Native English speaker. Speak Hungarian fluently. (Or, used to. Not much call for it in Seattle, sadly.) Basic German from high school. Rudimentary Serbo-Croat. Enough to read signs and know what's in the food I am ordering, but not enough to get a band-aid.
This bit's been on my mind for a couple days. What drew you to learn it to this extent - if by choice? Did you have to learn on-the-job?Speak Hungarian fluently. (Or, used to. Not much call for it in Seattle, sadly.)
Rudimentary Serbo-Croat. Enough to read signs and know what's in the food I am ordering, but not enough to get a band-aid.
Well, when I moved to Hungary there were not a lot of non-Hungarians there. And it wasn't a tourist destination for anyone but the Germans and Austrians. So I needed to learn Hungarian just to order a beer at a bar. The place was also totally corrupt. So I had to know who to bribe and when and how much. And then there was just the geeky fascination of learning such a weird language. I wanted to know more. So between the various native girlfriends I had, and a week-long intensive Hungarian course over the winter holidays at a university, and just living every day in the culture, I became fluent in Hungarian. Trying to learn Serbo-Croat was just a part of working so much in the Balkans. I used to travel for a week or two out of every month throughout the region, driving a truck around to the different military bases. So I would often stop at little roadside diners where nobody spoke English, and have to order food, drinks, get directions, etc. I had to bribe officials, get fuel for the vehicle, deal with border guards, and stuff like that as a part of daily life there, So I picked up what I could from my friends that spoke Serbo-Croat.
That's one hell of an isolating experience, or learning as it seems from your perspective. Bold, nonetheless. From what I gather, you've had quite a bit of a colorful life. Both Hungary and the Balkans being corrupt... interesting. All of this taken into account, would there be any thought or recurring theme you derived about either yourself or people in general after living in the U.S., Hungary, and the Balkans?
Lots of reasons... Hungary was joining the EU, and residency requirements were going to be much stricter. I was self-employed, so didn't have an employer (and their lawyers!) to advocate for me. I'd been there for many years, and was missing my family back in the US. And my Hungarian fiancee had just left me, so I was feeling dejected and lonely, and kind of done with Hungarian women. And finally, Viktor Orban was changing from being the heroic young leader of the rebellion against the old Communist apparatchiks, into a serious nutcase right wing fascist. All those different factors came together to tell me it was time to sell and get out. Go do something else. So I left.
I did. It took a lot of flailing around, heavy drinking, alienating several girlfriends in a row, buying a motorcycle and just riding around the country for a month or so, and finally finding a job I could really commit myself to. I also learned not to talk about anything other than America. The fastest way to stop a conversation with an American is to express the fact that there may be somewhere outside of our borders. Their eyes will glaze over... they will cock their head to one side... and then kinda wander off in a daze. I actually use this when I am annoyed by someone and want them to go away. I just start talking about living overseas, and what life was like there, and they promptly leave. "Right? I know! When I was living in Budapest I had a washing machine, but no dryer. So I had this wire clothes rack I'd hang my clothes out to dry on, and put it up in the living room, and... oh. Ok. Yeah. Good talking to you! See you later!"
Jeez. May it be the circle of people you find yourself into? Quite disenchanting would be to learn that most people in the US are like that. Quite a ride, that was. I hope you're doing fine now and nothing like that touches you again.I also learned not to talk about anything other than America. The fastest way to stop a conversation with an American is to express the fact that there may be somewhere outside of our borders. Their eyes will glaze over... they will cock their head to one side... and then kinda wander off in a daze.
It took a lot of flailing around, heavy drinking, alienating several girlfriends in a row, buying a motorcycle and just riding around the country for a month or so, and finally finding a job I could really commit myself to.