very much the same. She said I do too; though, just in case, I had tipped her off to my orange backpack.

It was great seeing her again. We went back to her apartment, had some croissants and coffee, and then went out to eat some Schnitzel! (Not Schnizzel, although Snoop Dogg comes into play later in the story.) It was delicious, as was the wine. We were in some coffee house in the center of the city. I don't know. I didn't have a clue where I was the whole weekend. I just followed Sissi, like a dog in awe of this incredible city! I love Vienna!!! It's by far the best place I've ever visited, and from the dispositions of the people I've met that live there, I have to assume it is a great place to reside as well. But I digress...

Gerhard, Sissi's ex-boyfriend whom I met the last time I was in Vienna, showed up. We hung out quite a bit throughout the weekend. After several wines, we left the coffee house for a free outdoor concert marking the start of summer in Vienna. We saw an incredible live act from Russia -- Russ-Ska-Ja. As the name implies, they played a Russian version of Ska, and it was far better than any version of Ska I had heard in a long time. Hell, it kicked the shit out of most Jamaican Ska I've heard, and I know that is blasphemy, but it is true. The lead singer was hilarious and spoke German in a heavy Russian accent. He had the whole audience -- probably about 300 of us, as it was raining and therefore not exactly packed -- whipped into a frenzy. He had women taking their clothes off for him. He was this huge, black bear of a man, with probably four days of beard stubble, a huge chest and stomach, and the energy of a horny chicken, hopping around like a fish out of water. He was belting out Russian lyrics while his backup band of a drummer, saxophone, trombone, fiddler (the best fiddle placement in a band since Babet was added to Dionysos!), guitarist, and bassist created a cacophony of sound that noticeably irritated the Becsi police. Incredible... they release their album next month, and I highly recommend buying it to anyone that wants some crazy, warlike party music to blast before getting trashed. It mixed polka, classic Russian waltzes, and ska all into one and spit it out between the teeth of this Jagermeister drinking giant of a lead singer. The police wanted them to stop, but they said they had the right to play until 11 or something, and did one more song anyway due to the chants for an encore, and the two police near us just grinned and let it happen.

After that we went to a posh, "snobby" club called the Kunsthalle. It had a DJ spinning some cool lounge music but since it was raining and over half the seating is outside, it was too crowded to stay. We bumped into several politicians just saying hi to us there, which was creepy. Looking for votes in all the wrong places. (Sissi's dad is hi up in the Green Party there, so she knows some of the people, but she was getting creeped out, because she couldn't remember from where.) We went to another little pub, but by then it was about midnight and I was exhausted, Sissi was too, and Gerhard had to run off for some reason, so we called it a night.

I woke up at 11 a.m. I hadn't slept that late in a long time. In the meantime, Sissi had gone to the market and picked up some bread and cheese. Viennese bread is the best in the world. Hands down. The Germans lose. Not even close. We ate and then just head out walking around Vienna. We walked all afternoon -- every where and no where. We went to a museum exhibit on 1950s, 60s, and 70s Hausfrau marketing. It was brilliant. All these television adverts and print advertisements attempting to teach "women" how to shop wisely and that shopping can be fun. Incredible how well this marketing worked, as now so many people, not just women, shop for entertainment. 50 years ago it was a pain in the ass and spending money was never fun. Now people do it because they are bored. Fucked up world we live in. Great exhibit. I think it was the Wien Museum. Then we went to a cafe/restaurant in the Museum Quartier where Sissi's, and her roommate Lilly's, friend is a chef. We didn't talk to him, just waved, but we sat and had coffee, pastries (I had apple struddel, which was damn good, but I still haven't found any better than in this little dumpy cafe in Miskolc, Hungary), and waited for other friends recovering from various Friday night festivities to wander on in. Lilly came -- the first time I met her, as she wasn't at the apartment this weekend. She has bright red hair (see pictures, you can't miss it, brilliant!) and kills mice for a living. Okay, so she tests their DNA to study cancer, but it is more fun to say she kills mice. She is really fun. Energetic, friendly, and open to doing nothing. Gerhard came as well and brought me a CD of Russian Disco tunes (which is huge in Berlin right now, Russian disco music by Germans) to coincide with Russ-Ska-Ja's performance the evening before.

From there we wandered out and decided to go check out the Rainbow Parade circling the city at the moment. We beat the parade to the party, and watched a lonely DJ spin records and immerse himself in fog to an empty square. Luckily, there was an ice cream stand, so we loaded up on ice cream and helium. We scored some Green Party balloons being blown up a few meters away and Lilly and Sissi went about inhaling the helium because there wasn't anything else much better to do. From there we walked to the Ringstrasse (hmmm... how many times have I read about this) and caught most of the floats going by. The leather fetish float was the one that was most eye-opening for me, although all of them were pretty tacky simply because the music was fucking horrific. As Sissi noted: "I think it is great that these people are protesting and partying, you know, but why do they have to listen to such terrible music?" I guess there were 100,000 people at the parade, but it looked more like 2,000 to me. Perhaps at the party afterwards there were more. I hope so for the DJ's benefit. He looked so pathetic when we were there.

From the Rainbow Parade we headed to the Augarten, which is the place to go if you want to escape the millions of tourists -- even though I was one -- and just sit on huge empty Hapsburgian lawns with tree lined walking boulevards. All of this in the shadow of one of the largest structures I have ever seen -- a WWII, German anti-aircraft monstrosity that rises higher than probably any other building I saw in Vienna. (I guess there are four or five of these left, and they can't do anything to them, as if they attempt to dismantle these solid concrete objects, square blocks will be decimated.) That's what we wanted. Lilly took off to meet up with her boyfriend, I believe. So Gerhard, Sissi, and I just went and smoked and sat around chatting while drinking Indian beverages. Then we ate some food -- Gerhard something that was called Mexican but looked more like cat vomit, Sissi some kebab thing, and I had a Doener Sandwich. They have a huge outdoor movie theatre in this park, but the movie playing was a Japanese one about poking nails into oneself to stay awake while studying, and Sissi and I didn't feel like watching that with German subtitles. So we said goodbye to Gerhard and headed back to her flat.

We planned to watch Shrek, which Sissi is a big fan of, but when we got to her apartment the Live 8 Concert was on the tele, and Green Day was playing it up. They played the exact same set they played at Rock am Ring, and even said thank you the same exact way. I figured. Then REM came on right after them... just like Rock am Ring. They were just as pathetic as at Rock am Ring too, in my mind. Ironically, the only big band that didn't play this concert seemed to be U2, the one always whining about helping Africa. They were too busy playing to a sold out crowd in Vienna (at 200 Euros a ticket) that night to participate in a free concert for Africa. They are such fucking hypocrites! I think it would take the same personality to think Bono is a sincerely good person as it would to think Bush is. But I digress. [These are just the opinions of a lowly shithead wandering Central Europe, so bear that in mind. But come on... where was U2 when every other band in the world was playing for Africa -- even A-Ha! They were playing in Vienna?!?!]

We watched the Live 8 concert while sipping wine slowly. We took a time out to eat tomatoes anmozzarellala with the damn good bread. Then a Sylvester Stallone movie came on, and we knew we had to watch it -- "The Specialist." Though it was dubbed in German, the dialogue was easy enough to follow along. Basically, Sharon Stone wants Sly to kill someone who killed her father. He makes bombs in a secret warehouse in Miami. They have a lot of phone sex while he figures out how to kill the man. Then they have some pretty nasty, vein-popping sex, before blowing up the warehouse district of Miami. Then it ends. Yeah, brilliant!!! One of Sly's best, which isn't saying much, but at least it had violence and sex!!! It was like a mix of Rocky with Sly's movie "Italian Stallion" for those of you in the know.

Again, I was tired. Probably from walking everywhere that day, although I feel like I should be in better shape than that. Perhaps I was just so relaxed it felt okay to fall asleep. At any rate, it was bliss. I passed out on the couch and woke up at 9:30 on Sunday. Sissi was still sleeping, so I checked my email in Lilly's room -- she was at her boyfriend's again. It was a very casual morning. Sissi and I met Lilly and Lilly's cousin, Kristian, at a cafe in the Augarten. Gerhardt showed up too. We sat there for almost four hours just casually discussing life, relationships, people that like sports, crappy summer jobs we had each had, playing board games with your significant others (they are all Settlers of Catan fans, as well as Trivial Pursuit, and the consensus was that sometimes it is best to let one's partner win to make life easier for oneself in the long run), and whatever else came up. Kristian is a children's author and has his first kid arriving in January. He said he is scared shitless and trying to get as much Playstation in now as he can. Lilly was just very chill, and had some hilarious stories to recount from her summer job as a postal delivery person in the ghettos of Vienna. Sissi and I were just chatting casually throughout it all. I had about four espressos during the time, though Lilly and Kristian were drinking a mix of white whine and water. At some point a really sweaty runner came up, kissed Lilly on the cheeks and bummed a smoke off of her. They must have known one another, as they chatted, he finished his cigarette and ran off again. Brilliant!

Sissi and I left for the train station at about 2:30. We had about 15 minutes to kill at the station, so I had my last cigarette of the summer -- I'm officially in the process of quiting before Birgit arrives. I'm giving my self two weeks to get over the nic-fits that are an unavoidable evil during withdrawal. I'm moody and jumpy as hell today, but not as bad as I thought I would be; so I think things are going well. Lots of chocolate and Advil and I'll have this stinky habit kicked in a week. But I'm going to stop writing about it now, as thinking about it is what makes it hard to bear. RRRRRrrrrr...

The train ride home was uneventful. I read "The Economist" and slept a little. I was still beat. I don't know why. I arrived in Budapest a little before seven and walked home in the shadows of tall buildings from Keleti -- a few kilometers. I watched a little CNN and did my Hungarian homework, and then headed out to check my emails at around 11. I was home at midnight and passed out. This is getting so lame, I am going to stop.

Suffice to say, Vienna is even more firmly entrenched as my favorite city in Europe and I can't wait to get back there with Birgit. It was awesome seeing Sissi again. She is one of those people I just feel very comfortable talking about anything with. I'm getting really lucky this summer, as I'm bumping into all of my friends like that. In some ways, I think returning to the U.S. will be a rude awakening on that front. Peace out.

Krisztian sent this pic for me to post to the Blog. The two huge Hungarians that helped us move the refrigerator, washing machine, and everything else up eight flights to the new apartment. Just so no one thought I was embellishing their size and the reality that they could quite literally spin a 250 kg washing machine in the palm of their hand... okay, maybe I'm exaggerating now.

-- Csabi és Gaba, a két 130 kilós ork... Csabi a kzelebbi.

-- Csabi and Gab, 130 kg of Hungaria. Csabi is the closest.


Két igazi magyar srác...,
originally uploaded by ianoas.