My flatmate is hilarious...

I walked into her room last night, and she looked at me, and completely without provocation, told me that my hair no longer has a colour and that I should probably take care of that.

I love blunt people.

Hair

Two random notes on hair:

1) I didn't get a chance to get my haircut before I left the States, so I got it done here. Also, Aaron basically challenged me to by pointing out that when he moved to Montreal, he didn't speak French but he got his haircut, and after all, isn't it an adventure? After a long negotiation through a somewhat bilingual mediator, during which the lady said my bangs were "fine," I let a completely unilingual Hungarian lady cut my hair. An hour later, she had cut my bangs short and given me a hip, asymmetrical, European haircut. A few weeks later, I've decided I really like it...so all's well that ends well, I guess.

2) Having never lived with anyone with long hair, cleaning out the bathtub drain in my flat was a bit of a shock.

Thank you, UWT and USFG

My financial aid is coming through, which not only means that I can pay my rent and buy my plane ticket from Burlington to SeaTac, but I can also take a weekend trip! My flatmate and I are thinking Belgrade, Serbia, and looking at a map, it would seem that Zagreb, Croatia is a possibility as well. Hmmm...

An Introduction to Hungarian Cuisine

Langos (pronounced something like "lan-gauche" or "lan-gosh"). Basically deep fried dough (like we'd have at the fair in the US). You can put basically anything on it, but most come with cheese, sour cream, and garlic. Anyone who knows me, knows that those are three of my favourite things--especially together. Food of the gods. Seriously.



Retes (pronounced something like "ray-tesh"). Hungarian strudel with filling, which could be cherry, apple, or poppy. I'm particularly partial to "meggy" or "sour cherry." Poppy as a sweet filling is very popular here, but, as people here say, it's just not my pair of shoes.


With food like this and a near complete lack of fresh fruits and veggies, I really need to start going to the gym.

Mr. Clowny-clown-clown-clown-clown

I know, I know. I'm supposed to be afraid of clowns, a fear stemming from some traumatic childhood experience with them. Maybe if my parents had hired some coked-up, desperate, middle-aged man to dress up as a clown for my birthday, or let me watch Stephen King's "It," or took me to a circus where one got all up in my face, I would be. Or maybe I'd just resent my parents for traumatic experiences which make way funnier stories than the kind I resent them for now. Either way, not only am I not afraid of clowns, but my oldest, best, most steadfast and dependable friend is a clown.

I'm not talking about some imaginary friend--seriously, I am 21 years old--but a plush toy clown given to me by my grandmother's neighbor, Mrs. Wildblood, for my first birthday. Any why, of all of the dozens of stuffed animals--most less bizarre and off-putting than clowns--did I choose him to hold onto from that day onwards? Who really knows, but I like to think I was already a rebel at that age. ("Wait, I'm supposed to be scared of clowns? Fuck that, I'm gonna have a clown as a best friend!"). Whatever the reason, Mr. Clowny-clown-clown-clown-clown (my dad named him, no joke) remains the one connection to my childhood that I hold onto, and embarrass myself with by insisting that he accompany me wherever I travel or transplant to. As a result, his passport (if he had one) would be more impressive than most Americans'--Canada, Russia, Hungary, and soon Slovakia, Czech Republic, Poland, and Turkey. Not to mention he's accompanied me on trips to Disney World, to the Jersey Shore, all over New England, and in my move from Burlington to Montreal to Seattle area. He's quite well-traveled for a children's toy with no ability to move on his own.

Since he's been the only constant in my life for as long as I can remember, and since I still take him with me when I travel so I can sleep with him at night (Go ahead. Say something. I dare you.), there was no way I couldn't include him in this blog.

The Opera

I always forget that I hate high culture.

What I've Eaten Today

Breakfast:
coffee and a slice of cherry pie

Lunch:
coffee and a cherry-chocolate brownie

Dinner:
beer and a cherry retes

It is possible, if not advisable, to eat cherry pastry for three meals a day.

Every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time...

I have one year left of my undergrad, and then...I have no plan. The infinite number of choices, the lack of certainty, of structure, is scary. There are a million-and-one options, all with their own respective practical benefits. I think though, that for once, I want to do something stupidly, rashly, romantically idealistic--regardless of practical considerations.

Internship

The purpose of my trip to Budapest is to intern. I finally found out my placement, and I am pretty excited about it. I'll be working at Central European University, in the Special Projects Office of the Special and Extension Programmes. The two projects I'll be primarily working on are:

1) Putting together a weekend of workshops in a series designed to promote access to higher education in post-Soviet countries; and

2) Handling applicants to the Roma Access Program, a program designed to help Roma access higher education despite the traditional discrimination against them and their resulting disadvantage in the competitive application process.

My Schedule for Europe this Summer

Budapest, Hungary: June 3rd - July 31
Bratislava, Slovakia: July 31st - August 3rd
Prague, Czech Republic: August 3rd - August 12th
Warsaw, Poland: August 13 – August 18
Krakow, Poland: August 18-21
Istanbul, Turkey: fly from Krakow on August 21

Montreal, QC: fly from Istanbul on August 30th
Montreal, QC and Burlington, VT: August 30th - September 10th or so (this date remains up in the air).

[Insert morbidly witty title]

In the past six months, I hovered at the edge of a nervous/emotional breakdown, someone important to me died and I was unable to tell her how much she mattered to me, I've grown increasingly estranged from my family (especially my father), I destroyed my GPA, I was rejected by someone I was willing to give up everything for, and my partner of three years and I decided to end our relationship.

It feels like everything inside me has broken and is struggling to mend. Maybe when it does, I'll be someone I actually like.

It seems like the perfect time to run off to Europe for three months.

Snapshots of a Late April Visit to Montreal

One yellow tulip among the many red, across from Ren's apartment.


Toys at a vegan restaurant where Sam, Ren and I went for breakfast.


Octopus vs....pheasant?


The pheasant looks pretty victorious to me.


Best. Hair accessory. Ever.

Embarassing Photos

I woke up one day and he was just sort of balanced like this...he looks like he's break-dancing! (Jan. 30 2010).


Yup. (Feb. 27 2010)