The Offbeat: Set Two.

Picking up where I left off last month, I've gathered a few more accounts for the second installment of The Offbeat: authentic stories of cultural difference...

Crazy Talk. The Hungarian language is so entertaining to me... the more I learn, the more I laugh. I find it funny that there are some words that are roughly the same in all languages... until that word meets Magyar, the language of Hungarians. For example, let's take a simple word like police... it seems like an important word to be able to communicate and perhaps that's why it is fairly similar in most languages. In Spanish: policía, Polish: policji, Dutch: potitie, Czech: policie, Italian: polizia, Romanian: poliţie, and even in Finnish (which people say is as difficult as Hungarian): poliisi. But, no... in Hungarian it's rendőrség. Now, I realize that Hungarian is unrelated to Latin, or any other Indo-European language for that matter, but can't we just have a word that is related to something that the rest of the world recognizes?

Another entertaining stroke of language comedy comes up every time I go to check out at (any) shop if I am using a credit card. In Hungary, the customer hands the card to the cashier, and then after swiping the card, he or she will return the card and prompt the customer to press the zöld (green) button that hilariously reads "helyes" to confirm the amount to be charged to my card. Of course, I think to myself (with authority)... 'hell yes, this amount is okay!'

Common courtesy? I suppose we all take some things for granted, and I realize (now) that I often expect Hungarian people will act the same way they do in Colorado when put in relative situations. Well, I'm learning time and time again... this isn't always the case.

A few weeks ago, I was making gulyás and was fresh out of garlic... so, I walked up the street to Penny Market, picked up a package of garlic and went to the register. I arrived at the checkout at exactly the same time as a couple pushing an overflowing cart (and even carrying the beer that wouldn't fit in the cart). When we made eye contact, I thought that the woman would surely insist that I went ahead of her (remember, I had one simple package of garlic... and I even had exact change to pay and go). However, just when we made eye contact and she recognized our simultaneous arrival, she quickly started throwing her groceries up on the conveyor belt and unloaded her entire cart... she even had the nerve to look back once, as if she wanted to make sure I didn't try to go in front of her. I wish that I could say this was a one-time occurrence, but unfortunately I've experienced this type of interaction several times since moving here last summer. I just have to laugh to myself and appreciate that I'm being forced to slow down and wait a bit... something I've had trouble doing until moving to Europe... the pace change is totally good for me. And, again, of course, this isn't the way everybody acts... there are still plenty of kind folks that would gladly let me go ahead.

Kaposvár Farmers Market. In contrast to the typical shop environment, the farmers market is a world of it's own... and it is so cool! Sure, we have great farmers markets back in Colorado... really great ones actually... but, they definitely don't have the character that the Kaposvár Market does. When I go to the market here, I probably spend more time watching people than I do picking out produce and managing to pay (all in Hungarian, of course). I swear, all the little old Kaposvári ladies and sharp-dressed old Kaposvári men come out every morning (except Mondays) for this cultural roundup... everyone has something to sell and everyone has business to make. And, somehow, there's a buyer for everything! Furthermore, there is always a queue at the büfé... men and women line up for their pálinka and májas hurka (liver sausage)... I suppose it completes the morning market experience. I don't think I'll ever get produce at Tesco again (and I know I won't ever get it at Penny Market again)!

Things I miss: Luna, quality teaching assistants, people picking up dog sh*t regularly, mowing the lawn, juicing my breakfast, standing up to take a 'normal shower,' and 'real' Mexican food (not Hung-Mex).

Things I don't miss: staying at school for ten-plus hours a day, being pressed by servers for 'camping' at cafés or restaurants, the rush, entering twenty-plus grades per student each semester, and waking up at 5:51 every morning.

Click here for The Offbeat: Set One.