Confessions of a vapid teenager

First off, I am posting this off of my iPod so if the typing gets a little hairy I apologize. Today I was given the honor of being called vapid. Vapid is defined as offering nothing stimulating or challenging. I found this insult very interesting, as it is obvious (at least to me) that the person who said it really doesn't know me. Don't get me wrong, I recognize I am not even close to being a perfect human being. In fact, I will be one of the first people to recognize I am at fault in a situation, or to recognize my shortcoming. But vapid? That is a term that could be used as an antynom for describing me. I feel as though I have fairly intellectually stimulating conversations on a regular basis, and don't hold any unfounded opinions. Far from being unchallenging, I challenge most of what I am told and seek answers to questions. I do my research. I was honestly shocked someone would describe me that way. And the insults continued, claiming I based my opinions off an institution, and was whiney. This all coming from someone who needed a youtube video to argue his points for him. I have no problem with someone pointing out my flaws, but when the points seem to be infounded, I seem to work myself into quite the knot. I apologize for my first post on this blog since the trip being a long and boring rant, but I needed to get my thoughts typed out.

So Long but not Goodbye

I am sitting in a hotel room in Helsinki as I write this, trying not to tear up. Tomorrow, we head home. This month has gone by remarkably quickly. It feels like just yesterday that I was on the airplane heading to Europe. This trip has been a blessing. I have learned so much about independence, and made some awesome friends.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect when I started this blog, as I do not usually excel in English class, however, I ended up really enjoying this project! This blog has provided me with a record of my trip that I will be able to read later and remember my experience. I also realized how much I enjoy blogging, and don’t plan on stopping when I return home. So really, this is not a goodbye post, it is only the end of the travel dimension of my blog. I plan on updating this page occasionally with life stories and musings. As cheesy as it sounds, the end of this trip is not a destination, but the beginning of a journey into the development and refinement of my skills as a writer.

Well maybe a little cheesy...

Thanks for following me on my epic journey through Eastern Europe, and I hope you enjoyed the ride, I know I did!

The Perils of Addiction

In my previous blog, I detailed my recently acquired Nutella addiction. After writing that, I had an experience at the German airport that hammered home my problem.

Before leaving Germany, I decided to stock up on Nutella to go so that I would have something to snack on in Russia. I thought ten would be a reasonable number of containers, and headed off to the airport with my stash in my carry-on bag.

Totally reasonable.

 I proceeded to place my bag in the x-ray machine, assuring security there were no liquids in my bag. Apparently, German airport security and I have a different idea of what constitutes a liquid, because I was soon being asked to throw out all of my Nutella. “But it doesn’t pour!” I argued, to no avail.

I see their point, it is running off this spoon.

I resigned myself to my fate and began to pitifully eat my Nutella packages, giving a few to other students. About three Nutellas later, the airport security took pity on my sad display and allowed me through security with the rest of my packages. I was overjoyed!

This feeling lasted until about halfway through the flight. It was at this point in time that I realized the improperly closed water bottle security also let slide had leaked all over my knapsack and soaked its contents, including my passport and computer.

Pretty much.

I was then cursing my luck, and spent the rest of the flight in the isle sopping up the water with the tiny napkins they hand out with sandwiches on airplanes. I now know, even though you may think you have cheated security, in the long run, it will come back to bite you!

What's in a Name?

My blog has gone through many evolutions in naming over the past couple of weeks. I have settled on a name that has meaning to me as a writer. I write about things that interest me; about things I find beautiful, sad, or humorous. The word cellar door is said to be one of the most beautiful words in the English language. Many authors, such as C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, have made remarks about the beauty of the word. It is said to be even more beautiful when it is unattached from its meaning and spelt differently.

The movie Donnie Darko also comments on its beauty

I find the word cellar door inspiring and beautiful. It rolls off the tongue in a musical manner. It is also aesthetically beautiful, with the double o’s and l’s. The beauty of the word represents the beauty of the world around me. This trip has been beautiful and eye opening. It has been a portal to a new world, both literally, travelling to new continents and countries, and figuratively with the way I have grown and learned on this trip. The word is close to my heart and is a way of verbally expressing how I feel about life.

The URL of my blog, like rain into a paper cup, also has meaning. I took it from The Beatles' song Across the Universe. “Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup. They slither while they pass, they slip away, across the universe. Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind, possessing and caressing me.” I like this metaphor for being taken over by a story, and feeling like the words just flow out of you. I find that this happens a lot to me when I am writing. I am taken over by the story, and write using stream of consciousness. I feel like this really explains the “process” I go through when writing.

While their meaning may not be completely obvious at first, i intentionally chose both phrases for their ability to explain my worldview and process when writing.

Works Cited

Nunberg, Geoff. "The Romantic Side of Familiar Words." Language Log. N.p., 26 Feb. 2010. Web. 15 July 2011. <http://languagelog.ldc.upenn.edu/nll/?p=2142>.

The Cult of Nutella

Dear reader, I guess this was inevitable. I didn’t really want it to turn out like this, but here it is. I am an addict. My addiction has brought me to deep, dark places, searching for my fix. It has drawn me in with its sweet release, and I am now part of the cult. That’s right. I’m addicted to Nutella.

I'm drooling.

It started out casually. A little bit on toast here and there. But then I arrived in Europe. Here, they celebrate my addiction. There are fan clubs.

 In every hotel, they provided for my fix at breakfast. My addiction took a new turn, however, during breakfast in Dresden. Here, it dawned on me that Russia might not have the delicious hazel-nutty spread. I decided that I would need to liberate a few packages of the stuff so that I could enjoy it when we reached Russia. I picked up a few packages, and tried to casually walk away while stuffing them in my pocket. Unfortunately for me, Nutella packages crinkle when handled, and might has well have been sirens alerting the staff to my lameness. I finally gave up and carried them out of the breakfast room cupped in my hands, prayer style. My shame was palpable.

Behold my sweet stash

When I arrive in Berlin, I was happy to see Nutella everywhere in the supermarket. They had Nutella chocolate milk, candy bars, and my favourite, Nutella & Go!

Yum!

The package contains a well of Nutella, and beside it some cracker sticks for dipping. I have stocked up, and plan on surviving only on Nutella & Go! packs and an IV of the stuff when I’m in Russia.

I need Nutella, stat!

I am not yet ready to seek help for my addiction, but when I return, I plan on detoxing with a healthy load of peanut butter. Hopefully, I will be able to return to only eating Nutella in moderation, but you know what they say: once an addict, always an addict.

On a Serious Note...

Note: I wrote this blog in Vienna, but did not have the chance to publish it until now

When we arrived in Vienna, we went on a tour of the city. I was so in awe of the beautiful sights and in the history of the monarchy in Austria that I forgot about the story of Vienna during the Second World War. I was brought back to reality when our tour passed by an out-dated building. Our tour guide pointed it out, and told us it used to be the  Hotel Metropole, the former Gestapo headquarters in Austria. After the war, it was demolished, but to this day it is known as the place where many people have disappeared or were deported from Austria. Her sadness as she explained the painful choices Austria made during the war to join the Reich, and the deportation and slaughter of Jews made me reflect on what it must have been to live as a Jew in Vienna. 

I began thinking about what it must have been like to be kicked out of your own home and forced into a ghetto. As a society, we value our personal possessions so much. I can’t imagine going from the house I live in now to being forced into a dirty, cramped, and meagre lifestyle.

Cracow ghetto where Schindler's List takes place

 On top of living in a crowded ghetto, Jews were forced to identify themselves in public with a Star of David. I am sure it was very painful to only be seen in one dimension; your religion.

Another painful aspect of ghetto life must have been conforming your life to the timetable and expectations of others. Curfews were imposed on the Jews, and the Nazis controlled how much you were able to eat and the clothing you were allowed. This must have been very degrading and demoralizing. I was trying to put myself in the shoes of those trapped in the ghettos, and felt I could not even begin to imagine what life would be like in the concentration and extermination camps.

From touring the city, and seeing the reality that the Jews faced during Fascism was sobering. It was comforting, however, to see the Jews of Vienna recovering. As we were arriving, the International Jewish Games were kicking off in Vienna, and there was a growing Jewish community of over 20,000. This reconciliation was inspiring to see, and gave me hope for the future. Hopefully, the Jews will continue to thrive and they can forgive the atrocities of the past. Through this reconciliation, hopefully this atrocity will never happen again. 

Hitting Home

Today, I found myself lost in a maze of concrete towers in the middle of Berlin. These towers were not the type that made up buildings, however. They were over two thousand blocks of different sizes that made up a memorial to the victims of the Holocaust, called the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. As I wondered through the memorial, I couldn’t help but think of all of the atrocities I read about in Schindler’s list, and whether this memorial did the Holocaust some sort of justice.

When you approach the memorial, there is no clear signage that I could see pointing out what the memorial was for. When I first walked up, I thought it was a huge modern art installation. Each concrete block is supposed to represent a different town in Europe, and the taller the tower is, the more lives were lost from that town. I thought the anonymity of the pillars was really in keeping with the way the Jews were treated in Schindler’s List by the Nazis. They were just numbers in a system, a problem to be solved.

Over all, I do not think the monument displayed the gravity of the Holocaust. The lack of identification of the pillars themselves and the memorial as a whole left the people around it puzzled. More than once, I saw people jumping from one pillar to another, which I felt was very disrespectful to the nature of the site.

 This, of course, was not purposeful, but was almost expected due to the fact that you couldn’t tell the purpose of the art unless it was explained to you. I felt that in the city where Hitler held most of his rallies, and was such a stronghold to the Nazi regime, there could have been a more meaningful and identifiable monument. The suffering of the Jews I read about in Schindler’s List deeply disturbed me, and left me moved. During our trip, we have visited a few memorials to the Holocaust, such as the memorial In Budapest for the Jews shot dead along the Danube, called the Shoes on the Danube Promenade. We also visited  the synagogue in Prague that listed the Holocaust victims from the city, called thePinkas Synagogue.

Prague memorial

Budapest memorial

 I found both of these more moving, and a more fitting tribute to such a tragic, and truly horrible crime. Both of the memorials above treat the Jews as more than the mere numbers they were to the SS. They give names or individual characteristics (through the individual pairs of shoes) to the victims. This, to me, was more in keeping with the way Schindler treated the Jews. They had lives, families, and dreams that were all taken away from them by the Shoah. The monuments above helped me identify with this more, and elicited a more emotional response. Unlike the monument in Berlin, both of these pieces screamed what to me is the most important message I could have taken away, which is never again can humanity let this happen.

I’m Sorry, I’m an American! And other adventures in Wien

Our stay in Vienna has been very short, but in the time we have been here, I have fallen in love with the city. I love its mix of modern architecture and ancient buildings. I also am amazed by the city’s liveability. There are lots of parks, great public transit, and little things like water bottle filling stations that seem very convenient. While here, I have spent a great deal of time exploring, and consequently have had a few adventures as well!

Today, after class in the park, Cassie, Simone, and I went off to find lunch. We picked up some food and then went to sit in a covered driveway of an apartment building. As we were finishing up we decided we needed to go to the washroom. Luckily, there was a gentleman walking out of the building, and I decided to ask him where the washrooms were. He didn’t reply when I first asked him, so I said WC, and air spelled the letters, as well as repeating washroom several times. A few seconds later, he replied. “You know there are people in Austria that speak English right?” and proceeded to direct me to the pub next store. I felt like the biggest tool ever, and apologized, adding that I was very sorry, I was from America.

We then walked to the pub he directed us to, but it was locked. It was turning into a washroom emergency so we walked into the next restaurant we saw. It was nearly empty, but looked very fancy inside. We walked down a hallway that we thought would lead to the washrooms, but it only led to another dining room. As this point, we spotted some staff, and ran around a corner. We then proceeded to walk into coat rooms, a buffet room, and an office before finding the washroom. After finishing, we continued our absurd game of hide and seek until we were outside.

Actual restaurant floor plan

After the ridiculousness of finding a bathroom was over, we decided to rent bicycles to tour Vienna. Cassie and Simone chose blue, and I chose purple.

We decided to tour the downtown for a little bit, and then bike back to the hotel and deposit them in one of the machines there. We began our journey biking around the church and pack and through the side streets downtown. We started out on the sidewalk, but soon switched to the road when we realized we weren’t welcome there. After a while, we were coming very close to cars, and getting honked at constantly, so we switched into what we thought was the bike lane.

As it turns out, we were horribly, horribly wrong. We were using the buffer zone between cars and the tram as a bike lane. Conveniently, a tram soon came barrelling at us, and we realized that this was not the right place for bikes. We soon asked a cyclist where to ride, and were directed to the correct lane.

apperently these signs were too difficult for us to understand

Not that the real bike lane was any safer. People here don’t seem to understand that pedestrians and cyclists are made of real flesh and blood, and if you hit them, they might actually get hurt.

Cyclists: now made of metal

Accordingly, cars pay absolutely no attention to you, and drive as close as they can get beside you. One of my “favourite” moments of the bike ride was when a turning lane opened up for cars. At this point, the bike lane would continue going straight, and another lane would cross over it. The bike lane was now between two lanes of cars. When crossing over into the turning lane, cars would regularly ignore the bike lane, and drive straight through without stopping. Needless to say, we were always hyperaware of our surroundings at intersections.

After finishing our harrowing bike ride, we found a place to return the bikes, and headed back to the hotel. On our way up the elevator, Cassie and I both looked in the mirror and realized we had been burnt on our journey today. The burns will be a not so perfect reminder to a perfect day with friends in the city!

Put away the camera and no one gets hurt!

Travelling to different countries has provided me with many new experiences over the past few days. Some have been challenging, and at times frustrating, but all of them have been memorable and funny.

On Monday, I got it into my head that it would be a great idea to try and mail a postcard in a foreign country. After selecting some awesome post cards and writing desperate messages to my family back home, (just kidding)

this expresses my postcard's general sentiment

I asked the front desk where the nearest post office was, and was directed to the square where the metro was. This being the place where my past adventure started, I took this as  an awesome sign and set out.(If you haven't read about my metro adventure, click here) Before I continue, let me mention that we left the hotel knowing the post office closed in twenty minutes. This gave our whole excursion the air of the final seconds of Deal or No Deal.

Sort of like this, but less cool.

You had to choose the right door wisely or you might lose your prize (or in our case, the ability to mail your post cards in a timely manner). As we reached the square, we asked a gentleman which way to the post office and he pointed to the grocery store. After several minutes of wandering inside to no avail, we were directed by the lady selling tea to “the opposite street corner.” The supermarket being a middle building, there were a few “opposite corners” to choose from, and time was running out. We decided to take a stab in the dark and headed to one of the many corners. We were in luck, and soon we were in line inside the post office. Unfortunately, we weren’t out of the woods yet. The line for the post office seemed to take forever, but finally it was my turn at the window. Up until this point, I had never thought of trying to convey where I was trying to mail the postcards. To complicate matters further, I was also mailing someone else’s letter, and needed to pay separately for it. After lots of miming, I explained where I needed them mailed, but I still couldn’t explain that I needed the postcards paid for separately. While this whole scenario was happening, the security guard, sent to guard against the post office bandits, spotted a contraband item and proceeded to harass the person holding said item. I turned to see what all the commotion was, and Cassie explained to me that she was holding her powered-off camera in her hand when the postal worker spotted it and started to freak out. She quickly put it away, but not before the guard made it quite clear we all were all to “TAKE NO PICTURES!”

Very logical in a post office

 I understand her concern. After all, Hungarian postal offices are known the world over for their splendour and breathtaking architecture, as well as their secret documents, and they wouldn’t want an average tourist taking pictures of either back to their home country. Anyway, back to the story. So I was having some trouble explaining to the postal worker that I needed to mail the letters separately. She handed me a piece of paper, and I managed to convey using pictures what I needed. I finished my transactions, and she told me the letters should arrive within three to four days. I am really excited for my friends and family to receive my letters back home, and am hopeful they may show up before I graduate university. 

Another new experience occurred today, when Cassie and I decided we could no longer put off laundering our clothes. We went down to the front desk, and asked for directions to the nearest Laundromat. At first, I was afraid they might send us to the total opposite end of town because we had asked them so many questions about the internet earlier in the day. Luckily for us, they did not seek revenge and we soon arrived at the coolest Laundromat I’ve ever seen! It was painted in bright greens and oranges, and even had a machine that both washed and dried your clothes. Cassie and I were experienced launderers, but none of the boys had done their own laundry before, and so we had to teach them. We started with the basics of colour sorting, but it soon got tricky when it came time to turn the machines on. A man in the Laundromat told us that soap was already inside the machine. We took this to mean the laundry machine, but he meant the machine you pay at. So after we finally guessed our way through the German instructions, we had washing machines running, but they had no soap in them.

Totally not needed for laundry

 Luckily for us, some of the clothing must have still had soap on them from their last wash, and the clothes came out smelling fresh for the most part. We then threw all our clothes into one dryer, finished up and headed back to the hotel. Lesson learned for next time I have to do laundry, bring your own soap!

These two experiences were both challenging and funny in their own way, and through them I learned a lot about being an independent adult. I realized that these activities are things I’ll have to do when living on my own, (well maybe not in a foreign language, but that’s beside the point) and this trip has been good practice. Hopefully I will continue having more experiences like this, so that I can come home more independent and ready for university than when I left.

Sympathy for the Devil

The song Sympathy for the Devil by the Rolling Stones has really interested me since I studied it in grade ten English. I have always respected the Rolling Stones for their songs, but I had a new found respect for them when I analyzed the poetic depth of this song. They use multiple rhetoric devices, and the song has a powerful message behind it. To me, its a reminder to people that the "devil," or humans turning on each other throughout history with tragic results, reappears throughout history, and we must "remember his name," or history is doomed to repeat the violence. The devil in the poem i a metaphor for the evil behavior of humans throughout history, and reminds us at the end that "we are to blame" meaning the evil that is happening in the world is our fault, and ours to stop.

Sympathy for the Devil

Please allow me to introduce myself

I'm a man of wealth and taste

I've been around for a long, long year

Stole many a man's soul and faith

And I was 'round when Jesus Christ

Had his moment of doubt and pain

Made damn sure that Pilate

Washed his hands and sealed his fate

Pleased to meet you

Hope you guess my name

But what's puzzling you

Is the nature of my game

I stuck around St. Petersburg

When I saw it was a time for a change

Killed the Czar and his ministers

Anastasia screamed in vain

I rode a tank

Held a general's rank

When the Blitzkrieg raged

And the bodies stank

Pleased to meet you

Hope you guess my name, oh yeah

Ah, what's puzzling you

Is the nature of my game, oh yeah

(woo woo, woo woo)

I watched with glee

While your kings and queens

Fought for ten decades

For the gods they made

(woo woo, woo woo)

I shouted out,

"Who killed the Kennedy's?"

When after all

It was you and me

(who who, who who)

Let me please introduce myself

I'm a man of wealth and taste

And I laid traps for troubadours

Who get killed before they reached Bombay

(woo woo, who who)

Pleased to meet you

Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah

(who who)

But what's puzzling you

Is the nature of my game, oh yeah, get down, baby

(who who, who who)

Just as every cop is a criminal

And all the sinners saints

As heads is tails

Just call me Lucifer

'Cause I'm in need of some restraint

(who who, who who)

So if you meet me

Have some courtesy

Have some sympathy, have some taste

(woo woo)

Use all your well-learned politesse

Or I'll lay your soul to waste, mmm yeah

(woo woo, woo woo)

Pleased to meet you

Hope you guessed my name, mmm yeah

(who who)

But what's puzzling you

Is the nature of my game, mmm mean it, get down

What's my name

Tell me, baby, what's my name

Tell me, sweetie, what's my name

Imagery Key
Allusion
Imagery
Metaphor
Repitition

Adventures in Food in Budapest

I’ve been worried about being able to eat on this trip as a vegetarian for a while before I actually arrived. Luckily, the food has far surpassed my expectations, and I have enjoyed almost every meal. Still, while eating out, the language barrier has somtimes made meal-time a funny experience.

My first restaurant gaffe occurred today at lunch. Erin and did not go with the group to the movies this afternoon, and decided we needed to go for lunch. We asked for local recommendations at the front desk, and were told to take the metro to a local mall that had good options. We left a message for the group at the front desk and set off. At the time, it seemed easy enough.

We set off, and after asking a few locals, were pointed in the direction of the Metro. Once inside, we bought our tickets, and descended to the platform on what I am pretty sure is the longest and steepest escalator ever.

I Wasn't joking.

 Once our 3 minute ride on the escalator was over, we waited on the platform for our train, and prayed we were heading in the right direction. We got on what looked like a train from the 1950’s, never cleaned or painted. It was so loud on the train Erin and I couldn’t hear each other. Luckily, we got off at the next stop.

Once we were up and out, we decided to call Mr. Fischer and let him know where we were. The payphone system was very complicated to understand, and when we finally got through, we were told Mr. Fischer’s number wasn’t valid.

An actual picture of the payphone.

 We decided to make it a quick trip so no one would worry about us. After several minutes of looking, we couldn’t find the mall, but found a local McDonalds. Here is where things got complicated.

I decided to order a big mac meal without meat. At first, the cashier seemed to understand me, but soon he had to call over another employee to help. As I gestured wildly at the menu, she just nodded and smiled, before calling over yet another person to help. Finally, I was pretty confident they had understood my order, and got ready to enjoy my meal. Out of habit, I checked my bag on the way out, and found meat on my burger. I proceeded back to the front counter, and with a few more wild gestures, explained what I was looking for. The gentleman at the counter was really helpful, but he kept making sure that I really didn’t want meat on my burger!

If this makes no sense to you, check out this link



The second interesting dining experience took place today at dinner in the hotel. Halfway through the second course, the waiter approached Cassie and me, asking what we wanted for dinner. I requested a grilled cheese, and after a few hand motions and explaining bread was involved, he seemed to understand. Apparently not. For dinner, I got a salad, topped with two pieces of cheese that had been grilled. It was actually quite tasty, but now I know my comfort food doesn’t transfer into Hungarian.



Expectations



Reality. Except the cheese was grilled, not fried.



My culinary adventures have all in all been enjoyable and funny, and I’m looking forward to more in the many countries we have ahead of us! TTFN!

Notes on Culture and Porcupines in Budapest

Culture is the widening of the mind and the spirit.

-Jawaharlal Nehru (Indian Prime Minister, 1889-1964)

Going to a different country and city means encountering different cultures. When I chose the Eastern European Blyth trip, I was looking for a unique experience in countries I would not likely visit in the future. Over the past few days in Budapest, I have definitely got my wish!

The first funny and kind of gross event happened to me on my first night out in Pest. Cassie, Erin, and I were wandering around the streets when we ran into a man peeing on the street corner! Totally not something I would expect back home. I spent the rest of the night avoiding suspicious puddles and corners of buildings. I just could not understand how someone could need to go that badly. Couldn’t they have just found a bathroom in a restaurant or shop?

The next day, I totally understood how that man was feeling when Cassie and I were looking for a bathroom in the market. When we finally found one, we were told we had to pay 1500 Forints to use it! I was shocked. Isn’t using the restroom a human right!? I made a mental note to contact the UN Human Rights department when I returned to the hotel later that evening. Undaunted, we remembered a Burger King across the street. Surely they wouldn’t require us to pay. Lo and behold, in front of the restrooms was a young man asking for 2000 Forints to enter. I couldn’t believe it. Not only was I being asked to pay again, but the price had gone up! Luckily for Cassie and I, some expert begging skills convinced the man to let us use the restrooms without paying. No wonder the man from the night before relieved himself in the street; he probably felt he had no choice!



A handy diagram that details my options



Another key lesson on European culture came when I tried to cross the street several times yesterday. Back home, I go by the slightly dangerous model of “if a car can see you, and is far enough back, cross the street and they will probably slow down for you.” Apparently this doesn’t transfer well in Hungary. As I crossed the street, I noticed several cars maintain their speed, or even  speed up as they approached me. They seemed unaware I was trying to cross, or just didn’t care. Apparently, it is okay to mow down pedestrians around here, as long as they aren’t crossing on a crosswalk. I am definitely going to update my pedestrian motto to include only crossing at crosswalks while in Europe!

Along with my new motto for crossing streets, I have taken up a new motto when a bike is approaching me. Seek higher ground, or duck and cover, whichever is more convenient. Apparently, bikes have the right of way everywhere in Europe. Cassie and I were walking down the street yesterday, when a cyclist rang his bell behind us. Being courteous pedestrians, we moved closer together to allow him to pass us on the outside. He took this as a challenge, and next thing we know there is a man on a bike about five centimeters from each of us, in between us! This was not an isolated event, and in my eyes, bikers try to get as close to you as possible without actually hitting you (at least not yet.)



 I fear for my life when bicycles approach on the street, and am planning on wearing some sort of armor to protect myself from the collision I know is imminent.   



Me, next time i leave the hotel

Although not actually a new cultural experience, I was kind of surprised at the methods for taking the bus here in Budapest. After leaving the Gellert baths, we as a group decided to take a bus back to the hotel. We stood at what we thought was a tram/bus stop, and flagged down the approaching bus and tram. They proceeded to stop and we got on. Just kidding! They drove right past us like they couldn’t see us. We gave them the benefit of the doubt, moved to another “stop” and proceeded to flag down another bus. This time, the driver made eye contact with me, and continued driving. I was shocked! They didn’t even give me the courtesy of waving when they refused to pick me up, as I was used to back in Burlington. Unshaken, we proceeded to a spot that had a sign with a bus on it, and were finally picked up. Note to self- make sure you are actually at a bus stop when trying to get on a bus, or just bite the bullet and walk. You will probably get to your destination more quickly!

The most interesting event of Budapest occurred last night, while we were exploring Buda. Allison, Cassie, Erin, and I were walking down a hill when we spotted what we thought was a large rat. Being an animal lover, I wanted to follow it. As I got closer, I realized this was not, in fact, a rat, but a porcupine! I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had never seen a porcupine in real life, and was intent on petting it, until the other girls reminded me of the sharp quills just in time! We let him go, but not before a quick photo-op. Afterwards, I tried to ask some locals if porcupines were a normal sight in Hungary, but they didn’t understand my question. I think it would be absolutely awesome to live in a country where porcupines were as common as squirrels!



Me, about to pet my new-found friend



In only a few days in Budapest, I have undertaken a crash course on Hungarian life, and learned quite a few lessons for getting around and fitting in. I feel like I have mastered life here, just in time to be moving on to a new country in two days, where I have to start all over!

Clearly, not a campaign Hungary has undertaken



Works cited:

Life Inside the Iron Curtain

com·mu·nism

Spelled[kom-yuh-niz-uh m]

–noun

1.

a theory or system of social organization based on the holding of all property in common, actual ownership being ascribed to the community as a whole or to the state.

2.

( often initial capital letter ) a system of social organization in which all economic and social activity is controlled by a totalitarian state dominated by a single and self-perpetuating political party.

3.

( initial capital letter ) the principles and practices of the Communist party.

4.

communalism.

Today, while in the Church in Budapest, i was really hit by how lucky I am to live in a free country like Canada that has been relatively untouched by war and oppression. Our tour guide, Naomi, explained that many places, such as bridges, monasteries, and even this beautiful church had been reduced to rubble by bombs during World War two. It would be terrifying to have to live through  bombs and bullets reigning down on you every day.

A bombed church in Buda

After the war, the oppression for Hungary wasn’t over. To push out the Nazis, the Soviets occupied Hungary, and gradually took over the government. They set up a communist regime, modeled after the Soviet system. All students in school were taught that all major scientific advancements had been made by Soviets. Those who opposed communism, or were deemed “enemies of the people” were jailed or sent to live in isolated communities. The government strictly controlled industry, and picked industries that were not supported by Hungary’s natural resources, such as making steel. This lead to a decrease in the standard of living, even though propaganda sent out by the government stated the exact opposite.

Soviet-era cars on the street in Pest

In 1956, Stalin died, and the Soviet policies were loosened to allow for more freedom of expression, and some political prisoners were released. Soon after, there was an uprising among Hungarian university students in Budapest, and many were killed by police in an attempt to stop this uprising against communism. This “reign of terror” continued until 1963, when the government began to take a more relaxed approach. They began loosening up restrictions, and life got easier. Communism was abandoned in Hungary in 1989.

The flag of Hungary during Communist rule

To learn more, check out:
BBC News: The End of Communism in Hungary
 University of North Carolina Student Wiki-Hungary: 1968 to today

The reason I chose to research communism in Hungary was because I was intrigued by our tour guide’s description of life inside the Iron Curtain today. She lived in Hungary during communism, and said it was very difficult to travel or obtain food or clothing at that time. She remembers the situation improving in 1975, but clothing was still hard to come by. She described the end of communism as immediate, saying, “One day there was water at the stores, the next day they had coke.” This was a very powerful description for me. I was really interested to find out what it would be like to live under communist rule firsthand. I been inspired to go home and learn more about the places we saw in Budapest today, and especially to learn more about life in Eastern Europe during the rise of communism.

Works Cited

Hollander, Paul. "Hungary Under Communism." Global Museum on Communism. The Victims of Communism Memorial Foundation , 2009. Web. 2 July 2011. http://hungary.globalmuseumoncommunism.org/hungary/history?page=1.

"Communism." Random House Dictionary. 2011. N. pag. Web. 2 July 2011. <http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/communism>.