The Dangers of the Outrageous

I have to write this down before I forget. So the last time Laci came over he looked at me seriously and said, “I have to show you something very important that you must be careful of.”

He walks over to our kitchen and opens the fridge to pull of the milk. He unscrews the cap, bringing the carton up close to his face. He looks seriously at Seren and me. As he explains.

“Look here,” he says, pointing to the small ring of plastic underneath the cap. It is that little useless piece that locks the cap in place before it is unscrewed for the time. “You have to remember to pull that off after you open the milk next time.”

We look at him confused. Laci looks back at us, with an expreshion of mild sheepishness.

“Well, you see,” He continues. “Just last week I poured myself a glass of milk and took a big drink, because I was thirsty, right? Well it just so happened that that little plastic ring was in the glass when I drank, so I ended up swallowing it."

Laci grins at his story as he admits, “it got stuck in my throat. And after Zsofi was finished laughing, she took me to the doctor… so anyway you never know what might happen!”

And so I learned the dangers of milk cartons.

Budapest at Night

This is our church, right down the street. though no one uses it... since the priest shooed me away when i was too close







Seren and I on the front steps... when we shouldn't have been :P




Oh! The Danube River!

My New Home

This is heathrow airport, and the crash that happened WED JAN 16



My apartment from the first floor


This is where you throw out the trash



This is where I go when I feel like spying



Hello man in red. I see you




Damn , where'd I put my sniper riffle

Jó reggelt!

Jó reggelt! I’m sitting here at the breakfast table eating Famili corn flakes, which I’ve never heard of, but for the most part they are yummy. I’m putting tej in my bowl, which is the strange tasting milk of Hungary. I’m thinking lovingly of my night last night, which to me seemed wonderfully European. I’ll say more later today.

Winter in Europe

01/17/08

Complete chaos! That’s what my day is like. I’m stuck in Heathrow airport, not because I intended to enjoy the adventures of the United Kingdom, but because every flight in the whole airport was canceled because of a crash landing. It was a plane from China that just barely made it over the fence onto the runway, though it’s landing was short so it landed on the field, missing the freeway and the innocent commuters, but still making a crash landing. Its left wing was smashed up, and the wheels were forced from the body of the plane, so there were deep skid marks trailing behind the massive plane. No one was killed, but still this frightening event was plastered all over the tele. Live. The strange thing for me was the fact that if I looked at the TV screen, I could see journalists and helicopter footage of the wretched plane, with it’s evacuation slides poised and confirming the intensity of the situation. But not only that; if I looked just past the TV screen and out the airport windows, I could see the plane, as clear as day in front of me, all flashing lights and crushed metal. So here I am sitting in a hotel room meant for heavy smokers. But this is a miracle that I’m sitting down at all! It was pure chaos in the airport. I had to go through line after line, to re-book the flight, get hotel vouchers, confirm my baggage, find the right buses, and check-ins. It was insanity, though I got to meet a nice girl from my school, who I happened to pick out of the crowd with my eagle eyes. No. Actually that’s a lie. I knew there was going to be someone from my school on the same plane, though throughout the day I thought she was at least 5 different people. But my last guess was correct (and she was the only person I actually approached, so I was pretty sure.) I actually liked the flight over very much. Ten hours is a long time to be doing nothing, but it was wonderful time, dark and warm. Most of the plane was trying to sleep, and I read some books for school, finished one for fun, watched monsters inc., and listened to music while gazing out at the fast-moving night. I even had the whole row to myself, so I could stretch out with a stack of pillows, remarkably comfortable. Sleep however, did not find it’s way to me. I’m running very low on much needed sleep so I feel once in a while as though I have vertigo. Only the earthquake and loss of balance that fills me so strongly, does nothing to affect the casual travelers on their way. As I stood with Patricia (the USF student) in line after line, even my unconscious was getting impatient. I would accidentally prod my baggage cart forward, hitting the people in from of me in the back of the knees. I was completely unaware of what I was doing, though somehow I think I was trying to edge the line along, as though I was a sheep dog, biting at the heels of the herd.

1/19/07

Here is my new life. After a feverish few days, here I am in my bed, surrounded by my bustling city, awaiting the light of mornings to come. The airport has unfortunately lost all o my luggage, and I have been wearing the same clothes for the past two days. I think everything that could possibly have gone wrong in the airports did, but that aside, I made it. The plane ride over was actually eventful. This stranger struck up a conversation and we ended up sitting next to each other on the plane. He’s doing a semester in Budapest, just like me, only he will be attending another university. Also the guy on my other side was this middle-aged man from Canada who told eventful stories about his terrible movies. He is a bad screen writer and actor (his words) who’s director is a transsexual named Dezzie. Apparently his last job was to make voice-overs smashing all of the Alfred Hitchcock movies, and to play the part of Harry Truman. I was picked up by a guy named Peter, who spoke almost perfect English, and drove, hands down, like a complete maniac. But I’m alive. And it’s nice to be roommates with someone I like. Seren is a really nice person, and we get along really well. It’s especially nice because along with other things, she speaks English, which in not spoken by anyone around here… except for us Americans. I know not a word.

I’m pretty exhausted, even after crashing into my hotel room bed last night. That night of sleep was pretty great. I was so tired that my mind cooperated whole-heartedly. I even began hearing my dreams before they appeared before my eyes. I was THAT tired. And here I am again. I hope I will sleep just as well. Goodnight. Jó éjszakát!


1/22/08

So now baggage means I have been wearing the same clothes for the last six days. Despite the annoyance of having no new clothes, I have found the solutions. I bathe with my clothes. Why don’t I just use the washing machine, you ask? Well for a few reasons. The first is that, who washes one outfit? It’s a waste. And the second reason is that I don’t understand how to work this strange Hungarian contraption. It’s both a washing machine and a dryer, and confusing. So I wash my own clothes and it’s actually not so bad. I’ve actually wanted to try this new, European technique of owning naught but one outfit, though I think more specifically it’s French. Thought the whole idea is that you buy a really expensive outfit and then wear it all summer, like a fancy dress. Then at the end of the season you put it away and never wear it again. Come to think of it, this is something my mother told me about so I don’t actually know if it’s true.

Mistaken meaning

So this happens sometimes with simple stuff. Two people talk together, about different things. But not in the way that “different things” could mean different topics to discuss. I mean “different things” to mean two people having a single conversation, with both parties talking about different subjects, thinking that the other person is intending to talk about their singular topic. Wow. That’s actually hard to describe. And strangely it doesn’t have a name.

Enough of that, because my dilemma this morning has to do with something similar, but less complicated. I thought my neighbor gave me a solstice present, and in return I had the burning desire to make her a pie. Now I have found out she did not think of me on the solstice and was actually out of town. My pie making energies have been fuddled. And yet I still feel that if I was going to give her one, I still should. But now I would like to make a pie for other reasons, like for my mum’s holiday parties. And I can’t really make two pies. But I suppose half a pie isn’t much of a gift is it? Why is that I wonder? It’s still yummy, but since the other person naturally assumes that you have already been eating on the pie, the gift holds less significance. But that would imply that the pie was so good you couldn’t help yourself, therefore it should still make a nice gift. And with everyone worrying about weight these days… half a pie should be fine, no?

Yeah. I thought not as well.