against all odds

Did I have an extraordinary day today or what! Where should I start? Well, to give you a little background: I was asked to give a workshop to a bunch of high school students about the effects of advertising. It is part of a Comenius joint project in which schools of Spain, Italy, Poland, France, and Hungary take place. I got this email one day that a certain lady from a certain high school (both unknown for me) kindly asks if I would be willing to share my expertise. I was suprised coz I cannot say I get a lot of requests like this, but I was also very enthusiastic. The project was a challenge, because it's one thing that I know a lot about the topic and present it to professionals and colleagues, but what kids know about it, I had the faintest idea. So I prepared a lot and was looking forward to the day to come.

Whatever, and I am not exaggerating, whatever could go wrong and test my nerves, did. I mean, really. The only thing that saved me was that I was soo damn prepared that probably nobody would have. 

As a start, I had to go out of Budapest to a town I've never been to. I checked the schedule, the stops and the locations of the stops on google maps. The coach stop, however, was not where it was supposed to be. Even though I arrived to the place 25 mins earlier, I finally found the right stop only 3 mins before departure! OK, sigh, I made it.

With that bus I was supposed to arrive to the town of Halásztelek at 10.05 AM. That would have given me more than half an hour to prepare the room, the speakers, the internet, the videos, etc, and familiarize myself with the school and the teachers, let alone with the students, before starting the class at 10.45. Nevertheless, at 10.05, when I was supposed to already be walking to the school at Halásztelek, the bus hadn't even left Budapest!! There was such a huge traffic jam, coz we had ice on the streets today, that we were practically crawling not driving. I was already giving it up to ever arrive. But just when I let go, the bus started to move and I arrived to the town at 10.38 and to the school at 10.45. Just on time, as they say. :-)

Physically I was there, but arriving like this meant I had no mental preparation of course. Well, let's get over that! Coz then came the next challenge. I looked into the room, and, instead of the promised 30 students, they were, no kidding, 80! All the students from 4 grades! That just means it was COMPLETELY inadequate for the type of tasks I had prepared for (like group discussion and project work). But no panic still. 

Then I went on stage -- literally, it was a theater hall -- and started to set up the laptop with the projector. I had asked the organizers at least 3 times in advance if they have internet, laptop, projector, and speakers. "Of course!" quoteth the lady. "Of course my ass!" replieth reality.

During the one-hour show, we replugged the internet 3 times, started my prezi 4 times, couldn't play the video only from a third source I brought, waited for the speakers to arrive for 5 mins, and had an electric shortage with complete darkness (!) in the room, and I could continue. And imagine this with 80 students staring at me and murmuring. Of course the whole thing was a chaos -- compared to, at least, what I am used to from unversity classes or conferences -- and I could interact only with, let's say, the first 3 rows of students -- the rest, the majority was just making noise. But guess what, in the end some kids came to me and asked stuff, and the organizers proposed that I should give more lectures for them in the future. So, I reckon, it was a strange form of success.

You know why it was a great experience? Exactly because nothing about it was perfect. And I didn't give up and freeze or panic. It was a mind-opening experience to feel that it is just about accepting the present and making the most of it that really makes one content. Not a perfect show -- coz there is no such.

t(o)urkey

It has a funny story. On the exact same day that I decided to quit my programmer job, a job that was just about to give me a significant raise, but a job that I started to feel as a misuse of my energy and time, I bumped into a call for a filming course in Turkey. I have just made up my mind to follow my dreams instead of following that of others (my boss wanted to prove that he can transform me into the next Zuckerberg). Having a long-time fascination for films, I knew this was the chance to start over. In the past, I already edited a couple of short and/or documentary productions and I simply adored both the process and the outcome. On that November day, I felt it was time to refresh and improve these dormant skills in me, bringing my creative storyteller spirit to the next level. So I quit there. And so I applied here. And two days later I was selected as the Hungarian participant. Unfortunately, I didn't have a lot of time to prepare, as November turned out to be an incredibly busy period for me. Before travelling, I even caught a massive cold, so for a couple of days I was considering to skip the trip. Finally I managed to settle all the inner and outer turmoil, thanks mostly to a large dosage of lemon and garlic (lemon for the germs, garlic for the jerks). :-)

..FYI: not just the ladies..

Before travelling to the location of the traning course, I had to stay in Istanbul for two days. OK, I didn't have to. I wanted to. And it was the best decision. Being an open-minded person and priding myself on being curious and tolerant, I have a hard time admitting that I did have some prejudice against going to an Islamic country. Not because of the typical Western reason, the fear of Jihadic violence. No, that I didn't have, as I had researched that area long before to know that extremists exist everywhere, killing in the name of anything. But what I couldn't accept (and in a way I still cannot) is the gender issue. Since lately I am quite gender-conscious -- actually I was even called the Equal Opportunities Officer a couple of times -- I view many things through these lenses. And let's accept, most of the established churches, Islam being one, perform quite badly in this respect. With all these preconceptions, I arrived to the banks of Bosphorus and I found myself fascinated by the city and the culture marked by mosques, minarets, and muezzin. Istanbul had such a unique atmosphere that simply mesmerized me. I must say, those two days took me on a spiritual, inward journey (and it was not just because of the large dosage of Turkish tea I was cleansing myself with  :-).

In this mindset, I had to continue my journey to Kars, a small town next to the (closed) Turkish-Armenian border. Seemingly, it was a completely uninteresting and unimpressive city, especially after Istanbul, but its relevance lies exactly in the ethnic conflicts, of the Turkish, Kurdish, Armenian,  Russian, and Azerbaijani inhabitants, that resulted in the very decadence we see today. The city had too much history to cover and we had too little time to explore, so the filming part of the training was not as successful and effective as I had expected. (We started to make short films about antiracism, about local relations, about the torn down monument of the Armenian-Turkish friendship, and so on, but nobody really completed their projects in those 7 days.) There was, however, a lot to learn on a different level. We were a multi-ethnic group of 30 people, just like a school class. As a teacher and coach, it was an eye-opening experience for me to be on the other side.

We were representing quite different cultures, backgrounds, and world views. Occasionally, I was the only one in my group of 5-6 that was not religious, let alone, not Muslim. Nothing really was self-evident, like on what grounds I (and Western mainstream ideology) think it was debatable why Muslim women have to cover their faces, or why LGBT (what? who?) are not unnatural to claim rights, or why is given so much space in politics. All the group projects were challenging, because we needed to reach a group decision. It was rare when two people were on the same side. The reason that I (we) felt frustrated so often in these group processes made me (us) realize how bloody difficult it is to live in real democracy, one vote meaning just one vote. :-) Also, as a teaching method, I came to view groupwork a bit differently. Previously I had glorified it, considering it more effective, in most cases, than individual or frontal methods. Now I was reminded that it should not be overused though, because it does have its social-cooperational value, but as far as work-efficiency is concerned, it heavily depends on the personality of the members, which only occasionally is free of conflict.

We had a funny task once. As a social-cultural experiment, we had to draw our countries on a blind map. The Netherlands started, then came a miniature version of Germany (to correct the size problems set by Holland). This is when I was supposed to put Hungary on the map. It was hilarious to see how I placed it so damn far from Western Europe (yes, my mis-perception of the position of Hungary :-). To mend the situation, the Italian girl decided to draw her country reverse, as if Italy was "kicking" Hungary away. This is how we ended up with a new, very welcomed, neighbor: Sicily. Bella Taormina! :-) On the East, then, Azerbaijan became our new border-country, which again is a very fortunate change if you bear in mind that it will become a lot easier like this to travel to the European Games next year. :-)

All in all, it was a successful 11 days. We reshaped borders, brought cultures together, and had a lot of fun. 

BCN

July signals the end of the school year, when teachers finally get crazy and break free after a mentally and emotionally engaging (or sometimes devastating) period. As for me, I decided to use the time to work on my academic life, so I applied to go to a conference late June, early July. As the event was in Barcelona, I considered it half my vacation, half my reunion with my dormant scholar alterego. I must say, the trip turned out to be so successful in both, by going beyond expectations, that I have been feeling transformed ever since.

First of all, I had never been to Spain before, nor had I known what to expect from the Spanish (at that point I didn't even know that Catalans are not Spanish). The tips I got was: "watch out for your purse in Barcelona" and "prepare that people will not speak English". To be fair, I didn't encounter any personal insults but I did witness a thief running away from the beach with the stuff of a swimmer. Regarding English, it was indeed true that many locals didn't speak, but never before have I been helped this many times by locals (despite the language barrier). So expectations, to some level, were fulfilled. However, the experience left me enchanted much more than I could anticipate. It was not just the unique architecture and the pleasant geographical charateristics that mesmerized me, but it was the Catalan spirit as well. Like I wrote before about Ireland, I tend to be moved by resisters and fighters. Maybe because I view my country as one (although not a very successful one).

It was not just the city that was an interesting experience. The conference I went to present my topic -- this time about domestic violence in Hungary -- was so chaotic which I thought only Italians could produce. The organizers sent out several versions of the schedule in advance. According to one version, I was supposed to present my paper twice. When I pointed it out, they apologized and told me it was going to be on Thursday. Then in the next "final" version, I was scheduled for Friday. And with a wrong title. At this point I stopped myself from sending out the tenth email. We were debating about my presentation anyway. I informed then, just out of politeness, that I am bringing a prezi (not a powerpoint). They said, after a week, that I should make a ppt instead, because they cannot run prezis. My jaw dropped but I kept calm. Instead of expressing that I find it incredible that in an academic conference in Western Europe there is no computer that can manage such a (by now) basic program, I just sent them a link that described the technical requirements of running a prezi. I hoped this will open their eyes. But it didn't: still I was advised to change my prezi into a ppt. Naturally, I didn't. I still thought they were just lazy to deal with my request. And guess what, I was right. Their laptops -- what a surprise -- had no problem running my prezi! And again, guess what: my talk was rescheduled again. I was calmly sitting in the audience Thursday afternoon, knowing that I would present the next morning, when the moderators walked to me to say that according to their schedule it is my turn now. "You know what? If I present now, tomorrow I can go sightsee earlier" -- I thought. I gave a very pleasant speech (despite the theme), because I just didn't have the time to worry. And my prezi rocked.

The trip was interesting from a cultural point of view as well. At the conference I made friends with a couple of extraordinary people, even if you only consider their origins. We took this picture during one of the lunch breaks and titled it: From 4 continents. Ethiopia -- Sri Lanka -- Hungary -- Chile. It's a pity there was no one from Australia. :-D

thank a teacher

Today is World Teachers' Day. In certain communities there is a whole week dedicated to teachers, calling the period between May 5 and 11 Teacher Appreciation Week. As with similar commemorations (like women's day, LGBT day, Roma day, etc.), one might ask why we need to set a date to appreciate them. Why we need a call to thank a teacher.

Personally, I never had inhibitions about saying thank you. Perhaps because (or as a consequence) I always had close relations with my professors, from elementary to university contexts. In primary school, for example, I had an arts teacher, who I simply adored with a child's enthusiasm. She never could get angry, always having a hidden smile on her face, which I just loved. Only once did it happen that we made her upset to the point that she said: "Now I am angry at you". I just smiled at her and said: "But you are not." And she burst out in laughter -- a laughter I still can recall. We celebrated every single Teachers' Day with her. I remember one present particularly: I made a four-page card for her, with some drawings and her favorite poem, which she appreciated a lot.

In high school, then, I found a different inspirator. This time it was not soft kindness that caught me but some kind of mystical dignity (understandably, since I changed from a child of emotions to an adolescent of dreams). My Hungarian teacher proved to be more than a model for me. She was strict and clever, a strong woman. We feared her in the beginning; many even came to hate her, because she was just not an "easy piece". At the same time, some of us got mesmerized by her strength and dignity, and later by her humor and care, which she opened up for us as the years passed. She was a character. At the end of my studies, I was the one that made her and gave her the class present. She was so touched that, for the first time, we saw her cry.

University was a different context, obviously, but I found my motivators there as well. While in earlier ages, it was much more the personality of the teacher that drew me, in higher education professional factors became more important (while the amiability remained a must). I was largely inspired by my Latin teacher, for example, who showed me how exciting etymology and going back to the origins can be. He had a great influence on how I view languages. Then, I had a writing (or rather, critical thinking) teacher, who pushed my limits in perfection and precision to an extent I had never imagined. The fact that I have great writing skills has a lot to do with him. I remember I used to say before our conversational and writing classes: Now I go change the world. He challenged our thinking so much that I felt his classes opened new worlds for me every time. Those were the days when I thought everything was possible.

In my postgraduate years, when you kind of become colleagues with your professors, my focus shifted from professional matters back to personality. Or rather, to the mixture of these two. I started to appreciate those who, while pursuing their research, remained human and open-minded. Ironically, there are not a lot of these teachers, despite the belief that educators are by definition open and people's persons. I love to share my struggles and successes with my more experienced colleagues and especially appreciate when they return my honesty by sharing their own difficulties and dilemmas too.

Without concluding -- as my story goes on -- I want to express that teaching makes room for amazing connections that change lives. I am grateful to all who gave me a push on my path. Instead of thanking a teacher, I thank all my teachers.

down

At the end of March, we celebrated the International Down Syndrome Day, which calls attention not so much to a genetic disorder but more to the people who live with this disorder. Their struggles and lives are hidden for mainstream society, which is one reason that worsens their opportunities to succeed. As a person and a language teacher, I decided to join the movement and spread the word, or rather, visibility. I chose short videos for my classes, not only because they are perfectly suitable materials for a multitude of tasks like comprehension, communication, grammar, and so on, but also because they have the power to place the students in a different world, unknown to most. Next to widened horizons and a stronger social engagement, eye-opening discussions and a re-evaluation of every day problems can be fortunate by-products of these classes.

In my class, this was the video we used:

To talk about dreams and watch others talk about dreams is always inspirational. You come to realize how relative things are and that reality is always subjective. Then why not choose to cheer up no matter why you are down?

international roma day

Little is it known that April 8 is a day with a name.

What is there to celebrate, you know?

'Women?'

No, you are late with that.

'Mothers?'

No, it's too early for that. April 8 is your neighbors' day.

'What, my neighbors?'

Yes, it is the day of that Roma family living next to you that you like to, as you say, keep an eye on.

'Hey, I'm not a racist! As a matter of fact, I happen to like them. They are very nice people, despite being gypsies.'

Such a discussion is all too familiar, even in the classroom. It is so due to a well-known popular truth, namely that 'Gypsies are all criminals.' The lesser known truth, however, is that, according to the European Roma Rights Center, the Roma remain the most deprived ethnic group in Europe even today. 

Nevertheless, this day is not about blame, nor is it about rage, we need to explain to our students. It is about celebration. It is about people who, transcending the usual rhetoric of victimization or violence, decided to walk another path, to be the change that helps gypsies and 'whites' live together. This day is about people like László Bogdán, Mayor of Cserdi, Hungary.

Located in Southern Hungary, Cserdi is a small town of 400 people, with a clear Roma majority. Until 2005 the town was known for its high criminality, having a bad reputation in the region. The election of Bogdán as the first gypsy mayor, however, brought a drastic change. Since then Cserdi has become a model town, often referred to as 'the Cserdi Miracle', thanks to Mayor Bogdán, chosen as 'Man of the Year' in 2013. He set up a bio-farm, offered meaningful work for gypsies and non-gypsies alike, educated the youth about the realities of prison life and the importance of education, and made his community accept itself. He flourished the town so much that last Christmas it was them, a small town of 400, that brought donations to the needy of the capital city.

photo: László Laufer

László Bogdán is a great leader for his community and for his country. However great he is, though, he is not exceptional. I am certain, you and your students are also surrounded by inspirational people that help realize the dream that we are united, that we are 'not gypsies but people', to quote Bogdán's other motto.

Let us find these people. Let us celebrate the International Roma Day together!

women wariations

February 8, tomorrow, is International Women's Day. I conducted a small research on what kinds of images exist and pop up on the Internet if I type in "women's day". While there are, for sure, recurring symbols, like hearts, flowers, community, girl power, the color pink, or figures of Barbie and Rosie the riveter, accompanied with the respective motivational message (of embracing your beauty or standing up for your rights), the collection that I hereby present to you shows nicely: women (and for that matter, men) are not one group and not one kind.

Enjoy the witty verbal-pictorial metaphors, which will not only entertain, enrage, or encourage you, but they will also reveal to you a multitude of faces and voices that call for celebration, every day.

Women's Day: The Fight

Women's Day: The Celebration

Women's Day: Men For Women

Women's Day: Women For Women

Women's Day: Be Yourself

Happy Wo/men's Day for all.

world peace

Since a certain round number birthday is approaching me, I decided to use the occasion for a good cause. Spending a couple of weeks on organizing the event, I sent out invitations to people, who not only are connected to me but also share a passion of mine that I often find to be a bridge between people and a remedy for differences. I am talking about sports; in our case, football specifically.

Among the invited, there were Hungarians, Slovenians, Germans, Colombians, and Nigerians; teachers, psychologists, lawyers, poets, market researchers, and IT technicians; elementary school students, college students, doctoral candidates, and pensioners; single, married, and widowed people, in straight or gay relationships. We were diverse. But we were there for the same reason. To have fun and play with each other.

And as such, we played for world peace. Happy (birth)days to everyone!

persona

My kid learner invited me to her masquerade party at school. To my greatest surprise, trends changed a great deal (okay, this is not too surprising so far) and did so in a pretty controversial way (and this was the surprise). It is no longer that the students (and their families) individually decide on what kind of costume to wear and how to put it together, like in the "old days" of my childhood, which was a lot of fun. Instead, it is the community of the class that picks for the whole group (first shock) and they don't make but order the costumes (second shock). The biggest surprise, however, comes only now: girls got to be angels and boys were devils. Can it go worse? Girls nuns, boys rapists perhaps?

Some girls like the role of an angel, being in pure white and soft make-up. Although I find make-up a bit early at the age of 9, but let it be. But to force it to everyone, that is a serious problem. Also, while some boys enjoy the liberating role of being a prankster (but that's not devil, I may point out), I doubt it is a healthy message to the group of boys that they are as bad as the devil. 

You can say, I went too far, because this is not that serious. It is just meant to play with dichotomies like yin and yang, man and woman, bad and good. Exactly that is the problem. Because it is not as simple and clear-cut as mainstream culture (and education) would like to suggest. A girl thinking she must be perfect, otherwise she is not a girl, and a boy believing he cannot be nice, otherwise he is effeminate, is an end-product of such innocent school projects that no one benefits from.

use your anger constructively

February is Black History Month. I am sure, most people would think of Martin Luther King, Jr. to use as an emblem of commemoration. Or bring up Obama. Or Oprah Winfrey. Really, who do you think of when trying to connect a figure to Black History?

As for me, although MLK is one the three great leaders I like to turn to for inspiration (it is enough to quote his genially simple "The old law of an eye for an eye leaves everybody blind"), I would now remember another, less renown but inspirational figure, Audre Lorde. Not only to introduce someone you may not be familiar with, but also because February is also LGBT Month.

Audre Lorde. She was black, she was a woman, and she was a lesbian. Three dimensions of not fitting our white, chauvinistic, and heteronormative society. Three reasons for "us" to call her a freak. And she was called one, or rather, three-in-one. 

And this made her angry. But what she realized was that anger is a tool. Anger is self-expression. Anger is not something to be ashamed of or swallow. If you do, like I wrote before, it eats you up. If, on the contrary, you stand up for yourself, admitting the harm and the anger it triggered, it sets you free and gives you hope.

It is Audre Lorde who said: "Your silence will not protect you," because, as she continues, "when we speak, we are afraid our words will not be heard nor welcomed, but when we are silent, we are still afraid. So it is better to speak remembering we were never meant to survive." At the end of the day, we are all going to die, so there is nothing to lose. Be yourself, today, this month, this year, and always.

o come

The holidays are approaching. Let me wish you a peaceful, yet inspirational period with a song which is traditional, yet modern at the same time, bridging not only cultures but also time and space. I wish you openness and joy.

PS.: O come, let us adore TEA. :-)

to buy or not to buy

Tomorrow is going to be Buy Nothing Day. As the organizers put it, "Buy Nothing Day highlights the environmental and ethical consequences of consumerism," because only 20 percent of the population consumes 80 percent of the world's resources. A week ago my post addressed the very same issue: the pressing imbalance of the distribution of wealth and rights. 

What this initiative wants to point at is that consumerism, the constant drive to buy newer and newer things, is just a habit, not a need. And it has severe consequences that we need to take responsibility for. Let's participate by not participating!

In my institution there was a "used goods swap," to honor the day. You could bring clothes, household appliances, sports gear, and so on, as long as they were in acceptable condition. For each item, you got one coupon, which entitled you to exchange it to any other item. Whatever was not taken home by anyone was donated to charity. I submitted 16 items I hadn't been using for some time, and brought home 9 new ones, including a fancy jacket and a practical bowl.

To end on a bittersweet note, however nice the initiative was, very few participated. Despite the fact that it was hosted and advertised in an American private institution of mostly higher middle class students from Central Eastern Europe and the United States, it was predominantly the Hungarian -- not too affluent -- staff that contributed. To my question, how much she was satisfied, one organizer succinctly said: well, next time..

.. we will shop less and live more. Amen.

invisible

Imagine going to an event to which only the VIP are invited. You find yourself on the red carpet leading to a diamond saloon. Once you enter the double door of metal detectors, all you see is the glamor of gems and accessories, each costing more than your paycheck, but then you don't think about this because after all you are present where only the best can. You are escorted to a staircase resembling diamonds, enter the saloon, and you are served first quality French champagne and Mediterranean finger food. After a little bit of chitchatting and networking with the exceptional participants, you are called to listen to a chanson concert, given by the country's leading singer, which is topped by a fashion show. All this magnificent performance takes you on a journey to travel through time, to the era of the Industrial Revolution, the Orient Express, and the French Millennium, in short, to a time of aristocratic opulence and elegance. 

 

Well, I got to be opulent and elegant -- and more importantly, aristocratic -- for one evening last week. How did she get there, you may wonder. I'm sorry to break it to you, I wasn't mistaken for Paris Hilton or Eva Rezešova, despite the obvious resemblances, but I was the interpreter of the event. Lucky bastard, you must think. Indeed, one big advantage of working with languages, especially as an interpreter, is that you get access to many (different) worlds which would otherwise be closed for you. It was interesting to see how a VIP event of this kind looks and feels like, but I must confess it is more pleasant to recall it as an experience than it was to be part of it. Interpreting -- and, for that matter, translating -- is extremely helpful in making you see not only what you are but also what you are not. 

Having just finished a human rights film festival in which the key topic was unimaginable poverty as a main factor that shuts a great number of people off from basic human rights, I found it hard to identify with an event in which even the cufflinks of any of the participants would have been enough to feed a starving family, not to mention the raffle prizes. And the difficult part of interpreting is that you are expected, especially in such an exclusive, thus, rigid, environment, to be invisible and neutral.

 

A couple of years ago I was the interpreter in a case study of Roma oppression in a notorious town in North Hungary. Those people, although they didn't have electricity and their house was falling apart, welcomed me and fed me, not for being a VIP, but for being a P, a person.

Neither of these is my world. But it was not hard to feel at home in the latter one, because it didn't call for role-play, just for compassion.

versions

As the third film festival of the week, Verzió International Human Rights Documentary Film Festival brings more than 50 films, in original language with English subtitles, to 3 Hungarian cinemas, for almost a week. The festival, which was inspired by Prague's OneWorld Festival, still the biggest human rights documentary film festival in the world, had its 10th anniversary this year (feel free to check out who made the promo video :-). Featuring documentaries in four different sections, Verzió offers a journey for you to travel through time and space and wake up from your life which is too comfortable for you to realize. Think of the Guinean students who fail to have the luxury not only of the computer and internet you are now using but they even lack such a basic utility like electricity. In the evening they need to travel to a gas station or to the airport, to study. Would you go that far, every night, so you can learn to speak English?

 

Or imagine being an albino in Tanzania. Not only does the sun damage your skin, your face, and your vision, but your neighbors are also hunting you, because they believe, thanks to the local witch doctors, that you are the incarnation of the devil and owning parts of your body brings fortune. Can you imagine that you cannot go to school, work, or simply fall asleep unguarded, because you may wake up like some of your fellows: without an arm or cut up into pieces?

Or do you know how it feels not to remember your name, recognize your mother's face, recall the fact that you had children, or to forget whatever you were so busy to achieve in your life and collect on your CV? Can you imagine to live without memory? To live without a past, only in the present? Don't we define ourselves through yesterday and tomorrow?

I hope you didn't miss out on these previously described festivals, not only for the sake of language practice, but also for the sake of gaining insights into the diversity of the wide world and your own micro universe.