People were staring. Was I making it up? My blonde hair and blue eyes couldn’t so automatically make me an outsider amongst Hungarians ... could it? Yet I felt their hard eyes on me as I passed, careful not to utter a word in my native tongue; careful to avoid any extra attention.
Back at my dorm, as I unloaded my arms of my several grocery bags, uncharacteristically exhausted after a trip to the grocery store, I couldn’t shake the stares. I’d been in Budapest only a few days, but it couldn’t be so blatantly obvious that I was an American student who had come to land in Hungary for a semester, could it? As I pondered, I carefully situated my “essential” grocery items onto my sole shelf (I was sharing the fridge with my three American roommates) careful to stack and shift so everything would fit. With the fridge full, my homesickness faded ever so slightly.
Still, my mind floated to the helplessness I had experienced as I wandered aimlessly amongst the rows of food items in the corner market. There were only three narrow aisles of non-perishable foods, one short row of freezer doors, and a small section of fresh foods in the front of the store. Everything in sight, except the in-season fruits and veggies, was as foreign to me as the concept of bringing your own plastic bag to the store with you.
I had studied and written about Hungarian culture for months before traveling to Budapest. I knew about Communism and every battle Hungary had lost. I knew that it was strange to smile at strangers, and not to hail a cab on the street, but rather, call ahead. I was fully unprepared in one crucial aspect of Hungarian culture though - the language.
Many fewer Hungarians speak English than I had anticipated. No “crash course” in Hungarian had been encouraged through the college I attend, and the academic portion of the program was to be taught solely in English. These feats as well as two visits to a rural French town where many or most spoke English indicated to me that many people in Hungary would also speak English. I was traveling in Europe after all!
I was crudely shaken from those thoughts upon entering the Hungarian market. While many Hungarians between the ages of 15 and 30 do speak English when necessary, it is not a requirement of Hungarian cashiers. While I was checking out, I had no chance of a warning.
A large part of learning is through observation. My family at home almost always leaves the grocery superstore with a car load of bags. (Thanks to preservatives for not allowing us to go bankrupt). My first Hungarian shopping experience was no different.
While the corner market, ‘Spar’, was without a cart to fully load, I managed to drag an overflowing basket to the checkout counter. As usual, spending more money than intended, and realizing too late grocery bags and groceries were not a package deal in Hungary, I managed to cause quite the stir in basic English and hand gestures. We communicated “plastic bag” with a pointed finger accompanied with a carrying motion similar to cradling a baby. Another charge of the credit card and I was off with four or five plastic bags full of fresh fruits and vegetables, a few cheeses, a package of what I assumed to be salami, and a few bags of chips with pictures of onions on the front. (I was thankful daily that I have no food allergies!)
Three days later everything spoiled.
Months into my stay, upon opening the refrigerator door in a Hungarian friend’s home, food was scarce. Missing were the many seemingly essential components. Condiments that clutter my family’s fridge were unseen. It was without an individual salad dressing for each house member. It was without ketchup for my hotdog, mustard for my father’s burger, A1 steak sauce for my mother’s steak, and hot sauce for my sister’s french fries. Missing too were boxes of leftover dinners from restaurant outings alongside plastic containers from last night’s home-cooked meal. The shelves were not filled with jars of you-name-it with expiration dates years into the future.
Hungarian food is not packed with preservatives or chemicals to extend their shelf lives or plump them up. Hungarians rather make several trips to the market per week, buying only what they are sure they will cook within a day or two.
After that first trip I got better and better at deciphering what was good, what I could consume within a day or two, and names of certain products with the help of Hungarian friends. While proper grocery shopping etiquette made me less of an outsider in my new home, I was also taught an invaluable lesson in wastefulness. Due to the simplicity and resourcefulness of Hungarians I have gained a deeper understanding of the word necessity.
Comfortably home in my American apartment, I take a tour of my fridge. Empty space is visible on each shelf, and I know my lesson remains.
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