i |
| me, at Kate and Matt's, about to become külföldi |
Deb's boyfriend, Zoli, had a tri-purpose party last night, to celebrate his birthday, his brother, Balazs' birthday, and to bid farewell to a longtime friend, Sára, who is headed to London to seek employment as an au pair. I had been looking forward to this party with equal parts trepidation, curiosity, and genuine excitement.
I do not yet speak Hungarian. I'm not a verbal person anyway, not someone who speaks my own language with ease. This is because I am an anti-social introvert, truth be told, but a friendly one nonetheless. Human beings throw my mental equilibrium way the hell off, despite my love for them.
Although I know a few key phrases in Magyar with which I can utter polite greetings, inquire as to one's well being, or find directions to a bathroom, even these simple phrases sometimes become tangled in my overly nuanced brain. What comes out may not be what actually went in.
So I knew attending this party would be somewhat of a challenge, regardless of how nice, patient, and fluent in English people were. It was a party in Hungary...Hungarian was going to be the language spoken and it was up to me to listen, soak it all in, try to retain some of what I heard.
Parties the world over, I have learned, tend to generate the same dynamic, same vibes regardless of where you are. They tend to maintain a high school prom quality, with little cliques that cluster here, couples making out over there, a couple of loners observing and conversing way over there. Those two loners were Debra and I, despite Deb's relationship with the host. Zoli, for his part, did an excellent job of playing go-between for us and made me feel very welcome indeed. This did not prevent me from feeling the usual awkwardness, which was definitely enhanced by one guest in particular and a few cultural differences.
Balazs has a little girlfriend for whom I felt contempt even before I met her. She had been described as a small blonde person who asked personal questions in English and then discussed them with her boyfriend in Hungarian. This woman was, of course, very present at the party, a bit too present, however small she was...a tiny, bitchy dynamo freed from her workspace. The moment she entered the kitchen where we were all sitting, the dynamic changed. We were no longer free to have pleasant conversation with Sára and her sister ZSófia, both of whom were happy to speak to us in their fairly decent English...how else do you get to know a person from another country without a lingua franca, which in this case, was English? The blonde entered the room, cooed like an overly precious toddler upon greeting everyone (except Debra and me), and immediately began dominating the scene. All talk switched to Hungarian, which is fine, I don't expect everyone to fall back on English just for this köföldi női. Besides, I wanted to simply listen for a while, see if I could pick anything up.
The blonde did not get around to greeting Debra, whom she had met before, until she had finished catching up with the other guests, and when she did acknowledge Deb (and a bit later, me), she did so with a mouth full of onion bread, nose twitching and eyes rolling. We were afterthoughts to her...if I knew more about psychology, it might be safe to say she felt uncomfortable around us and for that I feel sorry. But, whatever...I found her mildly amusing, an archtype present throughout the ages.
After filling up on fists full of pistachios and lemon wafers washed down with a few cups of Törley sparkling wine, we all moved to Zoli's living room where couples immediately paired up, girl upon guy's lap. PDA is omnipresent in Hungary...I'm not a prudish woman, but I tend not to indulge in PDA because it makes me feel like I'm on stage. This is a major cultural difference and it was a lesson in just how American I really am. But I'm open minded and I accept it. I just refuse to join in.
More cooing could be heard spilling out of the blonde's mouth each time a new guest arrived. The insincerity began to both amuse and annoy me.
Debra and I sat back and watched the scene with fascination...these people had known each other for so long, how could we even think to join in with our limited Hungarian and lack of history with them? A few guests did converse with us and I indeed felt welcome...just a little awkward and slightly ashamed that I could not speak more of the language. I was even tempted to bum a cigarette from one of the friendlier guests, just so I would have a small chance to bond with them. My body warned me that this would not be a good idea by issuing a sickly shudder at the thought of inhaling nicotine, especially at my stage of inebriation, so I gave up the chance to chat one on one with these particular guests. Curse of the külföldi.
Deb and I were buzzed enough, thanks to several Törley bellinis, that we had ourselves a good ol' time indeed. So good that I nearly forgot that the HEV only runs until just before midnight. One of my new Hungarian aquaintances saved my saucy ass when he kindly pulled up the HEV schedule on the computer and informed me that I had about twenty minutes to get to Timar Utca to catch the train home. I hastily threw on my peacoat and pashmina, bade my hosts a jó estét, and trotted down to Timar Utca just in time to catch the last HEV, packed with other party stragglers, back to Csillaghegy where I would quickly fall asleep and dream about being a külföldi, being scolded by her fellow guests for neutering her dog. Damn Törley bellinis...x
