John (Poland) Obscene Barmen, Hijacked Hotels and Other Adventures in Hungary and Romania

Hey all, it's good to be writing you all from the comfort of my dorm, back (temporarily) in Krakow after a week in Hungary and Romania.

The trip itself was very fun in terms of what we saw. We started with a night train to Budapest, which was felt so wonderfully European, I couldn't stand it. After that there were two days in Budapest where we met up with the Berlin group, which were very fun. There actually wasn't too much sightseeing in the city then and most of the time was spent on various debaucheries. After two months living with nothing but girls, I don't mind telling you that boys nights were sorely needed. The city itself was very nice, and a huge change of pace from Krakow which feels small, cozy, knowable. Budapest is huge, sprawling and just way too full of stuff to get a good sense of in such a short amount of time. Hungary also had a very different feel from Poland. The country isn't adjusting to capitalist democracy as well and people are still very dour and depressed (it's always a world leader in suicide). Whereas the Poles seem to revel in the glories of spectacular failed uprisings of the past, the Hungarians seems to just internalize the defeat. There is apparently a Hungarian saying that if you live in Hungary for a while you learn to live with suffering and if you live there long enough, you learn to like it.

So after two days, we hopped on a bus and headed for Transylvania, which is an area that was long a part of the Hungarian empire, but was given to Romania after WWII. Both sides have historical claims to the region (although Hungary's are probably stronger) and we were looking at how ethnic minorities deal with living in such a contested region. We spent five and a half days seeing different towns(mostly Hungarian, with some Seiki and Saxon), learning about the region's history as contested territory and how different peoples have learned to live together. The area traditionally was home to mostly Hungarians, but also Romanians, Saxons (imported German industrial workers), Jews, Gypsies and other smaller minorities such as the Seiki. It was very cool to see the area, because Romania in general and Transylvania specifically are much poorer than the rest of Europe and so touring the region was almost like going back in time. People still used horses, donkeys, their children and bare hands to work their fields, most roads were dirt and even the cities seemed to be crumbling with serious infrastructure problems (lots of open sewers). Although Romania is in the EU, it isn't in the Schengen Zone and it very much felt like seeing how the other half lives.

That being said, we spent all nights but one with Hungarian families, who were just incredibly nice. We were generally staying in the best homes in the village, which were comfortable, and the hospitality was unbeatable. Everywhere we went there was a welcoming ceremony, which centered around shots of the locally made moonshine called Palenka, which is deceptively strong. As soon as you finished your shot there would be someone at your shoulder giving you a refill. After the welcome ceremony, we would repast to the kitchen/dining area, where we were summarily stuffed. Most dinners would consist of bread throughout, with an excellent soup, again liberally ladled into your bowl, then a main course of rice/noodles and homemade goulash. After you'd eaten enough to visibly distend your stomach, a tray of pastries (often made with lard) would be brought out, which you would have to sample at least one or two of, both to avoid offending your hosts and because they were delicious. I can honestly say that I've never ate as well or felt as immediately welcomed as in Transylvania.

Although the trip was filled with amusing incidents, I will highlight only two, which I believe will be of most interest to you all.

The first story is perhaps my favorite memory from the trip. It occurred on our last night, which was the only one in which we stayed in a hotel rather than peoples' houses. We had another great dinner, then enjoyed some fantastic gypsy dancing, which, let me just say, is incredibly badass. Those gypsy men not only are awesome dancers but they can provide their own rythmic music through the tapping and knee slapping, wow. Anyway, the dancer's musician was just packing up and people were wandering out when I was summoned from my room by a couple of the Berlin guys, who had convinced the hotel to keep the speakers up and connected them to the lobby computer. We went downstairs and found that the hotel was willing to let us take over the lobby computer for a dance party. Naturally, I sprung into action and, working with a very nice woman from the hotel, configured the sound system,downloaded itunes on the computer and hooked up my iPod (yes, I've gone to the dark side, sigh). By this time, most of the people from the group were down in the main room and starting from the first bars of Ignition Remix, the party was on and poppin'. We basically took over the bottom floor of that hotel, including adjoining bar area, it was great and the hotel was happy to lets us do it, good times. As Beloiters could probably guess, I was in my element DJing the party, mixing major R&B/Rap dance songs with a few lesser known jams. At one point we put on some Hungarian swing, which got the Lexia Budapest director, a large middle aged Hungarian women named Hoyne (spelled phonetically for y'all) and our guide, Andras, also a boomer himself, out on the floor and cutting some serious rug, it was a good night for everyone.

The other story revolves around a phrase that some guys from the Berlin group had picked up after watching a video in Krakow. The phrase describes a sexual act that I won't detail here (though you're welcome to ask me later). In the original video, the giver of this act is encouraged by a fellow off screen to "Freak that bitch out, Tone!" in a hilarious intonation which must be heard to fully be appreciated. Anyway, this soon became somewhat of a catchphrase among certain members of our group, being used when ever possible (ie, when you see two pigeons mating, you might yell to the male, "freak that bitch out!".

So one night in a small mountain farming village, the group decides to go out to the local bar for drinks and everyone is having fun, when we notice that two group members have snuck off for a little slap and tickle. Two of the guys want to sneak outside their door to yell the catchphrase, which we dissuade them from doing. Instead they decide to wait until the guy has gotten back and then to yell it at him when he comes back to the bar. This plan soon involves the whole group and becomes more and more elaborate, getting a life of its own. Finally, when the lucky guy (Teddy) enters 90 minutes later, he walks up to the bar, which is run by a very nice let's say 60 year old Hungarian man who is standing next to Andras. As Teddy starts to order, Andras holds up his hand and Brian (the mastermind of this scheme) says, "Wait, Teddy, this guy has something he wants to say to you." The barman looks down at a small note card in his hand, clears his throat and says in a clear but heavily accented voice "Freak that bitch out!" And scene.

I'm off to Prague to meet my friend from Homewood, Kristin, so hopefully there will be more tales to tell soon.