Crispy Critter Part 2

One of the problems I have created for myself is that I explain most everything to my students. I share with them all of my background thinking which forms the foundations for my motives in how I plan out class procedures. Included in this is an explanation of how I perceive them fulfilling the demands for each class. What seems to me as a transparency in teaching translates to them as a democracy; they have this sense that they should get a vote on each of the assessment components. Whenever something changes without giving them advance notice, they huddle like the crowd outside Frankenstein’s castle ready to lynch the monster. Generally, there is always one spokesperson who claims to have been appointed to be the champion of justice as if by some royal decree. However, time and again, when I question other students, they have no memory of appointing any person to be their spokesperson.

This happened yet again this semester where someone from the Justice League had issues with my assignment. It has happened in the past over minor issues, but this one seemed to be a significant event, at least in some of their mercurial minds. Prior knowledge of having 115 students, to deal with this semester, with 18 of them being in creative writing, it was a no-brainer that I would be drowning in a student writing pool of papers. This led to my creating changes to maintain my sanity assuring I would still have some of it by April and with any luck possibly still by the middle of May. By May 15th, I would need a mental douching.

There had to be a reduction in the number of pages assigned per assignment. Both Race and Ethnicity and Religions Born in the US had their required essays lowered to six pages, not including the works cited pages. To substantiate this change of expectations, there was the added requirement that once they wrote their essay, they were to create an online magazine with it. Pictures or video clips could be added to provide a real magazine feeling if they chose. Three online magazine sources were provided as well as a sample magazine created by one student last semester. I also shared that the student admitted it took her a week to format the magazine properly. This tip fell on deaf ears. An additional peremptory warning was that the essay would be run through two grammar checkers and two plagiarism checkers. I also shared that I would send out the magazine with the accompanying essay to all friends and acquaintances who were willing to read at least one.

Again, they unquestionably want to believe this is a democracy. As one student claimed, “Students don’t want to learn, we just want to accumulate the credits.” This is where the war began, so I had to write this disclosure statement.

If you look at the essay/magazine grading rubric, you will have to notice there is nothing there pertaining to the magazine itself other than the word at the top. The word is there just to clarify that the magazine is created from the essay as I mentioned in class.

Some of you are more advanced than others with technology and will have different outcomes in negotiating the magazine. The intention for having you turn in the essay with the magazine was because editing a magazine, to show you the errors, would have been impossible.

The reason for having you create the magazine at all was to expand your thinking and creativity. In the Hungarian educational system, expanded thinking and creativity are in short supply. Students have complained to me about this for over eleven years.

This project was meant to assist you in developing critical thinking skills that still need developing.

You knew about this assignment from the beginning of the semester. If you did not plan ahead to find sufficient research material, this is a student issue.

Please do not insult me by speculating that you or anyone else can send me mediocre, shoddy work and expect to get a gold star.

This is the 21st century, yet Hungarian students are far behind the times of many other countries, not just the US. Before they pointed to other countries where they consider it to be far worse than here, I warned them to ask themselves if this alone makes them proud of their education.

I sent these to educated friends to review. Initially, my reasoning was to brag to others about what my students are capable of doing. In addition to this, I wanted to have an objective point of view about the essay/magazine. Unfortunately, what I discovered was that many of these reviewers were more concerned with protecting student egos than they were in giving an honest critique, but hinted at their concerns. Those who were honest were quite harsh in their comments about the limits of research, the poor grammar, and all of the other issues that I had also identified and marked in the essays.

My hopes that knowing a stranger would read their work, would have pushed them into being higher achievers, never came to fruition.

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Burned to a Crisp

I wouldn’t say that I am burned out, but hey, if you held a cigarette close to me, it would light on fire without a match. I am gaining popularity with scout troops for their camping trips when they want to start the campfire for cooking. As I write this, there are 24 days, 5 hours, and 42 minutes left before the end of my semester. There is nothing that could make me happier at this point other than finding out I have inherited a castle in Scotland, tax-free.

You will notice that I am using all numbers in digital form even 1-9, which would normally be spelled out in an academic format. They are more impressive as digits. Generally, I have to teach 9 classes a semester. This year, I was able to get by with 8 because we have a Fulbrighter teaching one of my classes. She taught one last semester also. Still, the classes that I have are teeming with writing, mostly my fault. However, if a student is getting a degree in a foreign language, shouldn’t they be able to communicate in writing? Duh!

I have four courses where the students are required to blog on a weekly basis. This adds up to over 60 blog posts to read or at least just skim over. There is no way I am going to correct their grammar on the Mystery Novel blog or the Corp-orocracy (a course name self-created), but I do pay attention to those in the Blogging and Website class as well as Race and Ethnicity 2 blogs. These are the journalism specialization students who are in the program due to some plan on getting an English speaking/writing job at some point. Having 115 students this semester if I counted them as separate students within different classes with different projects, I was overwhelmed. Consider that one class was The Methodology of Writing the Cultural Studies Thesis for BA and MA students. In this class, I had 13 students who were trying to meet the April 15th deadline for turning in their work. BA students only need to write 20 pages, but the MA students need to fill 60 pages. Each week, I had them write 3-5 pages depending on their degree for me to read and edit, making sure they were on track and their grammar was acceptable. One of my other courses this semester is Creative Writing. The 18 students in this class write a short story every week, not more than 2 pages, but add it to the pile; we are looking at a mountain of paperwork.

All of this work comes flooding into my e-mail as an attachment. This gives me the opportunity to check it in Word using Track Changes. However, I have gotten smarter over the years. When I return the assignment, I change the format to PDF. For those who need to use my comments for a revision, like the thesis writers, they cannot do Accept Changes and make short work of it. They have to look at my notes and comments, with a bit of hope, think about them, and then make the changes on their own. For others, it blocks them from making any changes and then resubmitting it to tell me I made a mistake, so the grade should be inflated. It has happened. Then there are the students who are enrolled in multiple classes that I am responsible for who send in an assignment as an attachment sans a name on the document, nothing in the subject line, the body of the e-mail or on the document itself to give me any clue as to what class to assign the grade. Perhaps, knowing how much I enjoy mystery novels, they are trying to infect me with their affliction of amenomania. Not!  It is a waste of my time.

I am not alone among the faculty, who are increasingly realizing students are lacking the satisfaction taken in an achievement well done. This semester, I warned that the semester essays would be run through 2 different plagiarism checkers making it a wise choice for them to do the same before their submission. The bonus suggestion was added that they should seriously consider using multiple grammar checkers in addition. If you write well, this will take minutes. If you cannot execute a document at a scholarly level, this will give you pause for thinking about editing.

The problem here for most students is that the last minute to turn in an assignment are the precious moments when they are finishing the works cited page. They haven’t a moment to spare to use superfluous (in their minds) outside aids when they have a pushover instructor who will do it for them. Oh, how they rage when they find that the instructor is no longer willing to be their full-time editor and requires their attention to detail. This is when the revolt begins.

To be continued…

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Why I Don't Use WordPress

Just a quick note here, since I am grading massive amounts of essays. I just received this in my e-mail and I know many who do indeed use WordPress.WordPress has been attacked a multitude of times, so this is not shocking news. Read the article!

Are You Aware of the Ongoing WordPress Global Attack?

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I Remember...

This is always a tough time in the semester for students and instructors alike. Those students who are writing a thesis this semester have Monday, April 15th as their deadline. I offer a thesis writing class for students from either the American Studies or the English department so they can write their thesis under close supervision. There were 13 students in the class; this meant volumes of reading/editing/advising. 

Add to this the seven other classes I have this semester, I am ready to topple over. Thankfully, there is a Fulbrighter teaching one class under my name or I would have eight other classes.

To give the journalism students a bit of a break, I did something that our guest speaker, Dana Sachs did last year. I read the poem I Remember by Joe Brainard. Then I asked them to write twenty lines of their own ‘I Remember…’. I thought it was only fair that I Remember too and shared it with them. Here is mine.

I remember discovering there was an opening in the American Studies department at ELTE, just days after I voiced my desire to teach university once again.

I remember printing out my CV and taking a taxi down to the university to hand it in.

I remember my interview with Dr. Bollobás, who ended the interview with “I will call all the people I interviewed on Tuesday at 5pm. You will be home then won’t you?” She repeated the last sentence five times and then gave me her mobile number in case I had to go out.

I remember working with Aaron Hunter, who was much younger than me. He said “Don’t worry if students don’t come to your office hours. It could be your age.”

I remember having an office full of students who just wanted to hang out with me until their next class.

I remember Aaron being confused about all of the students who came to see me for no particular reason.

I remember students who were doing their student teaching when I was teaching Teacher Training. They came to my office crying about how rigid and unaccepting their mentor teachers were in the schools where they were placed.

I remember the department giving a written and oral exam before admitting students to the American Studies program.

I remember how I had to perpetually remind myself that English was the second language for these students.

I remember wondering if a Spanish, French, Russian, or Hungarian major in an American university gets off easy because it is not their first language?

I remember the joy and horror of having the same class for five lessons each week.

I remember assigning five essays a semester with each one having the opportunity for one revision while having thirty students in a class.

I remember not enjoying reading 2,620 pages of students’ work a semester, but I did it in hopes the students would learn something.

I remember discovering when the students accidentally disclosed that all they did for a revision was ACCEPT ALL CHANGES in the essay I returned to them for revision.

I remember learning to lock the essays so they could no longer do that.

I remember the first student who asked me to be his thesis advisor and how nervous I was about being up to the task.

I remember when he received honors on this thesis and how proud I was for both of us.
I remember the first six years of teaching at ELTE when students wanted to hang out as much as possible.

I remember holding coffee meetings twice a month on different days and times so students could come to practice their English.

I remember how those coffee klatches were meant to be an hour, but sometimes I was still there three hours later than planned.

I remember the time when twenty-five students showed up at one time. I was flabbergasted.

I remember the first group of students who gave me five books for Christmas. I cried so hard in front of the class; I was mortified while being humbled at the same time.

I remember the first student who asked if he could come to our home. He spent so much time there, we almost adopted him.

I remember when he left for the Kellner Scholarship; he was so concerned about us that he found a replacement student.

I remember wondering how we would deal with the loss and if this ‘replacement’ would fill his shoes.

I remember the day it occurred to me that we now had two adoptees, because both guys became our family.

I remember the joy I felt when I was able to get the ten computers donated by my friend’s business.

I remember writing the proposal for creating a writing center where students would aid students and I would be in the background as a guide.

I remember my department head deciding that these new computers were perfect for creating a journalism program and made it my task to develop it.

I remember when she told me to come up with 60 different courses that could potentially be our offerings, each with a few sentences detailing the course.

I remember spending days searching American universities websites for their course listings for ideas.

I remember the sense of relief I felt when I finished the task and turned it in with great pride in my achievement.

I remember her response “Wow, Ryan! You really put a lot of work into this, but we only needed about 10 courses worth 60 credits.”

I remember wanting to do damage to someone or something after that.

I remember not being thrilled about the changes in the university policy; we no longer were able to test students for admission.

I remember writing the curriculum multiple times and then having someone in the ivory tower refute something or other.

I remember asking other faculty for their willingness to teach courses within the specialization. Some were willing, others not so much.

I remember the class where they confided that they never paid attention to my editing comments and only looked at the grade.

I remember learning each semester how I had to be tougher if I really wanted these students to get educated.

I remember thinking it was only the credits that mattered to students in the end.

I remember a student telling me this was a true thought.

I remember questioning why I continued to care.

I remember when it dawned on me that I don’t need to care, but then it is time to move on.

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Paul Roberts Beats Me to the Punch

Paul Roberts wrote in and beat me to the punch. I was going to write about this today.

"So I hear from Tech New Today that Google has sold the Frommer’s brand back to Arthur Frommer and he will be publishing books. Apparently they just wanted the data for Zagat etc. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-22024603 on Google Drops the Bomb in Slow Leaks".

This is a truism. I found the story on Skift, again written by one of the former Frommer's editors who was left behind when the transition happened. He was actually one of my editors, but only when I had to do web updates for the various books.

Google had plans on integrating the information from the Frommer's guides into its own Google + network. This is in spite of the fact that survey after survey still shows that Google + is just not as popular or utilized as other social media outlets. Frommers.com had tens of thousands of subscribers, while Google + only added 107 subscribers to their Frommer's channel. 

One tidbit I did not know is that Penguin/Random House are the publishers for the Fodor's, DK, and Rough guides as well as others. Avalon Travel publishes Rick Steves and the Moon guides. Where it all goes from here is anyone's guess, but Frommer has to start with absolutely no content as Wiley Publications has sold it all to Google. 

Frommer is 83 years old, but his daughter Pauline was an participant and award winning writer for the company. They still need to find a publishing company willing to produce the books.

There may be hope that I will get to author more books after all, but it seems it will not be anytime soon.

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The Hunter and the Hunted

Our friend W. Hunter Roberts has been working on her doctorate in ministerial studies for close to a decade. The Pacific School of Religion and the Graduate Theological Union at Berkeley, after submitting an all-points bulletin regarding her disappearance, finally just listed her as AWOL with sudden and unexpected appearances here and there. Hunter had the good sense to pop her head up once in a while, like that children’s game where the gopher pops up from the ground. She is larger than life and is really difficult to miss, but the mileage between here and California does add to the mix.

Hunter asked me if I would be interested in being on her dissertation committee after realizing that her third chair would not work out for various reasons. She did something very astute; we went for coffee where she interviewed me for the position. We had known each other for close to 2 years by that point, but this was a life changing and perhaps life affirming decision for her, so I honored this request and quietly applauded her for her insight.

My first statement included the fact that I am an atheist, a fact she should know immediately considering this was a religion topic. In my mind, this was a true advantage for her as I would be totally objective for a spiritually based dissertation. After a couple of hours of intense, but lively and thoroughly enjoyable discussion, Hunter asked if she could send me a chapter of her dissertation to read and comment on. This was the beginning of breaking bread, a communion if you will, into new relationship territory as an odd couple: a female minister and a male atheist.

Let me assure my readers that the journey was an adventure, but a delightfully educating one. Hunter is a good writer, but I especially appreciated the insights she brought to the table with her sources and personal stories. Even as an atheist, I have never quite quenched my need to learn about religions. I read, edited, commented, challenged, and discussed Hunter’s writings with her as well as in one of my university classes.

After months of jeers and cheers, tears and laughter, angst and jubilation, the days leading up to the oral defense had finally arrived. With the dissertation chair being in Berkeley, another member living in Washington, DC, and the two of us here in Budapest, it was only made possible due to Skype conference calling. I had never done this and wasn’t even sure how to use my computer to achieve it without a web cam. The fact is it is not possible. We decided I would go to Hunter’s and use her iPad while she used her computer. Finally, I realized my netbook would do the trick nicely.

The night before, I received e-mails from Hunter stating that the secretary in Berkeley would test the equipment to make sure all was a go. However, I was not available to read these e-mails. My phone had two SMS’s besides, but my ringer was turned off and the phone was on the charger, so I had no clue until the next morning when I reached the university to teach. It was too late to do anything about testing the equipment the night before, so I did not feel any immediate need to return the calls.

Later in the afternoon, after teaching three classes in a row and having thesis advising, I called Hunter. I was exhausted; she was naturally hysterical. Her nervousness overruled her thinking while she raged at me for not being attentive to the evening’s needs. Having gone through this myself as well as with multiple friends, I could only smile as she ranted. This was only made possible since this was not a video call. Had it been, I would have had to use all of my Capricorn acting skills to keep a straight face. I assured her I would be at her place in plenty of time to set up and test the equipment later in the early evening. She was going through SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) prior to a doctoral defense. At the time, no one really grasps this reality, most likely because they are too busy raging to think clearly about it. Normal stuff!

I decided to do some reassurance, but in a playful way. When it was time to leave the house, I sent a series of SMS messages sent about every three minutes as I was headed to her place.

“I am leaving the house.”

“I stubbed my toe on the curb. Running slower than normal.”

“Being attacked by a homeless man who wants my computer. Running late”

“Have to buy a new computer.”

“Having Skype installed now.”

I was prepared for facing either more hysteria or someone somewhat relaxed. Hunter greeted me with you had me hysterical. Isn’t it funny how some words can go in either direction in meaning? These are called contronyms. Fortunately for my mental health she meant I had her laughing. Fortunately for her, I did not have to slap her into calming down.

At 5:10 PM, W. Hunter Roberts with magnificent success defended her doctoral dissertation titled:

OF WINES AND WINESKINS: EXPERIMENTS IN RE-FORMING RELIGION FOR THE POSTMODERN ERA

She is now and forevermore known as Reverend Dr. W. Hunter Roberts. Congratulations, to our friend. I am honored to have been part of your rites of passage.

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My Head is in the Clouds

As I troll through various newsletters to satisfy my ever demanding curiosity, I discover fun, informative, or practical pieces of information or tools to add to my arsenal. A few decades ago, I used to play cards with a friend and his family. His mother always had the annoying habit of taking a card while verbally repeating “I’ll take that and play with it for a while to see what it can do for me.” As annoying as that vocal tick was back then, it is the mantra that haunts me when I come across a new tech tool.

Due to this, I have a wide assortment of tools in my toolbox. I use four Google Drive accounts for various aspects of my personal and professional life; associated with those are the same number of Picasa web albums and YouTube memberships (associated e-mail and calendars are not significant to this story); there are two Dropbox accounts, two old and not much used Yahoo accounts, but add to this membership list a SugarSync, Evernote, Microsoft SkyDrive, Vimeo, and Catch affiliation. Though I have to admit, the latter two have barely been touched.

Some may accuse me of OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder), but I do find this happens to people who felt deprived as children. They need to collect everything they can when they can like misers. That is just an excuse I use for falling back on, but not really true. What comes to mind when finding new toys is “I’ll take that and play with it for a while to see what it can do for me.” Additionally, the practical reason underlying all of this is that I have filled two Google Drives and their associated Google programs with so much data; I had to start paying $5.00 a year for storage. Not so bad, you may say, until you reach the next level where there is a quantum jump in cost.

The next best solution is to try another service and start adding to that one. Generally, once I start I simply cannot let go; it is like picking a playing card, but never getting it out of my hand. I clutch to all of them not knowing how useful that stored information may be someday. Eventually, these will turn into my personal time capsules.

Here it the glitch. When I truly need to retrieve some information, the real disaster comes when I have to remember which service has what piece of information. If I could recall that nugget of information, then I had to figure out which account to tap into to find it. Talk about a time wasting nightmare. Wishes do come true though. While reading one of the tech newsletters, there was an article on storage aggregators. It never occurred to me that such a thing existed or I would have Googled it long ago. After reading through, I found that CloudKafé could handle all of the different accounts I use already, plus others I have never used before.

This is what their site promotes, but note that rather than put (sic) multiple times where errors occur, I copied it as it is on their site. I did not change anything:

“CloudKafé supports the growing daily needs of those of you who have already moved the center of their digital life to the cloud by enabling you to interact with all of your online content in one place. CloudKafé is a new user-friendly service provides you with a great tool to access all your favorite cloud services from anywhere. Access all of your online content and data on the cloud, easily Find stuff and Instantly Share anything with your friends.”

With one free account on CloudKafé, I am able to access all of my accounts at one time. If I needed to do a search for “history of nail clippers”, it will scan all of the accounts I have integrated providing me with a list of all items that include history, nail, or clippers while showing the location. For some of the accounts, I can click on the result and be brought directly to the source.

CloudKafé does not yet work with Pinterest or New Hive, but it does cover Facebook, Instagram, Flickr, Smugmug, and other tools I have yet to try. Hmmm…maybe I should take a look at them. What do you think?

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Google Drops the Bomb in Slow Leaks

Today, in one of my LinkedIn groups there was a message relating to a story about Google cutting Frommer’s loose from the world of print media. I first read the title of this on my smartphone, so I was anxious to get home to read the full story in LinkedIn. Unfortunately, I could not remember my LinkedIn password; otherwise I could have continued to read it while riding on the bus. However, reading bad news at home has its benefits; you are in cozy and familiar surroundings, which not only softens the blow a bit, it makes it a short walk for refrigerator-raiding for comfort food. This news was like anticipating a punch in the face when it is in slow motion; you can see it coming, yet you never fully anticipate the pain until that final moment of contact.

The first LinkedIn note sent me to a story in CNN Money, which you can find here. While reading this article, I discovered that they were tipped off by an article in Skift. Skift, I asked myself? I have read just about every travel publication in the English language dating back to the days when the only thing that was available was a hand typeset magazine produced only by monks who lived Swiss monasteries in the Alps. Even those had to be first translated from Latin to English before hitting the newsstands. Yes, I have a long and varied history with all forms of travel news. How did Skift fall from my radar?

A better question yet is how do all of these sites survive? There cannot be that much adverting money out there, especially when their own article about the demise of tour books addresses the downturn in tourism overall. All of that aside, if you want to go to the original Skift article, click here.

What seems to me as very unprofessional in business dealings today is the lack of courtesy. Skift reports “Starting with Frommer’s New York City With Kids, which can still be found on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and in other bookstore inventories and was supposed to publish on February 19, the entire future list of Frommer’s titles will not see the light of day. Many of the authors attached to these 29 titles told Skift that they were informed by editors now working at Google that the books would not publish.”

That being the case, I have to count my blessings that the last book I contributed to was released in November, Frommer’s Europe 12th edition, just at the wire of Google shutting down Frommer’s. Payment was received as well as my ten complimentary copies. Thanks to the god of publishing, Arthur Frommer, who wrote the first guidebook to Mount Olympus.

Although, I can certainly share with you that the many other Frommer’s authors I have been in contact with were never told a thing about their future with Frommer’s or Google. All of us have only had speculation bestowed upon us. Google has even removed the shopping portion on the Frommers.com site. Miserable! Those were the days my friend, we thought they would never end.

Meanwhile the travel forums are abuzz with reports of iPads and smartphones being snatched from the hands of tourists trying to read a map while staring at a street sign. Little and large buggers zip by on motor bikes or fast scooters and do the ‘now you see it, now you don’t’ routine. Maybe just enough people will long for the days of nostalgia and demand tour books be printed again.

The first 2 books below are the ones I wrote; for all the other titles here, I wrote the Hungary chapter. 

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Say NO to Gay Marriage

As most US Americans should know, the US Supreme Court is hearing or has heard arguments on gay marriages and DOMA. For the unknowing DOMA is the Defense of Marriage Act. I think it was on Tuesday or Wednesday that they heard arguments on two different cases, but since we are 6 hours ahead of Washington, DC and light years behind Spain, our news trickles in, so I am not really sure.

Regardless, I want to show you reasons below why Americans should oppose gay marriage. Write right now to the Supreme Court Justice for your state and tell them exactly how opposed you are to gay marriage and be certain to quote one of the reasons below. This will make them certain to take you seriously. Also, remind them that there is another election coming up so if they want your vote, they had better pay attention to your knowing what you are talking about. Every divorce attorney in the nation will stand proudly behind you with a business card ready for anyone with a wedding ring.

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An Internet Minute

This explains why I am so tired and never get off of the computer. Actually, I spent all day of the first day of my spring 'break' on the computer from 7:30 am to 5:30 pm with only bathroom breaks. As of now, I am up-to-date, but there are some slug students who still owe me papers. 

During one of my 5 minute mini-vacations, I came across this in my mailbox. 

It is explained by Krystal Temple at this site (click here) in greater depth.

"Do you know what happens in one minute on the Internet? In just one minute, more than 204 million emails are sent. Amazon rings up about $83,000 in sales. Around 20 million photos are viewed and 3,000 uploaded on Flickr. At least 6 million Facebook pages are viewed around the world. And more than 61,000 hours of music are played on Pandora while more than 1.3 million video clips are watched on YouTube." 

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US Citizens: Be Suspicious of Socialized Medicine

Today, I briefly read an article about potential cuts to Medicare and Medicaid. This prompted me to issue this warning for all voting citizens in the US. You should avoid socialized medicine at all expense. This is what I experienced recently in Hungary, where socialized medicine is the norm.

If you work, generally you have health insurance through your job. Ron is officially retired, but we purchase his health insurance through our business. It costs us an outrageous $30 a month. Those with health insurance are assigned a ‘house doctor’. Our house doctor is one block from our apartment. He has office hours half days Monday to Thursday, but they rotate between mornings and afternoons for those who work. Because there are multiple doctors, we are assigned to the doctor who has our particular street within his list of patients. He is young and speaks English, partly due to the medical school here is taught in English only. If we are too ill to make it to the office, a doctor will make a house call, as is customary of house doctors.

Our particular doctor wanted me to get baseline tests after being diagnosed with type II diabetes. He arranged for me to have specialized ophthalmic and cardiac exams in addition to a kidney test. Not certain about these specialists, I took our adopted ‘nephew’ Balázs with me to interpret.

The ophthalmologist only sees diabetic patients on Monday and Thursday mornings from 8 to 10 am, so I actually had to wait a few days before getting in. There were no appointments given out, so I had to wait in line with everyone else. Darn if it didn’t take me twenty minutes to get in to start the exam.  A nurse ran four different tests before putting in the drops to dilate my eyes and then sending me out to wait for my eyes to dilate and also for the doctor.

Once again, I had to wait, this time a full half hour before being called in to see the doctor. After three more tests, he gave me a clean bill of eye health and said in English, he would see me next year. My total waiting time was forty minutes, but the time I spent being examined was close to an hour. I never in my life had to waste that much time with medical staff when I went to the ophthalmologist or any other doctor for that matter, in the US. Generally, I spent over an hour in the waiting room after my appointed time came and went, giving me plenty of time to catch up on my reading.  Balázs barely had time to share what has been happening with him, before they interrupted us to come in.

Getting an appointment with the cardiologist was a bit trickier, because I was only available certain days of the week, making it difficult for the doctor to fit in my schedule. I had to wait two weeks for my appointment. Once the day came, Balázs and I sat around for a good ten minutes before getting in to have the nurse do an EKG. As luck would have it, we had to wait another ten minutes before the cardiologist could see me to read the results. She then performed a cardiac ultrasound herself, not designating it to a tech. This was really strange for me to have a doctor doing this, so I was suspicious as to why. She was happy with the results, but just to make sure she wanted me to have a fitness test in addition. It made me wonder if being healthy was worth all this aggravation. In my mind, I could see a cash register cha-chinging with massive numbers appearing.

With the fitness test two weeks into the future, again to my being difficult with my scheduling issues, the day arrived.  Wired for everything but sound, enough electrodes to make me look like an alien, the tech started the machine. Easy walking, no sweat. That thought came too soon, the elevation increased as did the speed. Tougher pace, but I could keep up. Wrong thought again, minutes later another double dose increase: speed and elevation. Still I was not sweating, but I was panting like a dog in a Turkish sauna. Although the tech kept telling me to let her know if I wanted to stop at any time, I was too stubborn to cave in. I would rather have caved in. Hell, if I had a heart attack on this machine, I was in the right place for it. Finally, it was over. She has difficulty removing the electrodes, because I had doubled over with attempts at catching my breath or anyone else’s. At that point, I would take anyone’s breath before or after breath mints.  They could have photographed me for a pictorial phrase dictionary to put under ‘gasping for air’.

Once I became ambulatory and dressed again, it was time to move down the hall. There we waited for the cardiologist to interpret the results, which in turn Balázs would have to interpret for me. This doctor was old school, having gone to medical school before they switched to an English curriculum, yet she was able to use some words and sentences. What I recognized and Balázs confirmed was that she said my heart was in perfect condition and I should continue with whatever I have been doing. Then she added, she “would be pleased to see me again next year.” I was thinking, “Doc, I will be pleased if I DON’T need to see you before next year.

After all of this run-around getting prodded, poked, stretched, yanked, and cranked, the only thing that would have made this perfect is waiting for the grand total bill for all of these tests and exams. Wait a minute, we have socialized medicine here. There is no bill. All of this was covered 100% with my medical card.  What are we missing out on here? I guess it would be the potential need to have to take a second mortgage on the house to pay for medical bills. Nope, don’t miss it at all.

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Sit, Stay, Look Cute

I was walking down the street last week and as I passed a bank, I spotted this dog sitting outside the door. He or she was so cute; I had to snap a picture. 

Like most dogs here, I was totally ignored as if I were invisible. If I had a steak in my hand, it would not have mattered. This was a dog, like most here have the same reason for living. Their sole purpose is to single-mindedly wait for their owner to return. 

Hopefully, the owner would return with enough money to reward this faithful pooch.

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