A Day in the Life of Jen Vos

            One day in 1992, my mother decided to film my siblings and I for the majority of a day. It's called "A Day in the Life of Elliot, Laura, and Jennifer. It is one of the only home videos we ever made, but it is by far the best home video I have ever seen. In the spirit of this home video, I have decided to present to you, dear reader, a day in the life of Jen Vos.

Tuesday, 27 September 2011 Day 39

            Woke up around 9:30. My first class was at 1:10, so I was pleased to have a leisurely morning. I groped without looking beside my bed to find my laptop. Every day I tell myself that I’ll get right up—no wasting time on the Internet, but everyday I fail. Today is no exception. Finally I drag myself out of bed. Today is bath day. Since we share one shower between 14 girls, and that shower is not particularly luxurious, I’ve decided to limit my showering to every other day. In Europe, the toilet and the shower are in two different rooms. I guess people here feel weird about defecating in the same room you get clean—just one of the small things to get used to. The shower itself can only be described as “janky.” Two stalls, one curtain, hand held faucet, constantly dirty and wet floor.

By the time I am dressed and ready for breakfast, it is about 11:30. So I make myself a large brunch: fried potatoes, onions, peppers, and tomato with scrambled egg: the breakfast of champions. Cooking is tricky here. All 18 of us share one kitchen. We have two and a half refrigerators, two countertop hot plates, a microwave, coffee pot, electric kettle, and a sink that has broken twice. All this, plus a small mountain of dirty, semi-clean, and soaking dishes. Ah, the joys of a community kitchen. Today the sink works, so I am able to cook, eat, and clean up with relative ease. My first class is at 1:10, so I have plenty of time. Before I leave, I do some reading for my night class: Italian Renaissance Art History. But soon it is time to leave for History of Modern Europe.

I take the tram to class everyday. There’s a stop close to our dorm. Three trams run through every few minutes: the 18, 41, and 47. They’ve been doing work on the 18 for a while, so that one will only take you as far as the large farmer’s market and Interspar, the grocery store by the market. The 41 and the 47 both take you down town, making a stop right in front of Corvinus University, where my class is. So I’m at the tram stop by 12:40 –it’s about a 15 minute ride, so plenty of time. I catch the 41 with a relatively short wait, and I’m off. The now familiar stops fly by as I calculate my progress. We make a stop at St. Gellert ter, right in front of the famous Gellert hotel and spa. It’s a beautiful hotel, right next to Gellert hill, the highest hill in Buda, and right by the Liberty Bridge that takes you across the Danube to Pest. Corvinus is just on the other side of the bridge. At this particular stop, the conductor says something in Hungarian, that I of course do not understand. Some nearby passengers react by getting off the tram. I, not knowing what just happened, and confident in my ability to get to class, stay on. The tram lurches forward, and we are moving again. I look at the side of Gellert hill as we pass along it, taking time to notice how pretty it is. I think to myself, “wow, I seem to rarely notice this beautiful part of my tram ride. How have I not seen this before?” Realization dawns slowly. I don’t usually notice the side of Gellert Hill because I don’t usually ride past Gellert Hill. Instead of turning to go across the Liberty Bridge as usual, the tram has continued on straight, and we are now speeding along the Danube in the opposite direction of where I need to go. Now I know what the tram conductor said, and why my fellow passengers were so quick to disembark. The tram has changed routes. I have 15 minutes to get to class. Our next stop is on the other side of Elizabeth Bridge, almost to the Chain Bridge. In other words, quite a ways from where I need to go. I quickly get off, and look with some desperation at the distance between my current location, and my desired location. I have two choices: wait for a tram to take me back the way I need to go, or walk. I chose the latter; setting off at a brisk pace that I’m sure could compete with Olympic speed walkers. I hurtle pass old women with their shopping bags, huffing and puffing, with sweat dripping down my temples. Less than ten minutes until class. Well, my professor has been at least five minutes late for the past two classes; maybe he’ll be late today. I’m going to be late—at least… five-ish minutes, hopefully that’s okay. Should I run? …nope. Not going to run. Aaaargh I still have to climb three flights of stairs! Curse you tram 41! (a sample of my thoughts during this time) Finally, I reach the bridge and cross it with the purposeful stride of a woman who will run you over if you get in her way. I make it to Corvinus, decide to take the elevator, and speed walk down the hall to my class. Open the door quietly, sit down beside my Dutch classmate, Marit, and exhale a sigh of relief. Then my professor says,

“We’re going to have class outside today, since it’s such a nice day. We’ll walk across the bridge and up Gellert Hill.”

Are you #$%@ing kidding me? I just walked about a mile to get here, and now I have to walk back, and up the largest hill in Budapest?! Answer: yes. So we walked down three flights of stairs, back across the bridge I had just crossed, and about halfway up Gellert Hill. We sat on a grassy knoll and had class. Topic: the interwar years—the effect of different WWI treaties on their respective countries. I chatted with some fellow students, two from the Netherlands, two from Dublin, one from Switzerland.

After class, I made my way back to the Gellert tram stop. I waited for a few minutes, when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Kati, our Hungarian teacher. I greeted her in my loudest American voice: “Kaaaati! How are you?” We got on the tram together and she interrogated me about my use of the Hungarian language since our lessons have ended. I exaggerated the truth. Then we talked about Italy, the places we’ve seen, where we would like to go. Two stops later she got off to transfer to another line. I continued on my way. I stopped at Spar to pick up a few things, bread, tomatoes, and peppers. Got back on the tram, rode it one stop, got off and walked home.

Back at the dorm, I had about an hour and a half to finish my Italian Renaissance homework: (read page 27 to 42, and prepare a short presentation on the subject: “presentation drawing”) and cook dinner for myself. I think I made spaghetti with vegetable marinara sauce and shredded Gouda on top.

At 6:30, the few of us taking the Italian Renaissance Art class (only Calvin students) gathered in the upstairs room of our dorm. The same room we had Hungarian lessons, and our Monday evening classes with Jeff (we’re all a little sick of that room). Class was very enjoyable though. Our professor, Dora Sallay is a curator at the museum of fine art in Budapest. She actually studied Art History at Calvin from Prof Luttikhuizen, one of my professors. She specializes in Sienese painting from the Renaissance, and basically has the coolest job ever. She told us that she had to go look at a painting in a few days and determine whether or not it was a fake. (it was) In class, we learned about different methods of making art during the Renaissance: frescos, tempera on panel painting, oil on canvas painting, sculpture out of marble, wood, terra cotta, and bronze, drawing, and architecture. We planned an outing to the Museum of Fine Art that Thursday. It was an awesome class. Afterwards, Prof Sallay called me aside. She had seen that I had already taken an Italian Renaissance art class—from Prof. Luttikhuizen, no less. She asked if the class was challenging enough for me, I replied that it was a very interesting class, and I was learning a lot. It’s my favorite class this semester! I asked to sit down and talk to her about being an Art Historian sometime, she said she would let me use the museum library for my research paper—a great privilege. I was very excited to have met someone who is as deeply connected to the art world as she is. It was great to connect with someone who is living out one of my dream jobs.

After class, I read a chapter of a book for Jeff’s class: How We Survived Communism and Even Laughed, a book about women who lived in the Soviet Bock. I watched an old episode of “America’s Next Top Model” –an interesting juxtaposition with the book. And even got to chat with my boyfriend David for the third night in a row; a rare occurrence. I was asleep by 1:30.

Thank you to the two* of you who actually read the whole thing!

*hi Mom, hi Dad

Field Trip to Immigration

I am now, [kind of] an official [temporary] resident of Budapest, Hungary. What does that involve exactly you may ask? Well! dear reader, let me delight your senses with a vivid description of the wondrous place that is the Hungarian immigration office.

First, imagine that you are in an official looking office of the government. Lets say, the DMV. Now, take away all license plates, vanity plates, and any personal touch that any employee might have given to that cheerless office, and you are starting to get the idea. Now, imagine all the signs are in a different language. One that you should know, but haven't studied enough. It could be Klingon, you wouldn't understand it any less. There are a few english translations of the signs, but they don't really help.

Now, dear reader you face your first task: getting a number. Like our esteemed DMV, you have to get a number, then wait for it to be called; however, at the immigration office, this is not as simple a task as taking a number from a ...(for lack of a better word) thing. Oh no. When you walk into the office of immigration, you are presented with two lines: one to the right and one to the left. You pick one and hope for the best. You have in your hands, just about every document that proves that you do indeed exist, have sufficient funds for a prodigal son-type lifestyle, and are enrolled in a local university. Also, you have carefully made copies of each of these documents JUST IN CASE they want the copy instead of the original. You inch forward. Your palms become sweaty. A packet of stamps costing about $100 is handed to you, you try not to drop them. Finally it's your turn to get a number. You stand there in front of the counter without a clue what to say to this woman who gives you that look that you are now well used to. That what do you want, crazy American-look. You carefully place your application and stamps on the counter and mumble some inaudible nonsense, hoping that they will infer the meaning of your quest. The woman glances at your paperwork, and gives you a number: 159. Oh bliss! Oh joy! Oh rapture!

So after a 15 minute wait in line, you have your number. Lucky number 159, you just know it. You look with nervous anticipation at the display of which number is being helped. Current number: 106. ...you suppose you have time to sit down. You gaze up at a TV screen that has video clips of all the things you could be doing in Hungary, but can't because you're stuck in the immigration office. It's irritating because there's a mouse arrow in the middle of the screen. This video is punctuated by screens of textual information presented in about five different languages. You always seem to miss the english one. You slowly realize that there are two different rooms for interrogation--I mean application, and you move back to the appropriate room. You make another keen observation: the immigration office is only open until noon. it's almost 11am now. The question arises: what happens when it turns 12, and you're still there. Do they kick you out to come back another day? Hopefully not. Your question is answered when the clock strikes noon, and they close the gate with everyone inside. So you don't have to leave, but no one else can get in. Bad time to start feeling hungry. Ask permission from the guard to run across the street to the nearest Tesco. Get the greasiest pizza you've ever seen. wolf it down with pleasure.

Finally, after about four hours of waiting, your number is called. Booth six. You sit down with a sense of vague anxiety. The woman on the other side of the glass starts asking for documents. You flip through the file folder in front of you making a mess of your neatly stacked pile. Copy? Original? Makes no difference apparently. Confusion over what form they're asking for. -did you even need that ATM slip? you guess not. Many much, pounding of the stamp from ink to paper. (Hungarians love stamps) You're told you're missing a form, but you can just have the university fax it. ....is that it? They hand you a form and you hesitantly get up and walk away thinking:

what just happened?

Aliens

I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting when I decided to hop on a plane and go to a country I knew nothing about. Or maybe I didn't know what to expect. Either way, after about a week, I believe it's safe to say this is nothing like what I expected. I find myself an alien in a strange land. It's difficult to describe what it's like to be in a place where you have no idea how to communicate with people around you. I literally can't understand anything I read or hear. Thus, any english I do encounter is a notable and wonderful event.

 We're told certain things to do or not do so as not to arouse suspicion of our strangeness, but every moment of our existence broadcasts our inability to belong. So we give up, and find sanctuary with other aliens. Every time we overhear another conversation in English, we are automatically drawn to its familiarity. I've met at least ten different groups or individuals who are either American or British tourists, backpackers, expats, or fellow students studying abroad with a different program. Through this we cocoon ourselves in familiarity. The further we are from home, the more we long for it. ...how meta.

 heh, I promise I'm not depressed. Will vlog soon!
Viszontlátásra!
Jen

Nesting

Since we arrived at the dorms, we've been living with pretty bare bones supplies. There was a box of kitchen utensils in the kitchen, and our leader, Jeff was nice enough to stock our fridge with some food to last us a few days. However, 18 hungry college students quickly ate through our supply of bread and juice, and it became clear that a trip to the grocery store was badly needed. The bathroom situation was similar. There was no soap in the, no extra towels, and about one garbage can.. for the entire dorm. Going to the bathroom felt like going to an outhouse. Also, there are two shower stalls in our bathroom, (shower room, really. The toilet is in a separate room) but there were now shower curtains, and the faucets were hand-held. Needless to say, water got everywhere. Even still, the floor has never been properly dry. We all were getting tired of living in filth and surviving on glasses of tej (milk) for breakfast.

So today, after we got back from more walking around the city, we got organized. We split the group up into three smaller teams each responsible for shopping and cooking for their team members. These teams would also be put on a rotation for cleaning different areas of the dorm. But first, we had a lot of work to do to clean up the mess we'd made in the past two days. Also, we found a stash of supplies left by semester groups previous. So we needed to sort through the new supplies to find any and all things useful. I was on the team that cleaned and sorted kitchen supplies. It was fun to see everyone working together to put together our new home, and after a while the dishes I labored over cleaning seemed to belong to me. We joked that we were "nesting," and dreamed up different things we could do as a group. After a few people got done with their tasks, they made spaghetti for us all. We put some tunes on and had a delicious meal. Afterwards, people stayed to help clean up. We uploaded more pictures from our day, laughed and tagged each other's pictures. I have to be up early to go grocery shopping with my team. But for now, life is good in Buda.

szia!
Jen

Arriving in Budapest

Hello world! Here I am in Budapest, Hungary! It's the end of day two, and it's been a bit of a whirlwind tour. I don't have much time to post, so I'll be quick. I'm here with a group of about 20 students, our professor, and his family. We're here to take classes and learn what life is like in a different culture. I'll explain more about my classes and such later.

I met up with most of the group in Toronto, where we boarded a plane to Dusseldorf, before catching another plane to Budapest. it was a looong day of travelling, and I and my stomach were very happy to reach solid ground. We moved into our dorms and then set off walking around the city. We mostly just wanted to sleep, as it was the middle of the night where we came from, but we made the smart decision to stay awake to fight off jet-lag. It was an exhausting day, and never in my life have I been so excited to eat pita and hummus. Eventually, we made our way back and slept for about 13 hours.

Today was a national holiday in Hungary. It was Saint Stephen's day. (no, not Christmas-time St Stephen) So again we headed downtown to join in the festivities. There were free tours of Parliament and free entry into the Art Museum. However, I and a few others were not feeling up to more walking and decided to go check out the air show by the river. (the Danube) It was... meh. There were a few planes that flew by but it wasn't anything super special. But the real attraction were some pools on an island in in the city. Unfortunately, we ended up walking more than a mile to get there. ...so much for not wanting to do a lot of walking! But finally we got there, and it was so worth the walk. Admission was 2300 forints (about $12) and there were a series of pools at different temperatures and with different features. My personal favorite was the wave pool, but there was also a pool with a fast moving current. (kind of like a lazy river, but faster and without the blow up rafts) Then we met up with the rest of our group at the art museum where we enjoyed a fireworks show.

Anyway, that's a short update on what I've been up to the past few days. In the future, I hope to be a lot more informative about life and curiosities of living in Budapest, but today was more of a list of happened.

szia!

Jen