Complaints and pessimism

Complaints and pessimism? Definitely Hungarians

Ethnographic report by Pfeifenrót Fanni

Everybody has problems, ups and downs in their lives; this issue does not depend on the characteristic of one nation. However, approaching and solving the problems is a more important issue when examining a particular culture. How would an Englishman or a German approach a certain issue or solve a problem? They will probably think it over precisely and list the possible solutions without desperation. They may not complain; they may not behave in a pessimistic way; moreover, they may not fall into self-pity. This is unlike Hungarians, who immensely tend to be overwhelmingly pessimistic and complain a lot. Much more than necessary.

It is a common stereotype that also proves to be true that Hungarians tend to be not only pessimistic, but also depressed. These traits have embedded themselves into the Hungarian culture and history. It is enough to take into consideration the national anthem. We cannot find jovial or cheering phrases in it.  Nor can we detect celebrating or motivating lines in the text.  We are more likely to encounter depressive allusions to the past or gloomy expressions to praying to God to have mercy on them. In other words, Hungarians simply cannot escape from their roots: pessimism is encoded in them.

To start with an example, I am sure that everybody knows the situation when walking in the streets and suddenly bumping into an acquaintance. It is inevitable to ask “How are you?” or “How are you doing?” to show politeness and to exchange a few words. Yes, an Englishman will probably follow this way too: asking some polite questions, answering with a couple of words, and returning the question for the partner. “And what about you?”. That’s all, no more unnecessary dialogues. However, Hungarians do not know this kind of brief but sufficient conversation. They love talking about themselves, especially about their current problems presented in long and never-ending monologues. It is interesting to see that Hungarians mention bad news first followed by good things, if any even occur. I have noticed that complaints and negative experiences tend to be told sooner than positive ones. Nevertheless, it is globally true that people would like to consider good things as fundamental in their lives, thus they think of bad things first. But it is still a very Hungarian characteristic to complain a lot and start the conversation with complaints even when travelling on transportation vehicles talking through mobiles and letting all the other passengers know about their whole life.

I have observed another very interesting feature concerning Hungarian’s pessimism. It would seem to be obvious that people try to demonstrate their own competences and skills by claiming how many things they are able to accomplish and so on and so forth. However, it is completely different regarding Hungarians. On the contrary, they seem to compete against each other for winning the award of being “the worst” not “the better”. I have heard conversations in which things like these were said: “I think I will never achieve anything at my work place, I simply don’t have the capacity:” Immediately comes the response from the partner: “No, your situation is so much better than mine. I’m a newcomer, I don’t have as much experience as you have.” Maybe other nations also talk to each other like this with the intention to encourage each other, but for me it is very conspicuous among Hungarians. It is as if they are trying to validate their own pessimism.

In conclusion, complaining and a pessimistic attitude are very frequent Hungarian characteristics. Negative things enjoy precedence in a conversation, and fighting for “the worst” prize is a terribly important award in the competition of pessimism. Therefore, it is not surprising if stereotypes about Hungarian people sometimes prove to be true.

A View of Hungary's Linguistic Isolation - From an Outsider

A View of Hungary's Linguistic Isolation - From an Outsider

As an outsider, the Hungarian language is a considerable challenge to truly understand. Hungarians are rightly proud of their language, a nearly unique language preserved in a sea of Slavic and Germanic and Latin languages in Central Europe. Aside from distantly-related Estonian and Finnish, Hungarian is unique but alone - almost a metaphor for linguistic culture for this ancient nation.

As impenetrable Hungarian seems to be for the outsider, it is nevertheless an official language of the European Union. However, so are many others, especially the universally-used English. Some argue that to really understand Hungarian culture and the Hungarian soul one must know the language; however, for the growing number of foreigners calling Hungary home - especially under the European Union's freedom of movement principle - this impenetrability has created a myriad of problems.

Outside of frontline services, especially those related to tourism (hotels, restaurants, bars), there is a surprising lack of English spoken. The further away from tourism-centric places like Budapest also see less and less English, and general foreign language ability. Certainly the legacy of enforced Russian and German language education has dented Hungary's appetite for foreign language learning; however, in an interconnected EU and global economy, foreign languages - especially English - is a must.

Some argue that cultural pride, including linguistic pride, has made acquiring a foreign language less of a priority if it is not a complete necessity. However, in other small countries that have similar pride in their native languages, from Netherlands to Lithuania, also understand the need for foreign (especially English) language in order to fully participate in the international economy. In Hungary's case, it appears to be the opposite.

In Hungary's case, many individuals working in key sectors, such as medical and legal, seem to have extremely limited English language skills. Often when foreigners, including fellow EU citizens, fall ill, doctors cannot communicate with them, and medical treatment suffers. Other times, the inability for anyone in various government offices to communicate in English has led to legal problems, and has hindered business relationships and investment into Hungary's economy.

Even despite the large number of EU citizens coming into Hungary and Hungarians travelling throughout the EU and the world, there still appears to be a general reluctance to embrace more foreign language usage and teaching. In many northern European countries, the norm is to have foreign television and films retain their original language, with only subtitles present. This helps not just the flow of the program, but also lets the audience hear (and get used to) the sounds of the various foreign languages. In Hungary and many other countries with more challenges on learning foreign languages, you get Hollywod voices dubbed into the local language.

Certainly Hungarians should be proud of their linguistic uniqueness and should promote the learning of Hungarian by foreigners also. However, there is also a need to recognize that Hungary is in the European Union and participating in a global economy, and that entails the need to be more adept at foreign languages. Uniqueness is a wonderful thing, but it is also very lonely.

By Svitlana Serogina

Riding on trains with Hungarians

Everybody knows that we Hungarians are not a very nice lot. Nobody is as sure about that as we are. We are awful, unruly, unorganised. We are arrogant, irritable, nitpicky, and intolerant. It is as if we are somehow faulty by design. We are always negative beyond measure. Hell, even I am so negative that I only realized I could write this assignment about something positive after thinking about one negative trait after another for a good hour.

Being a commuter I generally spend about two hours on public transport every day, more than half of this time on a suburban commuter train between Budapest and Érd. For me, this is not only an opportunity to study, catch up on my reading, or listen to a new album, but also a way to get an impression about the people I ride the trains with, and thus to get in touch with the reality of living in Hungary, of being Hungarian.

The two types of trains used, the huge old all metal blue ones back from Communist times and the pretty new red ones bought a few years ago, greatly express the doubleness of this country. We are still stuck between the past and present, Communism and the freedom of Democracy which is still in its infancy, or I may as well say stuck between past and future.

One would expect, this essay being about public transport and Hungarians, that I am about to thrash people and MÁV endlessly. But that is not the case. Interestingly, my experiences are generally neutral to positive, only rarely with something negative in between.

Hungarians are a quite aloof, very personal people. We like to keep to ourselves and those we know. Before the train departs from the station, people take their seats. According to tradition, everybody sits as far away from each other as possible, one person to every four seats. If somebody breaks this pattern, people give them a funny look, but I have never heard a harsh word being exchanged about anything like that. We have our own little private thoughts, judgements of others on the train, but we are rarely outwardly rude.

During rush hour, people, although sometimes reluctantly and with a sour face, remove their bags so that everyone can have a seat. Nevertheless, despite keeping to ourselves, people on the train tend to treat each other with just the necessary amount of respect, something that may not be entirely typical elsewhere in Hungary. We politely ask permission to sit, and often bid goodbye to our seat neighbours before getting off. The ticket inspector is loud and polite, and almost everybody else goes the extra mile to be polite in return.

Even though I generally dislike stereotypes and aim to refrain from them as a rule, making generalisations about the train riding public is very easy. Little kids are loud and irritating. So are teenagers, especially in large packs. Working class middle-aged people getting on the train at the station by the factory are good-humoured, but smell awful. Roma families are very numerous and very loud. According to a malicious stereotype, you can always spot who got on at Ercsi or Iváncsa from their bad hygene and even worse manners. Of course, fairly well-to-do middle-aged people are the best train riding companions a girl could ask for, being as they are calm, quiet, and rarely smell bad. But then again, the rudest anyone ever was to me on a train was a seemingly well-situated and well-respected middle aged man, no doubt married with children at home.

The train riding public gives an interesting insight into the economic situation of Hungarians as well. In the last few years, the number of people using their own electronic devices during their train ride have largely increased. The sight of people using their laptops, charging their smartphones, or reading on their tablets or ebook readers have become just as common as in any developed Western country. However, the number of devices could probably still not be compared to, say the number of devices on a commuter train in the UK. On this front, as well as on many others, Hungary is desperately trying to keep up with the West. You see more and more iPhones and Kindles everywhere. However, Hungary is indeed in a very poor economic state, people’s wages are stagnant despite the high inflation, and it is definitely reflected in such seemingly banal things as the prevalence, brand, or quality of gadgets.

One thing I am personally quite proud of is the number of people reading on trains. It does not matter at what time of the day I am taking the train, I can always spot at least one or two people reading something, let it be a novel or a newspaper, which in my opinion is a good thing. And this is despite the fact that the line I am taking goes through some pretty rough towns and neighbourhoods as well, such as the aforementioned Ercsi or Iváncsa. This just goes to show that we Hungarians are quite literate people, a feature we should rightly take pride in.

It seems that taking a look at the train riding public in Hungary gives one a pretty good panoramic view of this country and its inhabitants, be it their economic situation, general manners, or level of education. Despite the widespread negative stereotypes about Hungarians I described in my slightly sarcastic first paragraph (propagated mostly by Hungarians themselves), I see my fellow Hungarians as aloof, overly opinionated, but generally polite and well-meaning people. However, one should always keep in mind that my few hundred words of blatant generalisations here entirely fall short of describing a whole nation of 10 million individuals.

My 10-minute ride through hell

Grannies Gone Wild,
Or the harsh reality of a morning trolley bus ride

It is 9:30 in the morning. The frustrated 9 am workers are now gone, and I am about to take an approximately 10-minute-long trolley bus ride to Astoria. The sun is shining, everything seems peaceful, but I cannot help but feel that something is wrong. This is only the calm before the storm, I can feel it in my bones. I have heard stories of vicious parents taking their children to school, but there is nothing that can be compared to the creatures that are just about to get on the trolley: old ladies.

They are dangerous enough travelling alone, but this is a pack. I can see the alpha in the chinchilla fur with dyed red hair. She is followed by another holding a cat carrier, and one with a huge bun towering on the top of her head. I better give my seat up and move slowly to the back of the trolley. These women are nuts: one careless move and I’ll be dead. My once safe double seat is now taken, and the mean chit-chat begins. Husbands who died under mysterious circumstances, beloved cats, reckless grandchildren, Colombian soap operas, anti-aging creams, and the best stew recipes are being discussed when a girl in distressed jeans hops on.

I can hear my own heart beat while I’m watching how the group of old ladies suddenly turns to the girl in disgust. I am anxious to see what is about to happen, but the grannies cannot accost the girl because a man asks them to move their bags so he can have room to get off. He just dug his own grave. The one with the red hair arises and lifts her enormous Gucci bag while “accidentally” stabbing the man in the liver with an umbrella. A painful cry and some mumbling are heard, and the man disappears.

The number of possible stabbing victims is increasing with each stop, and suddenly there are around 50 people on the trolley bus. There is hardly enough air for this many, and the amount of perfume the three old ladies poured on themselves this morning does not help at all. Everybody is quiet, only the meowing of Jávor Pál (named after one of the most popular Hungarian actors) and the occasional Viber notification sound breaks the silence. Mr. Jávor is a rather fat and lazy-looking cat with a little bell hanging on his sparkly collar. A fellow passenger and I just roll our eyes together when we hear the old lady talking about “Pali” as if he was a real person, when a young foreign couple gets on with a black Labrador Retriever named Robin. Now Pali puffs up his tail and starts thumping on the wall of the carrier so hard I think he is about to turn into a werewolf in there. Meanwhile, as if nothing had changed, Robin is enjoying the ride with his owners.

My focus is on the old lady’s face with the shaking cat carrier on her lap. She clenches her teeth, and her eyes are lightning while she collects her thoughts before opening her mouth to tell the foreign couple where to go. In a high-pitch voice, she also advises them to take “that damn dog” too. It is obvious she got upset that her precious Mr. Pál Jávor was disturbed during his morning outing. However, the couple does not understand a single word, since they do not speak Hungarian. Lucky them. They crack a joke then hop off with Robin. Apparently, not speaking Hungarian on the public transport is an advantage.

My 10-minute ride through hell is about to come to an end, and it is my turn to flee. I force my way through the mass of people to be able to hop off. I finally do, but before the door closes, I can hear one last scream: “You filthy hooligan! You stepped on my shoes!” I thank God I didn’t have to see what happened to the boy and consider coming on foot to university tomorrow.

Journey into Mystery: Pálinka Sunrise and Hungarian Grumpiness

Journey into Mystery: Pálinka Sunrise and Hungarian Grumpiness

By Adam Kling

            If there are truly typical features to be discovered in our culture, then without exaggeration, the best approach to gather detailed ethnographic data on Hungarians is to travel with them for longer distances. A nation’s behaviour during a longer journey or every day commuting can reveal many interesting facts about their cultural background and especially their attitude. Interestingly, it is crucial to our ethnographic research to distinguish Hungarian city-dwellers from those Hungarian people who were born and raised on the countryside.

            First of all, it is of great significance to state that city-dwellers of our country are in general the “grumpier” ones and tend to be more hostile. In my opinion, life in the city can turn even friendly villagers into impatient, grumpy and rude people. Looking at the daily commuter it is no wonder that everyone becomes ignorant or impolite towards the others. The crowd especially in the morning hours on the tram, metro or bus can easily make people uncomfortable and extremely nervous, and if we add Monday and the usual Hungarian pessimism to the mix, then we get a clear view on the grey weekdays a city-dweller has to suffer through.

However, the working class villagers are only a little different in this respect. According to my observations, the biggest distinction we can make is between the senior members of our society. Elderly city-dwellers are exceptionally rude while travelling; whether this happens on the tram or on one of the metro lines it does not really matter. The grumpiness is especially strong with them and they react in a remarkably strange manner towards politeness. They are offended if a seat is offered to them, but also if they cannot sit down for any reason. You are not really able to figure out what is best for them and of course this leads to becoming rude and impolite just like them.

Therefore, it is rather easier to be a Hungarian in the countryside or even in the suburbs. It seems as if life was more relaxed, mostly because while you are travelling you encounter less of the impoliteness and pessimism. I believe train journeys are best for ethnographers who want to take notes on both city-dwellers and people from other parts of the country. It is an interesting gathering of various Hungarian communities. If everything goes as planned, meaning that there are no delays, then a journey like this can serve as a brilliant opportunity for research.

Undoubtedly, the most amusing and compelling people one can encounter while travelling by train in this country are the workers of the Hungarian train company known as MÁV. Every time I go home I witness the wit and creativity of this part of the working class. While sitting in the last wagon I always witness how the workers of the company spend their free time before they finally leave the train after a long shift. Card games where all of them offer a small amount of money to play with are a must. Their most common topics always revolve around problems with the “unfair” MÁV, family affairs, and most importantly alcohol, preferably (making and especially consuming) pálinka. Those conversations are rich in all kinds of data, whether you want to know more information about changes in travelling by train or the making of fine wine or the Hungarian trademark pálinka.

            Finally, one might ask: what kind of conclusion can be drawn from this ethnographic tale? The answer is: you can only understand what it means to be a Hungarian if you travel to the countryside, most preferably by train, and see for yourself.

DOORS THAT OPEN IN HUNGARY

«Where will you go? Oh, Budapest? I loved it, it's amazing! I remember when I was there...». Exactly in this moment of the conversation, this person -and it's not important who it is, because it's everybody- starts to explain all their memories from this city, saying things like: “you should go to the the baths... the beer is so cheap, you will get fatter... Budapest is the Paris from East!... if you haven't a good coat there, brrr!... Hungarian people are distant, but boys are good-looking, specially if they are violinists... you'll see, the language is much too difficult!”. Well, I put all these feelings and pictures in my suitcase, as if they were mine, even if I tried to not be influenced. Now I'm here, finally. And the beer is cheap, but the weather is not so cold, and the only violinist that I met wasn't Hungarian.

When I was in the metro, going from the airport to the center, an old man wanted to help me. I didn't need help, but that was not important for him because he had already decided that he will help me, so he read to me all the metro stations, written above the door. I said thank you very much, but he was not satisfied at all; he still wanted to help me. So I asked him how to say some survival words in Hungarian, and he wrote it on my plane ticket, “Szia, köszönöm, igen, nem, bocsánat...”. He wanted me to repeat them to him, so I became a show in this metro, trying to pronounce strange words for me, and people were laughing, even if they thought that they had concealed it very well.

So in my first hour in Hungary, I understood two things: that this language is really difficult, and that people from here are not so distant as they can seem at the first moment. This old man opened his cultural door for me, and it was a wonderful experience.

After this one, a lot of doors were opened: the people who hosted me the first week opened their flat and their lives to me, and quickly I found a room to rent and my flatmate was also opened to my company; in a few days I discovered a lot of bars and locals with live music, and also the main library where you can imagine Sisi entering any time. And always, doors are opened by Hungarian people, who say to me “let's go, come in”, and I have to pass before them, because if I don't pass before we are like stupid people waiting at the door, giving way to each other like in a film of Buñuel. I remember one day, a friend of mine was telling me a story about a boy, and she said: “at first he seemed nice. He always opened the doors for me and let me go first, he seemed a good person”. I would never think that it's a reason to think someone is a good person, in fact I've never thought about it before being here. So I guess that giving way to people, specially if you are male, is important here, really more than in my country, where we lost this kind of politesse.

And not only this surprised me in Budapest. It's known that comparing can be not so good, but everybody do it constantly. We have some ideas which are so normal for us that we can't imagine that it's not obvious for another person, so when it happens, we compare. Let me explain...

I come from a place where there is a not common language. When foreigners say hello or goodbye in Catalan we are happy and grateful. I thought it was going to be the same here, I imagined that people would be happy when I tried to speak Hungarian when making a purchase, not because it is a small language, but because it is a difficult language that not many foreigners try to speak it. In a country where people open the doors for me, the minimum is to thank them in their language. So I always try; for the first few days I always had with me my plane ticket with this first lesson written on it, and a few days later without it, until today. But here it is different from home: when I say something in Hungarian, people do not care. And if I tell them that I have a Hungarian course in the university, they even laugh! Or maybe I can say that, contradicting this distant behavior that they have as a stereotype, at least they laugh! However, I wasn't surprised the first day of my Hungarian course: I was late, running through the university, and a smiling hungarian boy opened the door of the building and waited for me to enter.

by Núria Curcoll

(NOT THAT) LOST IN TRANSLATION

When I arrived in Budapest, I knew very little about the city or about the Magyar people; everything was new, everything was there to discover. I have lived my whole life in Paris or its suburbs, so it was my only reference for comparison. I find this important to be precise about where I come from, because my culture has some influence upon how I perceived the Magyar people in Budapest. Again, I would like to point out that my notes are to be read while always keeping in mind that Budapest is the frame for my observations. I realize that all of them might not be true outside this frame. Now that I have established these few parameters, let's dive into the thoughts of a young student arriving for the first time of her life in Budapest, Hungary.

It's September, the weather is still warm, I have bare arms and the Duna looks silver with all these rays of sun melting upon it. I am having a walk in the Pest side, my new home, I am free to go wherever I want; the public transport can carry me quickly and effortlessly. The only problem is that I have no money and here controllers tickets are always on the lookout: impossible for me to cheat, like so many people do in the Parisian subways. I could simply go to an OTP bank, their green front scatter the boulevards, the “korut”, but I am still confused with the Hungarian currency, the forint. Even though Hungary is part of the European Union, the euro is not used here.

I choose to follow the path of tram 4 and 6, the line around the city centre that joins Buda and Pest. I am now in the heart of the city. While I'm admiring the Art Nouveau buildings, so characteristic of the city, my phone starts ringing. It's my mother calling me to make sure everything is okay, and just as I am about to reassure her, an ambulance passes by me its siren howling, covering every other sound. I am used to the roaring of capital cities, but here the ambulances are particularly loud.

My conversation interrupted, I realize that I am hungry. I ate not that long ago, but the more I see people eating slices of pizza the more hungry I become. I could easily buy one for myself; pizza slices are sold everywhere for less than one euro, most of the time in shops open twenty-four-hours a day . That probably explains why even in the morning, Budapest inhabitants are eating them. The access to cheap healthy food appears indeed complicated. In every corner, a fast- food restaurant seems to pop out and most of them also offer non-stop service. Budapest is a night-life city, and you can find at any hour food, alcohol and cigarettes.

Talking about cigarettes, this reminds me that I have to buy some. One thing that really reminds me of Paris are all the smokers standing in front of the bars and restaurants. Even if I am under the impression that a large part of the population smokes, smoking is banned in all public spaces. However, unlike Paris, Budapest provides garbage cans with ashtrays, it is by the way on clean streets that I am walking right now and it is so nice to be in a relatively clean city for once.

Now that I have buy and smoked my cigarette, as usual I am thinking about what my grand-mother always says when she sees me smoking: “You need to quit before your teeth start turning yellow !”. But as I look around me, I notice that a sign keeps showing up. The sign of a tooth. Dentists seem to be a common profession for Magyar people. Apparently, “dental tourism” is very developed in Hungary. My grand-mother can be reassured, I am in the right place if I ever want to have my teeth whitened.

But I am too distracted with my own thoughts. I need to focus. In Budapest a slight moment of inattention and you could end up run over by a tram, a bus or a trolley. Drivers are also ruthless, they drive fast and it is a big mistake to think they are going to slow down for pedestrians. And why should they not drive fast ? Pest is crossed by wide streets and avenues (the most famous being Andrassy ùt, a World Heritage Site) turning the city into a playground for drivers. I wonder if it is why pedestrians behave so well ? I am always amazed by those people patiently waiting for the traffic light to turn red, even when no cars are in sight ! Parisians are not that careful, and I need to control my urges to cross even when it's not my turn.

So here I am. Waiting calmly and serenely for the pedestrian sign to turn green. And with these few minutes of wait, I can properly observe the people on the other side of the zebra crossing. Especially this couple, showing their affection for each other in a very... effusive way. It seems that kissing and hugging in public is not a problem at all for Hungarian couples. But if straight couples do not hesitate to show their love, it does not look like it is the same for same-sex couples. Unfortunately, since I am here, I have not feel a gay-friendly vibe from Budapest. As far as I know, there is no neighbourhood known for its openness towards the gay community, as there are in other big cities. But I have to leave there my thoughts: it is finally time to cross and people are rushing.

I am getting tired of walking and suddenly decide to hop on a tram. It is a rush hour and I am preparing myself for the “let-me-go-in-first” battle. But at my bewilderment it does not happen. Here you actually wait for people to get off the tram before going in. It is the same with doors, a Magyar citizen will always hold it for you. But no matter how polite they are, once inside the tram it is the same dull and sticky atmosphere, common of every public transport. I am reassured, once in a train, Parisians are not the only one turning into grumpy and irritable beings.

Crushed by the crowd, I decide to go on a quest for a free seat. I spot one on my right and dash for it. But soon, I figure out why this seat was left free. Across from me, a homeless man is sleeping on his seat and, as usual in these cases, people try to avoid him. Seeing him reminds me that I have already saw a lot of homeless people in the streets. Sadly that is one of the “Budapestian” aspects similar to Paris.

A bit downcast by these signs of obvious poverty in a fully developed area like Europe, I finally put an end to my wander and decide to go back home. I soon realize that I took the tram in the wrong direction and that I am now completely lost ! I guess that seeing the panic on my face, a woman in her forties comes to me, and asks in English if I need any help. We begin to have a chat; and she seems very interested to know where I come from, why am I here and why did I choose Budapest as an Erasmus destination. And she's not the first one to ask me these kind of questions, Hungarians are -most of the time- really curious towards foreigners. They are mostly interested in the reasons that made me came here, as if they did not truly understand why someone would deliberately move in Hungary.

Thanks to this nice lady I know my way back; and as I am walking along Margrit hid, the sky turns suddenly pink and the silhouette of the Castle gets darker. The view is amazing and for a moment I just get carry away by it and forget everything. It may not be Paris, but it is where I want to be.

Since this day of September, I had the chance to get to know Budapest better, as well as other cities of Hungary. I know its flaws but also its (many) qualities. And if the Hungarians that I have met still appear a bit puzzled by my choice of moving here, I am certainly glad that I did. If Budapest still carries a lot of resemblances with other Europeans capital cities, the Magyar culture brings its unique touch. And if it is obvious that Hungary is struggling with political issues right now, I am very curious to see what will become of it in the future.  

Hungarian Society on the Train

Hungarian Society on the Train

It is easy to realise that the society on the train gives a reliable picture of the whole Hungarian society, due to the fact that people from different social statuses travel to work or to school by train. The fact is that many choose this means of transport because of the huge difference between petrol and ticket prices. This immediately makes some sense of Hungarianness obvious: saving money whenever and wherever is possible. This time, however, I would like to shed light on the differences and similarities of Hungarian society through examining the behaviour of people on the train.

First of all, it is important to make a difference between people in order to create a complex image of the whole. There are several aspects based on which distinctions can be made, such as age, gender, wealth, or religion. Furthermore, it is possible to combine these aspects in a way: now I am going to explain my observations based on occupation and gender. In the first place, students will go be considered. The following group will be workers (any workers), but it is important to handle them differently based on their gender. Last but not least, I will present the behaviour of pensioners.

The members of the first group, students, can be divided into two sub-groups: high school and university students. High school students are more crucial in a sense. In general, they are loud but it is not problematic until their fellow-travellers get a detailed and long description about love affairs or the drunkenness at Friday-night parties. To tell the truth, nobody cares what happened to them in those bashes. Moreover, it is really annoying when you are trying to relax in the morning while travelling but these highly philosophical conversations do not let you. As for the other group, the university students, they rather stay invisible while reading or studying on the train, as well. It is really easy to recognize them from their using laptops and messing with tons of papers.

In the second place the labourers ought to be mentioned, distinguished by gender. Interestingly, male workers do not care about what part of the day it is, they are happy if they can drink a can of beer while discussing the problems of the government with their colleagues. Hungarians, in my opinion try to make the best of the opportunities given to give utterance to their grievances, “caused” by politicians or other leaders. If you travel in the same carriage with these people, your mind can be opened and you may also take a liking for eating “szotyi” (sunflower seed) with them. Women, usually being tired and carrying a minimum of three bags, travel to or from work singly. If not alone, they are chatting with friends trying to solve the big problems of life (man issues, children, housework), though bereft of all hope. Despondency as a determinant force is reflected on their faces and in the conversations, which is the morale of Hungarian people, as well. However, I do not like generalising, but this feeling is widespread in our nation.

Finally, there are the pensioners who in a great number grab the opportunity of travelling by train. It is interesting to see that they are never ever alone because the journey would be so boring for them in that way. Pensioners who seat themselves in a carriage in small groups never suffer from a lack of topics. Naturally, they discuss their health issues in public without any embarrassment. It seems like they are proud of these problems and not afraid of giving voice to it. If they are not complaining about “the youth of these days”, filling in crosswords and reading some romantic books is satisfactory for them.

As we have seen, there is always somebody who expresses a kind of discontentment in public, blaming others, like a “real” Hungarian has to do. In my opinion, the common feature of these people is this: the constant searching for issues that can be criticised, and of course, the idea of “I know it better than anybody else”. People are not shy to open themselves before strangers, or they just think that nobody hears them on the train. But they are wrong…