Friday, January 28, 2011

There just aren't enough days in the weekend...

It's Friday, and we have no know what that means? we're going shopping!!! After eating lunch at everyone's favorite place, Holsten's, Niki and I headed over to the Csaba Center for some much needed shopping. Coming to Hungary, I had no idea of what to expect besides a frozen tundra, so I only brought street clothes and athletic wear, but no "party clothes". Niki seemed shocked at this, asking me "what? you don't think we party here?" Obviously that was not the case. I'd like to note that before leaving my home, I laid out all of my warm clothes on my bed as my parents helped pack them in my suitcases. It wasn't until after I arrived in Hungary that I actually saw what it was that I had packed. So, we hit up the different clothing and shoe stores on each of the floors in desperate search for some way to revitalize my fashion sense. With no real plans of what to buy, we wandered in and out of each shop, waiting for something to catch our eyes. The search took us to every floor, trying on different clothing items here and there before moving on to the next shop. Walking on the top floor, I heard someone call me name...uhhh, is this real life or am I hallucinating? We look over to see Joe, one of the older American men who has lived locally for about 15 years. He called us into the restaurant to introduce us to his friend Gary, also American, before asking about our matches. We chatted for a while before getting back on track. As we walked out, Niki says "ooooh, Meghan, you are soooo fancy!! Did I use that right?" Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am introducing my friends here to American-English slang. Finally at the end of our options, we headed back downstairs to one of the first stores, and decided on a pair of boots.

Nothing too spectacular, but still, its a start. Tonight we would go to a handball match, so it was off to our respective residences so we could rest up. Shopping is a very exhausting activity. The handball match was pretty exciting, but as Niki and I don't really understand the rules that well, we were easily sidetracked by each other's conversation. We exchanged words in English and Hungarian, attempting to further our language knowledge. After I overheard some of the fans sitting behind us shout "basd meg!", I calmly turn to Niki and asked her what it meant. She laughed and told me "f*** off". My inquiring mind could not be stopped there, leading me into more questions about the vast amounts of swear words that can be found in the Hungarian language. Of course, I couldn't let her be the only informant, so I threw out some of our American vulgarities. We're such ladies. Our handball team ended up winning, and we headed home for the night.

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