Standing in the check-out line at our friendly neighborhood market.
"Should we wait it out for a short bit?" Manasi asked me.
"Nah, we'll be fine," I said.
We both gazed out the front windows onto the street. "But that huge umbrella just blew over," Manasi quivered.
"Eh, I'm sure it just fell or someone accidentally bumped into it," I suggested.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, it's only drizzling. Our hostel is just down the street," I reminded her.
5 minutes later, walking past the Posta.
"See," I said as Manasi ducked her head into the hood of her jacket, "this isn't bad."
1 minute later, approaching the intersection.
"Crap! These droplets instantly quadrupled in size!" I shouted.
"Ah!" Manasi screamed.
"Hurry! We have to make the crosswalk signal!" I blurted out frantically.
4 minutes later, on the home stretch to our hostel.
Manasi broke into a desperate jog, with her Rainbow flip-flops smacking against the flooded sidewalk and her shoulders hunched over and wobbling side-to-side in unusual movements. Her brown hoodie was pulled tight around her head. "I am never taking weather advice from you ever again!" she threatened.
1 minute later.
"Wait!" I begged. "I can't run and laugh this hard at the same time!"
"I am soaked!" she yelled through the downpour.
"It's only rain," I said. "We'll dry." The droplets fell into my gaping, laughing mouth.
3 minutes later, finally inside, walking up the stairwell.
"Whew," I exhaled. I shook the water out of my hair like a wet dog.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
good morning
Though the people may seem somber... Hungary is still chaotic in its own special way, kind of in the same way Rome, Italy is chaotic (or so I have been told... I will be able to tell you first-hand in July). The drivers are crazy, sometimes you can't be too sure if your mail will actually make it to your mailbox, who knows when there will be protestors on the steps of Parliament...
But Hungary is still lovely, of course.
For example, this morning was wonderful.
Manasi and I ate a small breakfast (granola and banana) over tiny cups of espresso at our favorite cafe. We sat at the window on high swivel stools and discussed long-distance relationships and the idea of "moving too fast" in a given relationship. This lasted about an hour and we strolled out into the warm mid-morning spring mist. We ventured down the street, to an open air market where we wandered up to a smiling woman selling her home-grown flowers. She was patient with us as we practiced our Hungarian with her, trying to decide which batch to buy. After much pointing, smelling, and petal-caressing, Manasi and I chose a tiny bouquet of bright yellow daffodils for 200 forint (about $1.20 USD). The woman wrapped a small sheet of butcher paper around the stems and we walked off with flowers in hand.
Right next to the open air market, we stopped in the bakery and each purchased two bread rolls for 20 forint a piece (about 10 cents a pop). Right next to the little bakery is a shop full of small, milky brown eggs, stacked high in their open crates. We got a carton of ten, and the lady let us pick out the eggs, 200 forint for the ten.
We walked back out into the neighborhood, and down the street to our favorite fruit and vegetable stand. I picked out two white potatoes for 65 forint (about 40 cents). The woman recognized Manasi and I, and she forced us to practice our Hungarian with her. She pointed to the price and held up her fingers in accordance with the numbers... "Hatvan ot..." And we repeated after her "Hatvan ot." (Hatvan = sixty, ot = five). I plan on using those potatoes to make my own Goulash soup! At least I will give it a try...
With bread, potatoes, eggs, and flowers in tow, we crossed the street towards the bank where Manasi withdrew some cash. On the way we got a little distracted at a small boutique with very cute and very affordable shoes.
Other Hungarians were about their day; the little fruit and vegetable stands were crowded with at least 3-4 constant customers weaving their way through the produce, others were grabbing the daily paper at the newsstands, some were sitting on benches smoking cigarettes and chatting, little kids were chasing pigeons, others walking their dogs...
After the bank we walked back across the street to the Posta where Manasi quickly sent off a goodluck postcard to a close friend back home who is about to take the MCAT.
It was lunctime when we got back to our hostel. I took my bread roll, toasted it, made two of the eggs over-medium, put a piece of cheese in between them, dashed some hot paprika sauce on top, and had myself a delicious egg sandwich.
But Hungary is still lovely, of course.
For example, this morning was wonderful.
Manasi and I ate a small breakfast (granola and banana) over tiny cups of espresso at our favorite cafe. We sat at the window on high swivel stools and discussed long-distance relationships and the idea of "moving too fast" in a given relationship. This lasted about an hour and we strolled out into the warm mid-morning spring mist. We ventured down the street, to an open air market where we wandered up to a smiling woman selling her home-grown flowers. She was patient with us as we practiced our Hungarian with her, trying to decide which batch to buy. After much pointing, smelling, and petal-caressing, Manasi and I chose a tiny bouquet of bright yellow daffodils for 200 forint (about $1.20 USD). The woman wrapped a small sheet of butcher paper around the stems and we walked off with flowers in hand.
Right next to the open air market, we stopped in the bakery and each purchased two bread rolls for 20 forint a piece (about 10 cents a pop). Right next to the little bakery is a shop full of small, milky brown eggs, stacked high in their open crates. We got a carton of ten, and the lady let us pick out the eggs, 200 forint for the ten.
We walked back out into the neighborhood, and down the street to our favorite fruit and vegetable stand. I picked out two white potatoes for 65 forint (about 40 cents). The woman recognized Manasi and I, and she forced us to practice our Hungarian with her. She pointed to the price and held up her fingers in accordance with the numbers... "Hatvan ot..." And we repeated after her "Hatvan ot." (Hatvan = sixty, ot = five). I plan on using those potatoes to make my own Goulash soup! At least I will give it a try...
With bread, potatoes, eggs, and flowers in tow, we crossed the street towards the bank where Manasi withdrew some cash. On the way we got a little distracted at a small boutique with very cute and very affordable shoes.
Other Hungarians were about their day; the little fruit and vegetable stands were crowded with at least 3-4 constant customers weaving their way through the produce, others were grabbing the daily paper at the newsstands, some were sitting on benches smoking cigarettes and chatting, little kids were chasing pigeons, others walking their dogs...
After the bank we walked back across the street to the Posta where Manasi quickly sent off a goodluck postcard to a close friend back home who is about to take the MCAT.
It was lunctime when we got back to our hostel. I took my bread roll, toasted it, made two of the eggs over-medium, put a piece of cheese in between them, dashed some hot paprika sauce on top, and had myself a delicious egg sandwich.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
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