My fourth week in Slovakia began rather early in the morning. For the first time since I had been teaching at my school, I was actually going to have to teach a full, Monday through Friday, week. I came to learn that my Monday schedule would be rather demanding, as I was responsible for teaching, among other lessons that day, the “Zero Hour” class. Unfortunately, “Zero Hour” began at seven o’clock in the morning, and I was not excited for this prospect. Regardless, I had learned how to become a great actor through my experiences in Student and Novice Teaching back in college, so I was able to exhibit an energetic disposition for my students even though I literally wanted to do nothing more than take a nap at that moment.
One positive about my work schedule is that I am able to remain flexible with my lesson planning. For some of my classes, it is convenient to have a more structured curriculum, so that I can easily assess how to better pace my teaching and be able to compartmentalize my lessons in accordance with specific issues. For example, this week’s lessons for my second-year students touched upon the central theme of “Crime and Criminals”. My students were able to practice grammar exercises, participate in “Red Robin” reading about Robin Hood and cyber-crime, and even work in partners to write a script about a victim of a theft reporting said offense to a police officer.
For those classes that are less structured or without specific textbooks, I found it easy to incorporate lessons I had taught in other classes. For example, my fourth-year students are assigned a textbook that always begins each chapter with a reading prompt, and then a series of post-reading questions. I decided that the content matter being discussed for this week’s lesson, “Teenagers”, was appropriate for my first-year students, especially since the skill levels of my first-years and fourth-years do not differ too greatly. I was delighted to see my students actively participating in whole class conversations, and thus I decided to incorporate an original prompt question of my own. Seeing as my students were able to effectively describe what a typical teenager looked like and how they behaved, I wanted to challenge my students to compare and contrast the differences with being a teenager in 2014 and what it was like when their parents were teenagers. This activity not only allowed students to exercise critical thinking skills, but also touched upon the section of the reading dedicated to “generation gap”, a term that was somewhat difficult to explain in laments terms. The dialogue that ensued from this prompt was refreshing. Some students described token differences between their parent’s teenage years and theirs, such as the change in clothing and hair styles. However, other students touched upon more historical differences. My classes shared with me examples of what it was like for their parents to come of age in communist Czechoslovakia. In doing so, my students admitted that they much preferred growing up today as it means increased opportunities to travel, to wear Western apparel, and to utilize modern technologies. I was even able to use my own existence as a benefit to living in modern Slovakia. When their parents were teenagers, it would have been incredibly uncommon to have an American educator teach impressionable students during the Cold War. But, today, as Slovakia continues to grow as an influential player on the European and global stage, opportunities to invite native English speakers into classrooms is widely encouraged. This may be a self-serving observation, but is still poignant of Slovakia’ pragmatism.
One unexpected event that happened this week occurred on Wednesday. I had just finished my lunch and was heading out of the student canteen on my way back to school. Upon exiting the door, I was greeted by a small group of students from the class I had taught prior to lunch. Nicki, the strongest English speaker of the group, wondered if she could ask me a question. I was in no rush to get back, as my next class was not for another hour, so I said it was fine. Nicki wanted to know whether I would be interested in joining her, and the other students with her, to go get a drink after school. I had been informed by Fulbright that this was a common gesture in Slovakia. Students regularly invite their teachers out for a drink as a sign of respect. Some even have their teachers over to their homes as a guest for a family dinner. Nonetheless, I was initially unsure of how to respond. In America, a teacher having a drink with students is not always looked upon as the most appropriate behavior. But, I was in a different country and needed to observe the local customs. Furthermore, I would be socializing in a public space with a group of students, as opposed to a one-on-one interaction. All that said, I accepted the group’s offer and agreed to meet them outside the school at three o’clock.
As my final class for the day shuffled out the door, I collected my things and headed out to meet the group of students waiting for me. The group was comprised of mostly females, except for one boy whom I had not seen before. Nicki introduced the lone male as her boyfriend, Phillip, from Germany. I greeted him in Slovak, delivering a standard teší ma (nice to meet you), only to come to realize that he was fluent in English. I knew then I was going to like this guy. Our small group made our way past the town square until we reached a bar with the widely popular Czech pilsner beer Pilsner Urquell sign prominently displayed in the entrance. When we reached the front counter, I was mentally preparing myself to order a beer in Slovak. However, I was pleasantly surprised that my students were already in the process of buying me my drink, another common custom when students invite their teachers out. By the way, this was all completely legal because the drinking age in Slovakia is eighteen, and my students were all of age. After everyone placed their orders, we headed outside to one of the empty tables. It was an unusually chilly day and I had not brought my jacket. But, I am from Illinois, so a little bit of cold does not bother me.
Almost as soon as we sat down, every single person in our group, with the exception of myself, fiddled around their pockets to pull out a carton of cigarettes. It is not like I have not been around people who smoke before; I just thought it somewhat odd that each of my young guests were all casually lighting their cigarettes at the same time. As we each began enjoying our beers, I once again having the beer with a goat on the label, my students began to ask me questions. They were interested in what famous Americans I had met, what kinds of movies I liked, and my overall opinions of Slovakia thus far. Even though all the girls were third-year students in English, most of their understanding of the language was minimal. Therefore, just like in class sometimes, Nicki had to play the unofficial translator for the group. I learned later that the reason Nicki had become so proficient in learning English was so that she could communicate with her boyfriend. She did not know much German, and her boyfriend was even worse when it came to speaking Slovak. However, they both possessed a certain understanding of English when they met, so that was how they then proceeded to communicate throughout their relationship, in English.
After about a half hour, many of the girls had to go because they had homework for the following day. Therefore, our small group eventually became a trio with me, Nicki, and Phillip. Although I enjoyed the other girls’ presence, it was nice that I was able communicate with people without having to wait for my words to be translated. For the next couple of hours, the three of us engaged in great conversation. Phillip and I really hit it off, as he enjoyed the opportunity to hear an authentic American perspective on the topics we discussed. Anyone listening in on our conversation would not classify us as linear speakers, as our exchanges bounced around between our opinions of President Obama, America’s changing role in global affairs, the oversaturation of English vernacular in modern German language, and the benefits of Westerners having the chance to explore Eastern Europe. At six o’clock, we decided to call it a night and made our goodbyes. I thanked Nicki again for inviting me out, and wished Phillip safe travels back to Munich.
Although I could share countless stories of my week with my students and the numerous classes I taught, the focus of this blog entry is not about school. As its states in the title, the highlight of my fourth week in Europe happened outside of Slovakia. After months of studying, I was finally bound for Budapest, Hungary to take my LSAT. My test was scheduled for Saturday afternoon. Not wanting to jinx myself by leaving the day of, I had decided to leave after work Friday afternoon, just to give myself ample time to get settled and to mentally prepare. Nonetheless, I still remembered the promise I had made to myself in Bratislava that I would try to act more Bohemian while I was abroad. That being said, what better way to start than to spend the weekend in a hostel? I knew that Budapest was a much larger city than Bratislava, so I wanted to make sure the hostel I stayed at could be in walking distance from my test center, which so happened to be the Hungarian Fulbright building. After a few minutes researching on Hostelworld.com, I located an available spot that was only eleven walking-minutes away from the center. It was called the Budapest Bubble. The countless reviews online assured me this would be a nice place to crash for a lone traveler, and I could not beat the price of two nights for only forty euros. What is more, once I was done with my test on Saturday, I would definitely want to blow off some steam and explore the nightlife. I would have a much easier time doing that with a group of people from a hostel than if I was alone staying in a hotel. They would just have to be cool with me being somewhat anti-social the first night, because of my test the following day.
As soon as the bell rang for my final class on Friday, I was out the door. I only had about an hour before my train left. After dropping my stuff off at home and grabbing a quick bite to eat, I made my way to the train platform with about fifteen minutes to spare. Looking back, my train ride to Budapest felt reminiscent of the summer vacations I took with my family. It was always a neat feeling when we crossed into a new state line, knowing that we could add another destination to our list of achievements. When I looked upon my Google Maps app on my phone and saw that my train had just crossed the border into Hungary, I experienced the same feeling of accomplishment. Just like in Martin, I was greeted by the site of beautiful hillsides. The little villages that I passed all looked similar to ones I had seen in Slovakia, with just slight differences here and there. After another thirty minutes, my train began to slow down and I had officially arrived in Budapest.
Before my journey, I knew that Budapest was going to be larger than Bratislava. However, as I stepped out of the station and took my first look of the cityscape, I could not fathom just how much larger it was. Budapest looks and functions like an actual big city. Not to mention that it boasts a remarkable two million residents in the surrounding area. As I walked down the steps of the train station, I saw series of skyscrapers, a large advertisement for Burger King, and hundreds upon hundreds of people actively walking every which way. I had become accustomed to walking around in Europe, but because of the sheer size of this place, I decided I would opt out for a taxi. After several minutes of trying to find a WIFI connection so that I could Google the precise address of my hostel, I hailed a taxi driver and headed off for the Bubble. In retrospect, I probably should have waited for another cab, as I would find that my driver turned out to be the Hungarian equivalent of Evil Knievel, or so it appeared through his erratic driving.
The owner of the Budapest Bubble made a note on their webpage that the entrance to the hostel is somewhat difficult to find as they do not have a sign. I found this to be true, as I walked around for a number of minutes trying to find the exact door to enter. The owner had emailed me their phone number the day before, but unfortunately my Slovak phone was dead. Finally, a girl who spoke English let me into the entrance of an apartment complex, and I was able to see the small sign posted inside that read Budapest Bubble. I buzzed the intercom button and made my way to the front door. As I stepped inside, it once again felt like going back in time. However, instead of going back to the 1980’s, it instead felt like walking into a co-op from the early 2000’s. Anna, one of the co-owners, escorted me inside the narrow hallway. Inside, I saw a lone communal computer besides a long couch. As I looked around the room, I saw that the walls were covered with artistic posters of Sigmund Freud and Salvador Dali. In the back was a study room which was adorned with Christmas lights, a kitchenette, and a series of old concert posters. This place was definitely Bohemian for sure. After introducing me to some of the guests, Anna showed me the sleeping quarters where I could drop off my stuff. It was a cramp room that included four pairs of bunk beds. The room reminded me of the tiny living quarters in my fraternity house, but at least those rooms have only two beds. Nonetheless, I was determined to have an experience that was outside my comfort zone.
Having only been there ten minutes, I decided it was time for one final study session before the real thing tomorrow. Many of the prep books I read discourage too much studying the night before. But, I wanted to make sure the information was fresh in my mind, and taking one more practice test would not be too detrimental. Although the sleeping quarters in this hostel may have been small, the study area was adequate for my purposes. It was nice to simply have a table to lay my books on. More guests started coming back as the night progressed, but there was never a time when the noise became too distracting. After four hours of reviewing strategies and assessing my work in the practice test, I reached a point where I was able to confidently end my studying for the night. The serendipitous part was that it was only nine o’clock, and many of the guests had not yet left for dinner. Although I could not stay out too late, I did take that opportunity to invite myself to eat with the other hostel mates before going to bed.
Even though the guests at the Budapest Bubble came from all over the world, almost everyone there spoke English. As we headed out for the evening, I was able to better observe who these people were. A great majority were from Australia, but there were also Brits, Irish, and American guests in our party. During my first night, I spent most of my time talking with a guy from Washington D.C. and a girl from Melbourne. As we made our way to the restaurant, Washington and I discussed my LSAT tomorrow. He had once considered pursuing law as well, but instead chose a different path that lead him to travel Europe in search of work. On the way, our group stopped at an ATM (or bankomat as they are called here) to withdraw money for the evening. I had already made the mistake earlier of not exchanging my money at the train station. I had incorrectly assumed that most European Union members were also part of the Eurozone. Having already paid Hungarian Evil Knievel a more than handsome tip, I asked Washington what was a good amount to get out. He told me that he had withdrawn fifteen thousand for the evening. At first glance, a person with fifteen thousand Hungarian Forints would appear to be flush with cash. However, in reality, fifteen thousand Forints is only equivalent to about sixty U.S. Dollars.
As our group neared the food district, I was able to bear witness to the exciting Budapest nightlife scene. The area we were walking into possessed a rawer atmosphere then the neighborhoods in Bratislava. The people we passed by looked like they had jumped straight out of an Esquire magazine. There were men walking around with full beards, pony tails, and thick wool scarves. The women that accompanied them were mostly skinny and were dressed in high heels, hipster glasses, and fedoras. If I had not arrived earlier in the day, I would have been lead to believe that the entire city was comprised of nothing more than twenty-six year olds. It was like Wes Anderson meets Tim Burton. After several minutes of heading down winding paths, our group finally managed to reach our destination. Just like in Nové Zámky, my group decided to eat outside. At least this time I had remembered to bring a jacket.
As our gang waited for our orders to be prepared, which took a while because the service was not the best, Washington and I carried on a conversation with Melbourne who was seated at our end of the table. To call Melbourne a free spirit would be the understatement of the century. This twenty-eight year old had set aside fifteen consecutive months just for world travel, an ambitious journey that she was already ten months deep into. Her list of destinations included, but was not limited to, Antarctica, Beijing, Rio de Janeiro, New York City, London, Paris, Madrid, and Prague. In the coming months, she would be heading into Turkey, Oman, and then heading back east into Africa. Washington and I could only listen in amazement as she told us stories of how she stayed at hostels that bordered infamous barrios in Rio, or how when traveling through China, she became briefly employed as a travel guide as a way to earn extra cash. I could not begin to entertain how someone comes to live a life such as that. Here I was thinking I was adventurous because I ordered pork neck for dinner. Although Melbourne’s extreme spontaneity may not exactly be my cup of tea, it was a pleasure listening to her exciting stories. When dinner came to a close (around one in the morning) I bid farewell to my new acquaintances and took a taxi back to the hostel, this time paying an appropriate amount.
Although my test was not until two o’clock in the afternoon, I still awoke early Saturday morning. I wanted to give myself plenty of time to find the specific building and have a relaxing breakfast before the exam. Anna and the other hostel patrons wished me good luck as I headed out the door. It was a nice day out, but I still wore a hoodie in case the test center was unusually cold. After thirteen minutes of walking down Baross Utica, I saw the familiar Fulbright logo on the front door of a building. The good news was that I had found the right place, and rather easily too. The bad news was I still had two and a half hours to kill without becoming paranoid about my test. A number of the LSAT prep books I read advised test takers to eat a hearty breakfast the morning of the exam. A high-protein meal, maybe something with eggs, would hopefully sustain me throughout the exhausting five-hour-long examination. That is one aspect about the LSAT not everyone knows; it is not just a test that challenges one’s logical reasoning, but also one’s stamina. I also knew that I wanted to have a meal that was familiar, not wanting to gamble with some esoteric local dish that could be upsetting. With that said, I decided on, yet again, another trip to McDonalds. Judge me if you want, but I was able to enjoy a special treat that morning that is only offered in America periodically, the notorious McRib.
I may have worried about killing time, but in reality it passed by quickly. After watching passersby through the restaurant window and a short walk to clear my head, it was time for me to head back to the Fulbright center. I was the first to arrive, but the LSAT proctor informed me that there would be a total of four test takers for today’s exam, all of whom were from the United States. When the others arrived, the four of us made some small talk, wished each other good luck, and then took our seats ready to face the challenge before us. That is about all I can say on the matter, as LSAT protocols prohibit test takers to share any details about the examination itself. However, I can disclose that I walked out of the test center that day feeling rather confident. Most of the strategies and tips I had reviewed in my books helped to prepare me to answer questions in an efficient manner. I should find out the results in late October, so until then I will simply take solace in the fact that a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
As our group of four walked out the door, we each agreed that tonight had to be dedicated to celebration. Most of them were not located in the Budapest area and, like myself, were only here for the weekend. Ben, one of the test takers who also happened to be from Washington D.C., wanted to get everyone’s Facebook info as a way of contacting the group if we came up with something fun to do. I told Ben I would check with my hostel mates about their plans and inform him later. As we reached the intersection at Múzeum Krt., I said goodbye to the group and wished them well on their law school applications. It ended up that I never saw them again, but appreciated that they were willing to invite me to hang out.
The Bubble was fairly empty when I came back. The only person I saw was the kid from Los Angeles I met the night before. He used to work at the hostel, but was only staying there now while he waited for his immigration papers to be processed so that he could reunite with his Hungarian girlfriend who lived in Poland. I decided this would be a perfect time for me to Skype my family and let them know how I did on the test. During my phone call in the sleeping quarters, a Chinese girl opened the door escorted by Los Angeles. She was moving in for the weekend and Los Angeles was giving her an impromptu tour. After finishing my conversation with my family, I introduced myself to the new guest. The girl introduced herself as Tien from Chongqing, China. After asking me whether or not I was Canadian, she informed that she was traveling Europe as a break from her studies. I noticed that her English was very good. Tien told me that she had studied in London for a few years perfecting her second language. As we talked, more and more guests started coming back from their various day trips. I did not, however, see many of the people I had hung out with the previous night. Some of the guests began discussing possibilities for dinner. I asked Los Angeles what he would suggest. He told me Saturday nights are usually slam packed with reservations, so he had gone ahead and reserved seats at one of his favorite restaurants and asked if Tien and I would be interested. The only downside, the reservation was for nine o’clock at night, and it had only turned eight. I was hungry now, and so was Tien. So, we decided we would try our luck somewhere else to have authentic Hungarian food.
Tien and I eventually found ourselves in another food district that appeared to have more choices than the one I had walked through the previous night. There was Italian food, American food, Turkish food, and even Chinese food on this one roadway. It was like walking through Epcot. After a few minutes, we stumbled upon a restaurant that advertised Hungarian food, and saw that the establishment was not too busy. Lucky for me, Tien was not one for eating outside, so I was actually able to have a warm meal. What I enjoyed about this restaurant was that I was able to once again try a dish I never had before. Whereas in Slovakia pork is the celebrated deliciously, Hungary takes pride in preparing duck. I have never tried duck before, but was intrigued. Tien agreed it would be a good dish, even if the duck breasts were not prepared Beijing-style. As we waited for our meal, Tien and I talked of our homes and what we enjoyed about Europe thus far. When my dish was presented, I was delighted to see a healthy portion of duck meat. The cook definitely knew what he was doing, because the pink breasts retained their flavor throughout my meal, never once tasting dry. After taking the last few swigs of my German beer, Tien and I headed back to the Bubble.
Just like before, I walked back into a rather quiet hostel setting. A few people were talking in the entrance hallway, but most must have already departed for the evening. One of the gusts I saw when I entered greeted me warmly. Her name was Olga, the other co-owner of the Bubble. I asked her where a majority of the guests were, but she did not know for sure. Some had headed off to some form of rave going on in a Turkish bathhouse, but the rest must have just gone bar hopping. Olga assured me that if the remaining guests ended up going out for a drink, she would be sure to invite me. I thanked her and headed to the study room to lie on a couch. After a while it did not appear like anything was going to materialize nightlife-wise. That was fine with me. I was just happy that I was done with my test and could sit back and watch YouTube. Then, around one in the morning, Olga asked if I was still game for going out. I said I was and grabbed my hoodie to hit the town once again.
Szimpla, the name of the bar we went to next, was definitely night and day from the first stop. The bar was actually comprised of multiple layers with a series of different rooms. About three hundred people were already there, so the bar was definitely lively. Los Angeles took the lead and showed us the different sections of this place. If I thought the Bubble possessed a quirky feel, this bar definitely out weirded them by a long shot. I could not decide which decorations stuck out at me the most; be it the series of rocking horses, the collection of ’98 Macintosh computers fused together, or the garden gnome sitting on the swing. I actually get a kick out of the macabre, so I really liked this place. However, to my surprise, the Serbs seemed to be somewhat disturbed by the decorations. Olga and I discussed the irony of how these guys lived through war, were here to attend a heavy metal concert, and yet still perturbed by a gnome on a swing. In order to not upset the group, we only stayed for around twenty minutes before call it a night. As we headed back, Olga pointed out to me the various historical significances of the buildings we passed by. It was interesting hearing about Budapest’s interesting neighborhoods and the secrets they held. Thinking that the quirkiness was over for the night, our group was surprised to hear Hungarian folk music being blasted out of an apartment window we walked passed at three in the morning. Just another example illustrating how Budapest is its own unique beast.
Finally, the weekend was over and I had to head back to Slovakia. It felt like I had only scratched the surface of this city. As I headed to the station, I took a series of pictures along the way and spotted destinations I would like to visit in the future. Budapest has so many sites to offer, be it their art district, a Holocaust museum, plenty of shops, and even a zoo. My stay in Europe may be a long one, but at least that means I have ample time to travel to destinations and explore different aspects of cities each time. The good thing is when I do return to Hungary’s capital, I already know a good place to stay.
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