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"