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	<title>Rod&#039;s notes &#187; Ramblings</title>
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	<description>Ramble on!</description>
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		<title>Customer Servisz</title>
		<link>https://rodsnotes.e3.hu/?p=44</link>
		<comments>https://rodsnotes.e3.hu/?p=44#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 24 Sep 2011 17:28:46 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>RamblingMan</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Ramblings]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[<p>Ok, I should start by saying Hungarians aren’t unfriendly. I’ve seen politeness between total strangers just because they sat next to each other at a café. But man you can get some spectacular &#8230;</p>]]></description>
				<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Ok, I should start by saying Hungarians aren’t unfriendly. I’ve seen politeness between total strangers just because they sat next to each other at a café. But man you can get some spectacular rudeness in shops. Not so much ‘the customer is always right’ as ‘the customer is always an annoying distraction from texting my friends or gossiping with my colleague’. It takes you back as you politely try to get served, and get looks of disdain, irritation or sheer boredom for your custom. ‘But don’t they think its cute you’re trying speak Hungarian?’<br />
 oh man you’re living in the eighties! You can’t rely on that anymore. Where does this come from? Is it the legacy of a communist past? It’s a common explanation, and I guess when you’ve had customer service plonked on a country without years of competition and management-thinking it may not come naturally.  And some jobs are boring right? And a lot of customer friendliness is superficial. But am I to commend them on keeping it real and not stooping to adopt friendly smiles just for pretence?</p>
<p>But no, although ‘the customer is always right’ might be a little vacuous (I mean what if the customer tells you they’re allowed to take the whole shop home free, or gives you next weeks lottery results?) there’s just something better about being friendly to other humans who come to buy what you’re selling. Sure, some customers will be arseholes, but most people just want a pleasant transaction with another person.</p>
<p><strong> </strong>And on top of that some shops here are just odd. They’ve thrown up a load of shopping malls in Budapest, brand-and-price heavy. When they’re pretty quiet, which seems to be often, they seem to have been built in hope more than expectation. An aspirational statement like a big advertising board ‘Look we’ve got Hugo Boss!!’. I went into T-mobile, and it was a shiny palace of 20 serving counters, and shiny new products. Only about four of the counters were manned, by the young and the bored. One bloke is smiley and stands out because of it. He’s kind of round and jolly and his name-tag says his name is Csabi. Which is cool, because it’s a jolly sounding name, and he disproves the generalisation.</p>
<p><a href="http://77aafbe6.linkbucks.com/url/http://rodsnotes.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/IMG_0258.jpg" target="_blank"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-131" title="IMG_0258" src="http://rodsnotes.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/IMG_0258.jpg" alt="" width="600" height="600" /></a></p>
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		<title>Me go shop</title>
		<link>https://rodsnotes.e3.hu/?p=40</link>
		<comments>https://rodsnotes.e3.hu/?p=40#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 24 Sep 2011 17:26:13 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>RamblingMan</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Ramblings]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[<p>I’m struck by how easy it is <span style="text-decoration: underline;">not</span> to speak the language in a foreign country. You can pretty much live somewhere, anywhere, and get by with a couple of words, a bit &#8230;</p>]]></description>
				<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I’m struck by how easy it is <span style="text-decoration: underline;">not</span> to speak the language in a foreign country. You can pretty much live somewhere, anywhere, and get by with a couple of words, a bit of pointing, and miming skills. I guess ex-pats knows this. Oh no, am I an expat? Shit, I never liked the sound of idea of ex-pats. It always sounds like a deliberate apartness and conjures up images of Brits drinking Gin and Tonics on the verandah because they don’t want to talk to the natives, or the natives don’t want to talk to them. Maybe its some kind of imperial hangover. Anyway. Yes, you can buy things by plonking them on the counter, order a beer by&#8230;well saying ‘beer’, and buy a ticket for the underground by going to the counter and adopting a simultaneously pleading and confused look. Apparently some people are proud of not needing to try in a ‘I’ve lived here five years and don’t speak a word’ way. Well people are proud of all sorts of things I suppose: infidelity, profiting from others misery, mass murder etc.</p>
<p><strong> </strong>Obviously the way to actually learn the language shrug off laziness and er..like<br />
try. But you need a strategy. I use Hungarian in shops of course, but you know how boring and repetitive ‘Kérek Szépen (can I please have) is? I yearn to ditch the kérek szépen in favour of something more,‘the rich colour of that kolbasz sausage is making me ravenous, I must simply purchase some forthwith&#8217; but no &#8216;Kerek szepen ezt a kolbasz (cue encouraging/pleading look). And even if I could do that they’d just think me an idiot. So Kérek szépen is my catchphrase a little longer.</p>
<p>But where you really need a tactic is chatting to Hungarian speakers when you&#8217;re out at a bar or a party. They’re chatting away, you’re picking out the words you know,‘Ah! They just mentioned dog, and weekend!‘ but your problem is your contribution. Obviously you’re devastatingly witty and charming in your own language, but will sound like a cave-man in the new one (&#8216;I go big hill walk&#8217;). So your options are to be lazy, miserable or stupid. Lazy is just to speak English and force everyone around who can to do so. Miserable is just to say nothing because you don’t want to contribute, for example, to the discussion of a new play with,‘I no see play“. So everyone thinks you’re just miserable. Stupid is to embrace the speaking badly, forget the vanity of proving yourself clever and just get stuck in, roll with the caveman, and speak bad Hungarian. It’s the best option, and one that will in time lead me out of the cave.</p>
<p><a href="http://77aafbe6.linkbucks.com/url/http://rodsnotes.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/IMG_0732.jpg" target="_blank"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-186" title="IMG_0732" src="http://rodsnotes.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/IMG_0732-300x300.jpg" alt="" width="600" height="600" /></a></p>
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		<item>
		<title>Sliding doors</title>
		<link>https://rodsnotes.e3.hu/?p=37</link>
		<comments>https://rodsnotes.e3.hu/?p=37#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 24 Sep 2011 17:25:30 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>RamblingMan</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Budapest]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Ramblings]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[<p>It’s a funny thing living it two cities, one week here, the next week there. As I walk to work in London I think ‘was I really living Budapest last week?’ and vice &#8230;</p>]]></description>
				<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>It’s a funny thing living it two cities, one week here, the next week there. As I walk to work in London I think ‘was I really living Budapest last week?’ and vice versa. This way of living engenders the feeling of a double-life. Almost as if when in once place, the other is a dream or past-memory. Am I two different people? (No, you idiot, you’re the same person living in two cities, though now you’re having a conversation with your/myself who knows?). Anyway, it’s the subtle similarities, which bring the difference home, like taking the metro or tube. Same activity, different experience. People look different, are dressed differently, and the stations even smell different (the presence of bakeries in Budapest metro stations give the dusty air a home-baked sweetness). It is standing on the Budapest metro that I feel like a Londoner, out-of-place, not tourist, not local. Otherwise with the passage of time the newness of Budapest fades, the flirting over, the wonder diminished, but replaced with the joys of familiarity and knowledge. There is always something unusual that crosses my day in Budapest and the puzzle of the language presents itself on shop-fronts and advertising boards like hieroglyphs. But now what surprises me is how normal it is to be here, how commonplace my walk home, that my brain begins to merge the two and I could be living in a fantasy part of London where they for some reason rounded up all the Hungarians.</p>
<p>And it’s a curious thing the transformation of place to home. For example, when talking about places in Hungary i.e. home, Hungarians use a certain ending to words. When talking about any other place in the world it’s a different ending. Basically its I’m ‘on’ hungary, ‘on’ Budapest, whilst I’m ‘in’ London, ‘in’ Paris etc. My Hungarian teacher told me about Hungarian emigrants living in the USA, who adapted this notion of home, so over time the ones who came from Boston would say they’re ‘on’ Boston, ‘on’ Pittsburgh, but ‘in’ for everywhere else. The magyarocentric view transplanted with new roots.</p>
<p><a href="http://77aafbe6.linkbucks.com/url/http://rodsnotes.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/IMG_0306.jpg" target="_blank"><img class="alignleft size-full wp-image-38" title="IMG_0306" src="http://rodsnotes.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/IMG_0306.jpg" alt="" /></a></p>
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		<item>
		<title>Spaghetti in a Kettle</title>
		<link>https://rodsnotes.e3.hu/?p=26</link>
		<comments>https://rodsnotes.e3.hu/?p=26#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 24 Sep 2011 17:19:57 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>RamblingMan</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Ramblings]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://rod.e3.hu/?p=26</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>Unfamiliarity breeds mistakes. This was brought home to me in my first week in my Budapest flat. I mean first of all I managed to cut my finger using the washing machine. Yep, &#8230;</p>]]></description>
				<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Unfamiliarity breeds mistakes. This was brought home to me in my first week in my Budapest flat. I mean first of all I managed to cut my finger using the washing machine. Yep, the washing machine. If that wasn&#8217;t enough I stepped onto the balcony one windy evening and woosh, the door shuts behind me. And I see there&#8217;s no handle on the outside. A wave of panic descends. I try pushing on the door but it doesn&#8217;t give. The wave of panic again. No phone in my pocket. Another shove on the door and I realise it will take an almighty barge to break the door. Ok, that&#8217;s a reasonable thing to do&#8230; BREAK the door of my new flat. But it&#8217;s either that or shout helplessly in bad Hungarian to passers by. I could imagine the news on Kossuth Radio &#8216;Idiot Englishman stuck on balcony&#8217;. Well somehow I managed to eventually use keys in my pocket to flick open the door. I have no idea how I got that to work, but the wave of relief as I heard that gentle click and stepped inside was as palpable as the panic had been moments earlier. The final oddity I should mention happened after deciding to cook spaghetti. I selected a small pan I found in the flat. I put it on the gas ring to boil. However much this little pan heated up, it didn&#8217;t seem to go above warm despite the full gas flames. I waited. It must have been an hour that passed, and still just a bit warm. Did NASA know about this pan that withstands all heat? What the hell is it for? Desperately hungry and unwilling to try another pan in case it was made of a similar heat-proof material, I cooked the spaghetti in the kettle. I <span style="text-decoration: underline;">knew</span> that at least boiled as I had boiled water for tea in it. And it worked, and as I poured the water out, the spaghetti slithered out of the spout pleasingly. And the thought struck me.. the spaghetti kettle! Had I just inadvertently invented something new and that was going to revolutionise the market like a cooking version of the iPad? No.</p>
<p><a href="http://77aafbe6.linkbucks.com/url/http://rodsnotes.com/?attachment_id=91" rel="attachment wp-att-91" target="_blank"><img class="alignleft size-large wp-image-91" title="IMG_0621" src="http://rodsnotes.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/IMG_06211-785x785.jpg" alt="" width="600" height="600" /></a></p>
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		<title>Luton Schoolport</title>
		<link>https://rodsnotes.e3.hu/?p=20</link>
		<comments>https://rodsnotes.e3.hu/?p=20#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 24 Sep 2011 17:18:02 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>RamblingMan</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Ramblings]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[<p>Luton airport just doesn&#8217;t feel like an airport. It feels more like a bunch of aeroplanes that decided one day to land at a school and pretend to be in an airport. This &#8230;</p>]]></description>
				<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Luton airport just doesn&#8217;t feel like an airport. It feels more like a bunch of aeroplanes that decided one day to land at a school and pretend to be in an airport. This feeling is most acute when you land there. Off the plane, down the stairs, and across the tarmac (ok, so far so airportish). But then you go through some doors, up a staircase, down a corridor, down some more stairs, down another corridor, up some stairs, through the sports hall, past Mr Johnson&#8217;s geography class, and into assembly&#8230;.sorry arrivals. In a way its funny, and comforting, like you&#8217;ve just landed at a giant-sized kids play airport (you know small toy plane, a couple of cars as big as the plane, pieces of Lego and a pencil as the buildings). Personally, since obviously any notion of 60&#8242;s glamour associated with flying has disappeared in an easycloud of half-torn-printed-at-home boarding &#8216;passes&#8217; they should do something adventurous and play up the naffness of it all. Maybe pretend it <em>is</em> a toy aiport, and paint all the ground and runways to look like a 1970s carpet. Either that, or start a school there for real. What kid isn&#8217;t going to like going to school at the airport right?</p>
<p><a href="http://77aafbe6.linkbucks.com/url/http://rodsnotes.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/IMG_04854.jpg" target="_blank"><img class="alignleft" title="IMG_0485" src="http://rodsnotes.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/IMG_04854-300x300.jpg" alt="" width="600" height="600" /></a></p>
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