Weekend

I had an excellent weekend with Petra's family -- great company, great food, great company. It turns out that last Friday, 8 September, is my (and Petra's mom's and grandmother's, and half of the parish's and a good amount of the entire country's) name day. So we had a nice day and went to church Friday evening. Saturday we made this really excellent cake, and then today preemptively celebrated my forthcoming birthday.

Also today, we went to a country house in Hungary that used to be owned by the Károlyi family -- they were somehow closely connected to Ferenc II Rákóczi, but I am largely ignorant of the history of the Hungarian aristocracy -- they also were owners of extensive vinyards and connected to the Hollóháza Porcelain company. This house is in Füzérradvány (try to pronounce that), which is really very close to the border. In fact, it would be very possible to go there via bicycle from Petra's house, that's how close it is. The house is beautiful, with some unusual architectural details that really make it unique. There were two really cool things in the house -- reliefs of phoenixes in the backs of the fireplaces, and really nice built-in bathtubs.
Of course, the house had undergone many changes over the years, and one notable euphemism being when the house was "put under government management" and made into a hospital or sanatorium or something, and all of the Italian Renaissance and Baroque-era furniture the family had collected was lost. There remains beautiful columns. We were guided through the place by a really well-meaning docent who spoke like no English and no Slovak, only Hungarian. This meant that Petra and I were completely unable to ask any questions, and there was a lot of lost in translation going on. But it was fun to listen to Hungarian, which has such an interesting sound and yet is also totally incomprehensible to me.

It was rather strange seeing such a strictly Italian country house so rather out-of-context, but maybe in some ways the diverse Austro-Hungarian Empire was like a precursor to today's cultural pluralities and globalization.

Unfortunately I didn't have my camera with me... Here are some other pictures.

¡¡¡I almost forgot the most adventurous part of the afternoon!!! The grounds of the country house were used as hunting grounds by the family, who used the house mainly as a hunting lodge. We had some trouble finding the way in (all of the signs are in Hungarian, most not translated) and so we walked in towards the house through a park that is related to the house but isn't part of it. The house was fenced in, and we were walking along the outer perimeter -- so we could see the house but couldn't get to it. It really didn't matter because it was a nice day, and they were pleasant woods. Anyway, at one point as we were walking, Petra spotted a grenade, intero as they say in Italian. Alas, these sorts of things are around, but wow. Who knows how it got there, or how long it had been there, which doesn't diminish its potential danger.

I was concerned because I didn't have my passport with me, but it wasn't even a problem because now Slovakia, Hungary, et. al. are Schengen countries now, and we entered Hungary by turning off the road onto a short gravel section that was paved once we entered Hungary -- they used EU funds to pave the road (previously a path for bicycles and local foot traffic) -- and once again I heard the phrase, "Welcome to Slovakia." No guards or control whatsoever. Evidently this region of Hungary is autonomous, and they have spent a lot of time and money developing a tourist infrastructure, because it's the only part of Hungary that is mountainous, so people like to visit it.

On the way back to Slovakia, where I was going to get the train in Michaľany, we stopped to see if we could get into the Greek Catholic church in the village. An old lady who lives across the street was out, and Petra's mom got out of the car to go talk to her. It turns out she spoke the local Zemplen dialect perfectly, which is good because otherwise there would have been major communication issues. It's so amazing, from their houses they can see what is now Slovakia, but really only the older people can communicate in either the dialect or Hungarian. It turns out that these ladies knew someone from Petra's village because she grew up there and then married someone from Petra's village -- and Petra and her parents knew the lady but had never heard her speak Hungarian -- because no one else in the village does!

There's one train a day that goes directly to Prešov. It starts in Čierna nad Tisou (cf. 1968) and goes as far as Prešov, via Košice. As far as Košice, I was with a friend of Petra's family who I'd met years ago in Rome, and we had a pleasant time chatting on the way about a lot of things. Quite excellently, she said to me, "You're at home here with us" which is very, very true. Also excellently, she extolled the virtues of we Rusyns, though stopped short of self-identifying as one.

Originally, I was going to go straight to Ružomberok, but I had to come back to Prešov to take care of something. The weather is getting colder and it's going to be rainy (last weekend it was so hot and humid, this weekend it's the opposite). I had wanted to go walking in the hills around Ružomberok and thought I'd be able to tomorrow because it's a holiday and we have off -- and obviously normally I wouldn't be able to, but this is just as well.

The Use of Church Slavonic vs. Slovak/English

I really want to write about this, but I'm still thinking about it.

First Reflections on Teaching

That I am teaching is slightly extreme. While I definitely consider what I do vis-á-vis museums to be highly educational, it is passive education -- objects, text, and context are an intermediary between me and the learner. This active teaching is something I'm learning how to do the way sometimes parents throw their kids into a swimming pool in order to teach them how to swim. At this point, I have a ton more empathy for teachers and I understand more why my mom was always so tired when she got home from work!

A lot of the system is quite foreign to me, and/or everything is highly mormal and I have been completely unaware of the behind-the-scenes aspects of education, specifically regarding the vast amouts of highly bureaucratic paperwork that are involved. For example, after every class it is necessary to write down in a book called the trieda kniha (classroom book) the objective for the lesson, plus note who is absent and initial it. This needs to be written in Slovak because it is a semi-legal document, and so I get help with it. This particular book stays in the classroom, as do all of the students throughout the day. Instead of having their own classroom like in America, every teacher has a desk in one room with all of the other teachers. I like this system, because it generally cuts down on hallway idiocy between class periods.

The really nice thing is that all of my classes are split, which means that I only have half of one class at a time, and there are two classes per grade -- A and B. So for example when I teach, I have only half of group A, which is only 11 or 12 kids. At the same time, the other group is also learning English, or depending on the grade, maybe German. Thank God I'm only teaching half a group at a time, because otherwise it would be beyond bedlam.

Because it was the first time that I was teaching them, I started every class by trying to explain to them how important it was for them to stop me if they didn't understand or if they needed me to repeat something. When they ask me if I speak Slovak, the official answer is no, but it has to be obvious that I understand it because if they give an answer in Slovak, often my answer is, "yes, but in English, please!" They're usually able to do it, and I can usually tell by the blank stares and frustration when they're not getting it. It's amazing how easy it is to tune out Slovak and only be thinking and speaking in English, and when I'm walking in the halls or something, usually there are greetings of "hello!" or "bye bye!" and I answer in English only.

I'm trying to encourage them to help each other, but this is a double-edged sword because it usually means that one or two of the students are translating everything for the rest of the class. I'd prefer for these students to begin to arrive at the point where they are thinking in English, but at the same time I kind of need them to do this so that I know they understand, and I definitely want them to help each other -- it goes without saying I'm trying really hard to positively reinforce as much as possible, especially with the students who I think may want to be a handful. I'm trying to explain to them that I'm not really teaching them, I'm there because I already speak English and they will learn from each other if only they would listen to each other. But this is 1. hard to explain in Enligh and even harder to understand, and 2. a somewhat radical concept and definitely not a way that they are used to learning. I haven't gotten to the language-is-a-creative-act point yet, but it's definitely on the horizon -- I know they aren't used to learning this way -- and we're still at the highly pragmatic language-is-a-tool-for-communication point.

The youngest students I have are in the 6th class, and they are mostly still quite cute, although I had one section that was rather difficult because it was painfully obvious they were trying to 'test' me. Usually this means that they ask me to go to the bathroom, which is a non-question because they have 45-minute periods with 10 or 15 minutes in between, which is of course more than enough time to go -- and as I reread this sentence, I hate how 'grownup' I sound. But it's the truth!

Almost every class had someone who is, shall we say, silent but deadly -- usually someone who sat in the last row and was either pretending to not pay attention or who seemed not into talking, but then who came through at the right moment with the right answer perfectly, to my suprise and to the suprise of some of their classmates. I'm happy when this sort of thing happens. ...it also turns out that with some of the kids, they are paying attention even when I don't think they are.

Since the groups are split in half, they're spread out all over the room, and I ask them to move forward from the back of the room if they're sitting towards the back. At times this elicits whines, but they are really very respectful. When I walk into the classroom and when I leave, they stand (which kind of amazes me). And so, when I ask them a question, they try to answer, because they won't say no to me because I'm the teacher (this definitely amazes me). The respect is there, and of course it has to be mutual, and it is.

This week, all we did was introductions. But I put them in pairs or trios and they introduced each other, very simply: This is my friend ______. S/he lives in ______. His/Her hobbies are ______. Then after that -- and trust me, communicating that they would introduce each other was really amazingly difficult -- I asked them individually about their brothers and sisters and asked if they are older than them or younger than them. This introduced older/younger and oldest/youngest without them even knowing it. For some of the older kids, this went very quickly and we moved on to other things, but for the 6th class, it took all 45 minutes of the period.

Thinking About Accessibility

...because it doesn't really exist here.

Today, I was waiting for a bus, and a woman in a wheelchair came to the bus stop. The bus came, and I thought, "hm, maybe someone is coming to help?" but when I got on the bus, and thought about it, I quickly came to the realization that none of the bus entrances were remotely accessible. I'm not sure if she was actually waiting for the bus, but if she was, I don't know how she could have gotten on.

Because of my museum geekitude, I thought back to yesterday, when I went to the Šarišská Galéria. No elevator down to the pivnica (basement) or up to the first floor, or even to most of the ground floor because the gallery is in a 17th or 18th century building. Any renovations that may have been done don't include ramps or elevators at all. Nor were the labels large enough for someone with visual impairments.

Most sidewalks have ramps, but I think most of Europe has a long way to go on this issue.

Some things about Slovakia I may never get used to

a list I may keep adding to

1. The near-ubiquitous use of nylons amongst women of all ages. I mean, I didn't wear nylons to the three proms I went to! Perhaps my aversion to nylons is truly post-feminist American female; remember these girls?
2. The near-ubiquitous use of nylons amongst women of all ages with the addition of wearing sandals. I try so hard to be so euro, but socks + sandals is something I just can't do.
3. Units of measurement, specifically with regard to weight. This was a problem for me in Italy, too. Here you use deka (deca?), which I don't even know is for grams or kilo grams. All I know is that 15 deca is .15 of a kilogram, and 1 kilogram is 2.2 pounds. My conversion widget tells me this is about 1/3 of a pound, but I don't have my laptop with me at the salami counter, obviously.
   
4. The Speakers. This is like a Socialist-era hangover, and it really makes me feel kind of funny. Maybe looking further back, it's the electrical age-equivalent of a town crier. But seriously, I can't get used to it. In Petra's village, they play a different song depending on the reason for the announcement, which usually is about the week's soccer match -- so there's a special soccer song. Yesterday afternoon in Ružomberok, there was a nice jazzy song playing all of a sudden, which sounded like a really loud car radio. Then The Voice came on. It's really very strange. Then they play out The Voice with the song again. Evidently there are a lot of jokes about this speaker system -- maybe along the lines of "Dear Fellow Community Members, today nothing happened."
5. 
   

On riding the train

1. Going between Prešov and Ružomberok on the train is a beautiful way to spend 2 and a half hours.
2. A few days ago, I came across this website: Passing by
3. Soon, I'm going to add my own videos to it.

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The train goes all through the Low Tatras and by the High Tatras. The High Tatras never cease to be dramatic, as they rise up from a plain and are visible for miles because nothing blocks the view of them. I remember the first time I came to Slovakia in 1992, and we landed at the Poprad airport with all of these (dare I say it?) majestic mountains all around. It was the best introduction possible to Slovakia.

The route takes about 2.5-3 hours, depending on whether or not it is necessary to transfer in Kysak or not. On Friday afternoons and Sunday afternoons, there is a direct train from Bratislava-Humenné via Prešov in order to accommodate the vast numbers of students who are coming home from uni. I can take the train on Sundays, but when I'm going back to the east on Wednesdays it takes a bit longer because I have to transfer.

The trains are mostly Intercity, and are divided into compartments. There is a bit of etiquette involved, maybe similar to the urinal code (though of course I can only imagine). When you find a compartment with people sitting in the correct arrangment, meaning at least one corner is free for you to be able to sit at, with the windows filling up first, you enter the compartment and say, "Je voľno to mesto?" - "Is this seat free?" even though it's already rather obvious that it is. Then when you get up to leave, you say "dovidenia" which is just super nice, kind of like how before you start eating, it's really important to say "dobru chut" - "buon appetito." This is what good manners are all about, for real.

Change and Progress

I've been thinking a lot about this since I got here and then went to the new Max place that's like an American-style mall. I think, in the whole scheme of things, it's actually very cool to have so many obvious dichotomies present in a societal sort of situation -- and maybe that's one of the points of the film Iné Svety, which is about this region.

For example, when walking on the street, one sees young people in jeans and t-shirts, obviously looking skater, goth or hipster, and then at the other end of the spectrum, older ladies dressed pretty traditionally. Since I didn't want to/couldn't whip out my camera to take pictures, I drew one instead:The colors may vary, and most of the blouses and skirts have a pattern in them but like woven into the fabric, not a different color. The goal does not seem to be to dress in complementary colors, either. On one hand, hardly anyone dresses like this, and on the other hand, enough older ladies do to merit discussion. By the outward sign of dressing this way, these women tend to represent one part of all of these drastic changes that have happened here over the last 15 or so years. It's almost like a physical manifestation of their memories.

Slovenské jedlá

probably the first of many posts on this theme

Since I've been here, I've been eating very well. Breakfast is, of course, a salami sandwich -- on which I also put soft cheese. Or, at the convent, butter and homemade jam on Slovak bread, which is a highly pleasurable way to start the day. To drink, coffee or tea and some mineral water. Generally, I eat something similar in the evening.

The big meal of the day is around lunchtime. This means soup and then meat and a side, with finally maybe a piece of fruit. It's perfect, because all day I feel like I've eaten, and you don't go to sleep on a full stomach.

I bought some frozen spinach to make my favorite frittata, and came upon some European ingenuity. Of course, these are the same people who built the Leaning Tower and the Atomium, so we should not be too surprised. The spinach came in a bag, and there were these weird pictures on the front of the bag, which I only noticed when I opened it. It turns out, the spinach is frozen in pellets!! -- That is, instead of an unwieldly frozen brick, so the spinach cooks much faster.
Adding to the benefit, you can buy red pepper and salt together in a grinder!


And finally, a comment on Kofola. This is something I was very excited to try, because my Slovak teacher Martin told us about it this summer. It ranks up there with Almdudler in the category of country/regionally specific soft drinks that are also much better for you than Coca-Cola if you are going to be drinking a soft drink in the first place. It's got a really complex taste, like rootbeer and apple juice together but not quite.

But the one thing that is most obvious while walking down the street is that this country is in a serious relationship with ice cream -- zmrzlina. It costs only 8ks (38¢ by today's rate) for a one scoop cone, and it totally hits the spot. People start eating ice cream well before noon, and it continues all day. I think it would be considered the hilt of bad manners to eat a sandwich while walking down the street, but it is totally socially acceptable to eat ice cream while walking down the street, which is a really nice thing to do.

Finally in Slovakia

The trip was happily uneventful – I had some food at Dulles, got on the plane and lucked out that the middle seat in my row was empty, and then had a layover in Vienna for about 5 hours and then finally got to Košice around 3pm I think. I took a taxi to Prešov and met Vlasta at the apartment.

On the plane, I watched Dan in Real Life and Love in the Time of Cholera. Just before I left, I saw the new Woody Allen film Vicky Christina Barcelona, so there’s been a lot of Javier Bardem in my pop culture consciousness lately, and I must say, I like it that way! Love in the Time of Cholera was so, so wonderful and almost a tear-jerker, which for me is saying a lot.

Watching movies was nice after the relative stress that occurred in Pittsburgh when I checked in. My ticket was obviously for more than a 90-day stay, and so the United agent asked me where my visa was. I explained to her my whole situation, which didn’t help as I had to pay a substantial fee to change my ticket date so that the airline wouldn’t be liable, and I’ll have to pay it again to change it back to the date that I want to come home. Eventually, I’ll write the whole epic visa story, because not only is it interesting, I know other people can benefit from knowing how the process worked for me. At this point, it’s far from over.

Last night, Vlasta said, sleep until noon or 1 if you have to -- and I thought, there's no way I will! But I woke up in the middle of the night and sent some e-mails and wrote a bit, and then did in fact sleep until about noon! Today she took me to the bus station and train station and showed me how to use the trolleybuses from the apartment to the center, which was really super helpful.

Then on the way back, we went to this place right by here called Max, which is this really big brand-new (less than a year old) American-style mall. Whichever way I look at it, it's development and is not necessarily a bad thing. We got some pizza there, which was really excellent -- ham, mushrooms and corn on one half and 4 cheeses on the other -- one of the cheeses was like brie maybe and maybe mozzarella, and I don't know what the other 2 may have been. I love local iterations of pizza -- there's the home of pizza in Naples, and then the world's interpretations.

I'm going to Ružomberok on Monday.

Adirondacks

This year's camping was excellent, though rainy. I want to post some pictures, but until I do, here's a map of the route Peggy and I paddled from our site to the launch. As the crow flies, it's 3.8 miles, but the route we took was definitely more like 4 miles.



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