Living like a local...or not?

Living in Budapest, is well, similar to living anywhere. I mean, you sleep, you wake, you eat, you chatter, you shop, you play sports....I guess my point is that while there are definitely things that are different between Ottawa and Budapest, it is still a place where I can relax and live relatively stress free. While I can't communicate as much as a would like, the city still is so mechanic that I can free to wander, to experience new sights, sounds and smells regardless of the obvious communication barriers. That is my favorite part of traveling. Sadly (or not sadly?), my routine really hasn't changed much from what is was in Ottawa, and maybe that stability is allowing me to manage all the other crazy things.

Living with someone who is also not a native to Budapest, or Hungary, has also been interesting. We exchange stories about 'our countries' and 'customs' and well...everything...these stories usually come out in conversations that start off with 'I can't find this, or I was at this store trying on this...or this language is difficult..or I miss peanut butter (okay, that one's mine). It's also funny that we seem to encounter similar problems living in this city....

In any case, there are days when I really feel like a local ( the days when I walk by a beautiful building and no longer stop and stare at it for 5 mins (I am down to 60 seconds). Others......well.....those are the tourist 'i am allowed to be ignorant' days....those are also the days that I smile alot, and also the days are are stress-riden....because it frustrates me when I can't say what I want to say to get want I want :D

So, right, back to post. I do have some (funny) stories about being a local and well, a non-magyarian.....

Its sort of hard to report on things like 'living like a local' probably because, well, I guess as humans we remember extremes, and well the blessing of knowing local customs is that well the local customs become so routine, that they aren't extreme anymore. For example, I know now where the Metro Police station themselves on the metro system, I tend to grocery shop everyday at the 'daily markets', which is pretty normal here as stocking and storing food is not. (I also know where the 50% off bins are (for all those people who have had to experience my frugal ness, when things are on sale, they really are (and that just makes the game of 'find the bargain' so much more fun!. Also, for those those who have experienced my "but this food is expired I can't eat it... you HAVE seen NOTHING...when it comes to 'this food is bad'...well some stuff that is in the 50% off bins (and hell, on some shelf's) are acutally Mouldy! .)

Back to story: Living like a local also means that I have (timed) the trams, metros, I know where the connections are best and which are not, and well, I have learned to love the fun tunes that play on the yellow line (it sounds like the ice cream man). I now no longer take coffee with me anywhere, I know not to expect the American 'customer service' as a store or bar (which is great, I don't get pestered by sales people!). Another important direction thing is that I now know which lines go where, and which direction! (this is big as it took be YEARS to figure that one out in Ottawa...haha). It actually kind of hard to think of other things as well, I probably am not even aware of them...

Having local staff at the embassy has greatly improved my ability to find the best local everything. They showed me where the best pastry shop in the city (sorry Bridgehead, but their croissants are better...for the person who introduced me to Bridgehead croissants...there is now a good reason to make a stop in Budapest), they've also told me where to go to shop (the best malls, which I must say counter the travel books (I agree with the locals)), places to see (and not see), and even the tourist places that are actually worth seeing, and well everything from 'how do I order this' to 'how does this cell phone work' to 'please explain why you said 'leader of the opposition' was so Canadian. One also even told me about awesome second hand stores! I guess using them as a source of information has been a catalyst for me during this 'settling in phase'. so thanks!


Now onto the Non-Magyarian... I find it a bit more amusing....

Story one:

Today I went to Spar to buy some things for my personal picnic in City Park (to be blogged in a bit, complete with photos for you Kristina :)). I also wanted to price compare items such as toilet paper, hand wash, dish soap, coffee etc. between Spar (pronounced Sh-par) and the Dizscounters (old 'communist' stores...they are somewhere in between Dollarama and a corner store). We are running out, and it's my turn to replace them....

Anyway, I was in line to pay and a man (who has restocking beer (actually I think it was 'spiked' lemonade), looked at me, started to wave his hands, then began a long monologue directed at me. I shook my head and said "Nem Magyar (Mye-yyyar)". Literally translated I said "No Hungary". Oh man, I need to improve my language reflexes...Anyway, he understood that I hadn't a clue as to what he was saying. He then looked at the women ahead of me and asked her something. Then the conversation was over.....but the actions were not, as when another person came up to queue behind me, the women ahead of me looked at him as said something that meant (or what I think it meant), "she is the last person in line as the till is closing". This went on for about 5 people, literally, they would queue, I would look at the women a head of me, she would talk. I was mute, and she was my voice.....at one point there was an elderly women behind me (I didn't notice, so I think she was standing there for a while). Anyway, I ended up having to pat the women ahead of me on the shoulder to tell the women behind me that she wasn't supposed to be there....that got intense as I think tapping on the shoulder is a no, no, and I think the elderly women was angry that she had waited....(she looked at me and said something)....it was slightly tense. I smiled a half 'happy' and half '...er' smile.

Story two:

Last weekend Max and I went to the mall, simply because it was the only dry place in our immediate surroundings and I wanted to take a second stab at working my way through all the processes involved in buying something (think about all the questions, comments, requests, and general conversations that you have when you walk into Aldo and want to buy a pair of shoes...many...). Anyway, we went into a jeans store, and I saw a rack of jeans and went over to look at them. Truth be told, I went there because I looked like the sale rack :). The rack didn't have anything special on it (wait, yes it did. all the 'fashion' jeans had bleach, buckles, bells, leg zippers and sparkles on them). They were all the same size too...I thought it was a pretty horrible sale rack. SO then I went over to the wall of jeans and started to pull some out (to get my size). The sales women was staring at me the whole time, while pointing to the sales rack. I was confused. Finally an English speaking person came up to me and said "all the jeans that are on the wall are displayed on that rack over there (pointing to the 'sales' rack). I immediately felt bad (as I obviously ruined the perfectly folded display)......living like a magyarfailure.....Oh well, now I know for next time, right?


Intermission:
I guess this is what 'culture shock' is. I am living as a 'fish out of water' so to speak. Traveling to another country (or even place), really opens your eyes up to self reflect on where you came from. Really, its the times when I apply my unconscious canadian'custom', and I fail miserably at achieving my ends (or I get odd, angry, or happy 'what the heck is she doing' looks) that I realize that what I did was not what they do. This I guess is what I mean when I say that one become an actual local only after being somewhere long enough to pick up those subtle bevavioural patterns.

I took a class once called 'the anthropology of everyday life', which was about how to write about 'daily life' and the challenges of this writing when entering a new culture. I think it is pretty cool that I am living a lot of the stuff that she spoke about (and what i read about). This is a serious fusion of theory and practice my friends.

Story three:

So as I speak of daily life, I should probably also report on the funny things that I found in Budapest (that while aren't particularly funny are just interesting from my semi outsider perspective, and from a communication perspective). It will be a photo gallery!

The first one has no photo (I fail). But it's funny. It has to do about Poppy Seeds. Poppy seeds (along with sour cherries and walnuts and sour creme and turo) are pretty much a staple here. There is Poppy seed (Makos) is alot of things including ice cream. I was on Vaci Utca the other day look for ice cream. I saw a flavour called 'opium'. I took me half a second to realize that by opium they meant 'poppy seed', however, during that half second I thought to myself 'wow, they sell opium in ice cream form, wow, it think that is illegal in Canada, I know that's an issue in Afghanistan, can I get addicted with only one scoop, is this breaking a local law? what if my mom finds out?, and wondered if I should buy it (just to be cool). (I guess a lot of thoughts went racing through my mind). I went for pistachio instead. :)

Story 4

So NOW some funny translations and pictures of things that I thought were kind of funny (in my fish out of her water frame mind).

I wonder what they mean by 'operate in a normal way', and why are they so excited?







They do have Hot Dogs here. This one is from Tesco. It is very clearly labeled. If you click on it, you will see it looks like plastic.....and I think there is a reason why none had been taken off the shelf. There were more things....but I had to sneak the photos.....:) Maple Syrup! (please note how they have depicted 'Canada'). Joe. I am Canadian. :) More stories of bpest coming up! (promise)!