Mornings are for Coffee and Contemplation

Mornings are for coffee and contemplation.

-- Stranger Things

I’m checking in to let you know all of the developments that have happened recently. Boy, there have been a lot in the last couple of weeks. (Do people say “boy” as an interjection anymore?) I just learned this morning that Sam and I are invited to speak at the Labor Café. It’s this hip little tea and coffee bar where anyone is welcome to bring their own tea bags, hot chocolate and coffee or get some behind the counter, and pay however much they feel like paying for their experience there. I’ve been to the Labor Café once before with the 5th grade class. We sat playing board games in English while Pentatonix played over the speakers, shutting out the biting wind outside. I’m not sure why Sam and I have been invited, but it is a great witnessing opportunity that we intend to participate in.

In other news, Bible study started of with a bang. Participants who are leaving Nyíregyháza to attend universities elsewhere in Hungary were still around when Sam and I arrived. We all got together for a barbecue. It’s not the same kind of barbecue you might experience in America. It was fun to discuss the differences. While Americans might grill up some hot dogs and hamburgers (expertly done by some dad up for the task) and dish cold fruit or vegetable salads onto their plates, Hungarians will gather around a fire to cook a piece of bacon fat on the end of their skewers. The Hungarians thought it quite odd that we didn’t barbecue like they did.

You don’t eat the fat off the skewer, of course. You cook it until the fat drips off and then hold it over a piece of sliced bread. You might only get a few drips at a time, so the process is repeated until you have a piece of bread that is sufficiently soaked. Then you can grill up some pieces of pepper and onion on your stick, place that on your bread, and enjoy! Some people like cooking “visli” over the fire. Don’t worry, visli is just a hotdog, but a Hungarian would never call it so unless it was sitting in the appropriate hotdog bun. Otherwise, it’s only mere visli. I had a great time catching up with everyone until the stars were out and everyone needed to go home. We’ve started the Run Hard, Rest Well study with the group, and so far it has been well worth our time.

I attended the opening service for school on the last day of August. Both my school (Túróczy Zoltán) and the school in which Sam works (Lajos Kossuth) gathered in the big Lutheran church across the street to start a new school year in God’s Word. The proceedings of these ceremonies are always taken very seriously. Everything went well as far as I could tell, but again, it was all in Hungarian!

I don’t think I’ve told you about milk in Hungary. There are so many kinds; too many kinds. It’s the one thing I get overwhelmed with when I go into a grocery store here. It’s like when there are 50 kinds of toothpaste in Wal-Mart and you don’t know which one is the right one. There is refrigerated milk, unrefrigerated milk, bottled milk, boxed milk, bagged milk, skim, whole, all of the percentages and so many brands! The funny thing is, the Kolos’ (the family I live with) don’t even get their milk from the store. A few times a week, a milk boy comes to houses in their neighborhood to sell milk in big bottles straight from the cow. That means Orsi has to heat it and the fat gathers on top and gets in the way sometimes, but that’s the way they like it. On the way home from school, there is also this little milk automat where you can fill your own bottles with milk. I've never tried it. I think I will stick with just going to the store. Maybe I should do a study on which type of milk most people use in Hungary. Then again, my time here would be better spent doing other things. Well, that’s what I’ve been contemplating this morning, after coffee and between classes.

Until next time!