Trapped in a Maze Therefore I Am Amazing

I'ma go out on a limb here and say there's something you hopefully do everyday and I bet you've never actually seen yourself do... shower.
I'm not trying to go anywhere with that, but twice a week at one of the gyms we practice in, I have that opportunity... To do what so few have done and shower in a showercurtain-less row of showers facing a wall of mirrors. Don't worry, one day you too may create a sentence using 'shower' so many times in so many different words.
For those who haven't done the deed, let me say this: showering facing a mirror is kind of awkward and you realize Ferris Bueller made it look a lot more glamorous than it is.  No mohawks, no singing, and certainly no cameras. Just slicked back soap hair and squinty eyes which is not a good look on anyone.

I'm not sure why I even brought that up but when I started writing, I just felt like I needed to share. I now realize I don't know enough to say anything grand about showering and I'm beginning to think the above paragraphs may mark the beginning of the end of this blog...

Actually, speaking of bad hair, I should mention I currently have it on a permanent basis. Having bleached my hair to an unnatural shade of white for the last 3 years, I am now paying penance in the form of having the short haircut of a 65-year old.
Leaving the salon, I had a vague inkling I looked a little more elderly than I did when I walked in  upon but there wasn't much I could do. Unfortunately, this feeling was driven home the following Sunday when I was sitting behind an elderly woman in her 60's and my husband mistook us for one another. I can't blame him since we are the same person from behind... but I'm already paranoid about turning 25 -- it's just the beginning of a steady decline til I really am 65 and one sneeze away from kicking the bucket -- so it still hurt.
This is the part where I'd normally post a picture of the coif... but instead I will revel in the delight that is living thousands of miles from anyone who knows me and continue to live incognito until this farce that is my dome sorts itself out. The funny thing about getting one's hair done here, ugly or otherwise, is that it is a ridiculously long process. I sat in the chair for no less than 4 hours, raletalk, only to walk out looking none the better for it.
The lengthy nature of Hungarian haircuts is not isolated to my experience; apparently the investment of one's time for a man's cut is similarly extravagant. We're talking around the 2-hour range. I don't even know how that's possible but I've had that corroborated credible sources so I'm not just making that up. I like to imagine the stylist snipping approximately one strand at a time.

Moving on. 

Another Hungarian curiosity I've noticed is the fact that milk is available in containers no larger than 1 litre. I get that Euro portions are smaller across the board so I'm not trying to be surprised here but this is phenomenon is getting out of hand. A trip to the grocery store results in my looking like a crazy person feeding a large troupe of infants (come to think of it, I guess Ian could be considered as much?) because no adult(s) could possibly drink that much milk.
I look like an idiot a lot in Hungary, mostly because I don't speak the language so I legitimately have to act crazy a lot of the time to communicate - gesturing, looking overly confused and/or helpless to get my point across, using impossibly bad grammar, etc. are all part of the game - but I feel like buying groceries is one of those areas I could avoid it.
Furthermore, it results in my fridge looking like a full-on dairy case:

You're probably asking yourself who needs 11+ litres of various kinds of milk - we've got normal, chocolate, and umm, ok that's all - but that's not something I have an answer to. I guess I just eat a lot of cereal, back off. I just want to say that it would be a lot less ridiculous looking to buy a couple gallons/4L's of milk as opposed like, 94 little cartons. It also makes my hands feel/look even more Hulk-esque because what reasonable person buys - and is then forced to then handle & pour - milk in such tiny pathetic containers?

Rollin on 22's

A couple lessons in driving from the locals:

The other week, I was driving my usual route to practice when I ran over some dude's load of plywood that was strewn all over the road. Apparently I neglected to notice that the truck in front of me that was re-routing itself into oncoming traffic was doing so to avoid another little truck's load that had been lost on the street...
A little antsy to get out of the car after driving for an hour (ONE way. I am logging some serious miles this year) I forged ahead and realized juuuust as I was my back tires cleared the wood, "Oh. THAT'S why that guy is carrying sheets of plywood to the side of the road...". I looked in my rearview mirror just in time to see the guy look back at me with a look of perplexed rage.

I have never driven those last 2 minutes to the gym so fast.

This would be nothing more than an embarrassing story to demonstrate I can be inadvertently be a jerk behind the wheel, except that later in the week I learned Hungarians have a cute habit of flashing their hazards one time if they cut you off or otherwise do something douchey. In a word, I think this is great. We have horns/special fingers to let people know they've wronged us, but how are we to make amends if we almost t-bone a city bus while pulling out of the grocery store parking lot (hypothetically speaking obviously)?
The beauty of this concept is one could just roll around, cutting people off at will and all is theoretically forgiven with the swift push of a button.
I should mention credible sources says this is common all over Europe... but I definitely never saw any form of magical light-flashing after getting cut off by more than one a Frenchman. So I say it's up for debate. Also, I realize the wave could sort of be put in this category, but in my books that's more of a thank you than a sorry so it's omitted.

Also a few weeks back, I was driving to church in Budapest. Once just inside the city I exited the freeway and noticed a guy standing outside his car which was pulled over on the side of the off-ramp. I figured hey, we can help a dude out and slow down to pull over. Right about as the guy is jogging up to the window I panicked and remembered I don't speak any Hungarian to even ask what's wrong (unfortunately apple, yes, no, and numbers 1 through 20 don't help in a situation like this so they don't count).
I was likely to only make the situation worse, or at the very least super awkward, buuuut it was too late to drive away. So I rolled down my window to humour the guy. Turns out buddy was looking for directions to another city.

I like to think this is the way all Hungarians behave when lost.
Rather than head to a gas station or non-existent 7-11, it's definitely a way better idea to just pull over and wait until the directions come to you.
The plan's only flaw is the possibility that idiot foreigners who speak no Hungarian will be the only people who pull over to help. Fortunately for me, dude was looking for a city that was printed on a sign about 200m down the road so by pointing this out, I ended up looking like the hero after all. Or at least like an individual with functioning eyes.

I plan on incorporating both driving techniques into my repertoire.

Just a little FYI

In the interest of not subjecting people to "Colette has written a new note" every 4 days on their newsfeed, posts won't be automatically synced to upload to Facebook anymore. So if you usually read on there, check the real blog instead HERE. Thanks!

EDIT: Apparently people liked that... So it's still on the Fbook.