Már gondolom sokan azt gondolták, örökre így marad a blog angolnak. A statisztikákat nem nézegettem mostanság, de a kommentek megcsappantak. Ahhoz képest, hogy állandóan szidom a japánokat, mi sem állunk túl rózsásan a nyelvtudással itthon azért.
Akkor lepődtem meg, amikor megtudtam, a manapság divatos MMORPG-k magyar játékosbázisa is a legtöbbször nem vagy alig beszél angolul. Ami még talán hagyján egy egyjátékos helyzetben, nade egy virtuális közösség tagjának lenni gyakorlatilag kommunikációra képtelenül abszurdan hangzik. Arról nem beszélve, hogy - legalábbis az én szememben - épp a játék esszenciájától fosztja meg magát az, aki nem vagy csak alig érti mi zajlik körülötte.
A bloggal is ez a baj. Ha magyar, az rettentő kényelmes lehet, viszont a világ többi része ezzel kirekesztődik. És az angol, mint be nem vallott lingua franca, egy hihetetlenül széles közönségnek nyitná meg a sesamhut.
One thing I couldn't have complained about lately is the lack of events to write a post on. Not in a positive way, however. When the ominous 'siege of MTV' was happening I was actually in Budapest to meet up with old friends and acquaintances. In the last few days it diminished to a cliché to express one's shock. Nevertheless, the people of Hungary were quite taken aback watching the scenes from in front of the MTV building.
Strangely I was told by a particular person that the only good thing about it all is that we got into international media and it might open people's eyes to the other serious problems Hungary has to face. Well, the last time Hungary made it to front pages worldwide was the disqualification of Adrian Annus at the 2004 Olympics based on failed drug tests. (This was particularly big news in Japan since it meant that their athlete, originally coming in second, got to win the gold medal eventually.) Is this really the kind of publicity we'd want for ourselves?
I think otherwise: it's extremely easy to ruin a country's reputation and we managed spectacularly. Indeed every wonder lasts three days, but also it takes no more than a vague picture of burning expensive cars in the mind of a conference organiser to choose Czech or Slovenia instead. We live in a highly competitive world and we shouldn't, we cannot let fiascos like this happen.
And apparently we have the national trait to bring our problems out to the public, where they clearly don't belong. How embarrassing it must have been to the EP politicians to debate about whether our not our PM is a liar, if the cabinet should stay or not. Could demonstrators act any more provincial than asking for the EU's help? In, like, what exactly?
Not to mention the whole demonstration now seems like a huge cabaret with people clearly having no idea what they are talking about. It's downright sad to read the signs they carry. Based on what ludicrousness can someone ask for the freedom of press in today's Hungary for example? I simply cannot comprehend why protesters think they are in fact leading a revolution. In whose absurd dream can any of this even remotely be like 1956?
It started with the cockade. The rosette of national colours has always been used to represent the 1848-49 Hungarian revolution. It had been so until supporters of the extreme right-wing parties followed by most of the conservatives started to wear it basically any time, anywhere. Now the mob attacking a public building relates itself to heroes of our past. The much criticised Americans put their flag in front of their homes, while we have the tricolour in the hands of vandalistic criminals.
During a short visit to the capital on Wednesday I saw that the beggars adopted a new strategy as well: they all seemed to have the red-white-green on them somewhere: carried a flag, wore a cockade or a bracelet. No doubt making a play for the sympathy of the protesters.
Everyone knows the game when you are being told a word and have to answer with the first thing that comes to your mind. The Oxford American Dictionary (built in OS X, no less) has the following example sentence for 'protest': the Hungarian team lodged an official protest.
It's been... interesting around here lately, and I wasn't too eager to post as you can see. Not to mention the fact that people were - likely - reading an entirely different blog last week. Which is not really an excuse though. Moreover, if our PM has the time to write than I definitely should too.
Instead I was sitting on a tattered camping bed probably older than I am in our garden reading The Devil Wears Prada. Mostly girl stuff again. I like it nevertheless, weird as I am.
Mostly I'm too tired to work on posts. Without trying to appear big-headed... well, quite hard to explain: when I write about something I strive for excellence. Please, disregard the results for a second. I may or may not achieve anything beyond ordinary / terrible / utterly boring. However there is an idea I always have about each and every post, how it should sound, what it should convey. And to make it so I look up words, read source materials, find webpages, and so on. And it all takes time, determination and motivation which I sometimes don't have after a long day. There are times when I can catch up though and I carefully register all want-to-post moments and events in order to make them real one day.
I've been neglecting the blog again for the better part of last week. Didn't really feel like posting, and also not much happened worth mentioning. Sometimes I really wonder how I managed to fill my posts before the scholarship - I am doing pretty much what everyone else does. Although even in Japan I guess the only couriosity is the fact that I'm there, and that can get boring quite fast too.
My excuse for the English this time is the lack of long "i" on the Japanese Mac keyboard. I just can't type it, even after trying all the possible combos and shortcuts. Eventually I will get back to Hungarian - that's the plan at least. When I can't tell. I received no hate mail or whinging comments up until now for this semi-permanent switch though.
Back to my civilisation where wireless Internet costs 5 GBP per hour. T Mobile FTL. Still Heathrow is a good old friend, especially since I almost died of boredom here on the way home last Christmas. Security is quite tight, literally: they frisk everyone at the checkpoint. Also passengers are asked to remove shoes and belts. Luckily no urine sample or blood test... yet.
Sidenote: OK, it's expensive but this wifi is faster than most of wired the accesses we have in Hungary.
(I know this post shouldn't be on the fifth, but it's already 2.00am in Japan and the blog is set to JST.)
Arriving at Narita I had to face the challenge of checking-in once more due to the wondrous techology they call e-ticket. Apparently JAL cannot process check-ins for BA, which is just one of the reasons I came to dislike Japan's national carrier. Apart from lacking in the technical field they also let us pretty much starve on the plane to Tokyo. OK, the flight is quite short, about an hour, but not a morsel of anything edible still qualifies as appalling in my humble opinion. The Vienna - Budapest distance took about fifteen minutes at best but we still received a bar of chocolate.
In Narita I was greeted by a mile-long check-in queue. Big ups for international terrorism for making the lives of passengers miserable. I was about to rant quite long about the inconveniences of queueing but I had to admit I ended up being fairly lucky. After the business/first/royal/etc class people got their luggage checked I was in the first twenty plebs to pass the scrutiny. Hand luggage scan followed as usual and - weird it may sound - immigration. Is there actually any other country that requires going through immigration when leaving the place?
As for the Internet access, it's not free. But I thought five hundred yen is not that bad a price. I actually got a day's worth of Internet for that - too bad boarding starts in a couple of minutes. But it's good news indeed for the time when I'd eventually return since I am bound to spend seven terrible hours in this lounge then.
I do hope they give us FOOD right after boarding... the tax-free Dotour sandwich was quite small.
Writing this at Itami Airport where apparently there's no wireless access. I only found a restricted network, presumably reserved for the upper-class travelers. However there're plenty of power outlets to choose from, so I can keep my batteries untouched - otherwise I wouldn't bother writing an entry I can only hope for to post.
I took the bus to Osaka, which turned out to be the ever-famous Vegetable Express. The bus features images of various cartooned vegetables much like an evergreen homage to the Philosophy of Cute.
At the check-in I encountered a Spanish group of people who decided to transfer their whole household back home. Nothing else could possibly be an explanation for the tens of huge suitcases that blocked the check-in windows for a good quarter of an hour. The fact that one of the counters was mercilessly turned into a first class entrance from economy to reduce the congestion didn't help much either. Plebs should learn their proper place, JAL believes.
I only received a boarding pass for the Osaka - Tokyo flight. It is yet to be unveiled how I'd board the Real Big One, the eleven hour killer.
As for now, still an hour to go before takeoff. Wish they'd just let us in the nerfed plane already.