Halloween Weekend

I, unfortunately, am not as excited to write this post as I once thought that I would be.  My Halloween weekend was good, but nothing spectacular in my eyes.

Not a very good photo, but a ballerina picture for you all.

Friday night was the big Halloween party for the international students here in Budapest.  It was at a club called the White Angel, which is pretty legit to be fair.  And, I probably would have had a much better time had they not allowed herds of people in.  Our whole group got together beforehand to get ready which was really really fun.  We had such an array of costumes! Cleopatra, a  Native American, a mermaid, a cave woman, a ballerina (me), a sailor, two devils, Jasmine, space commander Shelby, a doll, the list goes on.  Yet, by the time we left to go to the club around one, I was sort of just ready to go home, but went nonetheless.

It was an experience, to say the least, but really was not my scene at all.  Am I an abnormal twenty year old  because I don't like going clubbing and staying out late?  I don't mean that in offense to anyone I'm here with who may be reading this, but more as an introspection of myself.  Sure, I enjoy going out every once in awhile, provided I know where I am going, but I feel like because I am a twenty year old, college student to boot, that I am supposed to love going out to clubs and drinking, but I just can't into it, and I end up feeling left out, when it's really no one's fault.  I left after about an hour and a half or so because I really couldn't stand being fallen on by wasted pirates, and shoved out of the way by men dressed up as Venus and  Williams (and yes, they body painted themselves brown).  It became too much of an overload.

The next morning I had to get up early to go to the National Art Museum.  The guide that we had gave us actual historical facts, not art history.  Basically, she used the pictures as those in a picture book.  "Here is Szent István, he was such and such a person and contributed the following things to Hungary." However, I learned nothing about the styles of the painting, or how Hungarian painters fit in with the world view of art.  It was very frustrating since I woke up after four hours of sleep and travelled forty-five minutes, but probably should have been expected with the class it was for.  And on top of it all, my camera slipped out of my hand and is now broken for good.  So there goes some more money that I am not actively earning.  The day brightened up later when I got to talk to two of my best friends for about two hours each.

As a side note, I found out that I can't audition for "Rent" because I won't be back in time, another contributor to my strange mood I'm sure.  Even after vowing to myself that I wasn't acting anymore, I'm pretty bummed about this one.

However, last night I kept having one bad dream after another, and am now in the funkiest mood.  Sorry this blog post isn't very well written, and probably isn't very interesting to read, but I told you I would write, and thus I did.  Hope you all have had a fun and safe Halloween!

Because I'm Still in Love With You on This Harvest Moon

Full Moon!

This weekend marked the mid-semester trip to Venice and Vienna, which I have to say, I was not particularly excited for when the semester began, but once last week began, I started to get pretty stoked.  Stoked enough that my roommates and I left an entire kitchen of dirty dishes, literally.

Hungarian Countryside

We started with a twelve hour bus ride from Budapest to Mestre, Italy on Friday afternoon, and to be honest, the ride was not nearly as bad as I had thought it would.  It went by relatively quickly and was pretty comfortable, minus the fact that the heat wasn't always on.  The only way to get to Venice is by crossing a bridge that runs from the mainland to the island.  I mean, I suppose boat works too, but automobile is faster.  I was sort of feeling like Venice might be a city that I would see once and be done with, but that is definitely not the case.  I am utterly in love and plan to go back at some point.  It really is everything it's cracked up to be.  It has become a bit of a tourist town, and the local population is only around 40,000 since the city is not at all practically livable.  It has no "streets" per se, but rather large sidewalks.  The only way to get around other than by foot is by water taxi, boat, or gondola.  When we got to the train station we walked from there (the North West corner) to San Marco (the South East corner), which was one of the more painful experiences.  We saw some churches and I did some nice shopping for my family and ate a filling meal of gnocchi.  That night some of my friends and I went on a gondola ride, and it was totally worth the eighty euros we paid together to get it.  It's a great way to see the city, and was so relaxing.  Although, it sort of consummated some feelings I had on the bus ride there, those of being lonely.  Every so often it just sort of hits me and I remember that most of the people I came here with came with a best friend, or someone they knew.  And, while I had a great time with the people in that gondola, there was something about the setting of a dark canal on the water that made me wish I was there at least with a best friend, or significant other.  If those of you who were with me are reading this, please do not take offense to this, as I was very happy that I got to spend that boat ride with you, and maybe you even understand where I am coming from.

Grand Canal

The next day involved more art, a lot of art.  I like art, art is cool, but Jesus can only be painted in so many different ways, especially when only one style is dominating Europe.  I have to say though, that the Academia was really pretty cool.  Paintings the size of the entire back side of my house, with detail more perfect than a photo.  It was breathtaking to see these works, and was hard to believe that a human actually painted them, and spent all that time.  It made me hate modern art, and I am a lover of modern art, but come on, hanging a broom from the Hirshorne does not make you an artist.  After that we had some more time to ourselves, which I spent wandering the streets of Venice.  Sort of wishing I had someone to share it with.

Unfortunately, towards the end of the day, it began to rain and got rather cold.  We got on the bus, which I thought was going to be somewhat of a relief, however, that is not what I received.  The bus was freezing cold for most of the trip, and so I found it hard to get any sleep, which sort of sucks when your bus ride is from 6pm to 3am.  We drove through the Alps, and I really wish it hadn't been dark and nasty, because from what I could see, they looked really cool, cool enough that I want to go back.  There aren't too many things that you can say were cool enough in the foggy, rainy, dark, that looked fantastic enough to go back.  After a bit I was able to get some naps in, and then I started to feel sick, which figures, since I hadn't yet on this trip, and I travel about as well as a cat.  The last hour was pretty rough thanks to a dinner of Pringles and chocolate mixed with a bumpy car ride, and my overly sensitive stomach and brain.  However, after some sleep, all is well.

Jesuit Church

Karlsplatz

Stephanplatz

The first day in Vienna we visited three churches in addition to having some time to roam around the main shopping street there.  Despite the fact that we had already seen a church or two, traveling around Vienna is much easier and it was sort of cool to see three churches in succession that were each built during different periods.  It was a lot easier to appreciate and take in when there was something to immediately compare it to.  We then went to Schömbrunn, which I immediately fell in love with.  I would marry it if I could.  Schömbrunn was the summer residence of the Habsburg family during the time of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.  I was so sad that we couldn't take pictures, because each room was more breathtaking than the next.  I felt like I was in AP Euro all over again, and wished I could have been there with my teacher.  Needless to say, being the nerd that I am, I bought an interactive map of the palace and its gardens.  I would go back to Vienna just to see Schömbrunn again.  I cannot express to you just how much I loved it.

The Fabulous Franz Josef

The second day we went to the fine arts museum, which completely consummated my thoughts that the Smithsonian has nothing on European museums.  I was standing in rooms with hundreds of Ancient Greek pots and vases that were completely whole.  Others with dozens of Egyptian coffins and engraved stone tablets.  Although, while amazing, it was confusing (I went through the museum backwards), and there was almost too much stuff to try and get a handle on.  On top of that, the audio guide was worthless, especially in comparison to the one we had the day before at Schömbrunn.  Then upstairs was more and more art.  I suppose it would have been a little cooler had more of the art been from central Europe, or had been specifically Austrian, but it was more of the Italian painters I had just spent two days looking at.  Needless to say, I looked at about three rooms and then wandered around the fabulous museum shop.

So, all in all, it was a great trip, even though I have to answer some questions to get a credit.  But, I mean, I basically went on vacation to get a credit, so I can't complain too much.  Hope you all have a great week, and I hope to post some stuff about Halloween!

Notes for the Day

So, I realize I just posted something, and not in any stretch of the matter, I pushed the button maybe five minutes ago.  But, I have a thing or two which I wish to discuss, but felt that they were unrelated enough and lengthy enough that they were worthy of they're own blog post.

Firstly, I feel like I am an awful traveler.  Mainly, because I haven't written in my journal for at least a week if not more.  Isn't that what you're supposed to do when you're traveling?  Aren't I an English major?  I feel so bad about myself for not doing it, even when remembering a motto that I have learned to pick up due to many reasons, which I shall not get into, but if you know me well enough you may be able to deduce why.  The motto is this: if the event or thing is meaningful enough to remember it, you will, you don't need to write it down.  If you can't remember it, then it probably didn't mean enough to you.  It was important enough for me to buy scotch tape this week, so I remembered to do it.  Had it been frivolous I wouldn't have remembered probably, and my wallet would have been a little happier.  If an event is meaningful enough for me to remember it, I will, my brain is designed that way, I don't need to write it down.  Yet, part of me still feels like I should write things down, and that I need to buy souvenirs to remember things, and it gets me wondering why humans feel that they need to do these things even if they don't.  I realize that now I am a babbling Brooke and this will just end in circles, but hopefully you get my point, and if you don't, well contact me, we'll discuss.

Secondly, today for my Holocaust and Memory class we took a field trip to the Holocaust Memorial Center.  I was sort of expecting a run of the mill Holocaust museum type deal, but that is not what I got.  Let me preface this by saying that the Holocaust does not effect me in a deeply emotional way.  It makes me think, and feel to a certain level, but not overwhelming so.  That may make me a bad person, but I've always felt like I'm missing something, and maybe I still am, but I just think that I'm not super emotional about it, which makes sense because I've never been super emotional, in the sense of sadness anyway for most of my life, aka, I am not a crier.  That being said, at the end of this museum I felt something, not crying something, but deep awe at what I had seen.  There were different stages of the museum you go through that break down different parts of the Holocaust such as the stripping of possession, and the stripping of dignity.  You can follow different family stories through each of these stages to see how each aspect affected them.  It includes a lot of interactive material with testimonials and photos.  And this is where I feel Europe is superior to America in educating about the Holocaust.  In America we the museum in D.C. to be this huge thing, that you will be totally enraptured by the pile of shoes, and you will leave crying.  To be honest, what struck me most there was the exhibit on Nazi propaganda.  The notion that one person can create that sort of cult following is so fascinating and intriguing to me.  In addition, America's version of the Holocaust includes World War II happening, the Holocaust happening during that, which only pertained to Jews mind you, Hitler was the only bad guy, and America somehow helped to save it all.  Photos are selected carefully, full frontal nudity is not used in the museum, I'm sure they don't use pictures of bodies that may look too emaciated, the normal American censorship deal.  Don't get me wrong, there are some good things about the museum, such as being able to pick an identity and carry that with you through the museum, but it's still not as personal as what I saw today.

After entering the first room guests travel down a narrow black corridor where the only thing that can be heard is marching.  This is the moment I knew I was in for something more that I expected.  I hate reading a whole lot in museums, despite loving the actual institutions, so I utilized a lot of the video, audio, and photo footage.  Hearing the testimonials is always at least a little moving for me, and the photos I've seen always leave me wanting more, well I got my more today.  I felt like these pictures really captured the feeling of Auchwitz-Birkenau in many ways.  There were pictures that looked like they were taken my SS officers, and ones taken by civilians.  Europe does a much better job at educating about the entire situation of the Holocaust, in that it wasn't just about the Jews and Hitler.  It involved the anti-semitic movement, which was partially started in Hungary through Horthy and the white terror, it also involved discrimination against gays, blacks (or really any race that wasn't deemed pure), Gypsies, the deaf, the blind, and was put into act partially because of the eugenics movement, not just because Hitler hated Jews.  Discrimination against these peoples was partially it's own movement, separate from the war, which is something that Americans don't really consider.  There were a few artifacts, one was an actual gold star from someone's clothing, the other an empty can of the chemical used to kill those at Auchwitz-Birkenau.  These are things that you will just never find in the U.S., because the event didn't happen there.  I do want to go back and focus on the pictures, since that was the most influential for me other than reading a small excerpt from a diary (that wasn't Anne Frank's for once).  While all of the pictures had great impact those  that had the most were ones which showed the collections from the looting of the homes of Jews after they were deported.  Mountains of baskets, shoes, brushes, tables, every and any possession you can imagine were stacked in the synagogues these people once worshiped in, or simply taken out of their homes by other residents.  It's such a tangible act of power to see.  The other pictures were in the section that was focused on the taking of dignity.  I flipped through an album, if you will, of 150 photos, all of which were disturbing to some level.  Pictures of full frontal nudity when individuals were stripped to be killed or because they had just arrived, the shaving of women's heads to decrease femininity, the burning flesh of bodies, a melted face, faces of the piles of dead bodies, dead babies with their eyes open on their dead mothers' chests, mass graves, eugenic experiments gone bad, bodies so emaciated that the term skin and bones implies there is more to these people than there actually was, lines of people, some families, with the caption underneath, "To the gas chambers," stated so nonchalantly as if they were hiking a mountain, and these people didn't know what was about to become of them.  Photos of old men with captions telling how they were gassed upon arrival because they could not work.  It was more than heartbreaking or depressing.  I was definitely feeling something, but I cannot put it into words, and for a person that is less than rarely speechless, that is saying something in itself.  If you are here, please please go, if you visit, go, and not only if you find the Holocaust interesting, but because it is necessary that Americans see this light of the Holocaust and learn about it in the way that it truly happened.

Glenn Comes to Visit Budapest!

 To begin this post, I would like to say that I took a good long while debating last night whether or not to write it then or to wait until class today to write it.  After getting solid college advice from a friend, I settled on doing it in class today.  While I am thankful that I now have something to actually pay attention to, I am so tired that I am not quite sure how well this post will turn out.  But, back to the point of the post.

My dad decided to come visit me while I was here, which to be honest, I was quite surprised about when my parents told me this.  I mean, they have already put so much into supporting me into coming, but were still willing to put out even more financially in order to receive a visit from a family member, and I cannot express the thanks that I have to them for doing that.  Now, moving on, since I think I've created enough sap to make some maple syrup.

You know, sometimes having a dance studio above your flat really sucks...like right now...when children are learning to tap dance...

Upon my father's arrival I took the long trek to the airport, almost showing up late, but luckily got there in time.  On the equally long trek back the bus was over heated and my dad's bags were heavy.  Obviously nap time soon occurred since he was off the time schedule and I was just tired (go figure), after that, I quite honestly cannot remember what happened, but it obviously was not of great importance.  We probably watched, a great love that my father and I share.

That's all candy!!!

The next day, after traveling to school to take a mid-term, we went to the market, which is always such a bustle.  A homeless man took my dad's plate of food when he was done with it, which I thought was nice, and when asked I asked my dad why he needed extra paprika scoopers, his response was, "Because they're cute."  Really?  He won't be able to live that one down for awhile.  We wandered over and around the mall, and my dad purchased a giant, disgusting sausage.  At least someone appreciated the meat of Hungary while visiting here, because I sure as hell am not, especially after seeing that piece of meat.  That night I took him to Sugar! and was boring and got the same thing, but he got something that is supposedly Hungarian that included chocolate, rum (apparently), bread pudding-ish stuff, and leopard print chocolate.

SEE THE HAND?!?

View of the street from the top

Saturday was spent going to Szent István Basilica.  We walked around the inside of the church, which is absolutely gorgeous, and also went into the chapel portion.  Now, I'm thinking that the chapel portion is a smaller section, maybe still used by the clergy, involving the lighting of tea-lights, praying to Mary, etc. Well, maybe it was that at one point.  Now, there is a relic there.  So this relic looks like a little gilded house, and then there are these posters about the hand of King Steven coming back to Hungary, etc. etc. Ladies and gents, you know what is in that pretty house?  The actual hand (not a cast) of King Steven's hand from the sixteenth century.  Pretty cool, and pretty gross.  We climbed to the top of the church, and I do literally mean climbed, since my dad made me take the steps, all three hundred something of them to the top (I made him take the elevator down).  The view was really cool.  You could see a lot of the major buildings and walk around the outside of it once you got out there.  The pathway wasn't extremely wide, so it was a little unsettling, but pretty enough that I forgot about it, mostly...  And then, the daily afternoon nap ensued when we returned home., and more Seinfeld was watched (see a pattern?).

Main alter inside the Basilica

A rare moment of me in front of the camera!

Sunday and Monday were both spent going to the baths.  Sunday to Gellért and Monday to Széchenyi.  I've been to Gellért before, but not to the latter.  Sunday was planned and Monday was supposed to be spent going through the castle district, but it was cold, rainy, and I felt like I was going to pass out and throw up because I dislike my bio professor that much, so my dad made us an apple pie and we went to the baths again instead.  I haven't taken any pictures yet because I don't want to get my camera wet, but this website gives you the best information and pictures of the baths.  Just go to choose a bath, and you're good to go!  You can find pics and services there to get a visual.  In my opinion, I think I liked Széchenyi better.  It has more baths to access, including beautiful outdoor ones (I can't wait for when it snows), and is a little cheaper, but doesn't have the mosaic and tiled walls and ceilings like Gellért does.  Gellért is definitely more upscale, and a little more genuine, in that they don't keep renovating it, I mean you can see the mineral build-up from the water on the marble fountains, but is very pretty to sit in and revere nonetheless.  I would probably go get spa treatments done there.



I sent my dad off this morning, and luckily he made it to the airport.  But, it's only bittersweet considering I only have two more months until I'm home, and really just wish I could bring everyone here, because I'm beginning to get the Budapest bug.

The Joy of Mid-Terms

This week has had me working my butt off for mid-terms, just as they would at home, but perhaps here I am taking them a little more seriously considering that for certain classes they can be up to 50% of my grade.  Honestly though, the amount of work that I have had the past 3 days or so would be considered a normal work load at home, if not a light one, which then makes me feel lazy.  I've gotten in a routine here of taking a daily afternoon nap, hanging out, and eating.  But, today when I woke up from a mere four hours of sleep I felt the tired that I feel everyday when waking up at McDaniel.  It was oddly comforting, and then obviously also completely awful.

I will now allow you to make fun of me for the small amount of work I did have to do.  I had three tests between Monday and today.  All of which were pretty intense, either because of the material, or the sheer length.  I needed to do three readings, and write one 800 word paper.  Main campus students, start yelling at me now, I know you have had far more work than I this week, but this feels like a crap load considering it is the most work I've done since finals week last spring.  And, because of this, I crashed when I got home from class today at five and woke up at ten, and now I am just willing myself to go back to sleep for the night.

Let's face it though, when you take a three hour Skype paper break (thank you Steph), and the paper only has to be about three pages, double spaced, something is wrong.  I feel so lazy, and yet so depleted of brain cells all at the same time.

I hope that for those in the process of taking mid-terms, you are having good luck in studying and getting work done.  I'm sure you are all doing fantastically, and I send my best wishes across the ocean (or the continent for a few of you) for the rest of the week.  Just think, we're half way through!  Only seven more weeks to go!

The Memories You Miss

Tonight was my sister's junior year homecoming, and while I haven't felt homesick in a few weeks, I'm sort of pleasantly feeling it now.  Is that possible?  Bittersweet would be the better term I suppose.  I'm hoping that I was able to capture the moments of seeing her in the process of getting ready on skype, with the family bustling about accurately, but there are little bits missing of course.  I really just wanted to be able to be there with her to help her do her hair and hang out while debating whether something looked stupid or not, and then being the obnoxious older sister that comes and takes too many pictures.  I guess I'm lucky that my dad is coming next week to relieve a little bit of that, but I just wanna hang out with my family.  Is that too much to ask?  Steph and I often have conversations as to why people think we're so weird to want to hang out with our parents and families rather than go out on a Saturday night, but tonight, I don't care if I am considered peculiar, it's not even that I want my mommy.  I just want to hang out with the super cool people that are my family.

All Day, Erryday

To be fair, the last few days have been pretty normal and routine, but definitely different from my life on campus, so I figured I would give an update of the week.  Tuesday evening I talked to one of my good friends on Skype, for a mere four hours, aka the entire night and her entire afternoon.  Talking about anything and everything, I brought up to her that I didn't really know what to do with my afternoons.  And, she gave me an actual answer, which is one of the reasons I love her so much.  Because otherwise (no offense to those of you who have said this), I get an answer along the lines of, "That sucks man," or, "How?! You're abroad, there's lots to do!"  No people, there isn't necessarily.  When you live some place for any extended period of time, whether it be the middle of nowhere or a bustling city, things become stagnant and normal.  Half the time, I don't even remember that I'm in a city anymore, it's just the place where I live.  She suggested that I begin going to places to just hang out and write, because at least if I don't have school work to do, it can be a productive time for art.  So, in the coming weeks, you will probably here about some cafes that I've gone to, and maybe some people I've met.

Wednesday marked jazz night at the bar.  The band that played was not only good, but also interesting.  I was kicking myself for not bringing my camera to record them, because they were so so good.  Sometimes sounding really jazzy, and other times sounding a little more like O.A.R.  They had a pianist, drummer, bassist, trumpeter (more on this in a minute), saxophonist, and a guy that was scratching records.  I apologize for not knowing the correct name of such an instrumentalist.  Because of this last musician it gave the music a modern feel.  The pianist was overweight and greasy, and constantly had a cigarette in his mouth while playing, but was so so talented.  Now, the trumpeter.  Those who know me well know that I am a complete sucker for trumpet players, I mean my ex is one.  Despite the fact that they are typically arrogant and like to show off, there is something so elusive, intriguing, and seductive about them, especially if they play jazz.  Maybe I like them because I'm loud like the instrument, who knows, it's like that indescribable "it" factor.  The fact that they tend to be awkward and skinny usually helps their case as well.  This particular one played incredibly well, and was able to hit the higher notes a trumpet can make with such ease and finesse.   I think I found my Hungarian trumpet love (for this week), but alas, he will never know.

Thursday marked the start of the weekend.  Beginning with going to the Operetta for my awful Hungarian Culture class.  It was entitled "The Gypsy Princess" and was not as horrible as I was expecting despite the three hour length.  It was a little strange in the sense that it was sort of a combination between an opera and a piece of musical theatre.  I'm not going to write the synopsis here, it would be long, and quite honestly, without reading the wikipedia, I couldn't tell you completely what happened since it was in Hungarian after all.  Afterwards we went out to a bar called Filter, that has a really cool grunge art vibe, with some Australians that others had met the night before.  They were all really really nice and the group of us had a great time hanging out an dancing.  Darcy even snatched up the really good looking one!

Today was spent shopping with Hanna and Verena.  We started at the market where we wandered around and did a little Christmas shopping.  Let me just state again how much better Hungarians raise their children than we do, with better toys, and strollers, etc. etc.  I say this because all of the toys are so wholesome and educational, I was in love and wanted to buy them all.  After wandering around for a bit we saw some pictures with people playing some music that didn't exactly sound Hungarian.  After some investigation we found out that it was a whole bunch of food, handcrafts, clothes, jewelry, etc. from Poland!  We of course went straight to the clothing and found all sorts of vests, mittens, slippers, wool socks, hats, rabbit fur blankets, and rugs.  They were all so soft and well made, especially an animal skin that I kept eying up.  I could not tell what type of animal it came from for the life of me, it was too soft to be a sheep, but too white to be much else other than a polar bear, and I'm pretty sure they don't have those in Poland.  I finally asked the woman what it was and she told me that it was indeed a sheep, and then proceeded to make "baa-ing" noises at me.  I was thinking that there was no way that I could afford this.  It's moderate size, beautiful quality and color.  So after a few minutes of thinking I asked how much it was. She typed in 7,000 on the calculator!  That's $35!  For sure this was worth it right?  I mean when else was I going to be able to purchase a beautious sheep fur as this one from Poland?!  So, I bought it.  I now own the softest sheep fur in the land.  Perfect for digging your toes in, or sleeping on.  You can even see it's little tail, and it still smells like the farm!  It's fresh!  Probably killed yesterday or something, but I mean, hey, that's a good thing.  I decided it deserved a name, since it feels like a pet, so it will go by Sylvester.

I apologize if my anecdotes and/or writing have/has not been exciting the past few posts, but thought I would keep you updated!

Travel Alert

So here I am in Europe during a travel alert for Americans.  Fabulous, great, this is everything I have wanted in my travel abroad experience.  When I first heard this I, of course, was pretty tense and worried and felt very unsafe.  But, then I realized something.  Taking me home to a place full of Americans (it is America after all) would not make me safer.  Which, while slightly comforting, is also very terrifying.  Because, then, there is no place that is safe, except for maybe Antarctica.  There is no safe place here on our planet.  I'm not safe here, I'm not safe at home, and I'm certainly not safe in the Middle East.  We live in a world where everything is uncertain as far as our safety, but then again, was it ever?  I keep pondering these questions and ideas each new time someone posts the alert to their facebook, our I get an e-mail from the school.  To be fair, it is just an alert, as opposed to a warning, but an alert is all someone needs in order to spur fear and contemplation.

Other than that, I feel like I've been doing a lot of thinking lately.  I haven't really gone out much, well granted I attempted that on Friday night, it never happened, which I have told some of you about.  This past weekend as I lay in my bed drifting in and out of sleep for the better part of the weekend, it seemed that millions of questions were flooding my mind.  One that keeps coming up is that of being here.  Not whether I'm supposed to be here, or whether I want to be here, but am I doing what I'm supposed to be?  I have so much free time I feel I could build an ark (which might be helpful in this rainy weather), I hardly have work to do, I do go out to clubs or bars at night, what do I do?!?  Last week in an attempted to cease my boredom I took some neighborhood walks that I posted about, but that took up maybe an hour of my time.  So, what does Brooke do when she's bored?  She naps, copiously naps.  Those who are close to me know this all too well.  But, really?!  I have the opportunity to live in a foreign country for five months and I'M NAPPING?!?  I get sort of angry at myself sometimes, but then I think, "No Brooke, it's fine, this is just a restful time in your life.  One day you will wish for this, crave this.  Cherish it now."  And then when people are doing things, they are going out to bars, which is cool and all, but half the time I'm in getting in bed (for good) when people are leaving, so then I miss out because I was so bored I decided to go to sleep for the night.  This is just such a pickle that I feel that I am in, I could talk about it for ages in many different ways, but I won't.  So instead, I will pose you all a question.  What should I do with all my extra time?!  Answer no matter where you are.  It doesn't matter if you aren't abroad right now, have been abroad and have previous knowledge, or are abroad and can say what is working for you, I just need some sparks to the old brainstorm.  So for now, I leave you with that whilst I go to learn about remembering the Holocaust on this dreary Hungarian day.

Welcome to the Real World

So, my flatmates and I have a couple of ongoing problems with our neighbors.  One is that every time we come home and they are also home, the open their door to come out and look at us open our door.  The other is that at least one of them pukes every day.  Why such a problem you ask?  Well, our neighbors appear to be about 40-something frat boy men, which, to begin with, is an oxymoron.  Not what I want to be stared at by everyday.  And, dude, what is with the puking?!  At that age I find it hard to believe that you are getting so so wasted everyday that you puke.  We have come up with a new theory that one or all of them are bulimic.  Their bathrooms back right up to ours and the windows don't close, so you can hear absolutely everything.

And, I think there is a dance studio upstairs.

But, we can't do anything about it.  We don't speak their language, we have no clue who these people are, nor do we have an RA to say, "Hey, please quiet down on the puking front."  This is real life.  So, for those of you at home, be thankful you have RA's sometimes, or that even though you don't like your neighbors, you at least know them a little bit.