Fun with flaming rods

- and how idiot-proofing has deprived us of our inalienable right to be a walking fire hazard.

Traditions are fun. Yesterday, I participated in a torch-lit march. Not candlelit, oh no. Here in transylvania, where the threat of vampires and werewolves - and thus lynch mobs - is never too distant, they actually give out lit torches to any takers (the more the merrier!) to hold as you walk through town. Listening to rock operas about hungarian history. Best. Historical. Commemoration. Ever.

To my slight disappointment, no one got so much as singed. No low-hanging branches lit. And no marshmallows! Still, it's fun walking through town with your very own burning torch. Just imagining all of the mayhem you're not going to cause (but you could - but you won't... but you could) gives you a sense of pride in not causing it (cause you could).

This is how WE celebrate a revolution! Suck on that July 14th parade! Now if you occasionally shot something out of the tanks, THAT would be co-memorable.

Oh, and for some reason I was later doused with palinka. I guess it's festive, no? I'm just glad that the torches were all gone by then.

Living it up in Romania

Sooo...

Schnapps (aka Palinka, aka Tuica) for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And after dinner. And before bed-time.

Along with loads of delicious farm-grown home-made food. Good think I'm only staying a week-end! It's great seeing the family.

Oh, and of course the palinka is only to fight the budding cold I'm getting (and that half my family already has).

Seriously, it's against the cold. I don't know the rest of the country, but hot-damn it's great over on this end!

Head-lines

Hung parliament looms as Tory support crumbles

Guardian/ICM survey shows hung parliament is real possibility as Conservative vote falters

from the Guardian UK's website. Those sexy brits!

Addicted to the internet

I know, I know, not a new phenomenon-menon-menon (bum-bah, buh-bah-bah).

For the record, I'm killing braincells by streaming family guy, and now, How I Met Your Mother. Kiiiiiller!

Also loving Machinarium, a beautifully hand-drawn, puzzle-solving and musical video game. Along with World of Goo, for the zany cute goo-balls and the amazing things you can build with them.

Bills, bills, bills

I paid my very first hungarian bill! Hurray! It was for electricity, wasn't in my name, had a huge balance that didn't concern me, and even so was way too expensive.

I was preparing for the worst. It was due today, it was now or never. I had to go to the post office to pay it, since I don't have a hungarian bank account and checkbook. I was deathly afraid of the mind-shatteringly long queues at the post office. And yet, somehow, there was no one! Until I went to one of the counters. Then about a dozen people came in to line up. Lucky! And then I turned to the lady behind the counter. She seemed in a good mood, chatting with her co-workers. I politely said good morning, and asked whether I could pay my bill here, in cash. I apologized for being a rank beginner (a noob, as the kiddies say - properly spelled n00b). I held my breath. Here it comes, I thought. Something along the lines of, no sir, this is the wrong window. Or, sorry sir, we don't accept cash at this location. Or, sir, this can only be paid by the person who's name is on the bill, unless you have a letter and photocopies proving you're her legal agent. Something like that.

And then she smiled, passed the bill through a machine, took the money, gave me change and politely said goodbye. And I sailed right out the door. The whole thing took 5 minutes. Where am I and what have you done with my administration?

Let's call it a fluke.

Oh, and lest I forget, my bank card didn't work at the first bank I tried, and told me I needed to talk to my agency. In France. Urgently. All because I forgot my money at home. Good thing I don't listen to what bank machines tell me. The next ATM was much more accomodating.

I have arrived

Hurray, Budapest!
Hurray, huge glamorous appartment that used to belong to an army big-wig!
Hurray, getting to settle in for a solid 4-5 months!

Weight issues

Ok so I’m not the thinnest guy around.  In fact, I feel a certain pride in my culinary and gastronomic adventures.  So I was horribly offended today when, after months of radio silence – even by my doctor, who is anything but demure – I was brusquely told that I was too heavy.  Nor was this insult the end of it.  I was given an immediate ultimatum.  Find a way of losing several kilos NOW, or else.

I have to admit that my knees briefly shook, and I quavered at the vague but disastrous sound of the “or else”.  What could I do?

Fortunately, I gripped my resolve with both hands, and started sweating, straining, and even got down on my knees.  Not to plead, but to work off that weight somehow.

After a mere, yet painstaking and only slightly humiliating fifteen minutes, I managed to lose four kilos!  In fifteen minutes!  And still I looked no different than I had a short while earlier.

In summary, airport staff – and airlines - are better at weight-loss than any crazy miracle diet, nutritionist or personal trainer.  Despite losing four kilos in such a short time though, I was still overweight by a further full four kilos.  For my weight-crime, I was fined a hefty forty Euro penalty.  That’ll teach me to over-pack.  As a bonus, I gave away a twenty euro bottle of fancy pants skin cleanser to the lady at the payment counter.  Wouldn’t have been allowed on the plane, the bottle being too big.

As a final gripe, who the hell can pack two suitcases and only carry twenty-three kilos in total?  What are you carrying?  Foam pillows?

Maybe that’s the solution to obesity.  Lose weight or pay a fine.  It’s already done at airports, so it’s not revolutionary.  You can bet governments are going to consider it soon enough.  And why pay the money to some diet centre?  Just have a weight jar at home.  Set a reasonable weight loss goal.  Set a date to achieve that goal.  Set a reasonable motivational fine, say a dollar/Euro a day.  Pay the fine every day you haven’t achieved the target weight.  Once you reach the date you’ve set out, either spend the money on something nice to show off your new slimmer bod.  Or go to a fancy restaurant, to assuage the emotional trauma from the guilt and deprivation you’ve subjected yourself to.