I don't understand...

Hungarian. Okay, there are a few words here and there that I understand, like numbers (today I had to ask for the office key in Hungarian!), but for the life of me I could not put together a sentence nor could I understand one being put together for me or around me. Luckily a lot of people here know English...and Peter told me that all of his friends know English, too (they learned it in school, like he did). And technically, they do. But just because they know it does not mean they are willing to speak it. This leads to some uncomfortable situations for me. Unlike the family party on Saturday, where anyone who knew how to speak English did (for my sake), last night's dinner with Laci (Lutzy) and Kriszta was the opposite. Okay, not the opposite. But close. Laci, from what I can gather, actually went to a bilingual high school (English-Hungarian) and Kriszta lived in the US for one year during high school or college (I don't remember which). But last night, when we went to their house, I was relegated to the role of dumb and mute as everyone around me spoke Hungarian with only occasional translations by Peter (and with the occasional English thrown in here and there). I was pretty pissed, to tell you the truth. I mean, yes, I understand they are not thrilled to speak English. But for goodness' sake people! Show a little compassion, have a little respect! Maybe I am being unreasonable. Okay, here is the situation: There are four adults around a dinner table. Three of them speak Hungarian and one does not. All four speak English (though admittedly, two do so better than the other two). In what language would you think the dinner ought to be conducted?

I mean, the thing that pissed me off the most was that Peter didn't insist to them that we speak English. He sat there, speaking Hungarian all night, while I sat and stared off into space or concentrated solemnly on my food (Laci made a delicious Hungarian appetizer - don't remember the name - of cottage cheese, paprika (of course) and onions...sounds weird but was actually really tasty). He doesn't understand why I was mad. Maybe I am being unreasonable; I don't think so but maybe. But he cannot really expect that I would consider moving to this place if his friends, the people who will in thoery make up our social circle, do not even have the common courtesy to speak in a language I understand so that I can be part of the conversation! At least his family tried. These people, his supposedly great friends (who he is always saying are such better friends than Americans are to each other because Americans are...well...Americans...and I often have a hard time arguing because typically his friends do go above and beyond and my friends, well, who are my friends these days anyway?) couldn't even make the effort so that I would feel even slightly more comfortable. Does he really think I would move here when this is what's on offer?

CRUNCHY LAUNDRY
Okay, today is clearly a bit of a complaining day. Indulge me. I have been here a week and as I settle in, there are little things about life in Europe (beyond language barriers) that are less than ideal. My biggest gripe today will be about the laundry. Everyone here has a washing machine in their apartment or home. A good thing, no? I mean, I remember the days when I longed for in-home laundry (even though, once I was making enough money and despite having washer and dryer in the house, I took it to the place on the corner). But in Hungary (and in much of Europe), though everzone has a washer, almost noone has a dryer. I remember when Julie and Ryan were living at Grandma's place and she had a washer but not a dryer...they used to do the laundry and then hang some of it up and the rest they took to the laundromat to dry. So when I was staying at Grandma's last summer, I did that, too. But here, in Hungary, there is no laundromat option. You wash your clothes in the washing machine and then you hang them on a drying rack outside (I suppose it comes indoors during the winter...sounds like a lovely way to live with your laundry strewn about the house all the time). When your clothes are dry, they also have that lovely quality of crunchiness that goes with air-dried clothes. And so wrinkled. Well, anyway, if I ever were to live here you can be sure I would have a dryer. The crunchy clothes are just part of the equation. How about the 15 minutes you have to spend hanging them up? What a waste of time when I can just shove them into a machine and press a button. HELLO...modern technology was invented for a reason.

Laci said that Hungarians don't use dryers because the kind of clothes that they wear would get ruined in the dryer. That's like some kind of old wives' tale. Like the one I heard where Hungarian women don't sit on cold surfaces or walk barefoot because they think it will give them bladder infections (!!). And Hungarians feed bones to their dogs because they think it kills some unspeakable dog odor that would otherwise permeate.

ON THE BRIGHT SIDE
I like taking the bus and tram to work. I feel like a regular commuter. Like a local. And the other day I took the subway and it was awesome. I am telling you, growing up in NYC really prepared me for international subway travel. Because in Budapest, I cannot (obviously) understand what the announcer is saying at each stop. But that's okay. Because in New York you can't understand what they are saying either (and they are speaking English!), but you figure it all out anyway. So, I felt especially at home on the subway here.

Speaking of which, the Hungarians have beat even the Americans, I believe, in the battle to cover every possible spare inch of available space with advertising. On the subway, you know those straps that hang down that you hold onto so you don't fall? Well, here they have ads on them. They are tiny, yes. And, by the way, they hang very high above your head so you can't read them anyway. But they are there. And I am sure someone at the subway's headquarters got a promotion for dreaming up that revenue stream. Similarly, I would not be surprised if someone at the ad agency got fired for actually buying the space.