Study Leave and Other Lies

Have any of you seen that episode of Skins in which the college director abolishes study leave and forces all Year 13 students to revise "on the premises, 9 'till 4:30, no excuses, no exceptions". Well, that might be the kind of intervention I need now.

I'm not even kidding. The one month between the written and speaking exams - a.k.a. study leave - is intended to, you know, give us time to study, but for the exception of the first day - which I spent writing things to post on here - I have done absolutely nothing productive. Seriously, I've thought about everything I've done these past weeks, and this is all I could come up with:

1. I re-watched the entire first generation of Skins. Twice
2. I started watching the third generation of Skins, because why not give it a chance? But mostly because of Alex Arnold.
3. I obsessed over Alex Arnold. 
4. I went to an indie-music themed party, almost froze to death on the street as it started two hours late, and ended the night in a way that can be best described by Katy Perry's first hit single. 
5. I attempted to sort out the mess that USC created by failing to put my scholarship on my visa application form, but that issue is still very much ongoing. And it's causing me sleepless nights.
6. Tumblr.
7. This blog.

Yep. That's it really. I might have briefly gathered my thoughts on The Odyssey and the electoral system of Hungary, but it clearly hasn't been enough. My speaking exams start on the 16th, and I don't know a thing. And neither does anyone else in my class, apparently, because everyone else I've spoken to has been going to the beach, partying 24/7, feeding kittens and doing pretty much anything else to procrastinate. And that gets me wondering whether study leave is even worth it?

Because study leave is a lie. It gives you a false sense of comfort. It implies that you'll get to relax a little before the rest of your exams. It implies that you'll have plenty of time to study and catch up with what you failed to learn before. You put all your hopes in study leave, but then it lets you down by ending so quickly, and it is on your last night of your pseudo-freedom that you realize how little you've actually done...

And I'm not saying I don't study before exams, because I do. A lot. I pull all-nighters and drink five coffees a day and don't let myself get distracted, and guess what? It works. But then once I'm done, I enter a kind of state in which I am too tired to do anything and simply lie on my bed for days on end thinking about completely pointless things. And that's OK, because after an incredibly stressful period, it is alright to be really tired and exhausted. It's a normal post-exam state.

With exams coming in two waves, however, I'm an a post-exam state in a pseudo-post-exam period, as although I'm done with one half of the exams, I still have the second half left. And I should study, but I can't, because this is not what I'm used to. And I should return to the material that I've been cramming for weeks but what I've already forgotten, and learn it all again. And I wonder why this couldn't all be done in one go. Because then I wouldn't feel so guilty about procrastinating while writing posts such as this one right now...

So I Graduated!

There were so many great pictures of me, that I decided to choose the worst.

You guys...

on April 30, 2015, I actually GRADUATED HIGH SCHOOL! I mean, technically, I still had all my finals left, but that's just a minor and insignificant detail, because what even depends on those? I mean, apart from our future...

Graduation invites

So graduation in Hungary is a little different from graduation everywhere else in the world, and by that, I don't just mean the absence of caps & gowns. Want to know how it all went down? Continue reading, guys!

Exhausted juniors get up at five in the morning to arrive at school before we do, and decorate the building with flowers they secretly chopped off their neighbors' well-kept lilac bushes or even potentially off their own very lilac bushes, as lilacs are the flowers traditionally used for graduation. This is not too much of a fun activity, believe me. Last year, we forgot to bring scissors and therefore were cutting flowers with a razor blade. By the end we were so exhausted, that we were just tackily sticking flower stems on the walls with Sellotape. Yep. This year, based on what I saw, something similar must have happened, but I didn't really care because the amazing scent of flowers and the general look of the school left me quite touched.

My class and our beautifully decorated classroom.

So many flowers. And you guys, those bows actually had our names on them!

Us seniors only had to arrive at half past nine, as we had one last class with our tutor in our actually beautifully decorated classroom. She adorably started crying midst her speech (!!), which also made me cry of course, so there went all my make-up. She also gave each of us a little goodbye present, we took a couple of group photos, and after that our parents arrived to give us our flowers. It was also then that we received our "tarisznya-s", which are little fabric bags with our year of graduation on it. Traditionally, tarisznya-s contain a biscuit, a small bag of salt, a coin ( a 2 Ft coin in our case, which is not even used anymore) and a card with the name of every graduating senior on it.

Erm...this is the card. I guess you can imagine what biscuits and salt look like. The 2 Ft coin? It looks like this.

My class, 13. C <3

Oh, and our top secret tableau - the one I needed my senior portrait for - was also displayed in our classroom. And if you didn't know already, it's based off "Lunch atop a Skyscraper", and it was my idea, because who else is obsessed with New York and old photography? And if you didn't know what tableaux (tableaus? It's French...) are for, well they're hung up in the halls once a class has graduated.

Here it is! Our tableau!
(Though in the end they decided to choose the B&W version, because certain people believe they look better on that one. Delusional.)

Aaaand...you can also see my disastrous senior portrait finally. Sorry about the reflections, I don't have a digital copy yet.

Once all the parents were herded out of the building kindly asked to leave, we started the part of graduation, from which the whole thing actually got its name (graduation in Hungarian is "ballagás", literally translated to "ambling"): strolling through the school. With our bouquets in our left hands, and our right hands on the shoulder of the person in front of us, we started walking down the halls. I guess we were also supposed to sing graduation songs, but a CD took care of that. As we made our way out into the schoolyard, we went into a couple of classrooms, the cafeteria (where we got free pizza sticks!!!) and the gym (where we had to walk down the balance beam).

Leaving our classroom

Slowly walking down the hall, faster than a cannonball...

The gym.

More walking.

And even more walking.

Finally leaving the school building.

After taking our seats in the schoolyard, the ceremony begun. Erm...I'll admit I didn't really pay attention, but there was some off-key singing done by the choir, someone read a poem, and about half of the graduating seniors got books for one reason or another, with me being one of them as I got the BEST AWARD OF ALL AWARDS. You guys, for the second time in a row, I got the Student of the Year award, which is, like, better than being valedictorian. It basically makes you the coolest person in the school, because it's a school-wide award (so I'm not just the best out of graduating seniors). I already got this award last year and I didn't know I could get it twice, but that just makes it even cooler. I mean...people didn't really care that much, the guy who got a book for playing guitar in the school band got louder applause (probably because I was screaming his name, though...) but I don't care. It also means that my good friend and greatest enemy Adam can only be the second in the competition. Ha! Because it was always the two of us competing against each other. But now it's over. I won! Ha!

Also NOTE: never take me 100% seriously guys, I'm not trying to show off, and if you knew me as well as I know my self, you'd also know that I really didn't deserve this award. And that Adam would have. (BTW, my prize was a certificate and book on art in the middle ages. Last year it was a book on art in Tuscany. I see a pattern.)

The flagpole, on which the graduating classes tie a ribbon. Ours was not too pretty. It was made in the cemetery, out of ribbon usually meant for wreaths. Just FYI.

Getting my award.

Showing off my superior intelligence

The other super cool thing that happened was that I gave a speech! Again! Except that unlike last time, I didn't mess it up! And people actually loved it! Even though I wrote it the night before! Yep. And even though I mentioned the fact that back in junior year, we tried to determine how strictly our German teacher would be grading us that day by what color shirt she was wearing! And our German teacher also happens to be our vice-principal! And she didn't even disapprove!

The only negative happening was that my balloon burst while cheering for my friend Erik, so I couldn't let it go...and I know that I saved some poor birds with that, but it still broke my heart a tiny bit because...because what if that's the universe trying to communicate something?? What is the world is telling me not to soar? Not to fly away to America? Not to inadvertently poison pigeons?

Let it gooooo, let it goooooooooo

Off they go! (except mine)

In all seriousness, though, my graduation from high school was a bittersweet, once-in-a-lifetime, heartbreaking but amazing day in my life, and I am so thankful for everyone who came & supported me and brought me flowers, and I'm even more thankful for my entire class and all my teachers for these awesome five years. I couldn't have been more wrong back in 2010, when I thought I would hate this place. I loved it, and I always will.

More pictures:

ME (and a concerned Petra behind me)

More me, because good hair day, that's why

Adam there behind me isn't too pleased

And even more me.

Me and my sister and my cousin who's also my sister.

Mommy & Daddy :)

Math class gang. We are badass.

There we sat in the sun.

Photo credit: Mom, Dad, Luca & Luca's mom. Thank you!

Pre-Graduation Madness

Warning! Certain people could potentially find this post offensive, so if you think you're one of those people who are easily offended, leave NOW. If you have experienced high school life in all its glory, feel free to continue. I promise you, it's not worse than BuzzFeed posts.

There are three traditions high school students in Hungary have pre-graduation.

1) Serenade - During this one, we visit our teachers homes and sing songs for them in front of their houses until they have enough and kindly ask us to stop, or else the neighbors will call the police. Or something like that...

Our wonderful class decided to serenade four teachers, with varying levels of success.

CASE A: Our Biology teacher. Some of my highly intelligent classmates decided to go drinking right before the serenade and as a result, by the time we got to her house, they were howling like hungry hounds at the moon, and our poor teacher hated it so much that she stopped us mid-song. This was the very same teacher who kindly asked us not to go there drunk, because her previous class threw up all over her dog and she had to pull out sleeping individuals from her doghouse at 5 a.m.. Yes, and despite that, the majority of my class decided to largely ignore her request and pee all over the streets prior to arriving, then pee all over her bathroom whilst taking selfies in the bathtub, and leave only after being kicked out by our poor Biology teacher. Because y'now, this is totally not disrespectful. I don't even know why I'm even putting this on the Internet. Our teacher even decorated the entire garden with candles (which was SO beautiful) and baked for us, and in the end...ugh. Needless to say, I didn't stay for too long. Two of my friends and I were the earliest ones to leave, and it was a shame, because I really like my biology teacher...

CASE B: Our History teacher. This was our second and final day of serenades and we had school the next day, so it was more tame. We walked up to her house, sang three songs, were invited in, had a sandwich and a cookie, played with her dog, and left. It started getting a little chilly outside, though, and we had two more places to go, and then it started raining and I was wearing nothing but a leather jacket, so the night started going a little downhill...

CASE C: Our Math teacher/tutor. Our tutor lives 10 minutes from me, so I asked my mom to bring me a sweater. And another sweater. And my ski jacket, as it was getting colder every minute. And I'm so glad she did, because when we got to her house at around 8, my ears were starting to freeze off. I put on a sweater AND my ski jacket, and gave my other sweater to my friend, who was already wearing two sweaters and a jacket. We serenaded our tutor and had cake and sausages, which was all great and everything, but we were sitting in her garden and did I already mention how cold it was??? Our tutor kept bringing us blankets and pillows as we huddled together in little groups around candles, trying to warm our hands. This is when the idea of carrying around a space blanket in my bag occurred to me. We were still sitting in the garden at around 10 p.m., about to fall asleep, when we decided to leave for the next serenade. The joys of life!

That's me on the far left. Yes, I really was wearing my ski jacket.

CASE D: Our German teacher. After getting off the bus and walking a the length of a Marathon, we arrived at her house and started singing. At 11 p.m.. The neighbors must have loved us. I already felt really bad about arriving so late, but when we went inside (because yes, she actually allowed us to go in), oh my goodness...it was like a fricking wedding reception! So. Much. Food. I repeat, FOOD! I mean, she had sculptures carved out of fruits, and five different types of cookies, and meatballs and I bet she even gave my class a five tier wedding cake after I left, because I left pretty early once again. And she gave each of us little German storybooks! I just wish we had gone there first...

2) "Thank You" Reception - This was just a little reception we held for our teachers to say thank you for everything. We gave them all food and gifts (mostly gift cards, because we're not very creative), sang a song and that was it.

Singin' in our classroom...

My wonderful class & tutor & assistant tutor.

3) Crazy graduation (this is the best translation I could come up with) - During crazy graduation, graduating students dress up and walk into classes yelling and laughing, and sometimes even destroy school property. I suggested we dress up in beach clothing, and throw around beach balls, mainly because summer never seemed to arrive in this country, but also because it's simple and fun. But no, our class decided to dress as bookworms. Like, actually. I don't know how anyone can actually dress up as a bookworm, but their idea was to basically dress as stereotypical nerds. We were told to wear knee socks and polka dot shirts and high waist skirts, which is, well, pretty much what I wear all the time, so I did feel a little offended that my everyday attire would be used for something called "crazy graduation". But who am I to complain?
Our plan was apparently to go into class and give everyone candy, while one of my classmates starts reading something out loud from one of their textbooks (but in German class all my classmate said was "Mein Kampf"), or parodies the teacher's teaching style, until he is interrupted by another one of my classmates, who hands him a Sexology textbook and asks him to teach from that. From there, it went as follows:
"You know kids, there are the bees, and there are the flowers. Bees pollinate flowers. Sometimes, a bee pollinates multiple flowers. This is called prostitution. Prostitution is wrong. Sometimes, flowers grow on street corners..."
...and you can all guess how offensive it got from there on. Oh dear. The worst part is, he was reading this to 14-year-olds, and we were the only ones laughing...But hey, at least we didn't opt for blackface, or dressing as runaway lunatics, like the other senior classes.

Minus the stupid, fake plastic glasses, the mismatched shoes and the pigtails, I literally wore that outfit the previous week. (I'm the one with the heart print shirt, if you couldn't tell).

Yeah, so that's it basically. The beautiful pre-graduation traditions of Hungary, completely desecrated by today's society. I hope you aren't too shaken by this post. If you are, I'm sorry. I wrote it because I wanted to remember all these things.

Photo credit: Luca, the photographer of our class.

Ski Camp Vol. 2

Sooo...why am I posting this in May, four months after ski camp?

Welp, believe it or not, it was only now that I could get hold of the photos!

Without further ado, though, here's a condensed version of what happened during those few disastrous January days.

After being put in the same group as last year - the total beginners - I was both alarmed and strangely confident. "I can do this", I thought. I already have those four crucial days of experience which will make so much of a difference. By the end of the week, I'll be exquisitely gliding down the black slope.

WRONG.

While I did have two days of victory, the rest were nothing more than - in the words of Churchill - blood, toil, tears and sweat. The beginners overtook me, a guy frontally crashed into me, my ski poles went up in the air and my skis fell off, and later that day I also fell out of the chairlift, dragging my PE teacher with me. Oh, and the next day there was a snowstorm, I was left behind on my own right on the top of the mountain, the ski lifts stopped working and the best idea I had was to simply lie down in the snow and wait for the ambulance to rescue me, as they were the only ones left up there. It was only once I got to a cliff that I spotted my Physics teacher waiting for me, who then subsequently started yelling at me to get my sh*t together. Gee, thanks. By the time we got to the bottom, nobody else was on the mountain.

Yeah, I don't think I'm going skiing again. Ever.

Here are some photos to help you visualize my struggle:

That is me in the neon yellow pants. I spent all my $$$ on ski attire, because I thought I'd need it in the future. Naive...

And here are some photos to prove that I did have one or two bright moments:

After I couldn't get up, the girls decided to lower themselves to my level...

YAY SKI CAMP! SO MUCH FUN!

View from our hotel.

SO MUCH LUV

FUN FUN FUN

Leaving the mountain for good.

Photo credit: Dalma and Liza <3 Thanks girls for putting up with my hopelessness and complaints and uncontrollable tears, that I did a very bad job hiding.