CHEESE: Christmas Has Everything Everyone's Super Excited; A Holiday Letter/Post

This year is one of many long awaited coming of age milestones every young adult must experience: the first Christmas without mom and dad. It's fortunate that I don't have to spend the day away from home or away from family, but I'm sure a little homesickness will come my way thinking about my brothers looking like homeless frat boys when they get to grandma's, the grandparents' dog fleeing mine upon arrival, and my parents sarcastically kissing under the plastic and glittered holly strategically placed in the same doorway by my grandma every year despite her PDA complaints. I'm sure I'll get the same food coma and poorly sung carol renditions, because Hungarians and exchange students do holidays right, still. Passing out with a food baby is different here. Everyone is just nice to you and lets you digest, instead of sitting on you because you're taking up the entire couch and trading weight related insults with you while eating even more cookies.

Instead of my deadbeat brothers, TEPO (The Ever Patient One) and GOV (Giver of Volleyball), I've traded up this year to my wonderful host parents Eva and Tamas, and kick-butt host siblings Blanka and Abel. They're beautiful people. Eva teaches at my school. The looks on my friends' faces when a teacher came up to talk to me on the first week of school was priceless. Especially after she gave me chocolate croissants. Tamas, Blanka, and Abel all spend most of their time in Budapest going to school and jobs and all that responsible type stuff. In Debrecen, where we live, it rains a lot. It's about the size of Champaign-Urbana? So not that different. Hungarian, well it doesn't really have attributes that I know how to explain in real non-onomatopoeiatic words , so I don't know how it's going. I guess I speak a little bit, but as soon as anyone asks me how much I speak I completely forget that there are sentences other than "Bocsanot, nagyon nagyon bocsanot, nem beszelek magyarol. Cserediak vagyok."

Next year I'll be back to my usual hijinks though, so if the fridge has been a little too full and the house has been a little too quiet, don't fret (cough cough mom and dad cough). So far my plan upon return is to make some major bank (or minor bank. any salary is good salary) working volleyball camps and maybe coaching a bit. I hope to bring volleyball with me to University too, though I'm too injured to play, by coaching a club team or reffing a rec league. In the fall, I'll head off to some Illinois University to double major in Theater Studies and Human Development and Psychological Services or Social Policy. Yes, the rumors are true, I am the next Doogie Howser. But serioiusly, don't worry Grandma, the market for past-their-prime-narrowly-missed-the-window-to-be-a-child-prodigy-sarcastic-theater-tech-girls-looking-to-change-the-face-of-comedy is huge. Actually, that sentence doesn't even have to be that sarcastic. Now is the time for more Tina Fey's, Laverne Cox's, Amy Poehler's, and Whoopi Goldberg's to come out of the woodwork. I want to double major so that I can help fill the void of equally valued authoritative female figures in the entertainment industry and pursue another venue of life improvement for communities spreading improved information and health education. Other than that, I guess my main goal for college would be to avoid getting an infection from communal showers or to befriend the person on my floor who knows how to use the lounge microwave?

Closing out this "letter" I want to apologize for the lack of a schtick (I know, dad always has one) and any misspelled words. If I thought playing dad in Scrabble was hard before, I can't imagine what it will be like now. My deteriorating English is also the reason for this bang-up ending. As I get more and more tired due to my irresponsible sleeping habits over school break, I do not have the eloquent speech needed for a beautiful, touching conclusion.

I can't give you guys presents right now, because shipping is a lot and I don't know how customs works, but. Mom, if I could I would give you the world and a new Prius to drive around it. I fully plan to as soon as I figure out how to wrap a planet and put a bow on it. I love you so much. Dad, first of all note the acronyms for you and mom--kind of an homage to the DCL--what what. If I could I would run around the house in pigtails being a power ranger princess, or whatever weird junk I concocted in pre-school. I can't, because I have some semblance of dignity, but if you can hold out until I'm 25 I can probably manage a tackle yelling "I'm 5x5 5x5 5x5" I love you so much. Erick, I will not give you anything because you wrap my presents in Walmart bags and eat all the poptarts. However, I will give you the empty and obvious promise of Netflix marathoning and a hug you don't want to give me. I love you so much (you fatty <3 ) Mike, you don't get on the internet right? You're like, seven. Right? I'm gonna give you all the unwanted sister advice that you never asked for. And hair gel lessons. And realistically a soccer jersey because tradition is tradition. And, I love you so much.

Grandma I'm going to make you proud we share a middle name, and find a new fancy Hungarian outfit for your goose. Grandpa, we're going to watch NCIS until Grandma accepts her fate and I will even bring my own barbecue kettle chips. I love you both so, so much. 
  To all my friends working their way through University, maybe thinking I'll bring you back chocolate: sorry. I will realistically probably eat it in the airport before it gets to you.

But, I love you all, so much.

My English Has Not Aged Well. It is Grating My Inner Englsih Teacher, Shredding my Dignity, and just Stinking Up the Grammatical Room

After sevenish hours of travel I think most people are a little incoherent. On and off after activities on the bus my friend Madison can attest that my sentences were not the most informative. It's not just a tired thing though. A couple weeks ago I wrote an essay with a sentence containing "blahblahblah is has have blahblahblah" and edited three times before I realized the problem wasn't that I had them in the wrong order, but rather that I had them in the sentence at all.

My point here is, if I mess up on social media and say the wrong form of a word (bear/bare two/to/too etc) I'm sorry. And probably embarassed. If everyone could be lenient with me and just mentally insert what the word should be, that'd be great. I don't know what's happening to it, or why, but anything eloquent my speech ever possesed is long gone.

Köszönöm!! Love you!

(Sidenote: my title is a cheese joke. Please tell me it's obvious enough I don't think I could bare to lose my pun skills too)

Grown Ups Buy Groceries

Central Europe is wonderful place to be! There are so many different countries and people and languages! Unfortunately this also applies to grocery stores. If you want to tour all the little countries in this area of the continent, but you're on a budget, the effect can be easily achieved by browsing the aisles of your local supermarket! It's a beautiful experience 😊

Looking past the sarcasm, food shopping is actually one of the most stressful things I've ever done. I try to prepare for my trips by translating all the ingredient names I need if I don't already know them. When I get to the aisle I need  I am very excited to be a real adult and buy grown-up foodstuffs like basil and rolled oats and chicken breasts! I know it will go smoothly because I brought my shopping list, in Hungarian, like a good girl. Unfortunately, SPAR doesn't get the memos about my preparedness and stocks food from everywhere except Hungary. So far I have seen German, English, Romanian, Ukrainian, and Polish.   Realistically there are probably more languages on the packages, since every one has three sets of directions, but I am not a linguist. If the packages aren't in a language I know and they don't have pictures, I just guess. It's an adventure! If you thought you could get away from mystery meat by escaping your cafeteria to Europe, you thought wrong.

After I have an armload of what I hope is cookie ingredients, I head to the check out. (Side note: it's worth noting here that I usually stop by the store after school. Debrecen is small, but I should never have underestimated rush hour) There are lots of nice people here, and I usually end up in line with some of them. Sometimes they're just trying to kill time with conversation while the dude at the front waits for his farm's worth of produce to be manually entered into the system. Other times it's a little old lady who understands that you speak broken Hungarian but it's okay because she's mainly interested in telling you the sale prices of every individual carton of sour cream she bought. It's a little stressful to talk to these old ladies because I know somewhere in the back of my mind that all they're saying is prices, but I can't help but doubt my understanding of the language because I struggle to understand the merits of being a human newspaper ad.

Once I make it to the front, the cashier is understandably frazzled because she's dealing with the same junk I am only she has to be efficient and pleasant during it. I can pay without a hitch usually, but for some reason I always get asked for exact  change to make giving me money back easier. I get this eventually, but only after I get the 'ugh Americans' eye roll. Then, since you've gotten your money back and the next customer needs to pay, it's a mad scramble to shove your change into your wallet, wisk your products away to a counter awkwardly where you can put them in bags, and get organized.

Throughout all of this I'm usually carrying a school bag, wearing a coat, and holding a basket laden with food, so I'm quite a cumbersome individual. If you add this to me stress sweating and the stiff kind of frozen posture I get when I'm anxious, I usually also get asked if I'm feeling alright. It's kind of embarrassing. But, so worth it when dinner/dessert is done.

(Sorry for any typos or errors, I wrote this on my phone on the train 😄)

Waiter! There's a Hair in my Soup... and Now in my Sink!

I obsess over my haircut on a good day.

I prepare for days before hand, considering each minute layer change, gathering trashy gossip mag photographs as examples, and toying with the idea of bangs for the umpteenth time. In the four (I think four?) months I've been here I haven't been to a hair salon. Hungarian is proving a little difficult, and I didn't want to march in and blabber something incoherent then end up with a green pixie because I said I wanted a carrot top  instead of a little off the top. 

So! Because it's toooooooooooootally a less risky option, I decided to cut my own hair! (sidenote: if I had a finger gun animation, I would put it here) It didn't actually go that badly (sidenote: cue applause) 

Before the cut, right out of my homework bun.

It's amazing what you can do with a hairbrush 

The first step in the tutorial I haphazardly followed is to brush all your hair into a ponytail at the front of your head. The next was just to cut straight down, and you'd apparently get layers from that. 

A fair amount of goofing off was done on my part, which is honestly unavoidable when you have a make-shift elephant trunk. I trimmed the ends a bit after the ponytail. I think it looks good (sidenote: okay it's not even noticeably different, but I'm one step further to being semi-self sufficient!) The bottom right is the end result. Ta-daaaa?

The Gender Binary Makes Me Stress Eat Cocoa Puffs

I yelled at a teacher today. 

I've never yelled at a teacher before.

I'm a goody two shoes most of the time, a fact none of my friends would really dispute. But, in English class we have been talking about "Gender, Sex, and Sexuality" and some of our illustrations of the Kinsey scale and other models of gender/sexuality gradients were left on the board today when another teacher came in. He's an American, but he has been in Hungary for a number of years. His viewpoint has not benefited from travel. He is narrow minded, and what is worse, he forces his opinions on students who have no way of knowing not all Americans see the world the way he does. 

He tried to tell us being trans is a choice. 

It is one thing for a teacher to give lessons with a bias. We've all been taught by someone whose political views are obvious from the way they phrase their lessons. It is another thing entirely to pursue incendiary topics that could polarize the learning environment and back questioning kids into emotional corners. 

As I have been taught, or rather shown by example through the years, educators are responsible for providing a safe place to learn. The classroom is a place to accept knew knowledge, to explore new ideas and one's own beliefs, and this introspection cannot occur if you yell at your students that they are wrong. 

Here is a list of terms and definitions for those of you reading whom are not familiar with the LGBTQ community. No matter what sexuality or gender you identify as, it is important to know that people don't just wake up and arbitrarily decide "what" they are. Coming out as anything isn't something you do for giggles. My teacher, upon me explaining this, said 'Well, I think I'm Mrs. ----- today.' He was obviously joking, trying to make a point. But, a part of me--and I would say a small part of me but that would be a lie--considered addressing him as Mrs. ----- for the rest of year. For a short time I'm sure he would accept it, not wanting to give me the satisfaction of a reaction. But, after months, or even the rest of the school year, of being addressed with his wrong pronouns he would probably become distressed. This is understandable! This is also my point. Denying trans individuals their desired pronouns in favor of what you want to call them is disrespectful, discouraging, and overall dangerous to their mental well-being. It is difficult enough to transition and/or be comfortable in your body with the gender-binary in place without jerks coming around and invalidating your life choices. 

Whether you agree with a person's identification or not is not their problem. It's something you need to deal with on your own. No one confronts you on the street about why your eyes are brown, or why you color your hair when "God-didn't-mean-for-you-to-have-highlights" or why you are 5'8" instead of 5'10". No one questions you about this because these are normal parts of you. All of these things are expressions of yourself that you either couldn't change even if you wanted to, or have changed and everyone has accepted. A trans person's identity is not something they "picked" willy nilly, or without consideration. It's a fundamental, natural, part of them; a constant that they shouldn't have to justify. After all, cis-gendered individuals do not have to "prove" that their gender matches the sex they were born as. 

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Sorry if this isn't the most well written post. I've been having enough trouble separating grammar and languages without coming down from an adrenaline rush (sidenote: I forgot that your muscles hurt after adrenaline. I feel like I just did an ab workout.) If anyone has any corrections, like wrong terms or clarifications that would be helpful, please mention them because I don't have a lot of experience being a trans person as I am cis-gendered! 

Also, shout-out to all my classmates who dealt with a halfway She-Hulk Brigi today and weren't mad that I pursued the topic! Sorry you had to deal with that, but I can't say I'm sorry I lead the class astray. Szeretlek! 

Cheesy Three-Monthaversary Post

It's hard to believe I've been away for three months. Cliche opening I know, but true all the same. Since I don't know where the time went, it makes sense that I don't quite know how to describe it, right? Never the less, I will try, through anecdotes and sentences I hope are grammatically correct but I don't know anymore, to do justice to the past three months. 

• Hungarians, typically, are thrilled that any foreigner is trying to learn Hungarian--it's rather difficult and Hungary is a small country. This surprise and happiness at our admittedly pathetic attempts usually yields one of two outcomes. If the other person is one we'll never see again, like a cashier or seat partner on the train, they squee over you for a minute and fawn over how good your Hungarian is, which totally makes your day. If it's someone you see repeatedly, like a classmate or Rotarian, they are pleased you made an effort and fail to mention that you're pronouncing a word wrong, thus giving it a different meaning. (Eg. my friend saying "no grace" instead of "no problem" for two months, me saying "I like" instead of "I think", and me saying "pumpkin" instead of "Thursday" up until like three days ago)
• Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, highschool. I've already graduated and done my time, but I just love it so much I had to come back :D 
• Okay, this isn't entirely true and we all know it. Being in highschool for another year while my former classmates pursue higher education is kind of a bummer sometimes, not gonna lie. But, I do study and participate like I should--to the annoyance of my teachers I'm sure--and my doodles are getting quite advanced. It helps that I love my classmates too, and the  cafeteria food here is far superior to what we have in America.
• #hungaryisthebestplacetogetfat. It's true, and it's a distinct possibility. Anyone who follows my Instagram knows my love of food and selfies knows no bounds, though I haven't posted food photos in a while. The diet here is primarily rice/potatoes and meat, with soup thrown in pretty often and of course, white bread. I'm never one to deny comfort food, but I do miss the color green being present on my plate. Still, at least I'm not vegetarian! (Shout out to my tough veggie loving friends who get fried cheese slabs and an assortment of fried vegetables at every Rotary meeting.) My host mom is also a super good cook, as all my friends can attest, and makes home made pogacsa. So, I think it's safe to say that my tummy is pretty happy over here. 
• I haven't really posted about the great volleyball saga that is my life yet, but I do play here. It's a little odd for me because I've been setting for a very, very long time and I do a lot of passing and hitting here. Even when I do get back to my comfy space next to the net, the changes don't stop. Sets here are higher, which is more challenging because you have less control over the location of the ball relative to the net. (sidenote: it also doesn't help that I've been trained forever that quicker is better, and short 'n' sweet is the way to go) Also, I may or may not have knocked some people over in my pursuit of the ball because I'm a little bit of an aggressive player...But! Despite these differences I love being on the team here and it's cool being able to say I've played abroad. 
• Shout out to Jim Dietz for teaching me and talking volleyball with me. I didn't understand anything starting out two months ago, but since he taught me how this stuff works and I know basically every variation of every drill ever from his practices, I got by. It's hard to nerd out about it without you here, but I think we make it work. 
• Last but not least, travel! So far I've been to Vienna, Romania, and of course Budapest. I loved all three. Being in Vienna and seeing/speaking German was so comforting to me, though I did confuse a French girl. (She was confused because she thought I was American. But I speak something other than English. So I can't be American, apparently. As a country, we really need to get on that. It sucks surprising people because they assume we're incompetent/lazy about foreign language, among other things.)  I'm going to do a post about Vienna soon and post some of my friend's amazing photographs--she has a nice camera, and it just overall really talented. 

That's all I can think of for my three month round-up. Of course there are lots of stories and accidents and embarrassing habits I've left out (like how my classmates and I have started replacing words with onomatopoeia because everyone speaks their languages half-way) but I have to save something to tell everyone for when I come home, and I honestly don't know how to put some of my experiences into words (insert onomatopoeia-speak).

Thanks everyone for everything! I'll try to post more often and be more succinct, it's just a little difficult because I don't always know what language I'm speaking, as silly as that sounds.  

 Puszi!

Cake Pops: Art?

This post started out as me trying to put up pictures of my notebook doodles, because as the school year progresses they get more and more elaborate. However, I get super annoyed super fast with the formatting on Blogger, and the doodles are all weirdly shaped, and not really quality enough for the effort. But, I had all of these photos of my sketch book. I bought it hear in Hungary the first month, a couple weeks into school, because I was feeling so, so homesick. I've loved watercolor ever since I bit the bullet and took an art class my senior year, but I usually hide my sketches away.

But, this blog is about my exchange. It's about what makes me happy here, what I do day-to-day, and what I've accomplished over the year. So, if it's cool, I'd like to share my sketchbook with you, because it's becoming surprisingly commonplace for me to have it with me and be filling it up. Whatever's in it are mostly products of free periods, missing America, and happy afternoons waiting  to watch X-Factor with my host dad. 

(If I had a better camera, I promise these would be pretty. I mean, I don't really think a photograph can ever capture the paints' variation of color the way one sees it in person, but. Maybe at some point I'll ask one of my friends to take better pictures)

Puszi!

there's a psychological test where they watch how you draw a tree; if you draw one with fruit you're generous, if you draw one with no leaves you're sad, etc. etc.

I like this photograph more, but the colors have a different effect in the first.

inspired by an interview from Eartha Kitt, who commented on the lack of colored angels in religious art

okay this one is a doodle, but it actually fit in the formatting and I didn't want to move it and college apps are so stressful when you have no concept of the passage of time because your days are just blurs of language

My English class has been tracking my progress. It started out as a tree because we were talking about the psychology test, and each period it gets a little more of the LSD aesthetic 

Oktober 11th is my name day here. Grandma always let us each icecream for breakfast. I'm a cornball and thought about tigger couches and videogames and milkshakes all day.

Bisque Post: Wait, Aren't You Supposed to Have a Spare Tire?

I would not mind that I am gaining weight if people would stop making it their business.

While I may never wear low waisted jeans or be satisfied with the tailoring in my collared shirts, not once have I doubted that I am a solid individual. It would be hard to forget that I'm built sturdy--I bear the shoulders of a linebacker and am usually throwing myself around like I'm invincible. Looking past my body though, I am clever sometimes, can usually find a good pun if you give me a second, and always bake enough cookies to share. These attributes are intangible evidence of my solid structure.

I'm not just singing my praises in the first paragraph though, I swear. The point I'm trying to make is that there is much more to me, and in fact to everyone, than their body type. This should be an obvious statement, right? One tooted by feminists everywhere. If this is such a widely accepted fact, why then have no less than a dozen complete strangers felt it their job to warn me about my weight? From the time I found out I was coming to Hungary, people I didn't know or were vaguely connected to told me to "take my fat pants with me" "get ready to get fatter" and many variations on "what are you going to do about the weight you gain?" Today, at an event centered around a cooking competition a random man warned me not to eat too much because I would *insert your preference of explosion onomatopoeia and hand gestures*

I like to think I'm pretty adept in social situations, but what do you even say to that.

I would like not to become a barge during my exchange. In a perfect world, the organic fruits and vegetables along with the walking and volleyball would slim me down. But, what's wrong with gaining weight? I'm healthy, I can still probably do more sit-ups in a minute than you, and most of all I'm happy. Being fat does not effect my ability to learn the language here. It does not limit my ability to illicit peals of laughter from my classmates. It doesn't even really harm my volleyball playing. But, do you know what does stop me from speaking Hungarian, what keeps my wordplay theoretical, and keeps my dives inches short of a dropped ball because I was too worried about how my shorts fit? Every sentence I hear questioning how I can be so confident now, and how I'm going to stay confident as my face fills out and my figure gets plumper. Every moment I'm in the middle of something and I get stopped to hear warnings about my impending fat-splosion. Every stupid cautionary tale I have to endure about the white bread Hungarians like, or how many dishes involve potatoes, or if I really want to eat a kakao csiga. Spoiler alert, yes, I do want to eat that kakao csiga, because in all likelihood I just had a ninety minute volleyball practice and didn't really eat breakfast this morning. Also have you seen kakao csigas they are heaven.

Trying to make a long rant concise: It is not my fat that is keeping me from success and happiness, it's the people who care more about it than they do about me. I can guarantee you exchange students have more interesting things to talk about than how many kilos they've gained--why not ask about those things instead?

Hungry for Brigitte Quotes

This edition of Hungry for Brigitte Quotes  is brought to you by the 11IB class at TAG, who have no patience and are always wondering when the next post heavily featuring them is going to be up.

"You have the y-factor, as in why did you come here" --Gabor

"I'm waiting for the day I get married and can change my name"--Claire-Charlotte Fix

"I don't eat vegetables because they can't defend themselves"--Vale

"Brigitte Sue sounds like a mermaid name" --Claire-Charlotte (sidenote: this wins for best compliment I have ever received)

"I would like formal ice cream"--me, because apparently there's a formal word for ice cream

"I hope most of the classmates are clever enough to be normal"--my Hungarian tutor

"My mother buys satan sausages"--Vale

"Next day there will be new skin!"--Claire-Charlotte (sidenote: I kind of what this on a motivational poster now)

"No in this case I will just not do it. Sleep is the most important thing in my life"--Eva, after I said she would go to bed very late because she had to grade papers

"How do you say I want to cry?"--Jennifer

"When I am an adult and earn my own money, I want to buy some Shetland pony"--Claire-Charlotte

"Plant by day, animal by night" --I don't remember who said this, but this quote sums up pretty well how well the exchangi bio study session went


Bonus Fun: After being here two months (!!!) there are lots of awkward moments where I hear part of a conversation, then have to backtrack and figure out why I understand it.


Puszi!

~~Thanks for being a good sport Claire-Charlotte <3 ~~

Pour Some Sugar On Me! By which I mean in my coffee. Which I'm going to need to get through the morning: why your exchange student is so tired

It's been a long couple of weeks. Wonderful, and not especially physically taxing, but long.

 In high school, I became accustomed to the ever present exhaustion that is trying to get your life together and fix your GPA. No matter how much sleep you think you're getting every night--and my classmates can back me up on this--you're never fully rested and you're always ready for bed. I can't articulate why, but school is draining. Even through the ups and downs of my 4-5 years at Uni, though, one healthy habit never left me: when I got home, I was always able to catch twenty sum minutes of respite. It may not seem like a big deal, but even just twenty minutes away from school can give you the energy to get going and pick up where you left off.

When you're an exchange student, it's not like there's a lot of pressure on you to perform well in school. I mean, I've already graduated, so my grades don't matter. Most Rotary kids are in classes taught in the native languages of their countries, so they can't really be held responsible for not understanding. But, that doesn't mean exchange students aren't trying to understand and/or trying to learn. Our main task on arrival is to pick up the culture as fast as possible. Basically, it's our job to study the language, all day every day instead of math or history or biology.  As an exchange student in an immersion program, there's no twenty minute respite to get to. In our home countries, we can get away from school. As an exchange student, school doesn't really end. At least, not for the first few months. So, as an exchange student, I'm always tired.

It's important to note that being tired doesn't mean I'm not excited to be here! It doesn't mean I'm stressed even. It's just frustrating to want to know something so bad, to want to impress teachers and peers and host families with new sentences, in my case to prove that I'm not some American dependent on worldwide English fluency and that there's something in this head other than hot air. To want all of this and still know that only time and patience can give you language competency  is a game of mental red-light-green-light that I would not be sorry to see end.

With all of this in mind, I would just like to express how in awe I am of all the multilingual people I know. All the students here in Hungary that are able to switch from Hungarian to English and back again just for me; all the students I know in America who speak English with friends, something else at home, and study another foreign language in school; all the people who come to America not speaking English and teach themselves from TV and magazines and whatnot. I don't know how you do it. Forty-five minutes in my German class is enough to total me for the day. I understand some of the German, even less of the Hungarian, and sometimes students explain something to me in English. I don't answer questions much because what comes out of me is usually a jumbled mess of broken German grammar, inserted English words that I don't know in German, and then Hungarian apologies. As I like to say "Es tut mir leid! Ich habe zu viele Fremdsprache in mein Kopf!" But, it's worth being exhausted all the time, because everyday I can have a better conversation with the lunch ladies. Every day I can tell my host mom one more trivial thing about school. And, every day I'm a little less embarrassed of what I know.

So, basically, don't worry about your exchange student if they're tired! It's pretty normal. Coffee is always appreciated though, and so is sugar, because it's probably gonna be a long day.

Hungary is the Best Place to Get Fat: a photo column

Hungary is the best place to get fat, or so I say in a frequently used hashtag on my Instagram. The food here is so good (so good) and my host mom lets me bake whenever I want (thanks Eva!) At some point I hope to branch out and actually cook, and soon I'm going to start learning how to make Hungarian food, because I don't think I'll be able to live without it after my exchange. So, for my Nagymama and Nagypapa especially, here are some photos of some of the phenomenal food I've eaten here.

Pogacsa, which is what I've been describing as a cheesy biscuit, is super good for traveling with and taking to school. My host mom makes the best pogacsa in the world.

Okay I don't actually remember what this is called but it was pasta and virsli and cheese and wonderful so maybe it doesn't matter what it's called.

These are my doing! I made cookies (and have made them several times since this photo was taken) They taste a little different here just because the ingredients taste a little different. A little more like shortbread, I think.

Langos is angel bread of the heavens smothered in happy with a little bit of glee on top (or, you know, fried bread with sour cream and cheese but that's not nearly as exciting and my definition is way closer)

Tepertos pogacsa is like the pogacsa from above, only with bacon bits instead of cheese.

McDonald's is important, I swear. I had lost my trashy-American side, and had to get it back!

Kakao csiga literally means cocoa snail, and I think that's adorable. It's basically a cinnamon roll with cocoa instead of cinnamon and no frosting. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

These are my doing again. Cupcakesssssssssss which turned out a bit heavy, like muffins, but still got the stamp of approval from my classmates.

My grandmother and namesake  taught me how to make frosting--there's really not that much to it and I probably would have figured it out on my own, but...--and it always tastes like home. And chocolate, because it's always chocolate.

This is a Hungarian lunch. Every day, any Hungarian student with lunch tickets can have a meal that consists of some kind of soup, a protein, and some starch. My classmates didn't believe how much better this is than American school lunches until we watched a movie set in a highschool in English class, and I confirmed that's how lunch actually is. Just imagine how much better school would be for students if they had this every day instead of some reheated canned green beans and fish filets of questionable origin.

And these are from today :) It's getting colder here and cookies are the perfect way to end a long chilly day.

Hope I made a few people hungry! 

Love from Hungary! Puszi!

Hungry for Brigitte Quotes

I was forced to do another "Hungry for Brigitte Quotes" because my friends are the best when taken out of context and I can't go to school without hearing "you could put that on your blog!" at least once.

So, without further ado, the weirdness that is TAG.

"It doesn't matter how you have the solution, just have the solution"--math teacher

"Ah, but I like medical rooms!" --Gabor

"I have an ear worm!"--Claire-Charlotte

"I didn't steal Russia!"--Imola

"Why are they so surprised when their house falls over?" --Tekla

"Teachers are untrustable"--Gabor

"Textbooks are untrustable"--Gabor

"(insert basically anything) are untrustable"--Gabor

"You speak like you can't open your mouth. It's so cool!"--Claire-Charlotte

"The first rule of English is there are no rules"

"...which they decided was America's fault"--history teacher at least five times

"But how else will I achieve my tragic backstory?"

"When I talk to you I don't feel like I'm talking to an American. I feel like I'm talking to a German who speaks English"--Clair-Charlotte

Bonus fun: The Hungarian Literature teacher got a good laugh out of us (the exchange students) because 1) we were trying to write a classical Greek love poem to Gabor 2) in Hungarian 3) with a packet of useful phrases and words along with an alphabet picture book I had with me.

Lots of love from the TAG exchange students!

Bisque Post: Being Lost in a Foreign City

Anyone who knew me during highschool in America probably knows that I am terrible at directions and could probably get lost walking a straight line (sidenote: that literally happened my first day at Uni, I couldn't find Kenney because I hadn't walked far enough)

This gets a little worse when you may or may not have talked yourself up to your host mother saying you know how to get home from school. (another sidenote: this was like, a week ago, so situation is now under control and I'm a home-walking master) As in any slightly nerve wracking situation--I say slightly because if the situation was truly dire I'd be fine--I panicked a little bit. When I panic, I start focusing on how to defend myself. It seems a little silly to target my attention on how to incapacitate that person across the street or riding past on a bike instead of figuring out how to get home, but I'm going to blame that on the fight in 'fight or flight."

One thing that usually helps calm brewing anxiety attacks though, is thinking through the 'fight or flight' process. If you can work your way through the biological reasoning behind your panic, you can convince your body that, thinking logically, there's really no reason being lost means you need to know how to shank the guy down the block. This time thinking through the process, I started wondering about how the term 'fight or flight' could apply to my situation--there was no part of me preparing to run away. All of me was ready to go all action movie on the street. So, I ended up with a question for myself:

Can you call anxiety born out of being lost a 'fight or flight' response? Because, if you're lost, there's really no place to flee.

The answer to this question is probably no, because it's not 'fight or flight' it's anxiety, but that ruins any philosophical build up I had and is totally anticlimactic. I don't really have a response the question that isn't "Exactly. It's not fight or flight, is just fight."

---For anyone concerned, because I know anxiety isn't something most people take lightly, I'm totally fine now and everything is groovy. Public transportation is a breeze and I haven't truly gotten lost...yet. :D---

Cake Pops: Art Show

Cake pops are wonderful things. They are little tiny baby balls of cake smooshed together with frosting, covering in icing. Truly, cake pops are delicious. However they are rarely enough. They are the beginning of a dessert and they leave you wanting more. 

This post is a cake pop.

I'm going to open an art show. When I get back I'm going to open a show and call it "The Joy of Traveling." It will be marketed as a gallery of travel photos. Everyone will anticipate beautiful sunrises and dramatic landscapes, inciting a drive for adventure in all who view them. No sneak peaks will be released, no blurbs describing the art, the content is very hush hush. It will be assumed this is for dramatic affect. Upon entrance, the gallery is dark, and some vaguely worldly music will be playing. Anticipation and excitement will thicken the air.

Lights up, cut music.

The art is now on display.

There is a hush.

And confusion because these are not forests or cities or dramatic portraits of homeless children who are happy despite their situations. All the art is just blown up high res copies of passport photos and visa pictures.

 I think it would be a powerful exhibit. One can truly see the exhilaration and pure gaiety of travel through the dead, empty eyes of someone who has been sitting in the visa office of a foreign country for 7 hours. The confused, straight-lipped mouth of a teenager who doesn't understand how you're supposed to smile but not smile. Just, the overall beat-down, static-haired, I-swear-I'm-not-a-serial-killer look of an individual who either knows too much about travel to worry about formalities or of one who knows absolutely nothing and was thoroughly unprepared for the mess of rules and regulations. Yes, that is truly art.

Hungry for Brigitte Quotes

"Kings knew how to live."--Éva

"I'm Brigitte. I like volleyball and food."

"I can give you a whole number that is a fraction: 4/2. Magic!"-my math teacher

"This is one reason again why Hungarian people are so depressed." --Éva

"Nobody wants to be Dick anymore"--my history teacher

"Mom they have credit cards in Hungary."--me

"I think this may be my last pageant. I'd rather be eating worms." --Toddlers and Tiaras

"If you want to be a killer, just do it."--Éva

"Oh, I'm a business woman and I'm stylish and cute, and oh by the way I have cleavage!"--What Not to Wear

"Where do you draw the line between historical significance and hoarding?"--me

"...it's not the obvious "ugh i'm puking and fainting" kind of sickness. it's just the classic uni-style "i put off my exhaustion and various symptoms so long that the stress and surrounding factors have caused it to explode in my face and i don't want to admit it" sickness.

That is PRECISELY what it is. Can we call that UNI-itis? Chronic UNI-itis?"--Me and my mother respectively


BONUS FUN: Having a discussion with Hungarian friends, one girl confused the word "homophobia" with the word "hypochondriac"

Cookie Attempt Number 1

I made chocolate chip cookies today! Overall I think they're pretty good ( they got Éva's stamp of approval) but there are a couple kinks I need to work out. I used a little too much butter I think, and the brown sugar here has a significant amount less of molasses. I'm considering adding some honey to get a smoother consistency--kind of like peanut butter cookies. But! Overall they're pretty yummy.

Recipe I used:

• 550 mL unsifted flour
• 5 mL baking soda
• 5 mL salt
• 250 mL butter or margarine, softened
• 175 mL granulated sugar
• 175 mL firmly packed brown sugar
• 5 mL vanilla extract
• 2 eggs
• 2 168 gram packages semisweet chocolate chips

Heat the oven to  190 ºC, and bake for 10-ish minutes

Why not a flour parade?

This post goes straight out to the grandparents (and anyone else not on Facebook to see these pictures)! There is a parade in Debrecen, on Hungary's Independence Day, which is renowned for its flower carts. Every cart is adorned with dried and fresh flowers, and competes in a contest for the most beautiful. My favorite, the white Pegasi cart, won this year :)

Hungry for Brigitte Quotes

I would ask everyone to remember everything in 'Hungry for Brigitte Quotes' is completely out of context. Very, very, out of context. (also is it vain to quote myself? I think probably yes. Oh well)


"You wouldn't want to miss this Rotary experience because of some accidental human slaughter" --Kristian

"Your booty's too big, it knocked me overrrrrrrrr"--Moira

"You're such a tiz"--Moira (bonus points for the pun, gurl)

"Draga means expensive because dragons are expensive." --Haley

"Instead of learning Hungarian, I'll learn to twerk. It's basically the same thing."--me

"Thank you ladies and gentlemen; I now realize you are not only full of s***, but full of music."--Kristian

"We're in a viking ship; let's make out"-- me

"My life is basically a Mad Lib"-- me

Language Camp is the Brussel Sprout of Your Rotary Exchange Meal

Language camp doesn't have to be awful. It is what you make of it, as cheesy as that is. Yes, there are communal bathrooms that leak/don't have faucets/don't have toilet paper and yes there is a possibility the mosquito population is at an all time high because of an inordinate amount of rain in the area, but there are also friends you could swear you've had your whole life and there are lessons that stick with you more than you know, both making you happier than you'd think.

Basically, language camp is a brussel sprout. It can be the worst part of your meal and be awful, or if it's done right can be surprisingly pleasant (not to mention good for you; eat your vegetables kids!) If you sit around thinking about how awful eating your brussel sprouts is gonna be, wait till they're stone cold, and are determined to think they're gross there's no way you can enjoy them. But, if you take advantage of every opportunity to eat good brussel sprouts, acknowledge that they could be better but overall they're edible, and basically eat what you're given with a positive attitude, you'll never have a disappointing meal.

The message one should take from my food metaphors (which I acknowledge are a bit of a stretch) is that language camp got really enjoyable when I got off my butt, out of my cabin, and accepted my situation. Arriving somewhere after 20+ hours of travel and being told to wait for lessons to start was a little too much to handle. Lessons themselves were a little too much to handle too at first. Usually I balk at people who say to "let go" of your stress, or to "embrace education without worrying about grades" but that is exactly what I'm recommending for anyone in a similar situation.  I probably won't even listen to my own advice once my school year here starts, but I actually learned a lot of Hungarian when I stopped worrying about writing down every little thing and started just listening and asking questions.

So, basically, accept that you have to go to language camp before you can go off on your exchange adventure, and accept that you have to eat your brussel sprouts before you can have any chocolate cake. Metaphor over! *bows*

Bisque Post: Language Proficiency

On a walk around Debrecen just now with my host mother, she and I discussed the merits of IB classes versus normal Hungarian classes in regards to my learning the language. IB classes are in English so I would have motivation to stay active in school and still be with Hungarian students. However, I may not be exposed to so much Hungarian. Normal classes would be in Hungarian from the get go and would not slow down for a foreigner, but I would be more exposed to the language. I have decided to stay with the IB class Rotary automatically put me in because I think staying in school will be important to gaining fluency, and liking school and attending would be harder if I became demoralized the first week from how little I understood.

All this being said, apparently I'm a little more gung-ho about becoming proficient at Hungarian than most. Hungarian is in the top five hardest languages worldwide to learn (according to my host mom also here's a link to language difficulty ranking) so most exchange students barely grasp conversational. This is daunting. I'm a little discouraged to be honest. My end goal remains the same though; I will learn this language. Hearing all of my worries and hopes about Hungarian for my exchange, my host mom inquired about how well Erick, my brother, learned Polish. When I explained my "competitiveness" with my brother (taking the ACT at a young age to try and beat him, attending the same academics based high school, etc) and his fluency in Polish, she understood. I know people who have mastered "impossible" languages, and I want to join their ranks. This is all a little naive (okay a lot I'll admit it) but at this point I'm comfortable with my unrealistic optimism.

Hugs and kisses!
Puszi!

(sidenote: I'm calling this a 'bisque post' because bisque is thick and heavy, so from now on a 'bisque post' is one that has potentially heavy subject matter and isn't full of fluffy selfies :(

I brought a stuffed Stitch to Hungary with me because I'm a sap and stuff. So, it's sitting on my bed this morning and it didn't occur to me that it might be weird that a 17 year old sleeps with a stuffed animal. That is, until Èva (my host mom) came in to put the parade in Debrecen on my tv. I was anticipating a little judgieness just because I'm supposed to be a mature individual yet I still have this teddy bear thing. But! Long story short Èva's amazeballs and Stitch and I are groovy

Rotary Students: Masters of the Group Selfie

 

 

   

Our selfies take the cake!

Hungry for Brigitte Quotes?

Hey! At Uni we collected quotes to publish in our senior yearbooks to either inspire or embarrass our classmates. To no ones' surprise I appeared in a few sections (read as: Brigitte has no filter and says a lot of stupid stuff)

Anyway, I think I'm a hoot, and I would hate to think anyone would miss out on awkward out of context commentary for a year, so I've decided to start a "column" of odd things that I hear/think/say here in Hungary!

And now...the first installment of 'Hungry for Brigitte Quotes,' which are all from my Hungarian lesson notes *cue fanfare*

" Hogy vagy?

Brigitte vagyok."

"I take comfort in the fact that xylophone is still the only word anyone can think of beginning with x"

"Let's play a game; is that dirt or ants"

"Why did you have to bring incest into this"

"A picture'a worth a thousand words and stupid can't be all of them."

Bonus fun (if you're brave): ask me about my theory of ambient hotness or the cups that 'was not empty'

Thanks everyone, hugs and kisses!

Szia!

I have no idea who may be following this blog, but it's supposed to be a record of my year on exchange. If my posts lack continuity I'm very sorry except for probably mostly not sorry. This post is just to establish a URL and stuff. I was going to talk about packing and nervousness and stuff, but writing about how worried I am/was isn't/won't help my situation. I'm going to leave for Paris in an hour-ish and I'm super excited (as I have told everyone) so wish me luck!

Thank you all for being interested, and I'll try super hard to be entertaining!