I’m throwing a bunch of stuff together into one giant, magical post because I can’t be bothered to make separate posts for all of it. So hold onto your hats ladies and gentlemen, here we go.
Firstly, I realized I haven’t talked at all about my town, my school, or my flat! Speaking of “flats”, I’ve found myself gradually switching to British English because that’s what they tend to teach in the schools here. Sometimes it’s really hard to differentiate between legitimate grammar/vocabulary errors and British ways of speaking I’m just unfamiliar with. For example, my students kept using “has got” instead of just “has” and I had to google it after class to make sure they weren’t making a mistake. Turns out they’re both grammatically correct, one is just used primarily in the US, whereas the other is found in the UK. Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll even come home complete with a posh English accent!
My town is quite small but the people here have been very kind so far. I’ve had parents of students come up to me in the street and ask if I’m the new English teacher. (I don’t even have to utter my butchered Hungarian, something about me just screams, “AMERICAN! I DON’T BELONG HERE! AMERICAN!”) I’ve also been accumulating private tutoring requests; strangely enough, mostly from adults that don’t necessarily need to be taught grammar or vocabulary, but just need a conversationalist partner. What a strange world we live in that people will actually pay me just to talk to them. If anything, people should be paying me to stop talking to them.
Living here has made me realize exactly how privileged I am to have been born in an English speaking country. It is the entire reason I have this job in the first place. That much is clear, because besides my native grasp on the English language, I have utterly no qualifications to be teaching children! And the children are the future, why are they risking them with me? In all seriousness, I’m a bit stumped on how to do this. My first graders know zero English, and my second graders aren’t much further along. Just from watching my Hungarian colleagues, the kids don’t really understand the instructions for basic activities and games until they’re repeated in Hungarian— something I obviously can’t do for them. I was never a great actor, but I suppose I will be doing a lot of miming in the next couple months. Despite all this, my kids are so incredibly sweet. My second graders practically tackle me with hugs when I come in the classroom and I can’t cross the tiny courtyard between the two school buildings without hearing twenty different “Hello”s! (One of the few phrases they’re actually confident saying to me.) Grades 5th through 8th I teach a civilization class centered on the English-speaking countries and their cultures, histories, day-to-day life, etc. I have one class filled with sixth-grade boys I can tell is going to be a major pain in my butt, but that’s not really surprising considering they’re sixth-grade boys. I am beginning to think I should have lied about my age to my students; I’ve already been asked about my Facebook (no), my snapchat username (hell no), and if I’m single (oh lord). Other questions include: Do I like Burger King? (Not really.) and Have I seen a tornado? (Yes.) Upon which my fourth graders nearly lost their minds with excitement.
I took some photos of my flat when I moved in (good thing too, because it has since devolved into a giant mess) that I’ve neglected to post until now. So here they are!
The gate to my school!
The view that greets you when you enter my flat.
Some weird internal window/door things that might have once been used to pay for school lunches?
My Kitchen
A little welcome gift that awaited my arrival.
Part of my running path down by the Danube.
A shot of the Danube in Göd.
I forgot to take pictures of the other rooms in my flat (Don’t worry, it’s not just a hallway and kitchen). Last week I visited Vàc (pronounced vatz), a town ten minutes north of Göd. The daughter of my contact person generously offered to show me around. It didn’t seem like a hugely touristy area so I didn’t want to reveal myself as one by taking out my clunky DSLR too often. I only have a few pictures of the Vác Cathedral, which was built during the 18th century and was incredibly beautiful.
Lastly, I spent Saturday at the Gulyás (Goulash) Festival in Szolnok, Hungary. Traditional Hungarian goulash is nothing like the American version— it’s much more like a beef stew or soup and incredibly delicious. The festival was rather large and a ton of my fellow CETPers showed up. We drank beer, stumbled through the rain to find seats, coincidentally ended up at the foreigners tent, did a round of mysterious liquor with our rambunctious Estonian neighbors, feasted on goulash (obviously), drank pálinka (a traditional hungarian fruit brandy), stumbled through the rain to a pub, drank more pálinka, lost my favorite Michigan sweatshirt (tragic), and took the train home in the morning.
Cooking gulyás over a fire in traditional outfits.
Dancers in traditional garb.
A heavily instagramed picture of my goulash.
Tomorrow marks one month since I arrived and while it seems like it has flown by, the remaining nine months still poses an intimidating chunk of time. But I’m having a blast so bring it on!
carlyn on a plane 