In what would appear to be an exercise in empathy, I’m undertaking another scholastic quest: attempting to learn a foreign language (again).
Despite Hungary being a European country, Hungarian is not part of the Indo-European family tree. It’s actually part of the Ugrian subgroup of Uralic languages, and it’s nearest ‘relatives’ are Finnish and Estonian. It is considered to be one of the most difficult languages for an English speaker to master, which isn’t surprising really considering Hungarian uses the Latin alphabet and nouns can have up to 238 possible forms.
In light of my complete mathematical incompetence it’s difficult to say whether learning Hungarian is a more or less realistic aspiration than achieving a C grade at Maths GCSE. But nevertheless I am undeterred! In my quest I’m employing a nifty little app called Memrise that uses flashcards and mnemonics, and I’ll take up classes once I get to Hungary.
I realise this may sound all too familiar to some of you. Last year, after a promising start (I managed to learn the Korean alphabet and half a dozen key phrases before I left the UK) my dream of learning an ultimately useless foreign language floundered somewhat , and in the end I never got any further than the basics.
But I vow that this year will be different! I willmaster a language spoken by a single community of people if it’s the last thing I do.
I added a seventh D in Maths to the total amassed by Laura, Bianca and myself over the last decade. If this is confirmed I will likely disappear to live out the rest of my existence in some snowy waste, where I can be alone with my ineptitude forever more
I officially became as accomplished as a (mediocre) sixteen-year-old. The irony being that ultimately the reason I’m putting myself through all of this is so that I can spend more time with the descendants of the sneery-faced, teenage boy who sniggered when I dropped my protractor during the exam
As much as I like the number seven and have enjoyed the comrade of the D Team over the years, I’m actually hoping for the latter outcome.
My fate lies in the hands of the maths gods now. Pray they be kind.
For those who care to know, this is where I’m off to in August.
Székesfehérvár (pronounced Sey-cash-fey-heyr-vahr, apparently) means “seat of the white castle”, in reference to the numerous kings and queens who got crowned there, back in the day. It’s a small city or big town, whichever way you want to look at it, that sits about 40 miles southwest of Budapest, the county’s capital.
According to reliable old Wikipedia, there’s about 101,973 people living in Székesfehérvár, and 95.7% of them are ethnically Hungarian, so it really does promises to be an “authentic Hungarian experience” as the recruiter put it. If my limited research is anything to go by that experience will feature generous amounts of public nudity (there are many natural springs about), goulash (the national dish), dodgy dessert wine (Tokaji is measured by its sweetness), and horses (apparently all things equine are in here).
And if that wasn’t enough, it’s also pretty looking.
It’s been a long time since my last post and since then I’ve done some things:
Left Korea (but almost didn’t because I forgot to get a visa)
Stomped around a corner of Australia with my sister. We got stuck in things: a lift, a $10 dollar tent in the arsehole of nowhere, a biblical rainstorm
Made it back to the UK and into the bosom of my friends and family, and Humbug the cat
Ate a lot of cheese and Branston pickle sandwiches
Broke my arm in the least spectacular fashion
Got a job in which I holler (mostly) cheerfully down the phone at the hard of hearing and drink gallons of tea
Returned to Center Parcs with school chums to wreak havoc on the forest once again
Went to America to be reunited with the previously mentioned fool who I’ve tricked into running off to Europe with me
Also…I’ve developed a decidedly masochistic streak and now spend a significant amount of my time studying quadratic equations and the like in order to retake my Maths GCSE. Happily that unsavory business will be over as of June, and then the countdown to my next adventure begins!
As you can see I’ve changed my header to a distinctly (squashed) not-Korea image, and this is to alert you, the reader, that from here on out I’ll no longer be moaning about kimchi and ajummas. It’s official, in August Robert and I are setting sail for a town in Hungary, the name of which we can’t pronounce, to teach some more unfortunate souls – so you can expect lamentations over goulash and Franz Liszt instead.