Busy_Me

Hey all friends, family, bloggers, readers, creepers (Yes Meg + Bri, I know you’re reading this).

I’m currently playing catch-up with my blog posts.  After my trip to Prague I had midterms week, then a week to clean house before leaving on a school trip to Venice and Vienna.  It is now currently spring break, and my enthusiasm to write ran outside to enjoy the weather.  BreAnna and I went on a free walking tour of Budapest today, and that story is stuck in a crowded room of unwritten posts.

While I’m trying to pound these posts (French-style) into proper grammatical form with a dash of chemistry, I’m going to let my Inner Writer rest and release my Fanatic Photographer Persona.

Photo for Today (currently un-edited):

On our first trip to Margit Island we walked off the bridge, a few feet down the pathway, spotted this festive tree, and decided we were done walking.

Photo Taken: March 23, 2012

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Holy Shingles!

I spent these past few days in a near-panic.  I usually meet problems with a drill, ready to crash through the issues at hand.  In most situations, I believe that “Shit is gonna happen, so you just have to deal with it.”  On any normal day, even if I break down, I’m back on task an hour later.

On any normal day, I’m not in pain.  In most situations, problems don’t terrify me.  I usually have an idea what to do, but this past week was not normal.  Something was encroaching on my body, growing steadily across my back, and adding stress to my shoulders.

A rash ran across the right side of my back.

At least, that’s what I saw on Sunday Night.

Sunday

While packing up items for the following morning, I noticed my back was a bit itchy.  Running my fingers across my back, I discovered bumps and concluded that I must have some bothersome pimples.  I started examining the pimples so I could target them in the shower.  I removed my shirt, revealing a stretch of red bumpy skin running from the center of my back to under my right shoulder blade.  Great, a rash, now what could that be from?  BreAnna indicated my computer bag as the culprit.  My mother suggested a new chemical might be the cause, so perhaps the addition of fabric softener when washing my clothes was a bad choice.  I activated my astounding powers of deduction and concluded that New Fabric Softener + Irritation from Computer Bag Strap = Rash.  However, I still had two problems 1) Yesterday was laundry day, and 2) I still needed to carry my computer around.

My best solution for this issue was to shift my computer bag around so that the strap would run under my left shoulder blade.

Monday

My right side felt sore, but I had to carry my computer bag on my right shoulder because I didn’t want to irritate the area under my right shoulder blade with the bag strap.  I was beginning to worry, and by evening I’d trashed the concept that my muscles were sore.  Instead, I had to accept that my rash was causing me pain, and I couldn’t figure out why.

Tuesday

Each morning I looked at the monstrosity developing on my back.  It wasn’t getting smaller, in fact, it seemed the red area was reaching further under my shoulder blade.  What creature had attached itself to my back?  Could it be a mold?  Why won’t it stop?  It’s hurting worse, and I don’t know how to prevent that.  I’d taken a shower, washed the area carefully, applied skin cream, and in response, the rash claimed more of my skin for its own.

In class, I was accosted by burning sensations alternated with throbbing pain of various degrees.  I wanted to run home, weave a cocoon, and shed the diseased skin from my body.  I couldn’t focus on class, feeling pain each time I moved my arm or shifted in my clothes.  My salsa dancing class was only distraction I received from the alien patch on my back.  Dancing from step to step, learning to keep up with the fast beat, I forgot about the rash until it sent me a wave of pain every time we paused to learn new steps.

I began seriously considering seeing a doctor, but I wondered if I could still possibly solve the rash issue myself.  Then I woke up on Wednesday.

Wednesday

10 minutes after I woke up, I wanted to cry.  Pain was screaming through my shoulder and I located definite confirmation that the rash was taking over my body.  The rash that covered my back had crawled onto my chest in the course of one night.  I started to freak out, saying, “That’s it, I need to see a doctor!”  I arrived at Professor Trader’s to babysit Jade, and I mentioned the rash to him.  He listened to my description of the rash, and said it might be shingles.  I Googled shingles, and learned that shingles is adult chicken pox, appearing as a blistering rash with burning pain.  I reexamined my rash in the bathroom and discovered that the “pimples” on the “rash,” were actually blisters.  Holy Shingles!  I finally had a name for my rash, but the only thing this did was convince me I needed medication.

That evening, I was still babysitting Jade because Dr. Trader had a meeting.  Jade wanted to play a monster game, but moving was painful for me, so instead we watched videos on my computer.  Soon, my friends in Maryland began getting on skype, and Jade had a chance to chat with my friends (her new favorite activity).  My boyfriend, Anthony, and I had a minute to talk on skype, and I explained my medical problem.  I nearly cried, but Jade was sitting nearby and I didn’t want to scare her.  The entire week I had been holding back tears, but I wasn’t about to let them lose just yet.

When I arrived home that night, I examined my Hungarian insurance card and discovered that the number I needed was a 24-hour number for people who speak English.  I immediately called, and after some confusion over the spelling of my name, I was told someone would call me in the morning to schedule a doctor’s appointment.  Thank goodness.

That night, even though I had released some stress, I couldn’t sleep.  The searing pain on my back compelled me to shift from side to back to front to side in my bed.

Thursday

I woke up exhausted after only a few hours of sleep.  I’d set my alarm for 7am because I was not going to miss the call for my appointment.  I woke up and forced myself to stay awake.  Every few minutes I checked my phone to make sure the call hadn’t come and gone.  At 8:00, BreAnna and I headed off for school, and I was probably stressing her out as I worried when the company would call me.  Right before class, around 8:20, my phone rang, and I nearly dropped my phone as I tugged it from my pocket.  The insurance company shuffled me around from one person to the next, with frustrating music filling the minute or two between each person.  At one point a man, who I believe was a doctor, got on and asked me to describe something.  I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but after making him repeat himself 5 times, I grasped that he wanted me to describe my symptoms.  When I finished, he told me, “Don’t worry, it’s only a rash.”  I could have screamed loud enough to smash a window.  Instead, I very firmly told him, “No, it hurts too much.  It hurts, and it won’t stop.  I don’t know how to make it stop.  I want someone to look at it.”  By this point, I was frantic, and he shuffled me down the line to the next person.  I felt I was finally getting somewhere with the last woman, but then she told me, “I’ll call you back.”  All I could manage was, “ok.”

I flopped down in my seat for class.  Luckily, we had individual work to complete, so even when the pain caused me to halt my work, I wasn’t missing anything.  When class ended at 10am, and I hadn’t received my call, I was a mess.  Since I hadn’t yet set up the morning appointment I wanted, BreAnna, Clare and I decided to go to the immigration office instead.  On the trolly, I finally received my call, and the woman told me I had an appointment for 1:30pm.  I agreed, determined to make the appointment, no matter what I had to miss.

When I called the insurance company on Wednesday night, I knew if I had to, I would miss class, the immigration office, meeting BreAnna’s friend, almost everything we had planned for Thursday, just to see a doctor.  Instead, I was able to make class, and go to the immigration office.  Then shit happened again.  Clare and I were taken care of within 5 minutes, but after 25 minutes BreAnna was still waiting for assistance.  Since she was supposed to meet her friend at noon, I volunteered to pick up her friend, Elise, who was visiting from Spain.  I met Elise and gave her directions and an update, then rushed off to my apartment.  I got to my apartment at 12:45 and looked up directions to the office for my appointment.

1:00pm, I ran back outside, with 30 minutes to reach the doctor’s office.  I jumped on the trolly for a few stops, located the metro and emerged a few blocks from where I needed to be.  Luckily, I had 10 minutes to find the office.  I reached the correct street, and then had to ask for assistance at which point I learned that I was merely on the wrong side of the street.

In the doctor’s office, I described my symptoms, and he named it as “herpes zoster,” the official name for shingles.  He then took a look at my back to confirm his assumption.  Professor Trader’s guess on Wednesday was correct, I had shingles all across my back.  For more details on shingles, please see: Shingles (Herpes Zoster).

“Shingles,” is a really creepy name, and it fits the disease which is itchy, gucky, and painful.  The doctor gave me three prescriptions; an anti-viral pill, a pain-killer, and an anti-itch powder.  I returned home armed with my prescriptions.  I was relieved to gain the appropriate medicine, but by this point, I was pretty hungry, so I met up with BreAnna and Elise for lunch.  Then, I headed off to babysit for Jade.  However, the pain was still haunting me, and I could only take the pain killer twice a day (once in the morning, once in the evening), so I was waiting until it was nearer to my bed time.

After explaining to Jade that I was in serious pain, she suggested I just relax on the couch.  I tried working on my computer, but I was still in pain, so I took her advice and lay down.  I never intended to fall asleep, certainly not while I was supposed to be babysitting a 6-year old, but I lost consciousness.  I woke up suddenly to find Dr. Trader and Jade debating whether or not I was alive.  Apparently, I scared Dr. Trader because he told me I woke up with blood-shot eyes, and as I tried to get off the couch, I kept wincing.  It was time to take the pain medication.

I mixed the powdery pain-killer into water, took a sip, and nearly spit it out.  It was a vile mixture that made me gag as I attempted to drink it.  After watching me force part of the drink down, Dr. Trader got me a spoon-full of honey.  Mary Poppin’s advice wouldn’t work in this case.  Sugar can’t coat the tongue in the same way honey does, and I was able to slowly consume the rest of the medicine.  Then, the pain left.  It didn’t completely go away, but diminished enough that I nearly cried.

Friday

I could relax.  I learned what was causing me pain, I got medication, and I knew the rash would soon heal.  I finally cried, sobbing out the pent up fear and stress I had been carrying all week.

Update:

The shingles are officially healed.  I still have a slight rash, but the medication was only for 14 days.  The rash is slowly disappearing, and other than a bit of itching and a few pricks of pain, I’m fine.

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The Cautious Experiments of Krystina and BreAnna in:

A country where we can buy Alcohol

-Drinking and smoking are the two main socialization activities of young adults and students in Hungary.

-Bars/Cafes are the main hang out places at night

-We decided to try a Lemon Bacardi Breezer Rum Refesher (a wine cooler of sorts). Separately, we determined that the Lemon Bacardi Breezer smells and tastes like Lemon Cleaning Fluid. Eeeeeew.

-Later, we sipped at an orange version of the Bacardi Breezer with better results.

-BreAnna thought the Chardonnay was ok, and I couldn’t drink more than a few sips (I can’t stand strong alcohol)

-However, I have actually found an alcoholic drink I enjoy; orange juice mixed with Malibu.

-Finally, opening a wine cork sometimes draws blood (please see Vegetarian Guylás).

Jan-May, 2012

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First Solo Karate Demonstration

Tonight I performed a martial arts demonstration in front of some 100-150 people.  Alone.  As a bit of background, I’ve studied Tang Soo Do for about 12 years.  Tang Soo Do is a Korean martial arts style over 2,000 years old, and is closely related to Tae Kwon Do.  I study under Grand Master Young Ui Min at Min’s Karate in Camp Hill, PA.  My mother runs a preschool karate class called Mini Dragons which my sisters and I help teach.  My father doesn’t do karate because he says, “I have you girls to protect me.”

This wasn’t my first demonstration.  I’ve been a member of the Min’s Karate Demonstration Team for about 6 years.  You can see one of our more recent videos HERE, although the end is cut off because the camera battery died.  Being a demo team member has given me plenty of experience, and I’ve been on stage alone before.  However, each time I was on stage, I had the rest of the demo team nearby, providing support.

Tonight was my first demonstration alone.  We had an International Dinner at the college where I’m studying abroad, McDaniel Europe Budapest Campus.  The dinner involved food from the different countries and a talent show.  Two days ago, I finally decided to sign up for the talent show portion, and wound up with the opening act spot.  BreAnna nearly fell out of her chair, laughing, when I told her.

So, at 6pm this evening I arrived ready to go, full of adrenaline and nerves.  They were soon tamed as the minutes plodded by and there was no announcement for the talent show.  I couldn’t do more than nibble at the multitude of available foods because my stomach was a mess.  I tried inconspicuously stretching in a corner, but the room was extremely crowded and I didn’t want to draw attention (yet).  Finally, close to 7pm, they announced that we had 5 minutes.  I’d been ready to perform since I got myself dressed in sweats at 5:00.  I was very nervous, but I had chosen two forms that I am very familiar with, so I wasn’t overly worried.

I stood in front of a room full of people talking about who knows what.  So, I started yelling my introduction, and they started quieting down.  Trust me, I can shout over people if need be.  After I introduced myself and gave an introduction to my performance I began my first form.

I started going through the form’s motions, and moving across the floor towards the multitudes staring at me.  There was a lot of chatter, which annoyed me because I’m used to people being relatively quiet during a performance.  When I was a few feet from the audience, I threw my kick and kiyaped.  Surprise!  Everyone began freaking out.  There was a lot of laughter and so many eyebrows dancing across the room that I turned and screwed the form up.

I was so shocked by the audience’s reaction that I did the wrong step.  This is unusual because I generally don’t have trouble during a performance.  The misstep didn’t worry me, and I improvised to get back on track (although it reduced the amount of room I could move in).  I returned to the correct form, and continued, expecting the noise to die down, but it continued and each time I screamed there was shocked laughter.  The talking never stopped, in fact they began to talk louder, so I began to increase the volume of my keyap.  I finally completed the first form and bowed to a wave of applause.  The positive reception felt amazing, but I wasn’t finished yet.

Since I didn’t want to take up too much time I had to shout over the chatter to bring the students’ attention back to my act.  I gave a brief explanation about using everyday items as replacements for the weapons that we’re trained to wield.  The point of this was to clarify why I was using a fork for a knife form.  Mainly it was because the person who I talked to about the demonstration wasn’t comfortable with the idea of me using a butter knife.  So, I compromised and used a fork, promising not to kill anyone.

As I started my form there was still a large amount of chattering, and as I keyaped, once again, people were startled.  Across the room from me, people flinched.  Maybe they weren’t expecting the intensity or concentration I displayed.  I don’t claim to be amazing at martial arts, I’m pretty average, but perhaps there were people who hadn’t seen a demonstration.  Maybe to them, I was a kick-ass black belt stepping out of the movies into real life (maybe I’m dreaming).  I know the room held people from all around the world, Spain, Iran, Germany, China, Norway, Israel, Japan, etc.  I don’t know how popular martial arts is in other countries, or exactly what the students were expecting when I announced I was doing karate.  Martial arts is often viewed as a male sport, and I’m a small female.  My appearance isn’t intimidating, until I start doing karate.

The talking, however was still annoying, and didn’t just color my act, it continued into other acts.  Most of the audience was polite during the performances, but the few people that were talking really bothered me.  It particularly annoyed me when they were talking during music acts.  A student played Bach on his violin, and people were talking!  It was a group of guys in the back of the room who were being rude, and inconsiderate.  If they were so bored, they should have just left.  There wasn’t a moment of solely violin music, for every second there was an unwanted vocal accompaniment.  I felt bad for the guy.  If I was unnerved by the constant chatter through my performance, which in normal performances evokes some surprise and laughter, then how did he feel, playing his violin and hearing people talk?

Overall, I very much enjoyed the talent show.  I had fun demonstrating Tang Soo Do as a representative of Min’s Karate and a representative of the U.S.  The acts that followed me were amazing, except a slapped-together, albeit funny version of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.”  It was funny solely because it was uncoordinated and the guys weren’t serious about it.  The final act was my favorite.  A group of guys, I believe from Spain, put together a brilliant and funny act.  They used black sheets to make it seem as though there were three midgets dancing on a table.  Two people made up one midget.  The front person became the midget’s head and chest.  He used his arms as legs with shoes on his hands.  The back person slid his arms through the front person’s sweater to give the midget arms and hands.  The black sheets prevented us from seeing the back person, effectively completing the illusion of three midgets dancing on a table.  Then, they went through a selection of songs, moving and dancing about.  It was hilarious and very well coordinated, particularly since the midgets could slow-motion jump or float at will.

March 1, 2012

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The Ponders by Krystina and BreAnna Upon:

Hungarian Structures

How Hungarians Structure Apartments:

– Apartment buildings are built above stores. The doors for these apartment buildings are nestled in between storefronts. Their grays, blacks and browns cause the doors to disappear between shiny groceries and bright cafes.  In order to reach the actual apartment doors, you have to enter the building, and climb up stairs to emerge onto a floor’s balcony.  The floors’ balconies encircle a courtyard, and around the balconies are the apartment doors. It’s unnerving to consider the thin metal that provides us with an entrance and exit for our apartment. The guardrail looks sturdy enough, but I won’t be crashing into it simply for a test run.

Sketch-Tastic Elevators!

– Appear to have the innate ability to break down at any point…. good luck

Architecture Making us Feel Small

– Hungarians love ridiculously high ceilings. Our apartment has an extra 1/3 height that will never be used.

You'd need 3 of me to reach the ceiling

– They’re also partial to doors that are not only tall, but heavy.  Even the bathroom doors at McDaniel Budapest are skyscrapers.  I spent nearly a full minute staring at the bathroom door the first time I saw it because I had to be sure it was actually the one I wanted.

BreAnna vs the Massive Bathroom Door

Jan-May, 2012

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The Feline Tennant

Ms. Feline

On the second day in our new apartment, we encountered the feline tenant.  Tromping down the final few steps of our apartment’s drafty staircase, BreAnna and I paused when we spotted a cat occupying the courtyard doorway.  With little time to spare, we passed by, earning a nasty glare.  The prissy kitty was ensuring we didn’t tread on her toes or mash her tail.

It seems to me that Hungarians tend keep to themselves and they minimize interactions with strangers.  Even the dogs walking through the city, whether they trot on a leash or wander a block ahead of their owners, go about their business ignoring the human traffic parting to either side.  A slightly curious dog may extend a sniff in the direction of a particular foreigner, but they rarely approach strangers for pets.  I have met a few dogs that were inclined to request my attention, providing an opportunity to exchange smiles with a stranger.

I figured that the cat’s disdain seemed to fit the Hungarian mood.  However, after passing by the feline sentry 3 days in a row, I decided it couldn’t hurt to say hi.  I squatted down and waited.  She stared at me, ears flattened.  Suddenly her legs straightened, sending a stretch down her back to her rear.  Poised in the air, her tail dropped, relaxing her body and releasing from her mouth a massive squeak which zipped passed me and fired around the room.  I nearly fell over in shock.

Trotting from her doorway post she immediately wound herself by me, expressing perhaps the first friendly Hungarian interaction after a week of being in Hungary.  I’ve found that my feline friend keeps odd ours, and I never know if she’ll be at home to greet me or out prowling about the city.  When I open the building door, I always glance about in hopes that I’ll see the crafty cat.  If I’m lucky enough that our schedules allow us to meet, I know to expect the cat’s special meow, her ridiculous squeak.

Jan-May, 2012

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Puppy Love

Out of all the people I’ve had to leave at home, my puppy dog was one of the most difficult.  My dog Angel is a border collie, and I miss her terribly.  When I came home from college this past December for winter break with all of my stuff, I could tell she was confused.  Believe me, she’s a smart puppy, and knows very well that the boxes of supplies and college tools leave in fall and don’t return until spring.  As I began to pack my suitcase for the flight in January (I pack way ahead of time), she was inconsolable.  Usually she lazily trots behind me, or relaxes while watching me race around the house.  When I pulled my suitcase out and began washing clothes her nose magically glued itself to my heels.  I couldn’t turn around without tripping over her.  My puppy shadow turned into a puppy can’t-leave-me-behind.  I felt terrible, and I wasn’t leaving for another 3 weeks.

I completed most of my packing ahead of time, adding a few items as the days passed, and Angel settled a little.  Only a little, mind you, because any time I headed out the door she frantically glanced to ensure my suitcase wasn’t with me.  The final week at home was day after day of incessantly packing items that I’d been waiting upon, stressing over baggage limits, and judging what to take and what was unnecessary.  Angel was once again stuck as close to me as possible without actually standing on me.

During the school year, I return home at least one weekend each month.  There’s also school breaks and minor opportunities to see my Angel.  However, with a 4 month stretch ahead of us, I didn’t know how to promise her I would return again.  I figured it would be good for her to have a safety-blanket of sorts.  She’s been with me for 9 years, and knows I come home, however I’ve never left her completely for more than a few weeks.  My parents discouraged stuffed animals as puppy toys (they didn’t want the dogs chewing on our actual stuffed animals), but I wasn’t sure she’d like a blanket.  Besides, I didn’t want to BUY her a toy that smelled like a store and not me.  I knew she needed something with my scent.

I decided to sew her a pillow.  I’ve had some experience sewing pillows, although the design I wanted to create was a bit different, and it didn’t turn out perfect.  It doesn’t matter that the heart design is overly lopsided, what matters is that it was functional and that she saw me making it.  Being stuck to my leg, she was there as I picked out the material from my vast collection, cut out the patterns, pinned the pieces, and sewed everything together.  Finally, I stuffed the pillow and presented to her.  Initially, she wasn’t overly interested in it, but since I’ve been gone, she’s been sleeping with it most nights.  I’m incredibly happy, but also terribly sad because I miss her a ton.

It’s especially difficult here in Budapest where many people own dogs.  I pass a variety of dogs each day, and for the most part they ignore me.  A lot of dogs are walked off-leash in Budapest, and the dogs are well trained; they’re within their owner’s sight, and generally ignore other people and dogs.  It’s also difficult because I can’t walk up to someone and say, “Can I pet your dog?” because there’s a 50% chance they won’t understand me and a 99% chance I’ll feel that I’m being a bother.

So, when my friend Clare announced that she had two dogs, I was thrilled to indulge in some doggie interactions, aka puppy love.

I truly believe that happiness is found in a warm puppy, and I found happiness with Judae and Buddy.

Clare’s dogs, Judae and Buddy provided plenty of comfort and attention.  Even though seeing them made me miss Angel even more, it also helped a great deal.  I hope to have many opportunities to visit Clare, Judae and Buddy.  BreAnna and I already had some puppy healing time (cuddle time), and puppy play time at the park.  Here are some photos:

Feb 23-26, 2012

BreAnna and Judae

Buddy

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Playground Prancing

BreAnna and I earned the label “crazy,” from Jade’s father when we voluntarily invited her on an outing.  This is the record of our Return Journey to Snow Playground.

Surprise Attack!

According to Budapest, it’s “City Park,” but on this day we’d been graced with snow, and it was still swooping down to latch onto eyelashes and winter clothes.  The previous trip (snow-less) gave me a good idea of the park layout, so we didn’t worry about stumbling about directionless.  As we set out, the sneaky duo of kids I was attempting to guide to the park decided I was the best target in the immediate area.  At BreAnna’s encouragement, coordinated fighter snowballs began sweeping in from both sides.  I ducked and dodged, swooping towards Jade, away from BreAnna, only to have a clump of snow nestle right inside the collar of my jacket.  I took some damage and learned a new Snow-Down-the-Back contortionist position.  Thankfully, we approached the street, and concentration shifted from bombarding me to reaching the park on the opposite side.

After crossing the street, the amount of available snow to pummel me with increased.  Here we go again, only this time, I had room to run.  Luckily, Jade discovered that BreAnna was just as funny to attack, resulting in a three-way snowball fight.  Somehow, I was still the main target, so I was able to direct the snowball-the-leader chase game towards the playground.  We wove through trees.  Skidded by a fence.  Dashed by the group of elderly men chortling at our antics.  Slid through the gate which provided entrance to the playground.  And finally, we crashed onto the play equipment, ready for the zip line.

Jade Ziplining!

Jade and I took a few turns swinging down the line, whipping through the snowfall, and adding more sparkles to our winter coats.  The falling snowflakes were impressive, and if I wasn’t so worried about my camera getting damp, I would have attempted more photos.  These massive flakes descended as though they ruled the world and swooshed dramatically when touched by miniscule drafts.

Jade Ziplining Some More

Following several flights down the zipline, Jade decided to settle herself into the basket swing.  BreAnna was willing to pilot the craft, so I had the opportunity to take photographs.

Jade in a Basket!

Our next stop was a second playground which had a hill with a flattened top.  About ½ of the hill had a rough texture which allowed for ascension by tiny hands and feet, and you couldn’t slide down it.  The other half involved a gradual slope and the back of the zenith had a fence that ran down the gradual slope portions.  We didn’t have sleds with us, but the snow eliminated the no-sliding issue on the steep slope, allowing us a wonderful snow-sledding experience sans sleds.  Then, I had a brilliant (aka stupid) idea to try the slide that is at the zenith and curves then drops down to the sandy bottom.  This slide is fairly steep itself, and with the addition of snow, there was probably zero traction.  I went from top to bottom to flying through the air.  Seriously, we’re talking “lift-off,” completely launching off the edge of the slide.  Considering the edge of the slide was only an inch or two from the ground, I landed pretty quickly in a combination of snow/sand, so I wasn’t injured, just a bit stunned.

I regained my senses quick enough to swing myself around to crouch before the end of the slide just as Jade came swooping down.  I’m glad I was there, because she flew as well, boots first, into my stomach.  “Oooof!”  It didn’t hurt because she doesn’t weight that much, I didn’t fall back far, I had a cushioned winter jacket on, and I knew to let the air out of my lungs on impact.  Even though it was fun, it was a one time thing for Jade.  I, on the other hand, decided there would need to be a video.

If you want to know what I’m saying in the video, please click on the Title to view the original on YouTube and read the video’s description.

After the creation of the video, BreAnna’s hands were stinging, so to prevent frostbite, we had to head back to Jade’s house for some hot tea and a chance to shake sand and snow from our clothes.

Feb 18, 2012

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The Combined Brains of Krystina and BreAnna Presents

Public Transportation Here in Hungary

Here in Hungary:

– Public transportation etiquette exists. When waiting for a trolly, people either stand right at the curb, or up against the brick buildings, creating a funnel through which passerby’s may tread. When getting on a mode of public transportation, you always wait until everyone at your door has gotten off. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a bus, tram, trolly, or metro train, some unspoken rule of culture allows those on board to step off safely, at their correct stop. It’s rare for someone to even attempt to enter before the pathway is clear. I’ve even had one instance where I reached the top step a few seconds late, and a woman climbing up stepped back down to allow me complete access, even though the stairs were wide enough for us to pass each other.

Here in Hungary:

– You use unusual muscles. Since BreAnna and I have student passes for transportation, we ride trollies everywhere. We often find ourselves standing up on these rides because 1) our stop is coming up 2) we smoosh in where we can or 3) an elderly person is looking for a seat. Since the trollies ride along in traffic, standing up is rather difficult. There’s usually a bar or handle you grasp to keep yourself mostly upright. By the end of our trip, we’re going to have toned arm muscles because every turn, stop, start, and unexpected jolt strains whatever arm we happen to be using to keep ourselves in place.  Furthermore, depending on the driver I watch the passing streets or I cling to my bar imagining how a sudden stop would drive me into the lap of the woman sitting in front of me.

Here in Hungary:

– The stop lights run from green to yellow to red, and then from red to yellow to green. It seems that when the light goes from red to yellow, you can proceed forward with caution, ready to pick up speed as the light flashes green. Sometimes the walk signs have a yellow walking person, although more often the green walk person flashes green a few times before switching to a red standing person.

Here in Hungary:

– Running for the bus/tram/trolly rarely looks silly.  When a tram pulls to stop, it’s not unusual for people to emerge at a run for a bus idling across the street.  However, BreAnna and I made an exception to the role and watched the trolly pass by filled with laughing people following our “look, we can catch 78!” sprint.  People who run for their ride seem to gain entrance with room to spare.  No surprise if our badly judged dash slapped “American,” on us.

Here in Hungary:

– You simply walk onto the bus/tram/trolly, and no one checks to see if you’ve paid.  You are supposed to have either a pass or a ticket, but people ride without either.  BreAnna and I have student passes (there’s a huge discount for students), which allows us on any public transportation for a month.  After a month, we have to purchase another pass.  People with tickets have to stamp the ticket in the little red boxes located on the transportation device.  However, with metros, you have to stamp the tickets before riding the escalator down to the metro platform, and the metro lines are the only transportation that have controllers at all times.

Here in Hungary:

– Watch out for controllers!  Controllers are officials who make sure you’re not riding on public transportation for free.  They are always stationed at the entrance to the metro, watching people stamp tickets or looking as people show their passes.  However, I have never seen a controller on the trollies, and only once on the 4/6 tram.  Should you get caught by the controller, you have to pay a fine (equivalent to about 80USD).

Jan-May, 2012

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Class time and Playtime

Classes Time:

I walk into my first class, web design, five minutes early to find myself alone. I double check the room number, and it still reads B07, so I’m not in an alternate universe, good. I settle into a seat in the second row of computers. I note that the professor’s coat and bag are occupying the front table, and a minute later, in walks my professor. He told me he’d been waiting for someone to show for a while. I’m starting to feel apprehensive because as much as I like small classes, I’m not sure I want his full attention to be directed on me for all answers and brilliant conclusions.

Class time started and there was a brief trickling of students, bringing the class count to 5 in a room of 40 or more computers. I wouldn’t have been surprised if our voices began echoing. The class itself immediately looked promising; the end project is to make a full-blown website! This particular day of class involved concentrating on theory and how the Internet works. After listening to the lecture, I decided, I’m going to think twice from now on about sending private information over the Internet. Of course, even though I’m apprehensive, I’m astonished about the sheer ability of the Internet to reach so many people in the world. Honestly, that’s extremely vague, but while I’m in Budapest, Hungary, I can connect to servers in the United States, India, Russia, Japan. The connections cross oceans, mountains, deserts, forests, and do so in a few seconds or less, and I’m excited to ultimately create a website. The only issue is, I don’t know what I want the website to be about.

Other classes I’m taking include: Film Analysis – Great Masters of European Film (4 students), Visual Communication (10 students), Communication & Interactive Media (10 students), and Salsa Dancing (unknown #). The small number of students shocked me in every class. At McDaniel Westminster, most classes range 15-25 students. A few classes may drop to 10 students, but I’ve never been in such tiny classes before.

Playtime:

Wednesday was a grumble-filled morning over the immigration office, but my afternoon was brightened by a 6 year old girl I have the privilege to watch while her Dad works. Since she had more energy to spare than I (after a long walk and a monster chase game), we folded paper airplanes. I was able to sit and fold, and she could throw and then dash after the airplanes I made. Airplane noses crumple quickly after clipping or slamming into the walls and assorted furniture. We figured outside was a better place for airplanes to fly so we tied ourselves into winter jackets, boots, gloves, hats and scarves and clomped outside to visit the nearby city park. Once we located an open area, we discovered that the airplanes couldn’t avoid smashing as they swooped, twisted, flew, and dove nose first into the ground. Then, the airplanes began dive-bombing me, thanks to a certain tiny pair of hands.

After some abrupt airplane crash-landings, our attention was turned to the playground shinning just beyond a line of scraggly trees. We skimmed around the corner of the path and raced to the play equipment. I am planning a return trip soon because I want to take photographs of everything I’m describing here. First, I swung my friend on a basket swing. What’s a basket swing? It’s rigged like a tire swing, so that it loops around in elliptical swoops. The seat, however, is more comfortable than a rubber tire; it’s a woven basket rimmed by a sturdy circular tube for children to hold onto. From the basket swing we clattered up into the play castle, swishing down slides and balancing on wooden beams.

Then we discovered the zipline. I’ve never been on a zipline, but I have no other name for this piece of equipment. You start on a wood platform portion of the castle. You mount a black disc attached to a thick chain. The chain easily slides along compact cable wire. As soon as you push off you zoom down the line, until you reach the end stop, where you become a pendulum and travel back towards the castle a bit. Standing up is difficult because as you take weight off, the tension causes the seat to rise, causing several dismounts to end in the sand. My friend and I were thrilled with the ride and took turns flying down and running back, seat in tow. Hopefully, our return trip will bring photos and more stories.

March 30-Feb 2, 2012

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