Satellite no more

I've been here over a week and already the time is starting to fly by. Maybe it's the language classes, or how were getting into a routine (sort of), but it just seems that there aren't enough hours in the day for me to do all that I want to do. I may already be hopelessly behind with respect to journalling all of this.

Or maybe it's because I do actually do a lot in the day, I just can't remember it once it's over. But more likely, it's because I'm being a lot more social than I used to.

No, really. I have become a much more social person than I ever was, even during my dorm days. See, back then there were enough people, an adequate number of nameless faces, such that I could blend into the background and not be noticed if I didn't want to. Not to mention that the setting would soon become a routine and familiar one, where everyone would eventually find their own little group to hide within; to heck with anyone still outside.

Let me explain a little more. I find myself sitting around in people's rooms, just talking, listening to music and whatnot, looking at people's pictures, or whatever. When I eat, I'm in one of the kitchens, and I'm usually not alone. When people get together to go out, they frequently ask, "Want to come along?" (I often do.) Discussions and conversations happen anywhere, for no reason. Inside jokes developing. People saying hi in the hallway. Why is this happening? Why am I suddenly a part of a circle instead of a satellite, one who people see but don't hear, whose absence is never noticed? And why wasn't my Florida interim like this?

Interim, although it was a similarly-sized group of people, was in a much different situation. We had no permanent home save for the vans, and although we were in unfamiliar settings, we didn't really have any reason to stick together. People spoke our language. Everything was planned out for us in advance. There was an equal male/female balance. Being in Hungary is different. We have an actual home base. Until the rest of our classes start, most of our time is open. Few people outside our group speak our language. We depend on each other with sharing school info, how to use transit, where to find this or that, how to get an internet connection set up, and on and on. There being only five guys, it's unlikely that the group will splinter. I've done a lousy job of explaining why things are the way they are, but I think I can summarize like this: our group as a whole has many chances to mix and interact in smaller groups for short periods of time, be it in a dorm room, the kitchen, on a tram or bus, or in a class. This breeds a kind of familiarity between each person. In Florida, that rarely happened: we were almost always in one large group, and you know how well I do in large groups, right? Correct: I fade into the background.

This setting has also given my abilities a chance to show themselves better than they could in Florida. Then, I could drive the vans, take good pictures (until my cameras died and I was stuck with a single- use), and little else. (Unless you count that whole Everglades Day 5 incident; check my Facebook pictures.) My biggest contribution didn't come until much later when I put the DVD together. Here I can take better pictures, help people with their computers, do music stuff, get printers and net connections working, guide inebriated people home (long story), and be one of the Canadians. Not sure how that applies, but I feel as though it does. I was apprehensive about this semester at first, but we all seem to have settled into our niches, and I like how things are right now.

Best part so far: no "prospects" are happening. None of that four- letter "L" word (either one) making everything awkward. This is a relief, especially considering how most of the girls have boyfriends back home.

Boy, this post made me sound like the emotional sort, didn't it? It's my opinion that me having five sisters and no brothers did that. I wonder how else that's affected me... but that's a whole other topic.

Look what I found in the hedge

An actual hedgehog!

Thoughts on cars

So I arrived in Hungary on Wednesday, and pretty well as soon as we were off the plane we’ve been hauled around the city, seeing sights and generally getting familiar with everything. Although the change in environment hasn’t been as staggering as it would be were I in, say, Africa, it’s still been substantial.

Allow me to begin by describing the cars around here. Although there are numerous familiar brands, like Ford, Volkswagen, Nissan, Toyota, and Suzuki, there are also a lot of makes of cars around here that I’ve never heard of. Opel is a big one. Citroën, Renault, and Peugeot, all French, are numerous. Those last two, I had to ask someone else how to properly pronounce their names. I also see Seat from Spain, Fiat and Alfa Romero from Italy, and Skoda from the Czech Republic. All these cars look quite modern and similar to what I see back home. And of course, there’s makes from the eastern bloc, such as Lada. These cars are always easy to spot: they’re the horribly ugly little cars that look like they’ll disintegrate if you slam the door too hard. There are also some other cars from Communist times that have no discernible manufacturer’s plate on them. Interestingly, Ford is the only American car maker I’ve seen here, with the exception of a Dodge minivan I saw yesterday. And no wonder: nearly every car here is a compact. I’m talking cars with little to no trunk to speak of, where there’s about an inch or two between the rear wheel and the back bumper. I’ve seen maybe two SUVs so far (and I’ve been on the road a lot), and they were also these small sporty things, not the hulking behemoths that crowd the roads at home like some sort of pestilence. I imagine only Ford had both the resources and the will to try and make cars that compete in this European market of fuel-efficient, compact cars, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re still getting their lunch eaten by the local makers. And of course, none of these European companies try to sell in North America, because so few people there are smart enough to buy from them.

And so why are the cars here so much more small and nimble? That’s easy to figure out. First, public transportation around here is fantastic. They’ve got trams, buses, subways, and even a cog railway (more on that later) all part of one system. Granted, it was likely the communist system that set a precedent where public transit was the best option for the majority, but there are other reasons too. Gas around here, available at familiar stations like Shell and other local joints is around 300ft/L, which based on my highly inaccurate head calculations works out to well over a dollar per litre Canadian. And from what I’ve heard about gas prices elsewhere, that’s cheap for Europe. Third, the cities are still designed and built like they should be: densely-populated regions where basic services are nearby, connected by a grid (sort of) of arterial and local roads, instead of large clumps of only residential, or only commercial, or only public services, connected by six-lane traffic sewers. You don’t need a car for most trips because everything is either within walking distance or reachable via transit. Heck, where I live, I can walk 50m to the tram stop and take it directly to Auchan, a large Meijer-esqe place that stocks all the basics and then some. And I mean directly: the tram stops right in front of the place. Finally, Europeans don’t seem to tie their egos to what car they drive. This is only a theory, but I think that to them it’s a tool, and back home, it’s a status symbol. Well, ok, maybe the guy driving the Ferarri doesn’t see his car as a tool, but that’s beyond the point.

Who could it have been?

Has this ever happened to you: you're walking by a bank of payphones, minding your own business, when suddenly one of them starts ringing. You pause. Should you pick it up? It continues to ring. There's no one around, and it becomes obvious that if anyone answers it, it'll be you. You lunge towards the ringing phone, only to hear the ringer cut out just before your hand finds the receiver. There's only a dial tone when you hold it to your ear, but you knew that would happen. Well, that happened to me at the airport. It was very much a "Matrix" moment.

Waiting at O'Hare

This was written in the food court at O'Hare, but since the WiFi isn't free, it's been posted later (possibly much later). If you've ever been on those coach buses, you may have noticed that some have a seat at the front that folds down into the stairwell, beside the driver, presumably for a tour guide. Usually the bus driver is happy to let anyone sit in that seat, if only for some company in the front. Our driver was the quirky sort who loves to crack the kind of jokes that a grandfather would. So now there's a group of 13 of us, sitting in the hallway of the check-in area, waiting for the Air France desk to open up.

First real post

So it has now begun.

Specifically, it began at 7:45 this morning, when my radio went off. As soon as I woke up, I remembered what day it was and leapt out of bed before I was fully awake.

Bad idea… I’m on the top bunk and the chair I usually use to step up and down on wasn’t there. So, it must have looked something like this:

“Uh? Gotta get upAAAAAAUUUGH” WHUMP

I may or may not have gotten enough sleep last night. I’m guessing not, since I was up until 5:30 getting all my stuff together and all my other stuff out of my apartment, which I was checking out of that night. It was my responsibility to clean the shower. I did a rush job since I was at a band practice until 9:45 that night which left me a little over an hour to do it all. I must have done a good job because the RA who checked me out didn’t even bother checking the walls with a razor, saying that “It looks a lot better than half the showers in this building”.

I had an hour and a half this morning to finish up all the loose ends, but it sure felt shorter than that. After making multiple trips down to the storage room, I deposited the key at the desk… only to return and find all the sheets still on bed. Fortunately I was able to fish the key back.

After that, I was on autopilot: walk to the other side of campus carrying all my luggage, drop some stuff off, and I’m done. I’m now on the bus to Chicago, hoping people weren’t too grossed out by my sweaty shirt (was I the only one who walked there?), and generally trying to not make a lousy first impression, but also not completely blend in with the upholstery.