vivi torontali

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After starting off last week’s post with “I’m bored,” I’ve been putting in a lot of effort to do more activities worth mentioning in this blog. The more I think about what to include in my new posts, the more I realize how pihent agyú, rested-minded, I am. A lot of small but significant things happen in a week, such as making it to the third and last section of Duolingo’s Danish course, selling another shelf on Facebook Marketplace, and finally starting my embroidery. But don’t worry, it gets more interesting than that. 

My parents and I have been sending in job applications like crazy, and I find that I’m getting really good at writing cover letters. My mom recently found me a job listing for a Junior Model Maker position at an architectural company in the city, and it’s basically my dream job. I’d be making physical and digital 3D models of buildings. If I get this job, it would mean I’d actually start a career in my field, and I’d likely be able to pay off my student loans sooner than 2035. I’ve been applying to coffeeshops as well, but I was hoping I’d never have to go back to food service. Every 11:11 that passes on the clock, every shooting star I see (which is none), I wish to get this job. If you pray, or if you believe in wishing upon a star, save one for me please. 

Speaking of job applications, we printed out a bunch of physical resumés and brought them around the city to hand out to small shops. Our neighbor/friend let us use his printer. He and his wife live in the apartment below us, and they have two cats. He’s also a musician, so he let me play a very fancy guitar while my dog tried to befriend the cats. The cats haven’t been very fond of my excitable and very energetic puppy all the other times we’ve tried to get them to bond. One day they’ll be best friends, one baby step at a time. Along with handing out physical resumés, my father signed up for a forklift operator school, which I personally think is incredibly badass. He’ll be doing both language school and forklift school in August!

There’s one thing I’ve been reluctant to write about, and it’s that I’ve been dating someone. Normally I’m very private about my dating life, it’s honestly something I don’t want the entire world having access to on the internet. That being said, this blog is about my journey in Copenhagen, and I feel that this has been quite relevant to the plot. He’s been my way into the Danish social networks, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that. Of course, there are other reasons why we’re together, but the less you know the better. This past week, his friend’s younger brother hosted a graduation party which I was fortunate enough to attend as a plus-one. It’s very awkward for me to show up to a house full of people I don’t know and drink their wine and eat their food, but it was cooked by culinary students so I ate a very delicious dinner before leaving for yet another party. The house was quite luxurious, the dad is an art collector who filled the entire house head to toe in original paintings, including one of a very creepy bunny.

The second party was a triple birthday celebration. It was a lot more casual than the first. If there was one way I’d most accurately describe the vibes of this party, it’s a bunch of drunk history students playing beer pong while loudly singing all kinds of national anthems. The beer pong game was girls vs. boys, and while I scored one point for my girls, we still lost. Nothing brings out my feminine rage more than losing a game against a bunch of men. 

That’s a lie, the one thing that brings more rage out in me than that is when unassuming Europeans tell me that New England is the most British part of America. When that happened, I of course had to tell them all about the Boston Tea Party and Lexington, Massachusetts. Don’t worry, my American friends, I made you proud. There was a lot of stereotyping going on in general because my Hungarianness and Americanness was immediately the most interesting thing about me. You may be thinking this is a red flag if a man’s friends stereotype me. I’ve learned over the years to look out for these kinds of things. Don’t worry, the people stereotyping me weren’t part of my boyfriend’s group, they were plus-ones just like me. 

I mention this because while it’s so interesting for you to read about my job prospects, it’s more worth analyzing how my identity shapes my experience here. One thing I learned studying abroad for a full year is that no matter how great the country may be, your experience will never be perfect. Good things will happen and bad things will happen. For example, one day I was at a trivia bar with my friend in New Zealand, and we joined a group of Kiwis in the competition. At one point I blurted out an answer a little too loudly, and they berated me for being a “loud American.” When something like this happens, I always feel the overwhelming need to prove myself to these people who don’t know a single thing about me. Being American isn’t always seen in the same light as it used to, so I tried to balance it out with some Hungarianness to prove how deep and multifaceted I am. Even then though, some might say (like at this party) that I am from the worst country in Europe. My Hungarian-Americanness doesn’t make me an unpleasant person, it just makes me feisty, maybe a bit hot-headed, but at the end of the day, it makes me both a lover and a fighter.