Sunday, December 13, 2009

Folk Dancing and Failures

Thursday night I was invited to a night club that hosts Hungarian Folk Dance lessons twice a month. It was really cool and hot at the same time. Hot in the sense that there were about 200 people in a room spinning their hearts out and being very sweaty, not like hot in the sexy sense. Hungarian Folk Dancing is not sexy.

The club had one smaller area where they had instructors teaching the more complicated Hungarian partner dances... It looked crazy hard but it was fun to watch.

The bigger area, where we attempted to follow the steps of the person in front of us, had easier dances that I were apparently not "real" Hungarian dances but they were from another region thus much easier. You know what isn't easy? Spinning your partner for four minutes as you go around in a circle together. It was very, very, very tiring but a lot of fun. Out of the four hours that we spent learning dances I understood two. I think I lost my sense of rhythm on a surgery table in Alberta.

I don't think we would have a Canadian equivalent where young adults get together to learn something in a bar. The only time I have seen Canadians participate in any sort of group dance is maybe when The Cha Cha Slide comes on it the bar... Slide to the right... Cha Cha now y'all. We are an embarrassing group of people lacking in culture.

So this week I also failed quite a few times:
  • I lit the microwave on fire trying to melt nuttela to dip my apple in (I think it was a sign to just eat an apple without dipping it in chocolaty goodness)
  • I called the Hungarian police looking for the internet company and may or may not have asked them why my internet wasn't working.
  • I was sent to so many counters at the post office that was the middle of nowhere I cried in public (Krista - your presents were on a shelf behind the first counter the WHOLE time).
  • I bought margarine instead of cream cheese.
I successfully got a haircut. Win!


  1. I did the same thing at the "post office" in Quito!
    Two hours of waiting for people to get off their lunch break.
    I was standing there looking at the box my mom sent, telling them it was defintely my mother's handwriting, when this creepy/smiley guy takes a razor blade and slices the box open. He took everything out, shook it around and then put it in a pile and said, "okay."

    okay, jerk-face.

    thanks for putting your dirty hands all over my clothes and underwear. I'm pretty sure when you gave me that look you were picturing it on me. I hate your face, pervert.

    (still a little mad...)

  2. but to me, post offices in the states appear to be quite annoying, too. Maybe it's a global thing that post offices simply suck?^^

    Thank you so much for your postcard btw!
    miss u :)