<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917</id><updated>2011-04-28T23:57:09.045-07:00</updated><title type='text'>snoel abroad</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>61</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-8418212027311971477</id><published>2007-11-04T19:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T19:33:24.639-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A long time coming</title><content type='html'>I know it's been a while, too long.  Plenty has happened since my last entry and all will be explained on my new blog:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://gradsnoel.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://gradsnoel.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-8418212027311971477?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/8418212027311971477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=8418212027311971477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/8418212027311971477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/8418212027311971477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/11/long-time-coming.html' title='A long time coming'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-2237339108729843800</id><published>2007-06-16T02:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-16T02:54:07.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lasts</title><content type='html'>Szolnok.  Last weekend I took one last train trip South East across the Great Hungarian Plain to Szolnok to visit Emily.  In the past few weeks everything has been “the last,” there have been a lot of goodbyes.  In Szolnok it was my last train trip, the last time I got stuck in the rain on a Sunday night at a train station not quite home (this time it was Hatvan.) The last time I would sit in a room drinking Soproni beer, eating Fornetti in the middle of a conversation going on in five different languages.  The last time I would enjoy a paper plate stacked high with grilled meats, sausages and other Hungarian delights smothered with spicy mustard, the last time I would sleep in a dog pile of too many CETPers trying to spend the weekend in someone’s tiny apartment.  It was my last time to sit under a bridge with my friends dangling our feet in one of Hungary’s dirtiest rivers and not caring because it was so hot outside.  But the biggest and saddest last of them all was the weekend itself- the last of many spontaneous weekends with my new friends in a random Hungarian city.  This weekend I had to say goodbye to Emily, who I have faith will always be there in her apartment in Szolnok when I need another dose of Magyarorszag and come back to visit.  To Caley and Arlo- attached at the hip and always a good time- they renewed all of our attitudes when they arrived second semester and I’m sure that Caley will continue his antics with the newbies who will arrive in September.  I did, however, get to hold off on my goodbye to Bridget since she is coming to Gyöngyös for a last chance look at the Northern Uplands.  It was a great way to end things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, as has been the pattern lately, I have found a way to put off a few more lasts and goodbyes and will see a few more people for (yet another) last hoorah in Budapest this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-2237339108729843800?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/2237339108729843800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=2237339108729843800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2237339108729843800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2237339108729843800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/06/lasts.html' title='Lasts'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-1638658109197769611</id><published>2007-06-16T02:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T10:46:07.855-08:00</updated><title type='text'>School</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;The last few weeks at school have been anything but routine. The combination of hot weather, burned out students (and teachers), and construction that seems to intrude more and more on the physical space and noise level of the building (the last week I had construction workers on scaffolding outside my classroom windows- shirtless and sweaty which was far more than my hormonal 13 and 14 year old girls could handle!) has meant that we haven’t done much in the way of regular lessons in a while. There was a week where on any given day half the school was away on a trip, and an afternoon where I (and the other English teachers) took 95 students to the movies for a special screening of The Queen. The Monday after I returned from Balaton was “Teacher’s Day” and I was showered with gifts, chocolates and flowers from my students followed by a faculty appreciation banquet where we ate, drank, ate some more and drank some more. A few students read poems, played the flute and sang us a song before thanking us for all our work and giving us each a single rose- very sweet. After this there were speeches from the headmistress and a special goodbye to 4 retiring teachers and 1 more who was leaving- me. I was told that the headmistress’s speech was very nice (but I couldn’t understand it myself) but they gave more gifts and flowers and there was a champagne toast- all so nice.&lt;br /&gt;This week, however, the final week, was the most odd. On Tuesday it was the teachers’ chance for a field trip and 40 of us loaded onto a bus at 8 am. This being Hungary the first order of business as we pulled away from the school at 8am was to serve martini’s in plastic cups- it’s never too early in Hungary. Unfortunately do to bad traffic we arrived at our destination 4 hours later (instead of the expected 2.5) but it was a fun trip and everyone chatted and listened to music and laughed and, of course, ate an uncountable amount of sandwiches wrapped in napkins and pulled from bottomless bags. Our destination was Komoron, a small town on the North Western border of Hungary, just across the river from Slovakia.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RnOuXvqGdRI/AAAAAAAAADI/awlq2oYDLu4/s1600-h/Slovakia+across+the+Danube.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076592927929955602" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RnOuXvqGdRI/AAAAAAAAADI/awlq2oYDLu4/s200/Slovakia+across+the+Danube.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here we toured an old fort built after the 1848 revolution and later used by the Soviets as a prison and artillery storage. The fort is built mostly underground and the few above ground buildings are covered with earth and wild grasses that allow it to blend in with it’s surroundings. We wandered the extensive tunnel system and even got a bit lost! &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RnOu1fqGdSI/AAAAAAAAADQ/_RJihPTaPXo/s1600-h/Satzi,+Szabo+Bea,+Marika.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076593439031063842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RnOu1fqGdSI/AAAAAAAAADQ/_RJihPTaPXo/s200/Satzi,+Szabo+Bea,+Marika.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;But Szabo Bea and Satzi (with the help of an old railroad track and ancient rail cart) found our way out. Next we drove to the small town of Tata, famous for hosting the European kayak and canoeing championships.                           &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076593855642891570" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RnOvNvqGdTI/AAAAAAAAADY/iIFc1zbKkDU/s200/Tata.JPG" border="0" /&gt;We had an ice cream (or two) and jumped back on the bus- martinis in hand- to head back to Gyöngyös. Unfortunately about 45 minutes away from home the buses fancy computer automated air-conditioning broke down and the heat came on full blast- this combined with a long day of walking around in the sweltering heat meant everyone was soon feeling ill and we had to stop the bus every 10 minutes so that we could all get out- cool down (or throw up) and then get back on. The heat must have gotten to the ladies heads because pretty soon they were laughing and pouring their water bottles down their dresses and then all broke out into song- an old Socialist era song they all knew from school because they said the situation reminded them of the days of Socialist Hungary.&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday was another special day. There was a school wide scavenger hunt that was spread over the entire town. At each stop the students had to answer questions or perform special tasks such as counting park benches, measuring the mustache of the statues in a square or answer a quiz about their teachers. My job for the day was to help and walk around with class 7a (my favourites, but shhh don’t tell the others!) I had a great time chatting with the kids and walking ALL over town. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RnOwNPqGdUI/AAAAAAAAADg/HWrumdTIGPk/s1600-h/Norbi,+Marci,+Reka,+Mark,+Soma.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076594946564584770" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RnOwNPqGdUI/AAAAAAAAADg/HWrumdTIGPk/s200/Norbi,+Marci,+Reka,+Mark,+Soma.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Norbi, Marci, Réka, Mark and Soma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thursday and Friday were mostly spent with the 7th and 8th graders preparing and practicing for the big graduation ceremony on Saturday and the 5th and 6th graders scattered across various parks in town playing games so I mostly had the two days off to sign final papers, complete my naplos (the daily registers for each class where I must enter the lesson number and topic and sign it daily- I will be having nightmares about the Naplos for years!!)&lt;br /&gt;Thursday night was a final goodbye and celebratory banquet for the graduating 8th graders at a local restaurant. The kids were all dressed up in suits and cocktail dresses and gave speeches and sang songs. They thanked us for our work and presented us each with a signed copy of their class picture. Then they moved aside the tables and the place became a disco. The kids soon dragged me in and I ended the night rocking out to “Eye of the Tiger” with my 8th graders. It was a fantastic way to end a year that has been- where class 8 is concerned- a rough one. Tomorrow morning (Saturday) I will go to their Ballagas- the traditional Hungarian graduation ceremony which, as I’ve heard, is an experience to look forward to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-1638658109197769611?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/1638658109197769611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=1638658109197769611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1638658109197769611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1638658109197769611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/06/school.html' title='School'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RnOuXvqGdRI/AAAAAAAAADI/awlq2oYDLu4/s72-c/Slovakia+across+the+Danube.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-7205343914398514724</id><published>2007-06-16T02:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T10:46:08.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wrapping up a few loose ends.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RnOtPfqGdQI/AAAAAAAAADA/9VPDTuMKgT0/s1600-h/washer.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076591686684407042" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RnOtPfqGdQI/AAAAAAAAADA/9VPDTuMKgT0/s200/washer.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1) My funny Euro washing machine. We have settled on a “live and let live” relationship. I don’t throw it out the window (even when I really want to) and it only dyes entire loads of laundry baby blue and clogs all my drains occasionally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Walter the fat Dalmatian who chills on the step outside my school is actually female and named Magdi and she a sweetheart who prefers the term “rotund” and blames the excess weight on numerous litters and her owner’s refusal to take her to Pilates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Grocery shopping. I now always (well, almost always) have a 20, 50 and 100 ft coin on me at all times so I can get a buggy and be allowed into the grocery store where I am now a super star at weighing and printing out labels for more produce, ordering things at the meat counter and even remembering to bring my own bags. Which mostly means that I will probably freak out when some stranger starts bagging my groceries for me when I get home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) School lunch. In January I started to get food vouchers and that was the end of the wet noodles topped with sour cream and cheese.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-7205343914398514724?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/7205343914398514724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=7205343914398514724' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/7205343914398514724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/7205343914398514724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/06/wrapping-up-few-loose-ends.html' title='Wrapping up a few loose ends.'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RnOtPfqGdQI/AAAAAAAAADA/9VPDTuMKgT0/s72-c/washer.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-4276257727283721078</id><published>2007-06-08T08:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T08:12:55.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wine and the Lake</title><content type='html'>Today is Wednesday, June 6th and I fly home to the US two weeks from today.  My time here as flown by but has also crawled along very slowly, I’m sure my last weeks will be the same.  I’ve been busy the last few weeks trying to squeeze in all of the things that I had been wanting to do since I’ve come here as well as trying to see and say goodbye to all my friends around the country.  The last week of May was a three day weekend and (as always) this meant various festivals around Hungary.  I had a tough decision to make- the wine festival in Tokaj or the beer festival in Beke.  In the end we (Eve and I) decided to go to Tokaj assuming that it must be a good because every hostel, hotel and guesthouse in the area was fully booked!  Lucky for us Ian in Nyiregyhaza is only about 40 minutes away.  So after a Saturday night out in Nyiregyhaza, Ian, Eve, Ray and I spent a fantastic day in Tokaj.  Tokaj is one of the many famous wine towns and is famous for it’s white wines, especially a super sweet dessert wine with a unique flavor thanks to the special mold found on the walls of the Tokaj cellars.  As with all festivals in Hungary, the main square and street of the town was lined with booths representing each of the local cellars as well as fair food and other various things for sale (if you ever need a giant gulyas cauldron and tripod this is the place.) We bought our tasting glasses, had our first glass were just finishing up our heaping plates of fresh grilled chicken, paprikas krumpli and grilled veggies when a storm rolled it (the same storm that seems to hit this region every afternoon) Luckily we (and all the other festival goers) were able to wait out the storm under an overhang and take turns running out for a fresh glass of Tokaj wine, with just a hint of Tokaj rain.  The next morning Eve and I decided to spend a few more hours at the festival before heading home and this time were invited in to one of the wine booths when the storm hit where were chatted, sipped wine and nibbled pogacsa with the wine makers.  Unfortunately Eve and I had a bit too much fun and lost track of the time which meant we caught the last train back to Budapest just in time to miss our last buses and trains home- oops!  However, after some wondering and searching we were able to find a hostel for the night so we could be up at dawn to catch the 5 a.m. buses home giving us enough time to quickly change our clothes and run straight to class!  A small price to pay for the luxury of getting to put off saying our final goodbyes for another few hours.&lt;br /&gt;            The next weekend, the first of June, was the big goodbye weekend.  23 of us spent the weekend at Balatonfured- one of the many small lakeside towns along the shores of lake Balaton- the Hungarian sea.  The 23 was made up mostly of the other CETP teachers but also included 2 Hungarians (Noemi- the honorary CETPer and Attila), John and Kelsey- Harpswell’s recently graduated cousin, Adam- my contribution- a friend from high school at the beginning of his own Euro trip, and Jeremy- a teacher from last year back for the summer.  We had a fantastic weekend hanging out on the beach, swimming, and playing ultimate Frisbee. A wonderful way to say goodbye to a fantastic group of people in an amazing setting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-4276257727283721078?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/4276257727283721078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=4276257727283721078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/4276257727283721078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/4276257727283721078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/06/wine-and-lake.html' title='Wine and the Lake'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-180152078358689599</id><published>2007-06-05T01:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-05T01:39:14.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday, Thursday, Thursday!</title><content type='html'>I'm nearing the end...15 days left...I owe posts on the Tokaj weekend and Balaton weekend...they'll show up soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime- I'll be in Budapest for one last afternoon/evening, dinner/ drink.  Call me if you'll be around (yes, the phone has been revived!!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-180152078358689599?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/180152078358689599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=180152078358689599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/180152078358689599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/180152078358689599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/06/thursday-thursday-thursday.html' title='Thursday, Thursday, Thursday!'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-8860273444255755683</id><published>2007-05-24T05:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-24T05:08:08.952-07:00</updated><title type='text'>too hot to write my own blog post.</title><content type='html'>It's hot here, and humid, not my scene.  This last week has had a high of 30° C all week (that's 86°F!) I think it's only going to get hotter-luckily we're off to the Lake in a week- that should help. Til then- I'm too hot to write my own blog post so here is Brieggy's:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Air conditioning. If I could create levels of heaven, like Dante's circles of Hell, Air conditioning would be right up there. It has been too hot to teach, and too hot to think lately....&lt;br /&gt;The kids are getting squirelly and restless. It is difficult to teach them...or even to keep them in line. One of my girls put it simply "It is too hot and the end of the year, and I have no patience for the English"My response "The English?" but what I was really thinking was - me too"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-8860273444255755683?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/8860273444255755683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=8860273444255755683' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/8860273444255755683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/8860273444255755683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/05/too-hot-to-write-my-own-blog-post.html' title='too hot to write my own blog post.'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-5260616193171689742</id><published>2007-05-17T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T07:04:20.609-07:00</updated><title type='text'>why I love my department head</title><content type='html'>just a moment to extol the virtues of Ilí, the head of English at my school and my contact teacher here in Hungary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ilí is great for many reasons, she may be the best contact teacher in Hungary, but today she especially rocks because:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) She invited me to her house to teach me how to make Gulyas soup&lt;br /&gt;2) She let me use the Internet at her house&lt;br /&gt;and 3) while I was  online she just brought me a little tray with a glass of wine and pogacsa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so props to you Ilí!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-5260616193171689742?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/5260616193171689742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=5260616193171689742' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5260616193171689742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5260616193171689742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/05/why-i-love-my-department-head.html' title='why I love my department head'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-4607091449197717857</id><published>2007-05-16T04:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T10:46:09.814-08:00</updated><title type='text'>music, monasteries, and hiking in the rain.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is a bit out of order but oh well...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The last weekend in April we had a 4 day weekend thanks to the May 1st holiday falling on a Tuesday. That weekend was also a HUGE and incredible music and visual arts festival in Győr called MediaWave. Győr also happens to be where Eve, another CETPer lives. As I'm coming to the end of my time here I've been trying to make a point to get to all of the places and do all of the things that have been on my list since arriving in Hungary. Seeing Győr and Eve was one of them so the festival and extra days off were the perfect time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I arrived in Győr early Saturday afternoon and Eve and I jumped into the festival atmosphere right away (after a beer and some cake at one of the many beautiful outdoor cafes!) We spent the next 3 days and nights enjoying the people, music atmosphere of the festival. It was fantastic and we heard everything from 3 person jazz quartets (apparently very popular in Hungary) to a fusion of hip-hop and traditional Gypsy music from a Czech group. The participants came from all over the world and there was even a healthy number of Canadians. So Eve, Mary Carmen (a British CETPer) and Marin (a friend of Eve's from home- and yes, that makes THREE Coloradans in Győr- pretty crazy) listened to music, drank wine and danced all day and all night for the entire weekend- it was fantastic!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/Rkrs50uv38I/AAAAAAAAACo/Je-17jC6Al4/s1600-h/at+Pannonhalma.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065121209082961858" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/Rkrs50uv38I/AAAAAAAAACo/Je-17jC6Al4/s200/at+Pannonhalma.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (at Pannonhalma)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On Monday we took a break from the festival and took a drive outside of Győr (thanks to Eve's friend Jozsi!) to Pannonhalma an amazingly beautiful Franciscan monastery perched on the top of a hill. The monastery in the largest and oldest in Hungary and was luckily enough to survive unscathed from WWII and Communism. We toured the grounds and public areas including a gorgeous old library and the original church which is said to house the thrown of King Saint Stephen. We had hoped to enjoy a wine tasting at the monastery's own vineyard but sadly we were there only one day before the start of their season! We did, however, find another local cellar near by where we sampled some great wines in a dark and dank cellar (one of my favourite Hungarian activities.) It was a great weekend!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/Rkrtgkuv39I/AAAAAAAAACw/dovjvG2StOU/s1600-h/Sara+and+Eve.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065121874802892754" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/Rkrtgkuv39I/AAAAAAAAACw/dovjvG2StOU/s200/Sara+and+Eve.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (the two red heads from Colorado in Hungary)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next weekend Eve came to Gyöngyös to see what life was like in a Hungarian town less then bustling with arts and culture :-) Our plan was to hike around the Matra hills and see Kékes- Hungary's highest peak which is just a few minutes from Gyöngyös. Unfortunately the weather was less then great. On Sunday we decided to go anyway and had a great day hiking in the forests in the mist and were only bothered by a few rain drops which kept us cool in what is otherwise a very hot and humid walk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/Rkrt_0uv3-I/AAAAAAAAAC4/E2kyQgNZAWY/s1600-h/Sara+in+the+trees.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065122411673804770" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/Rkrt_0uv3-I/AAAAAAAAAC4/E2kyQgNZAWY/s200/Sara+in+the+trees.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (I blend into the Matra!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-4607091449197717857?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/4607091449197717857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=4607091449197717857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/4607091449197717857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/4607091449197717857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/05/music-monasteries-and-hiking-in-rain.html' title='music, monasteries, and hiking in the rain.'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/Rkrs50uv38I/AAAAAAAAACo/Je-17jC6Al4/s72-c/at+Pannonhalma.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-6517371883056481190</id><published>2007-05-11T04:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T04:04:45.744-07:00</updated><title type='text'>4 things in my bag</title><content type='html'>The four things in my bag that make me realize I’ve been in Hungary for almost 10 months:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1)  Mineral water (Asvanyviz)- on purpose!  After months of desperately trying to avoid being served sparkling water instead of still, going to the length of learning how (and remembering) to ask for it specifically and even figuring out the color coded system of each brand in the country (usually pink but you have to watch out for Theodora because while it isn’t sparkling it still tastes like mineral water- the worst kind) I have even been known to mime bubbly versus flat water to get my point.  And yet, it seems that Europe has won.  I like the blue-capped, bubbly, funny tasting water!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) A sandwich wrapped in tinfoil.  This is one of the quiet phenomenons of Hungary that is best witnessed in schools, both in the classrooms and in the teachers’ room.  It seems that everyone in Hungary has an endless supply of homemade sandwiches stashed away in their bag that they snack on throughout the day- during breaks between classes and occasionally during English class.  These sandwiches are usually wrapped in tinfoil or paper napkins and you can always guarantee that at least four teachers will be munching a sandwich at any given moment in the teachers’ room.  Most of the sandwiches are heavy on the butter and processed meat- I haven’t become that much of a convert, I stick to cheese, mustard and turkey. They used to think I was crazy because I never ate at school (most days I’m only there for about 4 hours!) now I diligently pack my sandwich and wrap it in foil and now they just think I’m weird for only ever having one.  With the Hungarians’ love of sandwiches and taking them with them I’m surprised that neither peanut butter nor Ziploc bags have caught on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) All-purpose cleaner.  The key thing here is that I bought this cleaner from a traveling cleaner salesman that spent the day in the teachers’ room lining up his products.  This occurrence of random sales people who bring all sorts of products to sell to the teachers between classes happens often enough to clearly be a ‘thing’ here but seldom enough  to still surprise me every time.  I haven’t seen the same product twice but the offerings range from cleaning supplies to books to bad art and ugly shoes.  I always stop and stare as they unload their boxes of goods and display them around the room- on top of graded tests, old homework and the lost-and-found box.  Today, however, I was mostly just pleased that I didn’t have to stop at the store on my way home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) An old plastic shopping bag.  Just in case I want to stop and buy anything, anywhere- you have to pay extra for plastic bags everywhere!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the one thing that ISN’T in my bag that lets me know that I still haven’t been here all that long:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Red hair dye.  Hungarian-Red to be specific.  A shade that is hard to describe- dark maroon, almost purple that changes from fiery-red to deep purple depending on the light- truly unnatural and also by far the most popular (and possibly the only) hair color in Hungary.  I picked up a box today and looked it over, considered it for only a split second before shaking myself back to reality and promptly putting it back on the shelf.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-6517371883056481190?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/6517371883056481190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=6517371883056481190' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6517371883056481190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6517371883056481190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/05/4-things-in-my-bag.html' title='4 things in my bag'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-2926436183259003476</id><published>2007-05-02T03:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-02T03:29:44.231-07:00</updated><title type='text'>beter late then never</title><content type='html'>I left off here as I was heading into a four day weekend thanks to the national holiday on March 15th.  Since then I have had a busy few weeks.  Let me explain, no there is no time, let me sum up (yes, I did teach The Princess Bride in my 7th grade classes which resulted in my seeing the entire film 4 times- not counting pre time- any lines I couldn’t quote before I certainly know now)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The long weekend of Mach 15th  I traveled across Hungary’s eastern border to Romania (for the second time since I have been here) with Ian and Lisa.  We visited the cities of Oradea (which I had previously visited on my trip to Transylvania in October) and  Timisoara.  Our plan included ending our trip in Arad, however, after arriving the city and taking the LONGEST tram ride ever around the city in search of the city center we decided we’d seen enough and we were better off cutting our losses and heading back to Hungary a day early.  Arad and the tram ride felt a bit like a Disney land tourist train ride through “The Eastern European Adventure- complete with post Soviet bloc apartment complexes, dusty roads and paint-sniffing kids”- I recommend Timisoara and Oradea for anyone looking for a Romanian get-away.  I could use up an entire blog page (yes, I know that blogs have no actual dimensions or pages…what would you call that never ending screen space? I think my students would call it cruel and unusual punishment judging from their tortured whines and pleas when the must write 1 WHOLE page- for a homework assignment)  Anyway…back on track here…I could write a lot about the “unique” adventures that came with traveling Romania with Ian and Lisa  but I’ll leave you with only one (for a more detailed and “Lisa”-esqe take on the events you can read her blog on MySpace)&lt;br /&gt;This adventure came at the end of our trip and technically was in Hungary and not Romania.  After deciding to bail on Arad and head back across the border we discovered that there were no more trains that day back to Budapest, there was however, a train across the border to Bekescsaba, so we took it figuring that at least we’d be back in Hungary, we knew where Bekescsaba was and I had even been there before (the Sausage festival with Becky back in the fall.)  We could hope for connections home once arriving in Bekescsaba and if there weren’t any we would…well we’d figure something out.  Of course, there were no connections that day (to be fair it was evening by then) so we would have to stay in Bekescsaba for the night and take the morning trains home.  Lisa thought we should spend the night walking the town and hanging around the train station “it will be fun you guys!....we can entertain each other…it’s only 10 hours!”  But Ian and I immediately vetoed that plan- it won’t be fun, we insisted, and the early morning hours in a cold train station move slower than the tram in Arad- why did we know this? See my write up of Christmas break in Slovenia for a reminder of Ian’s and my LONG night in Ljubljana.&lt;br /&gt;Luckily the woman at the ticket counter went above and beyond to help us out, she called around and found a hostel for us and when we asked for walking directions there one of her colleagues offered us a ride!  Excellent, everything was going our way.  We pulled up at the hostel…somehow the name Sport Hotel didn’t give us a hint to what was coming.  I was surprised when I recognized where we were, at the stadium where I had been for the Sausage festival.  The hotel was actually IN the stadium.  On two levels, where one would normally see souvenir shops, box seats, refreshment stands and maybe even a restaurant, they had hotel rooms.  This was all fine, if not odd, the “hall” outside our door actually looked out over the main floor of the stadium.  What made the experience truly memorable was that there was a rock concert going on in the stadium that night.  We were literally sleeping inside a Hungarian hard rock concert (that was not particularly good.)  The area surrounding the stadium/ hotel was filled with limos, food stands and intimidating security guards who blocked the back doors and kept the screaming fans out while letting Ian, Lisa and I pass through with a flash of our room key.  It was loud and the entire room shook but only till about 1am and it was certainly more comfortable than the train station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next weekend was also out of the ordinary for me.  That Thursday my friend Jenni from Denver (who has been living in Ireland) flew in for a long weekend.  After spending a few “thrilling” days in my town of Gyongyos Jenni and I spent the weekend in Budapest being proper tourists and doing all the touristy must-sees and must-dos in Budapest.  A perfect trial run for what has been and string of visitors. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next weekend I had a much needed break from traveling and enjoyed a quiet weekend at home.  Then came the big trip, the big break and the big visit.  We were given four days off (a long Easter weekend) for Spring break and I took another three because my parents came to visit! We had quite a European travel spree- a few days in Budapest where we barely made it through the House of Terror audio guide tour (I feel like I should be able to get transfer credits for listening to that much lecturing!)  We also walked all over the city and nearly had to drag my mother kicking and screaming out of the baths- her new favorite place.  Next we took a train to Vienna where we were bombarded by the staggering amount of museums, palaces, parks and, of course, cake shops (I think the afternoon cake and coffee break will be the hardest routine for my mom to break when she gets home!) Being in Vienna we had to go to the Opera and being Americans in Austria we, of course, couldn’t pass up The Sound of Music.  It was heaps of fun and my mom even restrained herself from singing (most of the time.) The weather was unbelievably gorgeous the entire trip and there was something for all of us.  My dad fell in love with the Natural History Museum and visited twice and my mom got to see the Lipenzer stallions rehearse; and I got to enjoy eating in restaurants as opposed to grocery store picnics on the curb and sleep in a hotel room instead of enduring the hostel dorm rooms where there is, inevitably, always someone who snores like their fighting dragons in their dreams….wait…oh well, I got to eat cake J Next we headed back to Hungary and to one of my favorite towns here, Eger.  We visited the castle and had a nice relaxing day in the old cobblestone streets and squares.  In the evening we met up with my friend Lee from England (who is going home this weekend- we’ll miss you Lee!)  The four of us visited the Valley of the Beautiful Women where we made our way through the little cellars sampling the famous Egri Bikavar wines.  The next day we finally made our way to Gyongyos where my parents got to see, first-hand, the places of so many of my stories (my dad even did some laundry the infamous funny-little-Euro-washer).  The weather has, again, been fabulous (somewhere in the middle of all my busy weeks and backed up blog entries spring arrived in Hungary- the flowers are blooming, the sun is out and the cafes are reopening their outdoor terraces!)   So, along with Kelly and Jim (the Brits) we took the narrow gauge railway a few miles into the Matra hills where we hiked in the forests, climbed the lookout tower and my mom finally got her roasted chicken and beer on a picnic table in a park.  It was a wonderful visit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No rest for me yet however! My next visitor came rolling in the next weekend.  My friend Joe (another one from Denver) and his friends Frank and Morgan- all of whom are traveling Europe after a few months spent working in London- flew through Budapest.  Fortunately they were all a bit museum and churched out so I was saved from having to do the entire tourist run of Budapest for the 3rd time in as many weeks.  We walked around the city, up to Castle Hill and around the Market and even took in an Opera!  We took advantage of a great deal at the unbelieving beautiful state Opera house and got obstructed view tickets for about $2! We could see the opera house itself wonderfully (and for about ¼ the price of the tourist visit) and could hear the music just as well as the people in the expensive seats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a fantastic but exhausting few weeks I was finally back home; only to discover that I had had some sort of allergic reaction and was covered with red blistery bumps (I’ll spare you the details but shingles and chicken pox both crossed my mind!) the point being that Monday I didn’t go to school but instead to the doctor who, without even getting out of his chair, took a look at my arm, gave me an anti-allergen prescription and told me to stay at home for the entire week.  I’m getting the idea that any visit to the doctor here results in a week off of work- but hey, I’m not complaining! I went in to school on Wednesday to help judge a county-wide English competition hosted by my school and despite my saying that I felt fine and could work the next day I was told to go ahead and get some rest and take off the rest of the week- sweet deal considering we’re coming up on another four day weekend.  So I’m off to Gyor to see Eve, my fellow red head and Coloradan and I’m sure I’ll have more stories after that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. I officially have a plane ticket home and will be back on June 20th!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.p.s  I’ve added a link to my friend Eric’s blog- he’s just setting off on a year long trip through Mexico and Central and South America and always has interesting and entertaining things to say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-2926436183259003476?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/2926436183259003476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=2926436183259003476' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2926436183259003476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2926436183259003476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/05/beter-late-then-never.html' title='beter late then never'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-7733881866810667537</id><published>2007-04-18T03:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T04:06:57.169-07:00</updated><title type='text'>oops!</title><content type='html'>today is April 18th.  I haven't posted in over a month- sorry! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my excuses:&lt;br /&gt;1) I've actually been very busy and have had no time (unless I want to cut short my daily nap or watch CNN repeat the same news 1 less time)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) I had visitors.  Jenni came over from Ireland for a weekend and my parents came from Denver for 10 days over my spring break.  (what this really means is that so much has happened that I don't know where to start, especially if you include a long weekend in Romania with Ian and Lisa that ended with us staying a night in Bekescsaba IN a rock concert!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) the school construction is getting worse and worse.  Now I not only have my classes moved every few days (sometimes I am told, other times I have to walk around the school opening every door to find my missing students) this also means that we had to temporarily move the teachers room to a small classroom- half the size- it's very crowded.  And now I only get to jump on the Internet if there is no class in computer lab (of course the times when the room is free AND I am free is a rarity.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) The sun is out! the weather is beautiful, the ice cream shops all over town are open again and the outdoor terraces on the cafes in town are back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stories of the last few weeks are coming, I promise, soon...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-7733881866810667537?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/7733881866810667537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=7733881866810667537' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/7733881866810667537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/7733881866810667537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/04/oops.html' title='oops!'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-7356145217465718983</id><published>2007-03-14T03:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T03:48:11.794-07:00</updated><title type='text'>March 15th</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow is a national holiday in Hungary.  A remembrance of the 1848 freedom fight against the Hapsburgs and the Austrian empire. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(from Wikipedia) The 1848 Revolution (1848 - 1849)&lt;br /&gt;Main article: &lt;a title="Revolutions of 1848 in Hungary" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Revolutions_of_1848_in_Hungary"&gt;Revolutions of 1848 in Hungary&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The revolution started on &lt;a title="March 15" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/March_15"&gt;March 15&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a title="1848" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1848"&gt;1848&lt;/a&gt;, with bloodless events in Pest and Buda (mass demonstrations forcing the imperial governor to accept all demands) followed by various insurrections throughout the kingdom, which enabled Hungarian reformists to declare Hungary's autonomy within the Habsburg Empire, under the governor &lt;a title="Lajos Kossuth" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lajos_Kossuth"&gt;Lajos Kossuth&lt;/a&gt; and the first Prime minister &lt;a title="Lajos Batthyány" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lajos_Batthy%C3%A1ny"&gt;Lajos Batthyány&lt;/a&gt;. During the subsequent civil war, the Magyars, and with them foreign revolutionaries that came to fight after their own revolutions were crushed, had to fight against the Austrian Army, but also against the &lt;a title="Serbs" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Serbs"&gt;Serbs&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a title="Croats" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Croats"&gt;Croats&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a title="Slovaks" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slovaks"&gt;Slovaks&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a title="Romanians" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Romanians"&gt;Romanians&lt;/a&gt; and Transylvanian &lt;a title="German people" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/German_people"&gt;Germans&lt;/a&gt; living on the territory of the Kingdom of Hungary, who had their own ethnic-national movements, and were unwilling to accept a Hungarian dominance.&lt;br /&gt;Faced with revolution at home in Vienna too, Austria first accepted Hungary's autonomy. However, after the Austrian revolution was beaten down, and &lt;a title="Franz Joseph of Austria" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franz_Joseph_of_Austria"&gt;Franz Joseph&lt;/a&gt; replaced his mentally retarded uncle &lt;a title="Ferdinand of Austria" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ferdinand_of_Austria"&gt;Ferdinand I&lt;/a&gt; as Emperor, Austria again refused to accept Hungarian autonomy, and a civil war followed. Initially, the Hungarian forces (Honvédség) defeated Austrian armies. Because of the success of revolutional resistance, Franz Joseph had to ask for help from "The Gendarme of Europe", Czar &lt;a title="Nicholas I of Russia" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicholas_I_of_Russia"&gt;Nicholas I&lt;/a&gt;, and Russian armies invaded Hungary, causing antagonism between the Hungarians and the Russians. Julius Freiherr von Haynau, the leader of the Austrian army who then became governor of Hungary for a few months of retribution, ordered the execution of 13 leaders of the Hungarian army (only a minority of which spoke Hungarian) in &lt;a title="Arad, Romania" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arad%2C_Romania"&gt;Arad&lt;/a&gt; and the Prime minister Batthyány in &lt;a title="Pest (city)" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pest_%28city%29"&gt;Pest&lt;/a&gt;. Lajos Kossuth went into exile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also means I get a 4 day weekend- woo hoo! I'm off to Romania for a few days (in attempt to avoid Budapest where riots are expected.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I've uploaded some pictures of Bratislava on that post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-7356145217465718983?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/7356145217465718983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=7356145217465718983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/7356145217465718983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/7356145217465718983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/03/march-15th.html' title='March 15th'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-5625744295417792174</id><published>2007-03-08T03:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-08T03:11:52.566-08:00</updated><title type='text'>more surprises</title><content type='html'>Today is Women's Day.  I hadn't heard of this before but apparently it isn't just Hungarian but International Women's Day.  The desks in the teacher's room are piled high with flowers and chocolate (and chocolates made to look like flowers).  My students keep giving me gifts and wishing me a Happy Women's Day.  It's pretty cool.  So Happy Women's Day to all of You!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-5625744295417792174?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/5625744295417792174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=5625744295417792174' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5625744295417792174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5625744295417792174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/03/more-surprises.html' title='more surprises'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-4177303270355083458</id><published>2007-03-07T06:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-07T06:26:55.380-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ich Bin Eine Berliner!</title><content type='html'>The goings on at my school never cease to surprise me.  Today I judged a pronunciation and reading competition- not at all abnormal- I've been asked to do a few before- at various levels: school, city and county.  This one was different- why? it was in German?! &lt;br /&gt;"Sara, your German is that good?" you are all probably asking...the answer...no, not at all, but despite my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;insistence&lt;/span&gt; and despite the fact that the German teachers know this (because &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; they speak to me in German I understand but must answer back in a broken disaster peppered with Hungarian) Nevertheless, I judged and even stayed after to discuss the winners and sign all of the certificates (apparently my signature is on them because I was the "special guest judge") How did I do with the judging? well I figured that if I could understand them then their pronunciation must be pretty good and if I couldn't then they were probably saying something wrong (I crossed my fingers that there weren't any students whose language ability surpassed my own!)  In the end my scores were about the same as the other judges so I guess it all worked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note...all of the German classes have only 4-8 students each and they all seem great and well behaved- Can I trade?!?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-4177303270355083458?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/4177303270355083458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=4177303270355083458' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/4177303270355083458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/4177303270355083458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/03/ich-bin-eine-berliner.html' title='Ich Bin Eine Berliner!'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-2875942337902268972</id><published>2007-03-06T01:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-06T01:32:50.957-08:00</updated><title type='text'>school pictures</title><content type='html'>This week may turn out to be one of the longest I've had all year (at least at school) partly because it will end on Saturday (see "things currently pissing me off") but also because yesterday, Monday, we had to stay till 6pm (I usually finish at 12:30) for meetings- yuck.  First there was a faculty meeting/ training which I was exempt from- woo hoo! except that I had a 90 minute private lesson anyway so I was still here, then we had the "behavior grade vote" a process I'm still getting used to but am able to participate in more and more each time it occurs.  Basically all of the teachers get together and go through each of the students (yesterday it was class 5) and together decide on one over all grade for that students behavior and one for their general "diligent work" I can handle this pretty well as it mostly consists of students names and shouting out numbers- which I understand- this meeting was slightly less boring than past ones as I am starting to understand a few more words so I was able to understand, and appreciate, the side comments such as "Gabor...do you think we could tie him to his chair?" &lt;br /&gt;Following this meeting we had to stay for one more hour for parent-teacher meetings.  The last time this happened I did speak to a few parents (through a translator) but this time I had no visitors (apparently the novelty of "lets go see the American" has worn off) but I was assigned to the computer lab so I got to spend my waiting time on-line (not replying to the many e-mails that need replies but instead trying to translate the upcoming movie schedule- time well spent.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was seeming for a moment that all of the little quirks that amused me before were starting to become routine and semi-normal for me, and then, this morning, it was time for a faculty picture.  We all gathered in the library (after the bell had rung for first lesson of course, we never waste our own breaks- only class time) everyone was milling about and I assumed we would line up for the photo- but no! this photo was to be a fake set up! so we all sat at the tables, some with blank white sheets of paper and pens pretending to write, some with random open books pretending to read (including me which was especially funny since it was a big Hungarian text book) and one teacher was even standing next to a blank white board pretending to write- with a piece of chalk! ...I did all I could to stifle my giggles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-2875942337902268972?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/2875942337902268972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=2875942337902268972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2875942337902268972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2875942337902268972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/03/school-pictures.html' title='school pictures'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-6674067123581999582</id><published>2007-02-27T01:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T10:46:10.598-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bratislava</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bratislava- the capital of Slovakia- is conveniently located on the Danube between Budapest and Vienna, only a 3 hour train ride from Budapest. I hadn’t heard much in the way of praise for Bratislava no one telling me it was a “must see” but I also hadn’t heard anything especially negative either- generally I just hadn’t heard much at all about this Eastern European capital. So when another CETP teacher, Sarah, asked if I wanted to take a quick weekend trip there I figured why not. So Saturday morning we left for Bratislava with literally no expectations other than seeing something new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve come to believe that a huge amount of a person’s experience, whether it be traveling, seeing a movie or anything at all, comes from expectations. If your expectations are unreasonably high than it doesn’t matter how fantastic a city or a trip or a movie is, it won’t live up to that unreasonable expectation and you will be disappointed. On the other hand if you go into an experience with little, no, or at least reasonable expectations you will more likely enjoy yourself and appreciate the experience for what it is. Thus, by spontaneously deciding to go to Bratislava for 24 hours, not having any expectations about what would happen I was more than pleasantly surprised and delighted by the city- we had a fantastic time! To be fair, I might have had the same reaction even with huge expectations about the city, but I doubt it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sarah and I had read up a bit on Bratislava before going, basically we knew that there was a small old town center, a “castle” which while an impressive landmark is actually a 1953 reconstruction- the Soviets had a knack for what we have dubbed “over-restoration” when the historical landmarks and sights are restored so extensively that they become more modern than historical- sometimes, like this castle, they are complete reconstructions, not simple restorations. Basically we knew that there were few cities which could be seen in 24 hours and also had an idea that Bratislava would probably not fill much more than that allotted time- perfect. Our expectations were that we would have an enjoyable time walking old town and maybe see a castle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What we actually found in Bratislava is hard to describe. It is a lovely town. The old town is full of funky old buildings and meandering cobblestone streets. It is small enough to be manageable and feels- unlike many other small touristy-European cities- like people actually live and work there. The other word that came to Sarah and I to describe the feeling and look of Bratislava is completely unexpected—whimsy. This is not a strange out of place whimsy, it does not feel like the city is putting on an act for the tourists (especially since there were probably 20 tourists in the whole city) it feels like there is a genuine sense of artful whimsy that is there for and by the actual citizens of Bratislava and that we, as tourists, are welcome to stumble upon it. The most outright example of this is a series of statues scattered about the old town. In the Main Square is “the nosy admiral” who is peers over your shoulder as you sit on a bench;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RffTbWnvaAI/AAAAAAAAACE/tpYFENwxcWk/s1600-h/DSC04698.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041730774746753026" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RffTbWnvaAI/AAAAAAAAACE/tpYFENwxcWk/s200/DSC04698.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;a few streets down, peeking out from behind a corner with a long telephoto lens is the “paparazzo” and the most famous of the statues is Cumil “the peeper” who grins at passersby from a man hole. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RffTt2nvaBI/AAAAAAAAACM/8jPbsXT8N4o/s1600-h/DSC04701.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041731092574332946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RffTt2nvaBI/AAAAAAAAACM/8jPbsXT8N4o/s200/DSC04701.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is also a popular and fantastic Slovak artist, Fero Lipták, who appears to be loved by everyone in town. His funky and slightly absurd cartoonish art is found on walls and signs all over town and his posters, calendars as well as felt re-creations of his characters are in more than a few shops. &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/Rf-qCeSaVjI/AAAAAAAAACc/wsRRZp-fvMs/s1600-h/DSC04661.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043937067144992306" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/Rf-qCeSaVjI/AAAAAAAAACc/wsRRZp-fvMs/s200/DSC04661.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other word to describe the city would be random, in a bizarre way. From the whimsical art and statues stuck among historic and crumbling buildings to the castle which had a one room exhibition on coins another on Chinese clothing and a collection of photos from someone’s road trip across America in a 1985 Dodge Caravan with wood paneled sides stuck in a back hallway by the bathrooms. The Castle did offer&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/Rf-pv-SaViI/AAAAAAAAACU/QgiDtnUntNc/s1600-h/DSC04630.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043936749317412386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/Rf-pv-SaViI/AAAAAAAAACU/QgiDtnUntNc/s200/DSC04630.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; a fantastic view of the city. From the castle walls you could look out at the Danube river and see the juxtaposition of historic old town on one side of the river and the seemingly endless rows of sullen communist apartment blocks on the other joined but the New Bridge, a horrific eye-sore of communist architecture- a suspension bridge topped with a giant observation deck that looks just like the Starship Enterprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our last random and bizarre Bratislava moment came when we decided to have true a Slovak meal for lunch before heading back to Budapest (knowing that traditional Slovak food probably didn’t differ all that much from the Hungarian food we ate everyday) but the less-than adventurous food was irrelevant once we entered the insanity that was the restaurant. Again, no way to truly describe the restaurant but random and all inclusive. The main dining room was downstairs in what I’m guessing was once a wine cellar- the norm for most restaurants in Hungary, Slovakia and Poland. What made this one different was what they choose to do with the décor. The walls and ceilings were painted haphazardly in pastels in random places as if there were 5 painters in the room each with their own paint color and a limited supply of paint- each painted a good portion of their own area until they ran out of paint and than stopped. There was an attempt at delineation of a few of these sections with Celtic designs meant to look like stone carvings but were actually Styrofoam sprayed with fake concrete faux paint. The tables and chairs looked normal enough except that the tables had gingham table cloths and the chairs had random bits of animal skins stapled on. The rest of the look can only be explained as: everything. There was a little of everything thrown in here, like a Slovak folk festival/ 1980’s budget prom/ grandma’s basement/ every garage sale ever and to top it all off, Christmas music. Wow. Definitely one of those you-have-to-see-it-to-understand situations. But they served up big portions of Sauerkraut and it was certainly the least boring dining experience I’ve ever had (and that includes Casa Bonita.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end: everything in Bratislava was an unexpected but welcome surprise and I had a fantastic time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-6674067123581999582?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/6674067123581999582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=6674067123581999582' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6674067123581999582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6674067123581999582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/02/bratislava.html' title='Bratislava'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RffTbWnvaAI/AAAAAAAAACE/tpYFENwxcWk/s72-c/DSC04698.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-5892911571527496714</id><published>2007-02-26T06:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-26T06:19:31.990-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things currently pissing me off</title><content type='html'>1. Today I found out that while March 15th is a national holiday that we get off and, being a Thursday, we also get Friday off to make it a lovely 4 day weekend- turns out nothing is that easy- we have to make up that day of work (Friday) and we have to make it up by having school on a Saturday. The Saturday before.  March 10, my birthday.  Yes, I have to work on a Saturday that is also my birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. 8a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did indeed have a wonderful weekend in Bratislava but the write up deserves much more time and will come later.  Now I'm just irritated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-5892911571527496714?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/5892911571527496714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=5892911571527496714' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5892911571527496714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5892911571527496714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/02/things-currently-pissing-me-off.html' title='Things currently pissing me off'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-4389289278568814164</id><published>2007-02-22T04:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T04:39:38.060-08:00</updated><title type='text'>heroin in 7a</title><content type='html'>Today my 7a class might think I'm a little crazier than usual.  I broke down laughing in the middle of lesson because I stopped and listened to myself for a moment.  The chapter we are on right now is teaching rules and laws along with indirect/ reported &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;speech&lt;/span&gt; by way of talking about the strict laws in Singapore and a random episode in which the main characters of the book (a group of 1985 young adults who are running a travel agency) get caught at customs &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;smuggling&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;heroin&lt;/span&gt;.  This led to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;today's&lt;/span&gt; lesson of me standing in front of a class repeating over and over "He said they had found &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;heroin&lt;/span&gt; in the our van"...how do you not laugh at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ridiculousness&lt;/span&gt; of that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-4389289278568814164?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/4389289278568814164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=4389289278568814164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/4389289278568814164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/4389289278568814164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/02/heroin-in-7a.html' title='heroin in 7a'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-8509942723515016402</id><published>2007-02-22T00:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T00:53:10.647-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Strike</title><content type='html'>All this past week (and even the end of last week) the talk around my teachers room was all about the Strike. I’ve picked up on the level of importance of things depending on if and how many people try to explain them to me and this one was explained over and over- plus the word strike in Hungarian is strike, so I knew it was being talked about all the time even if I didn’t know why. The plan was that we- the teachers- were going to strike on Wednesday. Sweet, I first thought, I get a day off. Not so much. Striking meant that we still had to come to school (actually we had to come a half hour early) and then we just weren’t going to teach the first two lessons of the day- just sit in the theacher’s room and ’not teach.’ So I put off my lesson planning for Wednesday morning when I knew I would have nothing to do and internet on the one computer would be a fight against the rest of the staff. Then came Tuesday afternoon. „Oh, Sara, by the way, we aren’t striking anymore” ok...I’ll say it again for the 100th time, the key to life here is to just go with the flow. I must say though, I’m a bit bummed, I was looking forward to getting to experience a teacher’s strike in Hungary- even if it just meant gossiping in the teacher’s room.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-8509942723515016402?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/8509942723515016402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=8509942723515016402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/8509942723515016402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/8509942723515016402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/02/strike.html' title='Strike'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-5742904259377331688</id><published>2007-02-22T00:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T00:52:52.393-08:00</updated><title type='text'>School party in Hernad and swimming in the caves.</title><content type='html'>This past weekend I took a train (a relatively short trip of 2 hours) to the tiny village of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hernadnemeti&lt;/span&gt;. Many would ask, and in fact most of my students and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;colleagues&lt;/span&gt; did ask, why are you going there? What is in the tiny one street town of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Hernadnemeti&lt;/span&gt;? Well Laura is in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Hernad&lt;/span&gt;! So Eve, Ben and I made the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;trek&lt;/span&gt; to the village of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Hernadnemeti&lt;/span&gt; for what is always an interesting time.&lt;br /&gt;On Friday night Laura and I waited around for Eve and Ben’s late train and I got into my first Hungarian car &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;accident&lt;/span&gt;. No, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;’t driving, in fact I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;’t even in a car and yet I managed to rear end a mini van! Laura’s friend Janos had given us a ride back from the train station and after we got out he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;took&lt;/span&gt; off driving (pretty fast I must say!) but with my bag still in the back. I started running after him to get his attention but he realised the bag was in the back (but not that I was!) and slammed on his breaks and I smashed into the back of the car. A full on, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;cartoonish&lt;/span&gt; splat- &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;ouch&lt;/span&gt;! A bit bruised but laughing the whole time.&lt;br /&gt;What better way to sooth an aching body and be oh-so-Hungarian than to go to one of the many thermal baths that are found all over the country? I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; visited the famous &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Turkish&lt;/span&gt; style baths in Budapest and the castle baths in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Gyula&lt;/span&gt; and this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;time&lt;/span&gt; the 4 of us traveled to the northern part of the country among the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Bukk&lt;/span&gt; hills for the cave baths. This is a complex of baths and pools that run through a cave system. It has been very modernized, the pools are all concrete and tile and roofed in and there are families and kids with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;inflatable&lt;/span&gt; wings running all over so it looses a bit of character but still a pretty cool experience floating through the water under the natural caves.&lt;br /&gt;That night, after a rushed trip back to Laura’s from the cave baths, we went to a party at Laura’s school. This past week there have been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;parties&lt;/span&gt; at most of the schools for what they call &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Farsang&lt;/span&gt;- like carnival. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Generally&lt;/span&gt; what happens is that each class of students choreographs and performs to a piece of pop music for the school and parents and after this the school turns into a mini Disco for the kids to rock out. Laura’s school in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Hernadnemeti&lt;/span&gt; had an extra addition to this party, the school-leavers dance. Because her village is small the 8&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade students will have to go to another town next year for high school (usually one where they will board during the week) this means that their departure is extra special. The eighth grade girls all wore amazing white dresses with full skirts (I think they &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt; were wedding dresses) and the boys wore tuxedos with white bow ties and they did an impressive ballroom dance routine. After this the school did indeed turn into a party with band and the kids all dancing. Meanwhile the teacher’s lounge turned into it’s own party that we went to. There were plenty of snacks and cake and Champagne and wine and the ever present Hungarian &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Palinka&lt;/span&gt;- a wicked shot that Hungarians drink at any and all special occasions and are more than excited to press on their guests. So we partied with the teachers and danced with the kids and when the party closed down at 1am we made our way over to the next village (home of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Borsodi&lt;/span&gt; brewery- one of the most common Hungarian beers) for a drink with one of Laura’s co-teachers before &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;eventually&lt;/span&gt; making it back across to Laura’s.&lt;br /&gt;The weekend ended as they all do, with a long Sunday of train travel (but not too long this time thanks to the destination &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;finally&lt;/span&gt; being somewhat near to me.)&lt;br /&gt;Next up...a quickie to Bratislava- why? Why not!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-5742904259377331688?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/5742904259377331688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=5742904259377331688' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5742904259377331688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5742904259377331688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/02/school-party-in-hernad-and-swimming-in.html' title='School party in Hernad and swimming in the caves.'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-2319982909108437263</id><published>2007-02-15T03:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-15T03:29:24.428-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Missed connections, sardine sleeping arrangements and lost borders.</title><content type='html'>This past weekend I got back to my usual routine of weekends spent traveling and visiting other American teachers in various towns throughout Hungary. This weekend started out like the rest with a quick sprint to the train station to catch the earliest Friday afternoon train after school and ended with a long Sunday spent exhausted and hungover at train stations as I made the trek home- there was plenty of excitement in between however.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week’s destination was a three town cluster due south of me near the Romanian border (watch out, that was foreshadowing!) these three towns, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Szarvas&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Gyula&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Mezoberény&lt;/span&gt; are the new homes of three of the newest &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;CETPers&lt;/span&gt;; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Caley&lt;/span&gt;, Bridget and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Arlo&lt;/span&gt; respectively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday I headed for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Szarvas&lt;/span&gt;, which, though not all that far from me, turns out to be one of the most difficult towns to get to from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Gyöngyös&lt;/span&gt; and involved me changing trains 5 times as I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;zig&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;zaged&lt;/span&gt; across the Great Hungarian Plain. Changing trains 5 times undoubtedly means that you will miss one of those connections- which I did. Normally missing a train late at night in a one road town called &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Újiszasz&lt;/span&gt; would mean trouble, but luckily for me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Újiszasz&lt;/span&gt; is also home to John and Donna- two wonderful &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;CETPers&lt;/span&gt; who took me in for a nice chat so I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;’t have to wait the hour and half in the less than inviting train station. Eventually I did make it to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Szarvas&lt;/span&gt; and there I was greeted by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Arlo&lt;/span&gt;, Emily, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Caley&lt;/span&gt;, Laura, Ben and Eve. We spoke in English and had a few beers and at some point found ourselves as the evening entertainment for a local bar in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Szarvas&lt;/span&gt; when they started playing ABBA on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;karaoke&lt;/span&gt;. Luckily we had plenty of fun dancing and singing so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;’t mind too much when it was time for bed and all 7 of us had to find a spot in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Caley&lt;/span&gt;’s tiny single room apartment- just line them up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;on the&lt;/span&gt; floor like sardines!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning we got up (relatively) early and ran to catch our bus to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Gyula&lt;/span&gt; where we met up with Bridget. Bridget &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;’t our only reason for heading to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Gyula&lt;/span&gt; however. That weekend &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Gyula&lt;/span&gt; and it’s famous castle were hosting the Hungarian &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Renaissance&lt;/span&gt; Festival! This festival was a lot like other festivals in Hungary, lots of tents selling beer and sausage and a stage where people play music and dance. This festival, however, was different in that people were also running around in full suits of armour! There were also fencing and whip demonstrations which some of us took part it (yes, in Hungary after they give you beer they give you a giant sword and tell you to hit your friends with it!) All in all a great festival- the highlight being a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;group&lt;/span&gt; of guys wearing tall brown furry hats with horns coming out the sides (á la the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Flintstones&lt;/span&gt;) when we commented on how cool they were the men stopped to chat and it turned out one was even from my town! This only got more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;bizarre&lt;/span&gt; when they starting shouting-proudly- in English „We Republicans- we love Pat Buchanan!” so with a reluctant wave to the republicans int he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Flintsone&lt;/span&gt; hats we moved on from the festival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is about when we realized that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;Gyula&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt; sits right &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;on t&lt;/span&gt;he Hungarian-Romanian border, in fact, we could probably walk there! These seemed like such a fantastic idea that Emily, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Caley&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;Arlo&lt;/span&gt; and I took a look at the map (apparently not a great look!) and headed off to Romania! An hour or so later, after walking along the side of the highway through muddy fields and seeing no sign of anything, especially a border crossing, we gave up and found a bus back to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;Gyula&lt;/span&gt; only to have another look at the map which proved that, oops! We had actually taken the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;completely&lt;/span&gt; wrong road and walked in completely the wrong direction taking us halfway to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;Sarkad&lt;/span&gt;! So much for that (you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;wouldn&lt;/span&gt;’t think that it would be so difficult to find a national border on foot, and yet I seem to have failed at this twice now in the past few months! The other being the ordeal of crossing back into Slovenia from Italy.) Oh well, the plan for this weekend includes a possible trip to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;Aggtelek&lt;/span&gt; from Laura’s which sits &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;on t&lt;/span&gt;he Slovakian border- maybe we can give that one a go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we had re-grouped in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;Gyula&lt;/span&gt; (without a Romanian passport stamp for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;Caley&lt;/span&gt;) we started on our way to town number 3- &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;Mezobereny&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;Arlo&lt;/span&gt;’s place. After arriving at the train station and finding a bar right out front we decided we should stop for a drink and a dance- all ignoring &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;Arlo&lt;/span&gt;’s plea that we had a WAYS to go and we would never make it if we stopped at every bar- but we did &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;eventually&lt;/span&gt; make it- after getting lost, taking the long way around and even getting pizza. Back at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;Arlo&lt;/span&gt;’s we again piled in to the tiny flat- sardine style (just be sure to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;agreement&lt;/span&gt; from the other 4 people in bed if you want to turn over!) The next morning we all headed back to our own towns- exhausted and bruised from sword fights but pleased with another adventurous weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a more fantastical version of these events and other adventures of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50"&gt;CEPTERS&lt;/span&gt; check out Laura’s blog!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-2319982909108437263?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/2319982909108437263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=2319982909108437263' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2319982909108437263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2319982909108437263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/02/missed-connections-sardine-sleeping.html' title='Missed connections, sardine sleeping arrangements and lost borders.'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-1452827248073640700</id><published>2007-02-05T01:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-05T01:48:42.123-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Steps Forward, One Step Back...my students</title><content type='html'>Two Steps Forward, One Step Back...my students.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More than a few people have been asking me about my day to day life in class with my students.  What do I teach them? What are they like? What do I do with my 45 minutes twice a week with these kids?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, as this past week has been such a roller coaster with my students (more so than usual even) I decided that it was a good time to talk about my classroom life.  I teach 11 groups of kids- usually twice a week; three groups of 5th graders (who I teach only once a week), 2 groups of 6th graders, three groups of 7th graders (one of which I have 3 times a week) and 3 groups of 8th graders.  All of these kids are in “specialized” English which means that they have English 5 days a week—as opposed to the standard 3—the extra two lessons a week that make them “specialized” are the lessons they have with me and the rest of the week is with one of the four other Hungarian English teachers.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am “lucky” by CETP standards (my friends call it lucky, I maintain that it can be a bit of a pain) because I have a curriculum and corresponding textbooks.  For each grade level I have a prescribed plan for what topic, page numbers, and exercises I am supposed to do each day.  This means—theoretically—that even though the students have two teachers teaching them the same class from the same book we will maintain a flow.  The idea being that on Tuesday I can plan to teach lesson 95 which will cover page 42 exercises 4-6 with the assumption that the other teacher has spent Monday going over exercises 1-3.  However, more often than my sanity can take, I go into class on Tuesday and the students either have no idea what I’m talking about because haven’t looked at page 42 before and certainly haven’t done the first 3 exercises or they have already finished the exercises and entire lesson that I had planned to do with them that day (I’m starting to dread the words “but Sara this is finished, we did it with Erike-neni yesterday” this of course is only ever revealed after I have spent the first 10 minutes of class introducing the topic.) So yes, maybe I am “lucky” to get a bit of a curriculum, but usually it just ends up pissing me off.   I’ve learned to be flexible with this however, and now I know that I just have to be sure to prepare 3 lessons ahead and always start the class by asking if they did the previous days task and go from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to the students and my week, a week is a bit much, let’s just look at Friday.  I began Friday with my 5th graders- an adorable group of kids, I love my 5th graders, they are small and sweet and always sit in their seats and when I ask “how are you?” at the start of each lesson they respond in a chorus of “I’m fine thanks, and you?” leftover training from a past teacher that I’m trying to break a bit but reluctantly since it is such a relief from the blank and indifferent stares I get from the older students.  The 5th graders don’t understand very much so I usually grasp at anything I can get and go with it as long as we’re having some degree of English conversation.  This week I started by asking each of the students what they were planning for the weekend and after one student said she was going to the zoo I asked what her favorite animal to see at the zoo was (she likes the penguins), not knowing the word for penguin in English she described it and I wrote penguin on the chalk board and drew and (laughable) penguin cartoon next to the word.  The next thing I knew I was drawing every zoo animal these kids could come up with on the board, I had a bit of trouble with the walrus- Akos always throws me curveballs.  So the lesson went with the flow of what the kids wanted to talk about and in the end that’s really all I’m supposed to be doing is practicing conversation with them.  Eventually I had them each draw a picture of their favorite animal and then write a story about the animal- which was, in fact, the original lesson plan, to practice story writing so it all works out in the end.&lt;br /&gt; Next I had class 8.  Class 8 is my nightmare.  I actually don’t mind 8b, there are some very nice kids, a few troublemakers but generally a great group of kids.  8a however, is a different story.  I have two groups of 8a- all of my classes are actually just half a regular class, 15 instead of 30.  Even only having 15 8a students at a time is still the worst part of my day.  In Hungary the students have to apply for secondary schools which means that a second semester 8th grader is no different then a second semester senior in high school- serious senioritis-  they are the oldest in school and too cool for everything and have already applied for secondary school so nothing they do this semester affects what school they get in to.  In this class I usually spend a large amount of my time trying to get the kids to get out their books, open their books, find a pencil, take their headphones out (those little iPod buds are my new nemesis) or put away their cell phones.  It has come to the point where when the students are mocking me, doing impressions of me, they just point, look pissed of and say “put it away!”  These are just the routine behavioral problems with 8a, there is the star of 8a, Csaba, who has done a lot to improving my Hungarian when it comes to obscenities and when he really wants to prove how cool he is he takes out his boot polish, throws his big Soviet army boots up on his desk and polishes them! Csaba has, of course, a sidekick, Istvan who last week jumped out the window with the excuse that Petra (the class flirt) had thrown his pen outside.  So this is 8a.  Proof that 14 year olds are 14 year olds no matter what language they speak.  What made this week special however was that one of the other English teachers was out sick so all week I had both groups of 8a, all 30 of them at once, everyday! The climax came on Friday when their form master (home room teacher) had to come in and sit in the back of the room with her grade book so that they would behave.   A plus because they did actually sit still and do their work but a negative for me because I now have confirmation on what I had speculated all along but have been in denial about- the students really are just hat bad for me- it’s not them it is, in fact, me.&lt;br /&gt; But the nightmare of 8a was quickly wiped away when I entered my class 7.  I have 3 groups of seventh graders and they are all fantastic!  They’re enthusiastic and like to participate and they’re smart and understand that some days we have to do boring book work and learn grammar rules but that if we get through them we get to learn Beatles’ songs and play games.  Class 7 fights for turns to tell me about their weekend, about their swim meet or how they won the table tennis tournament or how they’re now ranked 5th in the nation in Snooker- for adults- at age 12!  Class 7 got major props for Friday’s lesson which involved reading a long and complicated text about the family history of Mary Queen of Scots and the royal lineage involving her and Henry VIII all in order to practice non-defining relative clauses such as “James V, who was Mary’s father, died when Mary was only one week old.” Not only did class 7 do the assignment without complaining but the understood it and managed to complete the family tree that explains why Lady Jane Grey was briefly Queen- these kids are clever! (well the family tree was mostly Zsofia and Zsu Zsi- give credit where credit is due!)&lt;br /&gt;This week 7b even asked if I would stay after school with them because they wanted to practice their dance routine (for some upcoming school event) and needed a teacher to supervise them in the classroom after school hours.  The fact that they asked me might just mean that they know I am one of the only ones who doesn’t have to go home and cook dinner for my kids but I prefer to see it as them considering me a teacher- no different from the other teachers at the school, with equal authority and responsibility (but cool enough to help them learn the words to Thriller).  On top of this Vera, one of my best students from 7a invited me to go bowling with her and a few friends and her visiting cousin who wanted to practice his English.&lt;br /&gt;So:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8a: one step back&lt;br /&gt;but…&lt;br /&gt;Bowling with 7a: one step forward&lt;br /&gt;Helping 7b with Thriller dance: one step forward&lt;br /&gt;       (I’m still coming out ahead)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-1452827248073640700?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/1452827248073640700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=1452827248073640700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1452827248073640700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1452827248073640700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/02/two-steps-forward-one-step-backmy.html' title='Two Steps Forward, One Step Back...my students'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-1644887323598207617</id><published>2007-02-02T02:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-02T02:37:05.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>half way</title><content type='html'>I haven't been writing much lately, I know. I think it's because I haven't been having that many crazy adventures- I few trips to Budapest (not so exciting now that I know the bus schedule, and how to get almost everywhere in the city by Metro and bus from where my bus drops me) I meet the same people when I go- other CETPers and the occasional ex-Pat who they have met. We go to the same places- Andrew's favourite restaurant where I can get a GREEN salad with goat cheese and sun-dried tomatoes (going to Budapest is like a little trip home to the US) and then we go to Szimpla and drink beer or hot wine and I over-hear more English then I have heard in weeks. There isn't anything wrong with this routine- I enjoy it, it's just not as exciting to write about as walking for hours because you can't find the Italy-Slovenia border.&lt;br /&gt;School is also falling into a routine, I no longer have to ask where room 14 is (although I do sometimes find myself opening the door to a class only to find there is another teacher teaching a different class in there- but that has much more to do with the spontaneous room changes that occur so seamlessly that every student knows it happened and yet no one manages to tell me.) I know all of my student's names now (although I still mix up Ádam and Erik at least twice a lesson.) Generally I have found myself to be falling into everything quite comfortably lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the reasons I started thinking about this- reflecting a bit if you will- has to do with my most recent trip to Budapest. The first semester is over and the second is beginning and while that mostly means that I have new room assignments and a wicked long Thursday, it also means that the CETP teachers that were only signed on for a semester have left. My good friend Becky (star of so many blog entries including the adventures of Slovenia) took her last torturous 3 hour bus ride to Budapest and flew home to Baltimore. This also means that a whole new crop of fresh American teachers flew in so Ian, Eve, Laura and Emily and I did the friendly thing and went to the city to meet them (actually we just wanted to scope out the new blood!) I was going to write about the new teachers but there is no way I can compete with Laura's excellent story so you'll just have to head to her blog for that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly the departure of the first semester teachers and the arrival of the newbies gave me a chance to step back and look at where I was in my time line of Hungary- right smack in the middle. I listened to Becky reminisce about her time here and how she will miss her students (even if they can be little monsters) and I got to talk to the newbies, fresh and excited and eager to know how to say "thank you" in Hungarian and jump into teaching. I needed this. It reminded me how excited I was when I first got here and how even the little things- doing laundry, going grocery shopping and eating lunch were adventures and not just the routine chores that I tend to think of them as now. The teachers who left also helped me to realize that no matter how much I want to scream at and throw text books at my monster students, when I have to leave, I'll miss them- even Csaba (well that's wishful thinking...but maybe.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I may not be having a traveling adventure this weekend but I do have some dishes to do which has it's own "Hungarian quirks" (I have to run the bathtub to get hot water to come out of the kitchen sink.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-1644887323598207617?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/1644887323598207617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=1644887323598207617' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1644887323598207617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1644887323598207617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/02/half-way.html' title='half way'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-3704628441619884908</id><published>2007-01-26T02:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-26T02:41:14.961-08:00</updated><title type='text'>1,000</title><content type='html'>woo hoo!  The Hungarians (or at least my lazy yet cunning 6th graders) insist that we must have a party and celebrate the 100th lesson instead of doing work.  Therefore, I insist that I must celebrate the my 1,000th hit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(that and it's been a week since I posted and, other then getting my phone back, I really don't have much to say...maybe next week.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-3704628441619884908?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/3704628441619884908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=3704628441619884908' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/3704628441619884908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/3704628441619884908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/01/1000.html' title='1,000'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-5533701314191250511</id><published>2007-01-19T06:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-19T07:06:39.502-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Name Days</title><content type='html'>Name days are a big deal in Hungary.  Every calender you see in Hungary has at least one and sometimes 2 or 3 names written on each day.  Name days are celebrated like birthdays, there are presents and parties and wishes of &lt;em&gt;"boldog neve napot!" &lt;/em&gt;(happy name day!)Most Americans don't have name days because their names are not common in Hungary- Hungarians don't have this problem because parents are required to name their children a name from The Official List of names.  The List is added to each year to keep with trends (but slowly) but as names are added to the list they are given a day as well.  Today is apparently my name day- who knew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't but was surprised to find out when I was greeted this morning by one of the school secretaries.  She came up to me, giggling nervously, with one of the other English teachers whispering in her ear the English words "Happy Name Day!"  I was then engulfed in kisses and good wishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunatly the rest of the day was not so pleasing as I had to stay at school about4 hours later then usual for staff meetings because today is the last day of the first semester and we had to finalize and turn in grades as well as have the notorious "group grade vote" a process that still baffles me but as I can now recognize my students' names and the numbers 1-5 I can actively take part in the process and give my input so that the jack-ass kids get their deserved low mark even if they are angels for other teachers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-5533701314191250511?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/5533701314191250511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=5533701314191250511' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5533701314191250511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5533701314191250511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/01/name-days.html' title='Name Days'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-5904075583688643420</id><published>2007-01-19T02:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-19T02:35:51.938-08:00</updated><title type='text'>6 (give or take...) degrees of separation in Hungary</title><content type='html'>Last weekend, after enjoying the company of Laura and Emily at Laura's flat in Szolnok, I lost my cell phone.  It has, however, been found.  Emily best described the crazy recovery of my phone in her blog (which I stole)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kicsi a világ (it's a small world.... after all) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;És ha kisci a világ, akkor micsoda kisfalu Szolnok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Sara was leaving Sunday morning, I asked casually if she had anything: wallet, keys, cell phone? No, cell phone was missing. She and Laura and I tore my flat apart looking for it, to no avail. Eventually we gave up and she hopped on a train without it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward 6 hours, I’m in a cafe when my contact teacher calls me (I really need to stop answering “Unknown” numbers, it always gets me in trouble) and demands that I return to the restaurant to pick up “the Gyöngyös girl”’s phone &lt;strong&gt;(that's me)&lt;/strong&gt; . She was very vague about how she had heard that the restaurant was in possession of Sara’s phone, so I had to wait until Monday to piece together the details of a truly bizarre sequence of coincidences:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waitress found the phone and called the numbers in the phone book. After getting hold of several English-speakers, she dialed the first Hungarian name she found. Which happened to be Péter, a loose acquaintance Sara hadn’t talked to for weeks &lt;strong&gt;(actualy it's been almost 2 months!)&lt;/strong&gt; . Péter called his mother, who teaches at Sara’s school in Gyöngyös (still with me? Here comes the leap). Mother/teacher (I don’t have her name) &lt;strong&gt;(it's Zsu Zsa)&lt;/strong&gt; called Edit, &lt;strong&gt;(actually Zsu Zsa called Emöke who called Ilí who is my contact teacher who called Edit)&lt;/strong&gt; who is an English teacher at my &lt;strong&gt;(Emily's)&lt;/strong&gt; school in Szolnok but who used to teach in Gyöngyös &lt;strong&gt;(Ilí correctly assumed that if my phone was in Szolnok, I must have been in Szolnok and therefore there MUST be a Native English speaker teacher in Szolnok- which there is- Emily)&lt;/strong&gt; . Edit called Kati, my contact teacher, who called me as I already mentioned, and I hastened to the restaurant to liberate the troublesome phone, dragging Petra along in case I needed help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funny thing is, Sara, Laura and I walked past the restaurant on our way to the train station, and had we thought it’d been there could easily have asked for it. &lt;strong&gt;(however, while tearing apart Emily's flat that morning all 3 of us were SURE that I had been on the phone the night before while we were walking home, after leaving the restaurant.)&lt;/strong&gt; Instead, it took 7 &lt;strong&gt;(more!)&lt;/strong&gt; people to get the phone from Sara to me... and god only knows how many it’ll take to get it back to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyone who called or texted me anytime since last Saturday night (Jan. 13) and spoke to not me but a Hungarian waiter or Emily or couldn't get through at all, now you know why.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-5904075583688643420?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/5904075583688643420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=5904075583688643420' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5904075583688643420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5904075583688643420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/01/6-give-or-take-degrees-of-separation-in.html' title='6 (give or take...) degrees of separation in Hungary'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-9131385032192168678</id><published>2007-01-10T00:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T10:46:12.672-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Slovenia</title><content type='html'>I will warn you all now- this one is long.  Blame it on being sick in bed for a week or my tendency to procrastinate all things- writing a personal statement and completing grad school apps being high on that list right now, followed closely by cleaning my apartment.  But I sat down at my laptop to write about my trip and the next thing I knew I had 7 pages- sorry- I broke it up into sections to try and make it a bit more accesable- hope you enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slovenia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I’m finally getting around to writing about my fantastic Slovenian adventure over winter break (probably the only reason I’m managing to get around to writing is that I SHOULD be writing my Personal Statement for my graduate school applications now but I tend to be most productive when procrastinating- I even did laundry today- so that’s worth something- I don’t suppose I could just turn in my Blog address instead of a Personal Statement…probably not.) Anyway, back to SLOVENIA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday, December 23rd I jumped a bus to Budapest- in high spirits because I had not just walked (with my backpack) the 20 minutes to the bus station but rather managed to pick up the bus practically right out my front door having recently discovered that the mysterious toronyhaz bus stop that the bus schedule is always talking about is not in some far off unknown location, but, in fact, in front of my apartment building! (let’s resist counting the months it took me to figure that one out.)  On to Budapest where I met Becky and Ian at the train station and jumped aboard our 8.5 our direct train to Ljubljana, Slovenia! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving Hungary- and Hungry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.5 hours- luckily we hadn’t seen each other for a while and therefore had enough to talk about to fill the time, unfortunately, none of us had been on top of things enough to think to bring snacks or food of any kind.  We’d just have to hold out till Ljubljana, I guess…not acceptable for Becky, she was getting hungry and panicky and her talk of food was getting my stomach going as well, something had to be done: bring on the first adventure of the trip.  Having gotten less then helpful responses from the few passengers and the conductor we asked about future stops and how long we would be stopped I decided that I would just have to make a run for it- and quick before we crossed the border and my Hungarian Forint would be useless to us,  Finally, we stopped at a station where a newsstand was visible from the tracks, I jumped out, weaving my way through the crowd (it’s possible that I took out an old Hungarian lady) I ran up the length of the train to the track crossing, then back down the other side to the glowing RELAY! Sign, I nearly knocked over the only other customer in the small newsstand who was perusing the newspapers as if there was not a ravenous and spastic American trying to get to the counter.  I grabbed what I saw- one of everything, but I couldn’t see any beverages- we’d just have to distract Becky with the ham and cheese flavored crackers and steal the last half bottle of water she had in her purse- I threw everything on the counter and the women began slowly picking up each item…looking it over as if she’d never seen it before…tapping her fingers on her head as she thought about the price (either because she couldn’t remember or was trying to decide how much to overcharge the obviously frantic American in front of her)…eventually she rang it up, I paid and then I ran. Just as I exited the shop I heard a train whistle-NO! I’m going to be stranded in no-name-Western-Hungarian-border-town!- so I ran like hell, a conductor yelled at me to stop as I jumped across the track and then saw another train pull out.  So it wasn’t my train that whistled or that was leaving but it could be at any second! So I ran down the platform, jumped onto the train and moved between the cars- adrenaline racing- to our compartment where Ian and Becky were eagerly waiting.  They smiled and laughed with relief that I had made it.  I emptied out my stash and we kept ourselves happy the rest of the way to Ljubljana with a packet of salt sticks (like a stale pretzel), a package of crackers, a bag of peanuts, a Twix, a Kit Kat and a Snickers- which I immediately claimed as my own- a small price to pay for my snack run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you give an artist a prison…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived in Ljubljana just before 10pm and were relieved to find a pizzeria open late near the train station so we could enjoy a real meal and a beer.  That night, and for the next 3 nights, we stayed in the übber-hip Hostel Celica.  Given the highest rating in every guide book and hostel website we could find and recently named, by Lonely Planet, The World’s Hippest Hostel, Celica is a former prison turned hostel/ art gallery/ party venue/ bar/ restaurant.  As part of the prison’s remodeling the cells were each designed by a different well-known Slovenian artist in their own style.  The rest of the hostel is super slick and does indeed feel like you are living in a super hip art gallery.  It feels a bit uncomfortable at first because you tend to feel out of place, no matter who you are, among the modern art pieces, Moroccan-style lounge with floor pillows and hookahs and the bathrooms that always glow blue.  It appears that the only people that would feel at home in this environment are out clubbing in New York City or eating at the new hot spot in LA or wherever, they’re certainly not staying at a hostel in Ljubljana, Slovenia.  So what makes Celica worth it? As soon as you look around and realize that everyone else there seems just as out of place and un-cool as you, including the helpful and down to earth staff, you can appreciate the fact that they have one of the best included breakfasts of any hostel I’ve been to, are by far the cleanest, have free internet, an onsite bar (because everyone else is closed on Christmas) and some of the art is kind of funky (if you can get passed the sap smeared cotton textile work hung across the windows.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walking Ljubljana&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stayed in Ljubljana for 3 nights and 2 and a half days.  Unfortunately the days we were there were Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and the morning of the 26th which happens to be Slovenian Independence Day.  This means that while the city was covered in beautiful lights, there were people all over the streets and Christmas markets set up along the river selling hot wine and sausages- everything else was closed- including, and most importantly the museums.  So we walked the city.  We walked down to the river and saw the famous dragon bridge, up to the castle (during the day and at night), along the river and through the streets, around Tivoli park, through the old neighborhoods and the new areas and the remains of the Roman wall, I do believe that I walked every street and every bridge in Ljubljana at least twice and most much more then that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaS2D2oGG6I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3FlX8VE8ius/s1600-h/Dragon+bridge.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaS2D2oGG6I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3FlX8VE8ius/s200/Dragon+bridge.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5018336062117125026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; On Christmas morning we did manage to find an open exhibit, with the help of an Austrian guy staying at Celica.  The exhibit was fantastic and I’m glad we found it.  It was an annual photography exhibit called World Press Photo that showcases some of the best and most poignant images from the World Press for the year, there were some excellent pieces and even a grouping about Soldiers in Iraq that was done by a photographer from the Rocky Mountain News where the photos were originally published.&lt;br /&gt;I liked Ljubljana, it is a very nice and accessible city, beautiful and with (theoretically) a lot to offer.  I’d love to go back sometime and check out the museums, it looked like they had some interesting ones, especially the Museum of Contemporary Slovenian History.  Next time, however, I won’t even need a map- I definitely know the streets of Ljubljana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaS2X2oGG7I/AAAAAAAAAAU/Z4u0E8vVgu4/s1600-h/Ljubljana+with+lights.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaS2X2oGG7I/AAAAAAAAAAU/Z4u0E8vVgu4/s200/Ljubljana+with+lights.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5018336405714508722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes things just don’t work out….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Tuesday the 26th the three of us took a train to the town of Postojana with hope of seeing the famous and extensive cave system there.  Unfortunately, after a long haul from the train station (Postojana: you have been given negative points for your poor signage!) We arrived at what may be Slovenia’s largest tourist trap.  We walked across the extensive parking lot and passed rows of souvenir shops closed for the season only to discover that the entrance fee to the cave was a staggering 15 Euros!! (over $20) and, because it was the week after Christmas and there would be a Christmas concert inside one of the largest caves (a bonus for our timing we thought) there would be an additional 7 Euro charge.  No Thank You! No big deal, this was only a stop over, on to our real destination for the day- PIRAN and the Adriatic Sea!  In 4 hours…yup, our bus and train timing would have worked out perfectly if we had actually gone in the cave, instead, we made ourselves at home at the tiny, and closed, Postojana bus station- yee haw- &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaS2mGoGG8I/AAAAAAAAAAc/38tR1TD0HdA/s1600-h/bus+station+in+Postojana.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaS2mGoGG8I/AAAAAAAAAAc/38tR1TD0HdA/s200/bus+station+in+Postojana.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5018336650527644610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; at least this time we could pass the time with something to eat, we settled ourselves into a café and chatted over coffee, tea, pizza and pancakes until our bus finally arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Adriatic Coast&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We soon arrived in Piran, a picturesque little town on a peninsula of Slovenia’s tiny coast.  Being in Piran truly feels like being in Italy, Venice specifically, there are only two streets wide enough for a car and the rest are narrow and winding through old building brightly painted and squished together, all fighting for a space on the tine peninsula.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaS26moGG9I/AAAAAAAAAAw/c053zJrMeDk/s1600-h/Piran+coast.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaS26moGG9I/AAAAAAAAAAw/c053zJrMeDk/s200/Piran+coast.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5018337002714962898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There are small towns like Piran all along the coast line and shuttle busses running between them so the next morning, after a walk along sea wall and a long cup of coffee we grabbed a bus to Strunjan because the guidebook had mentioned that it was an area known for making salt which excited Ian who had just read a book about salt (apparently much more interesting then the name suggests)  Strunjan, however, was not, turns out that when the book refers to a peninsula as “remarkably unspoiled” it’s just a nice way of saying “there ain’t shit there but salt!” &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaTHImoGG-I/AAAAAAAAAA8/UrEkqj50Xvs/s1600-h/The+Salt.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaTHImoGG-I/AAAAAAAAAA8/UrEkqj50Xvs/s200/The+Salt.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5018354835419175906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; it was beautiful and unspoiled coastline with a gorgeous cliff, it was also, however, lunchtime and the one restaurant (or business of any kind anywhere to be seen) was closed- you’d think that after the train fiasco we would have learned to pack snacks! But we kept walking along the rocky coast, Ian and I stopping to poke at jelly fish and pick up rocks and shells just enough to drive Becky crazy.  Unfortunately for Ian and Becky they were victims of my “let’s just see what’s around this point…let’s just see what’s past this bay…” &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaTHV2oGG_I/AAAAAAAAABE/w6pqglMB8VM/s1600-h/The+cliff+on+the+way+to+Izola.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaTHV2oGG_I/AAAAAAAAABE/w6pqglMB8VM/s200/The+cliff+on+the+way+to+Izola.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5018355063052442610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; and soon we realized that walking to the next town, Izola, might be faster than turning back and waiting for the bus by the salt (and a lot for fun if you ask me, Ian may disagree, he really liked the salt.)  So we walked, and walked along the rocky coast for about three hours until, Ian’s and my pockets full of cracks, shells and sea glass, we glimpsed Izola.  “Just around this next point” I said for the hundredth time, Becky looked at me like she would smack me if I uttered those words again or if Ian and I stopped to poke around in the dirt again, the large red rocks were starting to look like hunks of meat to her, but we made it and over a salad and pizza at the first pizzeria we spotted we agreed that it was, actually, a fantastic day and beautiful walk.  The next day Ian and I explored a bit more around the winding streets of Piran and after much searching for what seemed like a well guarded town secret we found the path up to the top of the hill that looked over the town. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaTIymoGHDI/AAAAAAAAABk/9aQlVC1Qjks/s1600-h/Piran+from+above.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaTIymoGHDI/AAAAAAAAABk/9aQlVC1Qjks/s200/Piran+from+above.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5018356656485309490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We climbed the remains of an old town wall and had an incredible view of Piran, it’s neighboring peninsulas and towns and even the cliffs of Strunjan that we had walked around the day before. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Italy- why not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next we caught the next bus to Trieste, Italy- just across the border, and on the same coast, we planned to spend a night there, because it was Italy, and that close, so how could we not?  After arriving in Trieste, a much bigger city then any of us had expected (clearly we were not in Slovenia anymore!) we struggled to find the right bus stop to catch the right bus to our hostel (apparently not exactly centrally located…)  after walking circles around the square where we thought the bus stop was we watched the number 36 fly by, no stop.  So we did the logical thing and followed it- figuring we’d catch it at the next stop.  No go.  We wondered the streets looking at each bus stop desperately trying to find the stupid number 36 when an Italian guy stopped us and asked in perfect English if we needed help and then told us how to get to our bus stop.  Back to the square where we started, only this time a bit down the street and behind the train station (obviously!) we found our bus stop and promptly got on going the wrong direction only to have the bus stop two stops later, so we waited 10 minutes and it turned around and we were finally on our way.  Next we had to figure out which stop to get off at…while the three of us argued about where to get off or how to best figure out where to get off a lovely elderly man asked us where we were going and was soon our advocate, he jumped out of his seat and bracing himself against the bars, heady to push the stop button at any moment he peered out the front window “it’s coming! No, not this one…the next one is you!!!! Ok this is yours!” He was fantastic, made more so by his urgency that was only slightly out of place on the nearly empty bus on the nearly empty road where there was at least 5 minutes between each stop.  That’s two points for friendly Italians and a big negative for poor signage!  We were there, at our hostel, right on the water in an incredible old building, just down the road from the gorgeous Miramare Castle of the Mexican King Maxamillian.  Then we walked up to the check-in desk and were greeted by the less then friendly face ‘hostel-lady’ she informed us (well Ian and Becky, I could barely even see over the counter making everything that much more condescending) that the building would be locked at midnight and that the last bus came back out to the hostel at 9pm- so it would be an early night.  We were also sent to separate rooms, in the female wing and the male wing and told that breakfast would be served at 7:30.  So here was our night in the convent.  We decided to take an evening walk down to the castle, at least we could do that before 12, but the grounds were, of course, locked, so back to the hostel where we chatted with the one other guest, an Australian girl who had spent all afternoon alone in the giant, isolated hostel with the unfriendly ‘hostel-lady’.  The next morning we woke up early to claim our breakfast only to find a sign posting strict rules on breakfast: 1 bread roll, 1 serving of jam or butter, 1 cup of milk or coffee.  Quite a change from the all you can eat spreads of Muesli, yogurt, bread, meat, cheese, coffee, juice and fruit we had at all the other hostels…we had 2 cups of coffee anyway. And then got out of there- we didn’t have a choice, the building also closed between the hours of 10am and 3pm so off to the castle we went, luggage on our backs.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaTHn2oGHAI/AAAAAAAAABM/slDFAwqsb4s/s1600-h/Castle+Miramare.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaTHn2oGHAI/AAAAAAAAABM/slDFAwqsb4s/s200/Castle+Miramare.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5018355372290087938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The castle was gorgeous, as were the surrounding grounds.  We also visited the museum inside which was very interesting and then headed back into town to catch a train to the border and then on to Bled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crossing the Border…for hours…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Trieste we knew that we couldn’t get a bus or train that would cross the border but would have to take a train to Gorica on the Italian side of the border and then take a short bus over the border into Nova Gorica on the Slovenian side where we could catch another train on to Bled.  This seemed easy enough and all was going smoothly, we caught our train, asked at the train station about the bus and were soon on the Nova Gorica bus traveling through the nice little city of Gorica- too bad we wouldn’t be able to see more of this nice border town- we thought as we happily rode our bus to the border.  When we stopped at border control a customs agent got on and glanced over everyone’s papers, saw our American passports and promptly kicked us off, “only European Union Nationals can cross here, you must walk down this road take a left and walk 2 km to the other crossing.” So walking we went, the directions seemed far too easy and the border agent’s English far too shaky but we didn’t have much of a choice.  When the road forked much sooner then 2km with no border in sight we decided it was time for lunch.  After we ate we started asking people on the streets and were directed all over the little town of Gorica until a lovely women offered to not only give us directions but to walk with us until the crossing was in sight- as opposed to the many “that way and then left” directions we had been receiving.  Italy came through on being full of incredible people, unfortunately it seems that they are so helpful that they want to help even if they don’t know the way, at least in Gorica.  After crossing the border by walking in the road behind the cars up to the passport control window, apparently they don’t get a lot of foot traffic in Gorica, we found ourselves once again in Slovenia, but where was unclear, our only clue was a sign pointing down the highway to Nova Gorica, 4km.  Eventually we found a local bus that took is in to the city and dropped us off in the general vicinity of the train station, another walk with vague “over there then left and then right and then down the road, but turn right before you cross the border!” no worries there, we had enough trouble crossing the border the first time, I’m sure we won’t do it by mistake.  Luckily these directions worked out and we were, at last, at the train station.  Just across the street from the train station, in plain sight, was the border crossing, the one where we had been over an hour before, where we got kicked off the bus- I think it took a lot of restraint on all of our parts not to throw a rock across the border at the agent standing idly by.  Once Ian and I had bought our tickets for Bled, Becky decided that the border crossing was one adventure too many and that the “we’ll just see what’s past this point”-figure-it-out-as-we-go travel plan wasn’t working for her so she bought a ticket for Ljubljana and Ian and I headed up into the Julian Alps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lake Bled…I’ll put money on Slovenia’s first Starbucks showing up in Bled&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As our train wound around the mountain passes of the Julian Alps we finally saw snow.  It was Friday, December 29th and after three major snowstorms hot Denver, closing schools, roads and the airport, I saw my first snow of the season.  We arrived at the Bled train station after dark (which here means it was probably just after 5pm) and soon realized that we were on the exact opposite side of the lake from everything.  But there was a nice path around the lake and we had had a few hours of rest on the train since our border hike so we headed to the other side.  Bled refers both to the name of the lake and the settlements around it, specifically the most built up part where we were.  Bled is popular for it’s lake, as well as a small island on the lake (the only true island in the country) where there has been a Christian church since the early 9th Century and evidence of a pagan temple since at least a century before.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaTIEGoGHBI/AAAAAAAAABU/p-CaebxfS-U/s1600-h/Island+church+on+lake+Bled.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaTIEGoGHBI/AAAAAAAAABU/p-CaebxfS-U/s200/Island+church+on+lake+Bled.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5018355857621392402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  There is always an impressive fortified castle clinging to a cliff towering over the lake and the entire area is surrounded by the snowy peaks of the Julian Alps, including some of the highest of the range. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaTIPmoGHCI/AAAAAAAAABc/6RBJ1KWmLaw/s1600-h/Bled+with+mountains+and+castle.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaTIPmoGHCI/AAAAAAAAABc/6RBJ1KWmLaw/s200/Bled+with+mountains+and+castle.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5018356055189888034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The area is truly spectacular and postcard picture perfect. We soon found a nice hostel, the oldest in Slovenia, just under the castle, and had a fantastic, big, filling and cheap meal at the hostel restaurant and headed out to see the town.  Once we entered the town center we were bombarded with luxury hotels, restaurants, casinos, and expensive designer ski gear (luckily the lack of snow was probably keeping most of the Austrian ski bunnies out) we found a small coffee shop/ bar that had internet access.  I sat down to wait for Ian and glanced around, a group of girls in Ugg boots, a sticker demanding and end to the genocide in Darfur, soy milk on the menu…clearly we were not in Hungary anymore, we had stumbled upon Slovenia’s Boulder!! But in a bad, over priced way.  We crawled back towards our hostel and found a small bar that seemed to be populated with locals, we were rewarded with bartender who didn’t even speak English- a first in Slovenia.  We enjoyed our beers and an ice hockey game on the TV before heading back to the hostel.&lt;br /&gt;The next morning we took a hike up to the castle and had a fantastic view of the mountains and I finally got to show Ian the Texan what a REAL mountain looks like.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the streets…again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided to take a train back to Ljubljana on the 30th, hoping that we would have a better chance of getting a place to stay in the capital rather than waiting till New Year’s Eve when the city would surely be booked.  Unfortunately, everything was booked the 30th as well and our train wasn’t leaving till 7:40 am the next day so it was back to walking the streets of Ljubljana, the same streets we had walked to death the week before, and yet again, everything would be closed.  But we knew our way around, managed to dump our luggage in a locker and took off to wonder the post-Christmas/ pre-New Years celebration of music and hot wine in plastic cups in the streets.  We did get our tickets changed to the 2am train to cut some wait time off that end and found a movie theater showing A Prairie Home Companion in English to cut off some time on the near end of the wait.  For the time in between we walked the streets and felt strangely safe.  The idea soon occurred to us that maybe it didn’t seem like anyone was going to rob us because we looked like hell, had no luggage, were wearing cheap no-brand clothes from Hungary and were wondering the streets NOT looking lost- we probably looked like a) we weren’t worth robbing or b) we were going to rob them! Quite a strategy to avoid trouble while traveling.  We did eventually make it on the train and thanks to exhaustion and the early time, it didn’t matter that we had no food, we slept all the way to Budapest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Year’s Eve in Gyongyos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still half asleep Ian and I arrived in Budapest and finally felt like we were home- it’s an odd feeling when you come back to a foreign country and feel the relief of coming home, this was emphasized by the fact that on the way to get the bus to Gyongyos, we not only seamlessly and effortlessly bought Metro tickets, got on the right line, got off at the bus station and found the right bus without once stopping to look at a map or question where we were going, but even stopped and helped some tourists in the Metro along the way.  The two of us caught the bus to Gyongyos and had a quiet and chill New Year’s Eve with Hungarian wine and beer and Transylvanian Palinka in my apartment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-9131385032192168678?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/9131385032192168678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=9131385032192168678' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/9131385032192168678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/9131385032192168678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/01/slovenia.html' title='Slovenia'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MDHOPLOzYaE/RaS2D2oGG6I/AAAAAAAAAAM/3FlX8VE8ius/s72-c/Dragon+bridge.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-6477118799424972038</id><published>2007-01-05T06:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-05T06:44:21.870-08:00</updated><title type='text'>temporary hiatus</title><content type='html'>The wild winter break is over and our Christmas and New Year adventure to Slovenia is finished. There are plenty of stories from risky snack runs across the train tracks, hostels built for no one taller then 5 ft, dragon bridges, long, LONG, walks on the Slovenian coast with mysterious flesh eating Adriatic coast insects, a night in a convent, a few in a prison, one in a train station and even one in Italy, There were treacherous border crossings and the discovery of Slovenia's very own BoHo, soy milk drinking, designer ski gear wearing Aspen. These stories and many more...but not now...because on her return Sara was slammed with the "Curse of the Wicked Yetti" a cold so debilitating that you can't leave home (or go to work) for 5 days and you are forced to sneak out to the library to check your e-mail out of fear that you might run into one of the co-workers who only hours before brought you soup and lectured you for not wearing socks when you answered the door. So back to bed for me, a full write up is in the works.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-6477118799424972038?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/6477118799424972038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=6477118799424972038' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6477118799424972038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6477118799424972038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2007/01/temporary-hiatus.html' title='temporary hiatus'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-4674168736776221214</id><published>2006-12-21T00:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T00:44:34.645-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the weeks before Christmas...</title><content type='html'>I've been terrible lately about updating this thing, but that isn't to say that nothing exciting has happened.  Since Thanksgiving I've made 2 trips to Budapest, 1 to Nyrígyháza and Debrecen, a school field tip to the theater in Eger and I even had a weekend here in Gyöngyös, with a visitor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first weekend of December I went to Budapest for the weekend and had a fabulous time enjoying the Christmas markets with Sarah- we shopped for gifts among the stalls set up in the square and drank hot wine.  Later we met up with another of our American teacher friends, Andrew, as well as Sari Blum!- a friend and neighbor from back in Denver who has been studying in Rome- The four of us, along with another of Sari's friends, hit the town for dinner and then we showed our visitors the Budapest nightlife- we had a blast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next weekend I headed up to Nyrígyháza- a larger city on the far north eastern border, almost to Ukraine- where there are quite a a few American teachers from our program including Ian who hosted me for the weekend and showed me the sites of Nyrígyháza including yet another Christmas market in the main square as well as a few parades of his admiring high school students. We later met up with Andrew in Debrecen where we spent a nice afternoon/ evening. Debrecen is the second largest city in Hungary and has a very nice main square and large church that, at this time of year, is decorated with lights, filled with stalls selling Christmas trinkets, cookies and animal pelts- apparently a very big seller at Christmas markets all over the country.  There was also a large Christmas tree and, of course, the Peruvian-Native-American-Musicians.  &lt;br /&gt;What? yes, everywhere you go, if there is a main square, a Christmas market, a train station or a large gathering of people, they will  be there- this phenomenon is not limited to Hungary as I witnessed the same group or "franchise" (there are far too many of them for there to be just one- they're like mall Santas) on the streets of Berlin almost three years ago. They are a group of three or four men in full Native American dress, complete with full feather head-dresses that dance and sing "Native American Music" with wind pipes and drums- the Europeans flock around and buy their CDs- which are always prominently displayed on a table alongside their sound equipment.  they call themselves Peruvian, dress like they are from the American West and sound like something I've never heard before- but certainly not like anything I've ever associated with Native American Music- but will now always associate with Eastern European Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend I decided to take a break from traveling and stay at home in Gyöngyös.  Emily, another teacher who is living in Szolnok, came for a visit on Friday night and we did everything there is to do in Gyöngyös- walked around the main square and saw the lights, got pizza, saw a movie at the new cinema (something with Ashton Kutcher swimming- I think they just cut and pasted the scripts from White Squall, Top Gun, Water World and Titanic- "I'll never let go!") but it was in English so who cares.  Next we hit the nightlife which involves a little bar owned by my seventh grade student's family- yes, it is a small town.  A fantastic and relaxing weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My attempt to stay home last weekend worked- but backfired only slightly in that I have left town twice already during the week! On Monday I took the afternoon bus to Budapest to buy train tickets for the upcoming Christmas/ New Years adventure in Slovenia- say it with me Ian and Becky- our new rallying cry to get through the last crazy weeks of class- SLOVENIA!!! Anyway...I figured I'd make the trip worth my time and met up with Andrew for dinner before heading back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night- Wednesday, I had another trip out of town- this time to Eger on a bus full of students to the theater to see the musical Oliver.  There were 2 bus loads full of kids- only a handful of which were actually my students- and I wondered how effective I would be as a chaperone, keeping the kids quiet and well behaved on the bus and in the theater when most didn't know me and broken Hungarian is less then intimidating coming from an authority figure.  But in the end the students were great and I even had a rush of my 6b girls fighting to sit next to me and my 8th grade girls introducing me to their dates- lots of fun.  The performance itself was also a lot of fun, plenty of singing and dancing and great set pieces made it almost irrelevant that I couldn't understand a word being said- I did however catch &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"kerek sepen meg"&lt;/span&gt; "please, sir, I want some more".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Classes are over for the day and after a few Christmas games and a concert I'll be finished, then it's off to Slovenia on Saturday- more on that later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-4674168736776221214?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/4674168736776221214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=4674168736776221214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/4674168736776221214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/4674168736776221214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/12/weeks-before-christmas.html' title='the weeks before Christmas...'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-4544068389785266563</id><published>2006-12-12T01:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-12T05:13:27.440-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Adventures in grocery shopping...</title><content type='html'>Grocery shopping in Hungary is an ordeal with all it's own rules (many of which apply to shopping anywhere.)&lt;br /&gt;First, as you enter you MUST have a cart or a basket- even if you are entering the tiny one room shop on the corner where there is barely enough room to walk and all you are grabbing is a carton of milk- you MUST have a basket! This applies to almost all stores  in Hungary, including bookstores- a one room bookstore where you are running in to grab one book- you MUST put it in a basket.  Failing to do this will, at the least, draw stares and glares from the people who work in the stores and your fellow shoppers, will probably result in numerous people chasing you around the store shoving a basket in your hand and will occasionally result in the security and or manager pulling you aside and insisting that you please take a basket!&lt;br /&gt;This is of course if a basket is available, in my Spar (where I do most of my grocery shopping) baskets seem to be available only between the hours of 2:17pm and 3:58pm on the second Tuesday following a full moon.  If this is the case then you must get a shopping cart- even if you need only one or two items.  This is not as simple as it sounds because you must put a coin into the carts to release them from their lock- and it must be EXACTLY the right coin, in the case of my Spar it must be a 20ft coin.  So, if you arrive to get a carton of milk and there are no baskets and you have no 20ft coin then you can't get in. Now don't be thinking that you can go in and get change from the cashier because there is only one way out of a Hungarian grocery store and that is buying something, so you could go in, get the glares for your lack of basket, stand in the line (which I will get to later) and ask for change- which they may or may not give you- and then get out and get your cart- but I find it's easier to just always keep a 20ft coin on me.  &lt;br /&gt;So now you are in! you have your cart/ basket and you have come across the produce section- the next hurdle. You can not simply buy an apple in Hungary, you must pick out your produce, bag it and then take it to the electronic scale, weigh it, punch in the correct code for your purchase (this requires knowing the Hungarian name of your fruit and weather or not it is the Hungarian or Californian variety of Paprika) at this point the machine will print you a sticker with your price- failure to do this correctly will send you out of the line while you are paying.&lt;br /&gt;So now you've made it into the store, managed to bag and label your produce accordingly and find the rest of your items (including the eggs which took a while because the were on the shelves with the canned goods, not the fridge section...hmmm...just pretend that didn't happen- oh and go for the milk that IS not the kind that is on the warm shelf next to the coffee)&lt;br /&gt;Now it is time to get in line, there will ALWAYS be at least 4 if not more check-out counters/ registers in each store but there will NEVER be more than one open- despite the ten people in line or the five employees chatting while they dust the shelves. So you will wait.&lt;br /&gt;After waiting in line your turn finally arrives and now it is time to jump it in to high gear! get your items on the belt, and back off and into your basket or cart immediately because there will be no pauses before the next customers stuff starts getting tossed on to yours. Throw your stuff up, quick figure out the money (on a side note NOBODY here will appreciate correct change- if the total is 760 and you give them 1060 they will look at you like you're an idiot, and hand back the 60 you gave them along with the 240 in change- clearly you are not helping them out) now that that is taken care of you must quick grab all of your items and move out- to one of the tables/bagging areas out of the way.  They will certainly not be bagging for you, you won't even get a bag.  Either you bring your own or you must ask for one at the exact precise moment that they have finished ringing up your items but before they have totaled everything (you get charged for the bag) failure to ask at this exact moment will result in incredible eye rolls the likes of which have been seen only in my 8Th grade class.&lt;br /&gt;So the moral here? plan ahead! there is no quick run to the store as a last minute thought on the way home from work, you must plan ahead so that you have your bags and your 20ft note ready.  &lt;br /&gt;So here's to that, I'm off to the Spar- today I may attempt the meat counter- between my basic Hungarian and limited understanding of the metric system I may end up with something to cook for dinner or I may end up with half a pig- we just never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. sorry the posts have become a bit more sporadic lately- I was writing at home and then bringing the document to school (where the Internet is) on my USB jump drive but I broke it :-/ so now it's all about typing at school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-4544068389785266563?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/4544068389785266563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=4544068389785266563' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/4544068389785266563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/4544068389785266563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/12/adventures-in-grocery-shopping.html' title='Adventures in grocery shopping...'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-7447156915137590290</id><published>2006-12-01T01:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-01T02:18:16.774-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>I think I have managed to recover from the madness (good madness) that was Thanksgiving enough to write about it- it has been a week now. The celebration started on Wednesday evening with Becky and I making the trek up to Lisa's apartment (a relative mansion by CETP teacher's standards- not only does she have more than one room she has 3 AND a kitchen that more than one person can stand in at a time!- hence our seemingly random choice of the small town of Tszavasvári to hold the feast.)  Becky and I arrived the night before the other guests in what was meant to be an attempt at organization but mostly just ended up with the three of us eating one of Lisa's coveted boxes of Mac and Cheese and all of the chocolate chip cookies I had made (we had some help with that from Lisa's neighbor Gabor.)  We did however, manage to do a turkey-test-run, partly because we had two turkeys and wouldn't be able to cook them both on Thursday and partly because none of us had ever cooked a turkey before and wanted to give it a try first in case we totally ruined it- at least we could learn from our mistakes and have a second go.  Luckily the turkey turned out lovely and not only didn't make anyone sick but people actually enjoyed it which was nice.  Cooking the turkey took a bit of creativity and inventiveness on our part- we didn't have a roasting pan or any kind of rack, or a turkey baster, or string to tie the legs together....we worked with what we had.  In the end we put the turkey in a big soup pot sitting on top of an overturned bowl (so that the juice would drip down instead of the bird just sitting in it and getting soggy on one half and dried out on the top), the only string we could find was blue so the drippings and, gravy made from the drippings, had a bit of a blue tint but tasted fine.  Basting was a bit of an ordeal but Becky and I are now pros at what as been dubbed "the Sara method" of Becky holding the bird up out of the pot while yelling at me to hurry because it is heavy and hot, while I pour the juice from the pot into a bowl, Becky buts the bird back in and I pour the juice over the top- ta-dah! basted! we did what we could and it tasted good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday morning at around 10, with Becky, Lisa and I just waking up and getting ready for the day, we welcomed the first guests- Susan, Judy and Ian. From this point on people and food and wine started pouring in and in the end there was tons of food- traditional Thanksgiving dishes like stuffing, mashed potatoes, and saurkraut (traditional for me and Becky anyway), some Hungarian adaptations of traditional dishes- a lovely squash and pistachio dish and some Hungarian dishes- paprikash krumpli, füszelek and heaps of other wonderful things.  We peaked at about 25 people! Hungarian and American, but there was plenty of good food, good wine and conversations in the bizarre mix of Hungarian, English, German and even Spanish that is becoming all too normal in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the guests left Thursday evening (but not before apple pie, chocolate cake and mulled wine!) but there was quite a number of us (mostly Americans) who stayed the night.  We ditched the insane mess in Lisa's kitchen and headed for the bar to further celebrate the evening before stumbling back to find a spot to sleep in either Lisa's or Gabor's apartments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning we started the day with a lovely breakfast of leftover pie, chocolate cake and champagne before heading out to Tokaj- a small town famous for it's wine and wine cellars.  We crammed into a dark, damp and moldy cellar and enjoyed a lovely series of Tokaj wines (famous for their sweetness and the unique flavor that is a result of the mold on the walls of the cellars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to Lisa's where we indulged in the best part of Thanksgiving- leftovers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a lovely weekend full of all the things that make Thanksgiving great- friends, food, wine and leftovers.  (if only there had been a football game it really would have been perfect.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-7447156915137590290?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/7447156915137590290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=7447156915137590290' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/7447156915137590290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/7447156915137590290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/12/thanksgiving.html' title='Thanksgiving'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-1614411509400651173</id><published>2006-11-21T05:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T05:33:14.631-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving in Gyöngyös</title><content type='html'>Well the actual Thanksgiving festivities will be taking place in Tiszavasvári this year but today I had a bit of a preview when I taught my students about the holiday.  We talked about what Americans do on Thanksgiving- eat, see their family and friends, watch football and eat more.  We talked about the different foods that we eat and had a very brief discussion about why we have Thanksgiving (complete with Sara's blackboard art of Pilgrims and Indians fighting and then not fighting and then sharing food) The highlight of the lesson was having my students take part in the activity that every American school child has done for Thanksgiving for years and years- we traced our hands on paper and made turkeys!  All went very well and we were even able to learn and practise a new word "share" as in "the Indians share their food with the Pilgrims, you must share the scissors and glue sticks with your classmates." I did not, however, manage to convince them that pumpkin pie is good (I think the problem lies in years of being told that a pie is just like a cake) nor did I manage to quite get across what exactly cranberries or cranberry sauce are.  I did, however, successfully convince them all that a holiday where you get two days off of school to eat and watch football is a fantastic idea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/423861/DSC00306.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/325855/DSC00306.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/152046/DSC00297.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/772659/DSC00297.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/707011/DSC00288.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/219538/DSC00288.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-1614411509400651173?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/1614411509400651173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=1614411509400651173' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1614411509400651173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1614411509400651173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/11/thanksgiving-in-gyngys.html' title='Thanksgiving in Gyöngyös'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-3591433687496727952</id><published>2006-11-16T00:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-16T00:54:33.719-08:00</updated><title type='text'>pictures</title><content type='html'>new pictures have been added to the Transylvania post. (me dressed up!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-3591433687496727952?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/3591433687496727952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=3591433687496727952' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/3591433687496727952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/3591433687496727952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/11/pictures.html' title='pictures'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-6676643631511321641</id><published>2006-11-13T05:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T05:39:06.335-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the story of the travelling pants- a 12 week epic</title><content type='html'>This story began 12 weeks ago back on August 20th when I was home in Denver packing and getting ready to come to Hungary. It has finally come full circle, with plenty of hic-ups along the way. As I was packing (not exactly in the most orderly, organized or sane state I must admit) I couldn't find a pair of pants that I wanted to bring- my light brown corduroys to be specific. I finally decided that they must have gotten up and walked away- no one believed me until the events of the following weeks showed that this may in fact have happened. My lovely parents decided that they would keep their eyes out and if they found them they would send them. Eventually they turned up (in my room the whole time apparently- I still think they must have walked away and only later decided to reappear.) So my parents stuck them in a box to send and called me up to ask if there was anything else that I needed as long as they were sending a box. About two weeks later I got a slip in my mailbox and made my first trek to the post office to retrieve my box with the lost pants. I was so excited to get all of the other goodies in the package- DVDs and my down comforter- that for the first few days I didn't even realise that the pants weren't even in the box! I called my Dad to see what was up and he was stumped- where had they walked off to this time? As it turned out my dad had left them at the postal center when he was packing and sending the box- luckily the guy who owned the place knows him and had held onto them until my dad came back looking for them. They would have to go in the next box. So a few weeks later my mom was busy packing up my Christmas package and got out the pants so that they could finally be sent. However, upon returning home from the post office, after having packed up and sent the Christmas box, what did she see still sitting in our house in Denver? the pants! Like the cat that kept coming back, the pants were refusing to go to Hungary! So my mom grabbed them up- determined to be finished with the traveling pants epic and sent them off in a faster box. So here it is, November 13th and I am sitting in my school in Gyöngyös, Hungary and I am indeed wearing The Pants. Mom, Dad, we won, they made it and the epic is over! (who wants to take bets as to whether or not I manage to get them home in one try?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-6676643631511321641?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/6676643631511321641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=6676643631511321641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6676643631511321641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6676643631511321641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/11/story-of-travelling-pants-12-week-epic.html' title='the story of the travelling pants- a 12 week epic'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-3162438049172692817</id><published>2006-11-10T05:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-16T00:53:50.226-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Transylvania!   watch out- this one is LONG but I've tempted you all with pics!</title><content type='html'>The last week of October in Hungary is fall break for the schools- a week off for students and teachers that gives everyone something to look forward to and help them trudge their way through the first quarter of the school year. And for us native-speaking teachers (as they refer to us English teachers that sit in the Teacher’s Room between classes making sad attempts at small talk with our colleagues in broken Hungarian) fall break is a chance for us to get together speak English, share our stories from our classrooms and adventures in the town market and see some of the country and surrounding region that we now call home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on October 26th twelve of us met at 6am in Budapest to embark on a tour of Transylvania- the north east region of Romania that was once a part of Hungary before World War I and the Treaty of Trianon. Transylvania is also the birthplace and one time home of Vlad Tepish, a.k.a. Vlad the Impaler, a.k.a. Dracula- what a place to spend Halloween!  We were led by Hajni- the director of our program and everyone’s Hungarian mother, Andras- an old friend of Hajni’s who is such an incredibly vast resource of knowledge on everything from the history of art and architecture to the history- both modern and ancient- of Hungary, Romania and all of Eastern and Central Europe as well as the history of linguistics and probably anything else one could think to ask of him, all we could do was try to absorb as much as possible of what he was telling us- Andras also served as our translator and comic relief.  We were also accompanied by Maria- our Romanian-Hungarian translator and Laszlo- our bus driver and more comic relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 1 was spent mostly on the bus but in early afternoon we made our first stop in the town of Oradea where we saw the remnants of what was once a bustling and rich city which is still hinted at by the amazing architecture and richly decorated theaters, restaurants and churches. &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/DSC00104.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/DSC00104.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; That evening we rolled into the small village of Kalotaszentkiraly where we would spend the night in the homes of villagers.  We were welcomed with smiles and Palinka- something that was about to become quite routine for us.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/DSC00181.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/DSC00181.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Palinka is the national liquor of Hungarians and Romanians and especially famous in Transylvania, it is like a brandy made from fruit- traditionally plum, but sometimes pear as well- some villages also add cumin or honey to their traditional Palinka.  While you can buy it in shops in Hungary, only the homemade stuff is considered to be the “real thing” and it is wicked stuff- but we would soon learn that- even with many “no thank you”s, just to be polite you always ended up with at least 2 shots a night and we were often offered as many as 8.  Before having dinner we were shown around a traditional village house that has been kept in the traditional style for visitors to see.  One of our hosts- a sweet little old women then showed us a few items of traditional clothes from the region and asked if someone would like to try them on and act as the model so that we could see what a traditional Transylvanian girl dressed like. Before I knew it I was volunteered for what I initially thought was a skirt and an apron but in the end became an over skirt with three padded underskirts, an apron, a spring jacket and kerchief, followed by a very heavy winter jacket and a crown.  Mike- one of the guys from our group- was dressed in the man’s formal shepherd jacket and hat (he got off easy).  It was a lot of fun but we were both quite surprised to when we found out that the clothes we were wearing were not modern day reproductions but the women’s great-grandparent’s actual clothes from the late 1800’s! I was very pleased to hear that AFTER I had already taken them off and couldn’t panic too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/DSC02906.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/DSC02906.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/DSC02903.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/DSC02903.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 2:  We had an early start and after a wonderful breakfast of homemade bread, homemade vegetable spreads, homegrown tea blends and some questionable meat products we headed to Banfihunyard to see a 15th Century church with a ceiling covered in incredible and detailed wood panels like nothing I’ve ever seen before- most of which showed pagan symbols related to astrology. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/DSC00134.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/DSC00134.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that day we visited the city of Cluj- one of the largest in Transylvania and then went on to Tordai Hasadek- the Tordai canyon- where we had a gorgeous hike on a very narrow path squished between a rushing river and the side of the canyon.  The entire region of Transylvania was in full fall color while we were there which made everything we saw even more incredible- all of those people who are rushing to New England or Northern Wisconsin to see the fall color are on the wrong continent! &lt;br /&gt;That night we stayed in Torocko- another small village which sits at the foot of a huge cliff and has recently been named a UNESCO world heritage sight.  In Torocko- as in most of the villages where we stayed- most of the people are farmers and have cows and goats that go out to pasture every morning and come home every evening.  This made for an incredible sight as all of the cows generally no where they live and simply wander through the village back home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/DSC00167.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/DSC00167.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/DSC00160.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/DSC00160.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 3: Sighisoara! This was the highlight of Day 3- and for many the highlight of the entire trip- Sighisoara is where it is believed that Dracula- or the man who inspired Dracula- was born.  It may have only been October 28 but that was close enough to Halloween for us to feel the Dracula spirit.  In addition to that it is also an beautiful old city built on the side of a hill which truly feels like the Transylvania of the Dracula stories.  Our third night we stayed in another small village- Zetelaka.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 4: There were plenty of short stops on day 4, at a dam, a spring where we all filled our bottles with natural mineral water (which tasted like rotten eggs), we saw a 15th century castle and the clapping square- a stark relic of the communist soviet regime in the city of Csikszereda and the Csiksomlyo church which holds a statue of the Madonna from the 13th century that brings hoards of pilgrims to the town every year.&lt;br /&gt;The highlight of day 4- and the highlight of the trip for me- was crossing the Carpathian mountains- the leaves were brilliant shades of yellows, gold and reds scattered among evergreens and there was a light dusting of snow on top of the highest peaks.  I’m sure the others would have enjoyed the crossing as much as I did except that I was blessed with some odd immunity to the incredible motion-sickness that hit everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/DSC00204.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/DSC00204.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night we were treated to an evening of traditional music, dancing and food in a small village nestled in the Carpathians and home to the Chango-Hungarians. Unfortunately we couldn’t stay the night as their guest rooms were not heated at it was freezing, but we had heaps of fun eating their regional specialties of homemade cheese, a corn meal mush very similar to grits or polenta and steak cooked over a big fire outside.  We watched some traditional dances and even got to join in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/DSC00223.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/DSC00223.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 5: We began our fifth day with a visit to yet another gorgeous canyon in the Carpathian mountains- this one was much bigger than the first and rather then a path winding it’s way through between the steep rock walls there was a road, we opted to walk the length instead of driving so that we could enjoy the sights and get a quick adrenaline rush from trying to dodge the giant trucks that came screaming down the winding canyon. We emerged from the canyon to visit Killer Lake named because it was formed after a landslide leaving an entire forest submerged underwater with only the tops of the trees poking out above the surface.  Due to the high mineral content of the water and the cold temperatures of the mountains the forest was petrified so anyone who attempts to swim in the lake will likely be killed be the hidden petrified forest- there are however a few rowboats that people rent and use to tour around the labyrinth of trees.&lt;br /&gt;After a quick stop at yet another 15th Century castle we stopped at the village of Korond, famous for it’s pottery that is covered with traditional Transylvanian designs of flowers and birds- any attempts to avoiding shopping were futile.  &lt;br /&gt;More than any other part of Transylvania we saw, or anyplace in Hungary, this part- in the Carpathian Mountains- has made me the most homesick as the mountains, cliffs and vast forests of evergreens sprinkled with aspen and birch groves look so much like Colorado and the colors of the leaves, the rivers and lakes all remind me of Northern Wisconsin- A deadly combination for me and homesickness! (still a better alternative than the buss-sickness and Palinka-sickness that hit the rest of the group!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent our last night in a hotel in the town of Teleki and had a wonderful sendoff complete with guy on an electric keyboard who played all through dinner (although I don’t know if ‘play’ is the right word considering he may have never touched a key but instead seemed to just play the pre-programmed songs that came with his keyboard) hilarious none the less and made even more so when, during a brief pause, Becky screamed out “More Stevie Wonder!” At this point we all lost the laughter that we had desperately been trying to hold back throughout the entire night.  Laughter from the Palinka that- of course- was forced upon us as soon as we stepped off the bus, before we even got into the hotel, we were laughing at the sad DJ/key board player in his silk shirt, we were laughing at the fact that all of this was happening in a hotel lobby in Western Romania, we were laughing at the entire evening and how ridiculous and almost surreal it all seemed.  But poor Becky was sure we were laughing at her music choice and continued to defend the musical genius of Stevie Wonder and “I just called to say I love you” which only made us laugh even harder.  Eventually we were calmed down and silenced by the shock and awe- and the continual surreal feeling of the night- as 7 Gypsy/Roma teenagers came into the hotel and began to dance.  It was incredible, they did a kind of super fast though slapping, jumping and kicking dance that can only be described as River Dance on acid.  Quite a way to end the trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/DSC00251.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/DSC00251.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/DSC00247.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/DSC00247.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 6:  Our last day was mostly spent driving- we left our hotel at 8am and arrived back in Budapest at 10pm stopping only once.  Our one stop was to see an incredible stained glass windows at the Palace of Culture in Targu Mures that, in 1913, took first place at a show in Paris.  The windows are incredibly detailed and beautiful and depict well known folk legends from the area.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/DSC00269.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/DSC00269.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our only other stop (other then the many gas station quick stops for food and bathrooms- there are no drive-thrus along the roads in Romania, only gas stations which became our lunch spots throughout the trip- yuck) was the border which rather than being the quick 20 minutes as it had been on the way over took 2 hours- apparently because our passports have work visas in them making the whole process much more complicated- because it is Hungarian and therefore there must be heaps of paperwork and bureaucracy- in the end we were allowed to pass- and no, the delay was not because of my shady passport (will not entirely although the border guard did take a little extra time looking at it and interrogating me about why the hell it didn’t look like everyone else’s- but in the end it was all good)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day after our trip was November 1st- All Saints Day- when all Hungarians go the cemetery to leave flowers, wreaths and candles and otherwise tend the graves of their loved ones.  It also means that EVERYTHING is closed- so Sarah Kirkland (another teacher) and I went to the oldest and largest cemetery in Budapest to observe the Hungarians doing there thing- a cold and rainy day added to the atmosphere but in the end drove our cold and damp selves back to our warm, comfortable flats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all a fantastic trip.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-3162438049172692817?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/3162438049172692817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=3162438049172692817' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/3162438049172692817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/3162438049172692817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/11/transylvania-watch-out-this-one-is-long.html' title='Transylvania!   watch out- this one is LONG but I&apos;ve tempted you all with pics!'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-5282944111408793291</id><published>2006-11-06T03:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T03:14:01.375-08:00</updated><title type='text'>getting chilly</title><content type='html'>Was it really just two posts ago that I was proclaiming the arrival and beauty of fall in Hungary? The days that were pleasantly chilly leading to a change in my limited Hungarian small talk- I learned how to say "it's cold" &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;hideg van&lt;/span&gt;. The leaves changing to gorgeous yellows, gold and oranges accross the Matra hills, apples everywhere!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, that was just two posts ago.  But what a difference a week vacation away will do! I returned to Hungary from my fall break (an incredible tour of Transylvania which I will tell you all about soon) to find that WINTER had come to Gyöngyös! The pleasantly chilly weather is now just cold! My fellow teachers who smiled when I mention that it is cold- in Hungarian- now laugh at my excuse for a winter coat. (Ilí- the head of English at my school, my contact teacher and my adopted Hungarian mother- dragged me to the store demanding I invest in something more substantial.) The leaves are still pretty, and there are still more apples than I could ever imagine but now they are all covered with a light dusting of snow.  Winter is here- and I'm cold!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-5282944111408793291?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/5282944111408793291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=5282944111408793291' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5282944111408793291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5282944111408793291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/11/getting-chilly.html' title='getting chilly'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-1125318894943229900</id><published>2006-10-25T00:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-25T01:25:27.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gyula</title><content type='html'>This past weekend I headed south to visit Becky in her pretty little town of Szarvas. After my my late arrival (due to the fact that it was over 4 hours by bus!) we enjoyed a fabulous diner of homemade pizzas and salad and a nice bottle of Egri Bikavar wine and caught up on the last month of stories and adventures in Hungary- a great time and well worth the travel time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning we got up and caught a morning bus to the town of Gyula- a great little town that looks almost out of place in Hungary due to heavy German influence- that sits just 6km from Hungary's southern border with Romania. Becky had taken a weekend trip here the past weekend and was excited to get back to what she calls her "new weekend retreat." We started with the famous &lt;em&gt;sucresa&lt;/em&gt;- pastry shop- that is one of the oldest in Hungary and serves an incredible assortment of coffee, cakes and chocolates in a gorgeous, old world parlour complete with chandeliers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After our breakfast (of cakes and chocolates- maybe the Hungarians are on to something with the dessert as a meal thing...) he walked over to Gyula Castle- the crown jewel of the city. The Castle is the only remaining brick castle in Central Europe and has been recently restored with a museum inside depicting life in Hungary in the Middle Ages including discussion of the many battles fought here against the Turks and Austrians and both of their subsequent control of the region.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, all of the hostels in town were booked up for the night so the two of us took the bus back to Szarvas and prepared for a very early wake-up on Sunday morning. The early wake-up was to catch the first bus back to Gyula so that we could be back at the castle by early morning for the baths. The baths in Hungary are quite an experience- There are generally multiple pools of varying degrees of water from rather cold to nearly boiling and Hungarians- usually the oldest, fatest and hairiest of the country- sit and soak for hours moving from pool to pool. The entire process of getting into the baths is an experience in itself that, when you finally make it through, you really do need the relaxation of a few hours soaking in hot mineral water!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are various rules and processes that no one tells you that you need to do but they sure as hell tell you when you &lt;em&gt;aren't&lt;/em&gt; doing them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First you buy your ticket and are than separated into the male and female locker rooms where you are meant to take a massive square hanger into a booth and change into your suit and put all of your things on the hanger. Then you must find an open locker and put your things in it and than ask the attendant to lock it for you. Seems easy enough. Except- you get yelled at if you try to get a locker before changing, yelled at if you put your stuff in the wrong locker- they won't tell you which to use, you just have to know somehow which she wants you to take. You also must shower before entering the pools- this was easy enough to figure out- we got that much- which is why it was particularly unnerving to have 3 or 4 old women in small bathing suits yelling shower at us in English, Hungarian and German (I'm sure there was some Russian as well or maybe she was just telling me something else in Hungarian- I never know) But we made it in and it was excellent! (You'll have to ask Becky about the added aggravation of having to rent a bathing suit- especially when you you are a six foot tall female!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That afternoon, on our way back to our own cities, Becky and I stopped off in Bekescsaba for the national Sausage Festival (because when you happen to be in the same town as Hungary's largest Sausage Festival how can you NOT go?!) It was a mad house! I don't think I have seen crowds like that in Hungary before now- thousands of people jamming the streets buying crafts and candy and fair food and, of course, wine and SAUSAGE! SO MUCH SAUSAGE! apparently the thing to do there is to buy a 5 foot long sausage and carry it around the festival and then home with you on the bus. Quite an experience- and yes, I did eat some sausage, and yes, it was quite tasty. A great weekend and nice tease for the coming fall break (1 week off) I'm taking an extra 2 days and leaving later this afternoon for Budapest where 12 other CETP teachers and I will be heading to Transylvania (the western part of Romania that was once Hungary) for what should be a fantastic week! I'm very excited!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-1125318894943229900?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/1125318894943229900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=1125318894943229900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1125318894943229900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1125318894943229900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/10/gyula.html' title='Gyula'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-6316003123671484654</id><published>2006-10-19T02:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-19T03:26:38.067-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Adventures in the school lunchroom...1</title><content type='html'>The jelly doughnuts for lunch was one thing, but the second strange lunch in a week calls for a blog entry devoted entirely to the school-lunch experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what could we be served that would stand with jelly doughnuts as the odd and unexpected lunch of the week? What could match the jelly doughnuts in carbs, fat and lack of nutritional value?&lt;br /&gt;Pasta.  Thick pasta topped with cold shredded cheese and sour cream. Not a dollop of sour cream for garnish, I'm talkin' like half a cup of sour cream.  The cheap/lazy man's Alfredo sauce maybe? only cold and not mixed?  Who knows but it followed a cream of potato soup with ham (the ham being the only thing on the tray that wasn't white).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, let me back up and explain the entire process of lunch here at Arány János Primary School.  First, we get a menu every week with the days of the week and two main course choices for each day and then we choose which one we want (this is always one week ahead).  The other English teachers help me but most of the menu doesn't translate and comes down to "meat with sauce and rice or a different meat with sauce and noodles" so I don't usually know what is coming even if I could remember back to what I read when we are served it a week later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next comes the part of actually going to get lunch.  Lunch is served from 11:30 to 1:30 and I think the students are somehow staggered into this schedule but it is somewhat unclear, people seem to go when they want.  You grab your tray (usually wet) your fork, knife and spoon (always wet) and a piece of bread (which you hope doesn't soak up all of the tray water before you get your plate.)  Next you get to the little window.  LITTLE window.  They have the kitchen built low so that the window and the eye-level of the servers is the same as the students' (who are 8-13 years old) which means that I have to crouch down to see into it and hand the lady my ticket, hold my breath, and wait to see what comes out.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is usually a long line of students waiting for lunch and teachers are supposed to, expected to, cut to the front.  I still feel weird about this but after getting yelled at by everyone when I waited behind even 3 students in line instead of going to the front I have learned just to push my way in and grab a tray or go when I know that there aren't many students so there won't be a line I have to jump. Teachers also have special rules when it comes to getting your food.  The servers always line up the bowls of soup and plates of meat-sauce-starch on the counter in the window and you take one.  Except for teachers.  Teachers must wait for a fresh, fuller bowl to be poured and a fresh larger plate to be made.  At first I tried taking the kids portions (which with both courses could still feed two people) but no, not ok- I must be served my bigger "teacher's portion" even if I never finish it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the lunchroom though, It is a great place to see how the students interact with each other, what the classroom dynamics are that don't show themselves in class.  For example who knew that Anikő from 7b and Marcí from 7a were a couple? apparently this month they are.  And quiet Diana from 8a is actually joined at the hip with the won't-shut-her-mouth Ms. Popular Petra in 8b.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All for now, it's lunchtime...soup perhaps? and meat? with sauce and mushy rice? or maybe chocolate cake? You never know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-6316003123671484654?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/6316003123671484654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=6316003123671484654' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6316003123671484654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6316003123671484654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/10/adventures-in-school-lunchroom1.html' title='Adventures in the school lunchroom...1'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-6991889759615066412</id><published>2006-10-17T05:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T05:35:23.665-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fall is here</title><content type='html'>Fall is here in Gyöngyös! The weather is starting to get chilly (still nothing compared to a Michigan or even a Colorado winter) but cold enough that the school maintenance man came and turned on my heat yesterday- it is very nice and cozy in there now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another sign of fall, the leaves are changing all over the town and along the hills- beautiful!  On Friday Péter, my fellow teacher's son who I am helping with his English, took me up into the hills above Gyöngyös.  He showed me some of the small hiking trails around Matrafured (the first of many small villages on the way into the Matra hills) We walked up to an old tower and had a stunning view of the surrounding hills, the changing colors of the trees and the vineyards bellow.  We also walked along the stream and he showed me where he and his friends like to go and hang out among the big rocks where you can look out over Gyöngyös and up at Kékes, Hungary's highest point.  We saw some picnic grounds where people were gathered to cook giant couldrons of goulash over campfires and I tried to explain why, in America, we put rediculous and seemingly obvious warnings on everything.  For example: why McDonalds' coffee cups now say 'Warning, contents may be hot' and why children's superhero costumes come with a disclaimer that 'this cape does not enable the wearer to fly.'&lt;br /&gt;Back in town we stopped by Péter's house to drop off the car and his mother (one of the geography and PE teachers at my school) insisted that we stay and chat for a bit and have some Palinka- the traditional Hungarian plum brandy- wicked stuff, especially when homemade and from Transylvania as this stuff was! I guess it is just a taste of what I will have when I go there myself next week.&lt;br /&gt;All in all a good afternoon and evening of hills and hikes as well as stumbled conversation in English, German and Hungarian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday morning I got up early to meet one of my students, Vera, and her mother at the school where they picked me up and took me to the nearby village of Gyöngyöspata where Vera, and many of my students, live.  I had breakfast with Vera and her family- two older brothers and one older sister- all who speak English fairly well and one brother who, thanks to two years spent in London, is fluent.  After breakfast we walked around the village and they took me to the small village church which was built in the 15th century and, though it has had some fire damage over the years, is a beautiful Gothic church with many frescoes on the interior walls which were revealed after a restoration only about 20 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;We also walked up the hills, around the vineyards and past some small wine cellars.  As we were walking past one cellar (basically a small door in the side of the hill) an old man walked by.  It turned out that he owned the cellar and opened it up for us, we crawled down a steep ladder into a small, damp space inside the hill lined on each side with big barrels.  'point to one' he said, so I did and he took the stopper out of the top, stuck in a tube and poured out a glass of the wine for each of us to try- it was great.  Next we went back up to the main level of the cellar where he showed us how he turns a big crank in another larger barrel to press the grapes and we tasted this as well- fresh pressed juice before fermentation- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;most&lt;/span&gt; in Hungarian- good but too sweet for me to even finish the glass!&lt;br /&gt;Back at Vera's house we had a big lunch of stuffed peppers and dessert of apple pie (from an American recipe that the last American teacher gave them and apples from their trees) excellent!  If Vera wasn't already one of the best in her class I would have to give her major bonus points for the pie!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-6991889759615066412?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/6991889759615066412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=6991889759615066412' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6991889759615066412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6991889759615066412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/10/fall-is-here.html' title='fall is here'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-2707184787334558014</id><published>2006-10-13T01:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-13T02:31:57.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>random occurrences on a Thursday</title><content type='html'>1)  I have lunch everyday at the school canteen.  I was beggining to get quite used to what to expect: soup- usually a chicken-like broth with a few vegitables and sometimes meat and sometimes some noodles or potatoes and then a main dish consisting of unknown meat + unknown sauce + startch (rice, potatoes or pasta- usually all cooked to the same muchy consistancy) every so often this main meal is a stew, a thick bean or lentil soup- this does not, however, mean that there is not still the first soup so we have soup followed by soup. &lt;br /&gt;Yesterday however I was thrown a curveball.  We had the usual soup with potatoes and then, the main meal was jelly doughnuts. yes, jelly doughnuts.  I don't get it either.  When I mentioned how odd I found it to have jelly doughnuts as a maian meal, for lunch done the less, the other teachers were equally surprised to hear that we eat doughnuts only for breakfast and never as a main course.  So there you go- doughnuts as a cultural difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2)  The teachers at my school have all been wondeful and very nice.  Yesterday (the random Thursday) one invited me to her house after belly dancing for a beer and to give me some covers for the armchairs in my apartment- very nice of her.  It is so nice of her that how do I say no?  I don't, and now I know what it would be like if instead of furniture I had albino Wookies to sit on, they are...lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) But none of this mattered because as I sat on my albino Wookie armchairs and tried to digest my lunch of jelly doughnuts I smiled in a state of happiness that can be brought on by only one thing.  World news in English! Yes, after much work from Jonny (my contact teacher's husband) and alot of random button-pushing, I now have CNN in my apartment, and BBC.  Apparently it was there all along but in a strange between-channels world that we had to find and then manually program into the TV.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-2707184787334558014?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/2707184787334558014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=2707184787334558014' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2707184787334558014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2707184787334558014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/10/random-occurrences-on-thursday.html' title='random occurrences on a Thursday'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-2008716578289081298</id><published>2006-10-12T03:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-12T04:38:16.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taylor's questions: Round two.....(because she's always got 'em)</title><content type='html'>first of all I would like to amend on of my answers to the previous round of questions. What do I do after class? My last answer made things seem much more boring then they actually are and this week I managed to have something scheduled for every single day of the week after school! On Monday there was a teachers' meeting. OK, so still not getting to exciting and eventful but it was something, mostly I just sat there and listened to them all talk and argue for 2 hours while I did my best to piece things together from the words I could catch (which mostly consists of numbers so, as you can imagine, I didn't get much information) but the other English teachers translated later on for me- a bunch of administrative bullshit- that may have been her exact words. At this meeting we also graded class 5. Yes, we, as a group graded them. I'm pretty sure that it was only their behavior grade but we (the teachers who have that class) all sat in a circle and read off the students' names and then two number "Kovács, Máté 4, 5" and then everyone either agrees or says "no, 4, 4" and it continues like this- very unscientific- just shouting and agreeing on the kids grade. Occasionally, because this is class 5's first year at this school) they call out the name "Dér, Cintía...does anybody know who she is?" and everybody laughs.&lt;br /&gt;On Tuesday there was an English speaking and pronunciation competition at the school that I helped judge. The students (just a select few from each class) had to read- or preferably memorize- a short story or part of a story in English and then we judged their pronunciation, fluency and presentation. The winners will go on to a larger competition later this month at one of the high schools in town. I think I heard a shortened version of the story "Stone Soup" about 25 times that afternoon!&lt;br /&gt;On Wednesday, yesterday, Ilí, my contact teacher and the head of the English Department at my school invited me to her house. She lives on the far south east end of down in a big beautiful house with a nice big yard. We had dinner and drank some kind of Slovakian brandy and talked and had a wonderful time.&lt;br /&gt;Today- Thursday- I have Belly dancing and then it will be Friday (the 13th! which was the basis of most of my lessons this week- superstitions and things that are good luck and bad luck in the US and in Hungary) and then the weekend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, on to Taylor's questions...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;1. So far, in your descriptions, people, although they don't speak a lot of English, seem nice. How are you recieved as an American? Any anti-American sentiment?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was just discussing this with Peter, a son of one of the teachers here (my age), who I am helping with his English. In all of the countries I have traveled I have noticed some level of anti-American sentiment. In some countries it is higher then in others. France for example- in Paris I always had much better luck with broken German then with English. But so far, here in Hungary, my experiences have been very positive. Peter and I were discussing how some people are better able to separate a country's politics from a country's people and this separation is what is key in the acceptance of Americans abroad- you can hate American politics and still like American people. Hungarians, he said, are better at this separation at this moment in time because of the bad political situation they are in (daily protests at the Parliament building demanding that the Prime Minister leave his position), because of this they are more aware of the separation between a country's leaders and politics and the people and can more readily see Americans as people separate from the politics, policies and leadership of their country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;2. What do people think about the deal with the prime minister? Do people talk a lot about politics, or is it something they don't address in public that much?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For this I will say see question 1. But more importantly, see that in question one I have only referred to Peter's views in the conversations I have had with him. This is because people, at least the teachers at my school, do not talk much about it. I can tell that it is in their thoughts daily and that some are angry with the Prime Minister (most of the people) and others with the protesters. But it is in one line mentions to each other and rarely long in depth discussions. Clearly the people are angry and hear this all of the time "the situation in Hungary is very serious" and that they are worried about their membership in the EU but still, it is not talked about in public and I have been told, flat out, that I am not to bring up the situation with the Prime Minister or anything relating to politics in the classroom, as far as the students are to be concerned, everything is fine and nothing is happening.- whether or not that is actually true- or if a few actually have strong opinons on the subject I don't get to know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. The year I went to France was the first official year that French kids took part in trick-or-treating. Part of the globalization of Halloween. Do they have Halloween in Hungary? If so, is it just a commercial, Americanized version of it?&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This will probably better answered in the next week or so as we get closer to Halloween and I do a lesson on American Halloween traditions.  However, so far, I know that there is at least something because I have seen a few Halloween like decorations (pumpkins and such) in some store windows.  But Trick-or-Treating...I doubt it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. Can you drink tap water?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes.  And I do so often.  In the teachers' room I keep a mug in my drawer that I refill from the sink through out the day.  I don't get as many strage stares when I do this as I did when I was in Germany but there certainly isn't anyone else doing it! More because they don't drink much (still) water here in general then because there is anything wrong with it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-2008716578289081298?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/2008716578289081298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=2008716578289081298' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2008716578289081298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2008716578289081298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/10/taylors-questions-round-twobecause-shes.html' title='Taylor&apos;s questions: Round two.....(because she&apos;s always got &apos;em)'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-1317031076320157844</id><published>2006-10-11T04:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-11T04:36:28.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the little things...</title><content type='html'>some times it is the little things that make my day here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Everyday on my walk to (and from) school I walk by a house with a dog.  This dog may be the fattest Dalmatian I have ever seen!  Maybe he is mixed with a lab or something but either way this guy literally looks like a barrel with legs. For those of you at the museum I have named him Walter- after Walter the Farting Dog- because, though he doesn't seem to have a farting problem that I know of, he looks just like the dog in the book and the accompanying toy- very round with legs sticking straight out to the sides, his tongue always hanging out and his eyes slightly wonky- but with spots.  Anyway... everyday he is sitting in the same heap on his front step, happily watching the people go by and I was beginning to think that he was too fat to even move.  Until yesterday.  Yesterday I actually saw Walter out walking with his little old lady owner, much more of a waddle then walk, and his owner equally rotund.  Seeing him move put a smile on my face for the rest of the afternoon.  I think that if I ever see him run- if it is in fact physically possible- I don't know how I'll contain myself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Today in class I thoroughly confused one of my students.  I don't think I have ever seen a child make a face of more panic and confusion- poor little Martin! But it wasn't his fault, Martin happens to look EXACTLY like my friend Wayne.  I noticed this the first day and can hardly look at him without thinking about it.  Today I finally slipped and called him Wayne.  Not a big deal, generally, to be called the wrong name- I mix these kids up all the time.  The utter confusion came because, to Martin, who is learning English, and quite good, and who was expecting a question- such as Who? What? Where? When? or Why?- Wayne sounds just like a new question word that he didn't know.  "Wayne? I don't know... The ferry leaves at 10:15 and goes to Dover.....?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-1317031076320157844?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/1317031076320157844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=1317031076320157844' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1317031076320157844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1317031076320157844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/10/little-things.html' title='the little things...'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-1861152828334214727</id><published>2006-10-10T01:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T01:39:01.665-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taylor's questions</title><content type='html'>a few weeks ago Taylor sent me a whole list of questions (the kind only Tay would think to ask) and after I sent answered them all and sent them back she suggested that I post it all here- so here they are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;what do you think of the town of Gyongyos itself? &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I like it.  It is small- small by our standards (30,000) big here.  But small in that there isn't really heaps to do but there is a nice main square/ street where people are always hanging around- walking, sitting on the benches, kids are riding their biks.  It's big enough to have a TESCO (the British version of super Target) which is conveniant.  The location is nice too- only an hour from Budapest (although I have yet to actually take advantage of that!) but it is also right at the base of the Matra hills which contain Kékes- Hungary's highest point.  There are lots of very small villages/ resorts up the hills that are very accesible from town so I have the advantage of being close to these nice things but in the large city which is also nice. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you have particular stores you like?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Stores..not so much- I havn't really shopped that much, Kelly (the Brit) and I went shopping a bit last weekend but there isn't anything particularly remarkable.  Most of my shopping experience is in food shopping.  There is a Spar- a nice- larger (but still small) supermarket near me that I go to about once a week for the majority of things but other then that I try to buy things at the small shops that are near (across the street and around the corner) from my apartment.  there is also a small fruit and vegitable market near my house- I try to go there as often as I can but the hours are mostly in the mornings when I am at school and I also tend to get a little nervous here because unlike other store where I can just pick what I want, hand it to the check-out girl and then pay the ammount on the screen, in the market I have to ask for what I want, and how much I want, and then understand when they tell me how much it costs- but I'm getting better and it is good practise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; parts of town you like to walk a bit more slowly through? &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;around my apartement building (the area is called the "80's" because there are 80 apartments in one area) there are alot of small apartemnt buildings scattered among parks with big trees, there are alot of benches everywhere and a few little parts with playgrounds- I like to walk through here alot and enjoy the trees and the kids playing, and people walking their dogs.  I also like to walk down the main square- it is a pedestrian street made of cobblestones and lined with shops and restaurants and big old buildings, fountains and churches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you found a favorite coffeehouse? &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;A coffeehouse- no.  Coffeehouses are not big here but there are ice cream/ cake shops everywhere and there is one along the main square that my British friends and I like to go to- sit outside on the main square and watch the people.  The people there are very nice and one girl speaks very good English and the others like to help us and we always get into laughing fits trying to explain flavors- using what they know in English (like apple pie) plus what we know in Hungarian (strawberry) and when that doesn't work we taste it and try to figure it out (like Chestnut and Cinnaminn.) &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;My St Marks however is my balcony.  I have a very small balcony, big enough for maybe two people.  I have a chair out there and a potted plant and two shelves that I hung on the side- just big enough for my book or a notebook and a cup of coffee or tea or a glass of wine.  I can sit here and look at the big oak and chestnut trees and into the apartment accross the way where there is a young couple with a daughter who is about 3.  I can see them playing and hanging up their laundry.  The window faces south so I can't get a sunrise or sunset but i have a great view of the Big Dipper if I go out at just the right time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You say a lot of days, you're out of class by noon.  What do you do the rest of the time? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stay at school a while longer usually- I use the internet- it's the only place where I have a connection.  I also eat lunch here at school- I get it for free and it is the main meal of the day so it is quite substantial- soup plus a hot main course- meat and rice or pasta- something like this.  It isn't great but it is something and free.  So I don't go home right away- but when I do I walk around for a while- run errands- everything takes more time to get done here.  When I do get home I have lesson planning to do and sometimes papers to grade.  I watch TV and read (though I'm running out if English books!) I do laundry and clean and cook- all take longer then you would expect.  But mostly I fill the time because I go to bed early- I try to stay up to watch the 9:00 movie (the cartoon network turns into TCM and plays old movies in English) but I usually don't stay up that late- sometimes I go out with the Brits as well- for drinks or dinner or ice cream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-1861152828334214727?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/1861152828334214727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=1861152828334214727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1861152828334214727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1861152828334214727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/10/taylors-questions.html' title='Taylor&apos;s questions'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-2203900822325675299</id><published>2006-10-06T03:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-06T03:56:19.077-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Belly Dancing</title><content type='html'>Another plus to being abroad and in a situation where you know no one and you have loads of free time is that you are suddenly open to everything and not the least bit picky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago some of the teachers at my school asked if I'd like to take a belly dancing class  with them.  Had I been at home in the states I probably would have said no but here, where I have nothing to do and know very few people I figure- why not, this is not the time to be picky about activities and invitations! So I agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was our first class.  The class was organized by one of the other English teachers at my school, it is her friend that teaches.  I also brought along Kelly- The Brit.  There were about 5 other teachers from my school there and about 4 other women I didn't know, the teachers ranged from the young (relatively) English teacher to the 40 something secretary who showed up in a full tweed suit (she changed out of it).  It was a lot of fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started with some good stretching and warm up exercises that were a lot like yoga and then moved on to 3  basic moves to music that mostly involved hip isolation- So here's to not being picky!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-2203900822325675299?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/2203900822325675299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=2203900822325675299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2203900822325675299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2203900822325675299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/10/belly-dancing.html' title='Belly Dancing'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-5547331118486598119</id><published>2006-10-05T03:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T03:25:11.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'>living and cooking alone</title><content type='html'>In the past weeks I've been discovering the perks and the problems of living alone.  One of them is cooking.  Lately I have been trying to cook more- a perk of cooking only for yourself is that you can try new things and then mess them up and no one will have to suffer through eating it but you.  Another perk is the leftovers- there are always leftovers which means that I never have to cook everyday plus I only ever cook and eat what I want- no compromises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also discovered some problems.  Onions.  I like onions,  I like cooking with onions but I can't cut an onion without my eyes having an attack and dumping gallons and gallons of water onto my face and whatever I'm cooking.  In the past I have always had somebody else cut my onions for me- but here I'm forced to do it myself.  This usually means that it takes a half hour because I have to stick my face out the window for air every 2 seconds or I risk slicing off my fingers because I'm trying to chop while blind from burning, watering eyes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep you posted on the advantages and disadvantages to living alone and slicing off your fingers and bleeding all over your apartment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-5547331118486598119?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/5547331118486598119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=5547331118486598119' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5547331118486598119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5547331118486598119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/10/living-and-cooking-alone.html' title='living and cooking alone'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-6808593193090466056</id><published>2006-10-02T07:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T07:49:00.939-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Desperados</title><content type='html'>This past weekend Kelly, Jim (the Brits) and I decided we wanted to go out dancing.  This was after going to a party at Kelly's school Friday afternoon which we had expected to include music and dancing but was actually more like a field day with each of the classes competing in various activities against each other- bobbing for apples, relay races balancing ping-pong balls on paddles, shaving-cream balloon tosses, tonuge-twister challenges and many more.  It was a lot of fun and nice to see all of the students (high school students even) participate and enjoy all of the games. &lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, there was no dancing.  We did, however, find out that there is in fact a disco in Gyöngyös! Club Desparados Disco on the far east side of town so later that night we set out in search of Desparados. This turned out to be quite an adventure.  Attila (yes we have been hanging around with an actual Hungarian- good for us) had told us, 'oh, just go down this street, take the second right and then the first left and then go straight and you will be there' Sounds simple enough.  What he actually meant was 'walk down this road for about 25 minutes until you go over the railroad tracks, over the highway, past the cemetery, and then curve around to your left, take a quick hidden right and walk for another 25 minutes and then go through what looks like (and in the daylight is) a used car dealership, and THEN you will be there!'- thanks Attila.  But we found it.  Mostly by following the strobing search lights and sound of the music, but we found it none the less.  So in we walked, Desperado's Disco, complete with potted cactus in the corners.  There were disco balls and lights, a DJ in a booth who was rocking out and two bartenders.  And that was it.  The DJ, two bartenders and us.  Apparently Hungarians can't find the place either.  But eventually the place filled up a bit and we had a great time.  I even managed to call us a taxi at the end of the night and direct him home in Hungarian.  Although the successful directions had more to do with my ever improving skills in charades and as a mime then my Hungarian but it worked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-6808593193090466056?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/6808593193090466056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=6808593193090466056' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6808593193090466056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6808593193090466056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/10/desperados.html' title='Desperados'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-8663523530474144840</id><published>2006-09-28T02:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-28T02:47:46.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures!</title><content type='html'>So finally I have figured out how to post  pictures on here!! So scroll through and see what I've added.  They are in the posts- Gyöngyös, Trains and Caves and Eger.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-8663523530474144840?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/8663523530474144840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=8663523530474144840' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/8663523530474144840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/8663523530474144840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/09/pictures.html' title='Pictures!'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-7753059512030431873</id><published>2006-09-27T03:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-27T03:34:23.678-07:00</updated><title type='text'>funny Euro-washing machine: take 2</title><content type='html'>Last night I turned all my white socks blue. I guess that little guy is doing more then I thought!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Zokni szeretnék venni!&lt;/span&gt; (I'd like to buy some socks!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-7753059512030431873?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/7753059512030431873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=7753059512030431873' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/7753059512030431873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/7753059512030431873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/09/funny-euro-washing-machine-take-2.html' title='funny Euro-washing machine: take 2'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-6526255989745380474</id><published>2006-09-25T03:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T03:38:35.819-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a weekend at home</title><content type='html'>It is Monday and I have no stories of weekend trips to share.  This weekend I stayed at home in Gyöngyös.  But that isn't to say I have no stories!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night I had some much needed relaxation time (I even managed to stay up late enough to watch the old movies that come on every night- in English- and made popcorn and drank tea while I watched some thrilled called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Coma&lt;/span&gt; with Michael Douglas when he was about 20!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that was the end of the relaxation! On Saturday afternoon I finally met up with the British couple who are also teaching English in my town.  I had been expecting (through various rumors) a 60 year old Married British couple who I could drink tea with but that was probably it.  But no! Jim and Kelly blew away the rumors by being 23 and so much fun! We hung around and chatted Saturday afternoon in the main square watching the end of a local wedding and then headed for the circus- because if the circus is in town why not go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite a circus...one little tent- less then 10 people on the whole staff, they had a guy who threw knives at a 14 year old girl in leotard, a man who looked about 80 doing handstands on top of chairs balancing on beer bottles, a couple who did trapeze- quite impressive considering there was not only no net but not even a mat for them to fall on- just the hard ground and a bunch of kids throwing popcorn at their parents- luckily they didn't fall.  The one animal act was a pair of miniature horses who rode around in circles and then, amazingly enough- changed direction! and ran around in circles the other way!!!  Luckily the circus was free and we brought our own snacks so it was even cheaper and then we went to the bar after- all in all a fabulous Saturday night in Gyöngyös.&amp;lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday (after a treacherous morning spent trying to buy yeast to make bread- but that's a story in itself) I went to Jim and Kelly's apartment for a big lunch of roast pork- that they desperately needed to cook and eat after having accidentally bought half a pig at the market the day before when the pointed at it in conversation- the meat market is like an art auction- no sudden movements or you might buy something without meaning to!) anyway...we had our lunch, walked around the town and finished of the day with ice cream, wine and a pathetic attempt to pick walnuts from a tree taller then all of us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-6526255989745380474?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/6526255989745380474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=6526255989745380474' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6526255989745380474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6526255989745380474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/09/weekend-at-home.html' title='a weekend at home'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-1563979582158006729</id><published>2006-09-22T04:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-22T04:11:37.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'>links</title><content type='html'>You may have noticed that I've stuck a link up in the top left corner of the screen.  cetpnewsletter.blogspot.com- this is the link to the CETP (Central European Teaching Program) blog, in other words, it is the blog of (and for) all of the other American (and Brit and Canadian) teachers here.  There you can also find links to some of the other people's personal blogs so when I haven't posted anything you can just go read someone else's and pretend that I'm not lazy :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-1563979582158006729?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/1563979582158006729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=1563979582158006729' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1563979582158006729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1563979582158006729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/09/links.html' title='links'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-5125809143155455673</id><published>2006-09-20T03:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T03:26:34.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eger</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/Nicole,%20Kat%20and%20Liz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 222px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" height="193" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/320/Nicole%2C%20Kat%20and%20Liz.jpg" width="233" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/Eger.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="178" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/320/Eger.jpg" width="254" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last weekend, all around Hungary, it was prime harvest season- especially for grapes- this meant of course- festivals! These are also generally the last of the festivals for the year so, along with the appeal of them being wine festivals, a few of us decided we couldn't miss out and just must get to Eger and check it out!&lt;br /&gt;Eger is a gorgeous city about an hour east of me. It is the capital of my county (Heves) and a definate must for anyone who comes for a visit. It is a beautiful city with cobbelstone streets, churches and a castle. It is also home to the famous Bull's Blood wine. Just outside the city center of Eger, in a valley surrounded by rolling hills covered in vineyards, was the prime destination for our trip, and where we spent our Saturday afternoon (which soon became evening and late night...) Here, in the Valley of the Beautiful Women- as it is called- all of the vinyards and winemakers of the area have their wine cellars. The cellars are dug into the hills and you walk along the roads and visit the little doors, all with numbers and few with names, they generally have tables set up outside in addition to the tables inside where it is dark and cool and wet. There are musicians who roam the cellars playing traditional music and locals and tourists alike wonder the road having a glass or two at each- which is easy to do at about $1 a glass or less the $4 for a liter if you find one you that you really like.&lt;br /&gt;So Nicole, Becky and I wondered the cellars (acconpanied by Kat and Liz who stayed only the day) and even met some guys from Belgium who boosted our confidence by allowing us to teach them the few Hungarian words we knew which seemed great next to the 0 that they had. All in all a great time and I hope to go back again for a longer stay (we were there for only one night.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/wine%20tasting%20with%20the%20Belgians.%20Xaviar,%20Becky,%20Nicole,%20Sara,%20Manu.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 271px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 196px" height="200" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/320/wine%20tasting%20with%20the%20Belgians.%20Xaviar%2C%20Becky%2C%20Nicole%2C%20Sara%2C%20Manu.jpg" width="284" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because it was grape harvest season everywhere there was also a small festival in little Gyöngyös. And because Gyöngyös is only an hour from Eger and Nicole and Becky live about 5-6 hours further south they came up to Gyöngyös Friday night and we were able to taste the wine, enjoy the music and talk to some people in my own town before heading to Eger the next morning- Great for me to have some fun in my own town! The festival was still going on when I came home on Sunday afternoon and I got to see a wonderful parade with folk dancing from different groups of kids from all the schools in the area- including some of my own students! very cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend I am looking forward to not traveling but staying at home for the weekend to get some rest and finally meet the other 2 teachers from my program here in Gyöngyös. (originally there were 2 others who I met at orientation but they left in the first week and were replaced by a British couple) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-5125809143155455673?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/5125809143155455673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=5125809143155455673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5125809143155455673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5125809143155455673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/09/eger.html' title='Eger'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-9077579806458453153</id><published>2006-09-19T05:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T05:28:18.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hungary in the News</title><content type='html'>just in case you all thought I had moved somewhere boring....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hungary is all over the news all of a suden- riots in Budapest demanding the resignation of the Prime Minister --&gt; http://www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/europe/09/19/hungary.riots/index.html&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and where was the Hungarian ambassador to the US during all of this?&lt;br /&gt;in the US...on the Colbert Report&lt;br /&gt;...informing Stephan Colbert that he won the Hungarian bridge naming contest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-9077579806458453153?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/9077579806458453153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=9077579806458453153' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/9077579806458453153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/9077579806458453153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/09/hungary-in-news.html' title='Hungary in the News'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-2604553396040654133</id><published>2006-09-13T03:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T03:55:19.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Peanut Butter!!</title><content type='html'>After searching for peanut butter in every store I was about ready to post a desperate message for someone to please please send me some!&lt;br /&gt;BUT, today, I found it!!! After a tip from one of the second year teachers I stopped looking in the aisle with the jams and jellies and nutella and ventured into the "imported foods" aisle and there it was, in the American section, along with blueberry muffin mix, pancake mix and maple syrup. :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-2604553396040654133?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/2604553396040654133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=2604553396040654133' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2604553396040654133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/2604553396040654133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/09/peanut-butter.html' title='Peanut Butter!!'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-6968216076194305000</id><published>2006-09-11T05:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T05:47:02.997-07:00</updated><title type='text'>trains and caves</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/Becky,%20the%20Aggtelek%20bus%20driver,%20Laura%20and%20Sara.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" height="198" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/320/Becky%2C%20the%20Aggtelek%20bus%20driver%2C%20Laura%20and%20Sara.jpg" width="274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This weekend was fantastic. Friday I left right after class and ran to the train station to catch my train to the tiny village of Hernádnémti where one of the other American teachers, Laura (who is here for her 2nd year) lives. I arrived around 4 and just in time to head over to the soccer field where every Monday, Wednesday and Friday anyone can show up for a girls soccer practise/game. So we hung out there running around and doing cartwheels with a few of Laura's 8th grade students until it was determined that the girl with the keys to the house where the ball and nets were wasn't coming that day so no soccer and everyone went home...ok, whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So back to Laura's apartment where we met up with 2 more American teachers- Jenna (another 2nd year) and Becky (a first timer like me) from other cities. We hung out and cooked an awesome Hungarian dinner, played games and spoke in English about the weird things Hungarians do (like insisting that you use a cart in the grocery store even if you are only buying one thing) and all of the things that they laugh at us for (such as making noises for EVERYTHING, i.e. when we make a check mark on the black board.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning we caught numerous trains and buses to the small town of Aggtelek, high in the hills and right on the Slovakian border. At Aggtelek is an amazing and enormous cave system- the Baradla-Domica caves. The total system is 25km (about 15.5 miles) long, 7km of which stretch into Slovakia. We went on the short tour of the cave which was an hour walk through the largest halls (we missed the long tours that include boat rides along the river Styx that also runs through the caves.) We did, however, get to see the concert hall which is a cavern so big and with such naturally perfect acoustics that they have a stage and chairs set up and they hold concerts there! they did a short concert for us as a demonstration and it was incredible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have some great pictures (the stalagtites and drip columns were unbelievable) but I'm still working out how to get them up here- my pictures are all on my laptop but I only have internet access from public computers which don't seem to have USB ports...I'll work on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another week of classes ahead (getting easier everyday) and then another fun weekend to look forward to- Wine Festival in Eger...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-6968216076194305000?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/6968216076194305000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=6968216076194305000' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6968216076194305000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6968216076194305000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/09/trains-and-caves.html' title='trains and caves'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-3076128743603911593</id><published>2006-09-08T02:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T02:30:06.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>School</title><content type='html'>Today is Friday. I have (almost) compleated my first week of classes- I have one more class of 7th graders and then I have to run and catch my train (a series of trains actually) to the little village of Hernádnémeti for what I hope to be a great weekend relaxing with a couple of other American teachers! But back to school.  The week has been a bit of a blur really, I have 4 grades: 5th, 6th, 7th and 8th and there are 3 groups of each grade (except the 6th grade where there are only 2) and I see them each twice a week except the 5th graders who I only see once and one group of 7th graders that I have 3 times- confused yet? me too.  But in the end it works out that I have 11 classes and that my schedule is different every day of the week.  (I have my fingers crossed that next week it will stay the same but considering that the room numbers can change AFTER the bell rings means that I can expect just about anything). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each class is 45 minutes long with 10 minute breaks between each (except for between 2nd and 3rd and 3rd and 4th when the break is 15 minutes- huh? yeah...) there are only 6 periods a day so school is out at 1:30 and I only have the last class once a week so I usually get out by 11:40 which is very nice.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teachers don't have their own classrooms, we just move around- always lots of confusion about who is where and whether or not the teachers and students are on the same page with where the class is.  Anyway, because teachers don't have their own room and therefore they don't have there own desk the teacher's room is the place to be.  Everyone has an assigned seat at a long table with a drawer- your desk and there are computers with internet in there as well (in here actually, I hang out online durring my off periods) In here the teachers pile their crap so that we just have to bring one class worth of crap with us rather than hauling everything around all the time which is nice.  Everyone is always very busy grading or planning or something- I don't know...I've found that the 10 minute break is too short to get much work done but too long to just grab your stuff so I generally look through my books like I'm working hard on a lesson...yeah I pretend ALOT in this room...probably has alot to do with the fact that most everyone here has at least 20 years on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do like the teacher's room though.  It means forced interaction.  The teachers are all very nice and they always say hello and bring me fruit. (everyone seems to have a mother or a father-in-law with a fruit tree and extra pears)  I even had 3 different invitations to go to the mountains or the lake this weekend with various teachers and their families- but I'm off to see Laura and Becky in Hernádnémeti! where we will speak English and discuss very important things such as, how many snotty 8th graders do you want to throw chalk at?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-3076128743603911593?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/3076128743603911593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=3076128743603911593' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/3076128743603911593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/3076128743603911593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/09/school.html' title='School'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-3487509749909943553</id><published>2006-09-04T06:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T06:57:45.748-07:00</updated><title type='text'>things to do...</title><content type='html'>Gyöngyös has a fabulous museum! I am told.  All about the Matra hills region and a reconstructed skeleton of a whooly mammoth and an aquarium! and it's in an old mansion in a park- but it's closed for renovation untill next summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gyöngyös has a multiplex movie theater and you can go watch movies in English instead of going all the way to Budapest! It will open in January.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gyöngyös has a disco with 3 floors of music and dancing and durring the day it is an internet cafe! yeah...that closed...but you can go to the library.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-3487509749909943553?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/3487509749909943553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=3487509749909943553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/3487509749909943553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/3487509749909943553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/09/things-to-do.html' title='things to do...'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-5841190461966157192</id><published>2006-09-04T06:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T06:52:58.572-07:00</updated><title type='text'>laundry</title><content type='html'>when I heard that I would have a washing machine in my apartment I was ecstatic! To think of the trips to the laundremat I could avoid let alone the torture of having to &lt;em&gt;find&lt;/em&gt; a laundremat here before my clothes all smelled bad enough that they would ask if I could teach French lessons! Little did I know what adventures awaited me with my very own washing machine...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, my washing machine (read washing machine NOT washer and dryer- Europe doesn't really do dryers) anyway, it lives on my bathroom floor and is about the size of 2 microwaves ontop of eachother (although the capacity is barely that of one microwave) and once you get it plugged in- at the top of the opposite wall accross the door- and the water hooked up- under the sink at the other wall- my already tiny bathroom becomes quite the jungle gym. The first day I asked Ilí how to work it and she said she didn't know but she would tell me later. ok.... then on Saturday when she came by I asked again and she said that one of the legs was broken and it wobbled and somebody was meant to fix it but they didn't- oh well I don't care my one bag of clothes is getting nasty. So together we figured it out- her Hungarian and my mechanical guess work. Then I had to buy detergent. Maybe an easier task had it not been Sunday which meant that everything was closed except the TESCO (SuperTarget) a short walk from my house. A god send in most situations- I know what stuff is, I can find everything and I don't have to ask for what I want. In this case it meant an entire aisle of detergents to pick from. shit. so I went for the one with some German on it- however, aparently my ability to say &lt;em&gt;my name is sara, how are you? I live in the last apartment and thanks for the flowers&lt;/em&gt; to the little old ladies in my building had given me false confidence in my German abilities that did not transfer to laundry detergent instructions- oh well I'll just pour some in and hope my clothes get clean while avoiding the cartoonish image of soap suds pouring out my windows and doors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in my apartment I "filled" up my load with 2 pairs of jeans and 2 t-shirts poured in some soap and hoped for the best. It started doing it's thing and turning and turning and I waited and waited and WAITED. It was over an hour and it didn't seem to be done so I took a walk thinking funny little Euro-washer takes it's sweet time! and then I came home and opened it up to check...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found 2 pars of jeans and 2 t-shirts perfectly dry. Either I had the best washer/dryer combo ever or something had gone wrong. And it had. I never hooked up the water. Awesome. Take 2 went fine, didn' take long at all and I even managed to assemble the drying rack and hang my things up and now I have 2 pairs of Jeans and 2 t-shirts that are extremely stiff but also dry and CLEAN!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-5841190461966157192?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/5841190461966157192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=5841190461966157192' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5841190461966157192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/5841190461966157192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/09/laundry.html' title='laundry'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-6728938020445319417</id><published>2006-09-04T05:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T06:28:16.974-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gyöngyös</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/1600/DSC00003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6573/628739337573257/200/DSC00003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So here I am, finally, in my little town of Gyöngyös in northeast Hungary. I actualy arrived in Hungary- in Budapest- on the 24th of August and spent the next week at orientation. Orientation was a blast, there were about 30 other teachers (I don't know the exact number because everyone drifted in at different times) anyway...most were in there mid-late 20s (I was deffinatly on the low end) and many are older- retiries and emptynesters- all are fantastic and four are from Colorado! There were also two of the 12 or so second year teachers who came back for orientation to help us all out. We spent our days in classes on Hungarian culture and language as well as teaching tips. The rest of our time we spent enjoying Budapest and going out at night practising our Hungarian at the bars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came the 30th...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That morning our contact teachers came to pick us up and take us to our new homes. We spent the morning loitering in the lobby with our luggage watching each person that walked through the doors and guessing and hoping "does she look like a teacher?" "oh god I hope that one isn't mine!" and "Please let that one be here for me!" In the end Ilí came for me and she is great, the head of the English departement at my school, very helpful and funny- she has two sons my age who both live in other cities and I think she is glad to have someone to be a mother to again. She drove me the hour to Gyöngyös and chatted the whole way. She took me grocery shopping because "you should never walk into a house with an empty kitchen!" and then showed me my apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My apartment is fine- very basic- a small kitchen and bathroom and one large room with a sitting area, TV, cabinets and my bed as well as a spare bed (so come visit!) that is serving as a couch. The decor is...seventies. Seventies in that it looks like it came right from the decade and was put there by someone who is in their seventies. This is truely an apartment furnished from grandma's basement. But I'm adding things slowly- potted plants and pictures. And I have a little balcony which is very nice because my building (one of maybe 20 small 4 story buildings) is scattered in a park area with little paths and benches and big old oak trees. The buildings are all painted different bright colors (to tell them apart I guess) mine is a terra cotta and the one I look at is bright green. Fun Fact: When the Peace Corps was in Hungary my job and apartment was a post, my fridge has a big sticker on it that says &lt;em&gt;donated by the US government&lt;/em&gt;, so take that Peace Corps!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ilí also took me to the school where she showed me my &lt;em&gt;assigned&lt;/em&gt; seat and drawer in the teacher's lounge- I guess you need one since no one has their own classroom. I teach grades 5, 6, 7 and 8 and have 11 classes total- hopefully middle school kids arn't the same the world over...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday Ilí and her husband took me up to the hills/ mountains. They are very close and also very short but nice. Everything here is extremely green and as soon as you leave the town there are grapes and sunflowers and fruit trees everywhere. We went to the top of Kékes- the tallest "mountain" in Hungary (just over 1000 meters) there's a little ski and sledding slope there in the winter and hiking trails in the summer. Fun Fact: From the top of the highest point in Hungary to my apartment, by car, is only 25 minutes! That's all for now...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-6728938020445319417?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/6728938020445319417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=6728938020445319417' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6728938020445319417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6728938020445319417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/09/gyngys.html' title='Gyöngyös'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-6481070674736554877</id><published>2006-08-22T10:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-22T10:46:54.265-07:00</updated><title type='text'>London</title><content type='html'>so here I am in London! after two long flights and very little sleep. I got in this morning around noon and have been wondering the city in a zombie like daze ever since in an attempt to stay up all day and go to bed at night so that I can get set on this time zone &lt;em&gt;I am very tired! &lt;/em&gt;but I made it to the Tate Museum of Modern Art which was very cool- although the surrealist rooms seemed even more surreal in my current state.  I get the whole day tomorrow and then off to Budapest!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-6481070674736554877?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/6481070674736554877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=6481070674736554877' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6481070674736554877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/6481070674736554877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/08/london.html' title='London'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5150632653400127917.post-1120746302720239760</id><published>2006-08-18T17:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T17:29:53.248-07:00</updated><title type='text'>getting ready to go.....</title><content type='html'>hello everyone! So as most of you know I'm leaving for Hungary on Monday where I'll be teaching English at an elementary school in the small town of Gyongyos.  On my past trips I've sent out monstrous group e-mails that clogged in boxes and stressed people out so I've decided that this time I'll go the Brit Chase route and post a blog- and here it is (for those still wanting to e-mail my address is &lt;a href="mailto:noelsara@gmail.com"&gt;noelsara@gmail.com&lt;/a&gt;.)  Right now I don't have much to tell- I'm still in Denver and am further procrastinating the inevitable &lt;em&gt;packing&lt;/em&gt; but soon I'll have fun things to say about my quick trip to London, week long orientation in Budapest and eventual move in to Gyongyos.  Till then........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5150632653400127917-1120746302720239760?l=snoelabroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/feeds/1120746302720239760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5150632653400127917&amp;postID=1120746302720239760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1120746302720239760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5150632653400127917/posts/default/1120746302720239760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://snoelabroad.blogspot.com/2006/08/getting-ready-to-go.html' title='getting ready to go.....'/><author><name>sara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17432440842864874451</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
