Challenges of Integration in Rural Hungary

Is it possible to form a social network when living in a village consisting of a single street? A street where hardly anyone is doing anything other than getting into the car to drive to somewhere. Is there a chance to be part of a community when there is forest only? Can you integrate when not speaking the local language? Is there a potential to learn one of the most difficult languages when there’s no one to practice with? Will locals treat you like a traveler passing through or rather like someone who refuses to integrate?

Being the foreigner

I viewed foreigners as exciting when I was a child. I wanted nothing more than getting to know them. Once in contact I would befriend them. I lived for 6 years among a Turkish society when I studied in Belgium. I lived with an indigenous animist tribe in Pakistan. We certainly didn’t speak a similar language. I backpacked three times years on end. I cycled for 5 years and was often invited. Mostly by women who did not speak English. Yet I have never felt more singled out than living in an Hungarian village that consists of one street. For Geo, who lived a year in a slum in South Africa, goes the same. It is not that we are awkward, but we do feel rather alone. Or are we simply floating in the wrong pool?

Secluded living isn’t for everyone

A building up of lack of things, you do not think of when living secluded, have reached a tip-over point. When you live secluded you get awkward. You become unused to the used. When you have little exposure to viruses and bacteria, the immune system hasn’t built up a defense. Our village does not have a doctor. We get pamphlets with a doctor attending practice on certain dates, in another village. We try to avoid all doctors by not eating what the locals usually consume.

The vegetable garden

Like many Hungarian people, I made my own garden. Over 5 summer seasons the garden has become a big project. I have learned what I like to grow and eat. I have also learned what I don’t need. This saves me much work. So much that I spend summer days on elaborate cooking. I simply enjoy the fruits of my labor. I did envision swapping out vegetables. When I offer vegetables to someone, they are usually not wanted.

A walk in the park

Living in the countryside of Hungary is captivating, with lots of work and many new endeavors to learn. The forest we stay in has been thoughtfully explored. At this stage, it doesn’t bring me many new views. Walking in a forest I know like the back of my hand isn’t so exciting. Yet, a forest keeps renewing the mind and so I keep walking.

How a dead-end village works

Our village is a dead-end street. There are no shops. The mayor and his wife are exemplary people of how to do a job in a tiny village. They care beyond our expectations. They organize lots of gatherings, which the summer festival is the highlight of. Do they organize this to glue the community together? Or to cement groups further: city people who own a summer house, villagers, hunters, Germans? I may not be used to village festivals as I was never part of it. Now, Geo and I attend pretty much everything. All under the banner of ‘integration’. But people seem to stick to their own division within a group. Even the lone alcoholic sits by himself.

Does beauty matter?

‘Beauty is a powerful thing, especially when it catches you off guard’. It happens almost every time upon seeing deer, boars and rabbits when walking the forest. Beauty for me is natural wholesomeness, confidence and awareness. Outside the animal kingdom and the Roma population, none of these seem visible in the countryside of Hungary. Going to a provincial town makes me cringe of the opposition I see to what I would like to see. Yet, I am happy to see no-nonsense. I also appreciate moderation and normality. Furthermore, I value the lack of fading lines between the sexes. Children are the cutest as they lack the imposed right to don a princely behavior. Parenting seems without struggle in Hungary.

Our reason to live secluded

We both are environmentally- and highly sensitive. Among some other tags attached to each of us, we both recognize sensory processing disorder. Going to town or the supermarket deprives us of all our energy. Hungary shows an abundance of obesity, black ‘colors’, stretchy leggings and an awful amount of tattoos. It does not meet my standard of attractiveness. Than, it seems to us, most foreigners who choose to live here are of a certain kind. They are often overweight loudmouths who drink and smoke. Many are unmotivated, frumpy looking folks. But, I am not a judge in the ‘Hungary-peagant-show’. Somehow, the more classic and moderate foreigners never come to our attention. As we don’t have a vibrant, connected life, the chances for engagement are not available.

The rurality of old-fashioned Hungarian villages

On a positive note, I feel uplifted by the rusticity in the villages. There are messy compounds where chickens roam onto the road. Crumbling half-baked houses always centered in a town or single street with only fields and forests surrounding them. Often villagers walk along the side of the street. They have a tendency to lean over the fence and look out of an open window. The sloppiness of village people is understandable and logic. For who would pull weed in their new shoes and crisp attire (except my dad)?

I stopped learning Hungarian

Lacking the language’s knowledge doesn’t help. It is entirely my fault that I stopped learning this skill. I hardly ever use it, as there aren’t people around to practice with. ‘There’s nothing here’, we tell people who like to visit. They never believe. Yet, there is nothing here. Except 6 kilometers further one finds a lot of shyness, withdrawn natures, lack of confidence and slackness in appearance. There’s no joie-de-vivre. Twenty kilometers further there are precious few outdoor cafe’s (mixed with some unappealing foreigners who come to settle). There seems to be no reason nor need for upholstering oneself. Maybe there are no means? Maybe I am just too picky?

My own short-comings

And how I dislike my own judgmental thoughts: the foreigner who settles and stopped learning the language. Is it so that any place other than one’s hometown is filled with oddness? So long as there are foreigners that settle and outsiders visit. Then, my family comes over. After only one day my dad says: ‘It is so desolate here’. After being to town, they comment: ‘The people are unpleasant to look at, fat and downcast’. Often their shoulders hang down; they seem without confidence, even depressed. ‘Their fashion is so unattractive, with piercings and tattoos and purple hair’. Stunned, I overhear them. ‘Are you now joking with me?’ I ask suspiciously. This way or another, the good-looking, confident folk seem to be in places we don’t visit.

The friends we made

Geo and I started to see that something essential was missing: human interconnectedness. Even the little small talk is non existent for us. This seemingly unimportant part of communication makes me feel mute and deaf. As if my real self is buried, when we get out into towns.

We have tried to gear up with other foreigners. But the connection was always lacking. The only similarity that we live in the same country isn’t much to go by on. Geo bought new windows for a poor man’s home. His home more of a shack with earthen floor and no water nor electricity. We tried to improve his barren situation, with down blankets and food. But without getting feedback nor speaking his language well, it feels we impose ourselves. The man, being an alcoholic and on dialysis, might be rather fine?

The big exception to this are our German neighbors Sandra and Reinhard. We share sugar limited cakes, coffees and green teas with them. We also swap seeds and produce. We get lovingly cared for saplings and wholehearted attention for our cats when we are away.

My odd self

In Hungary I am stared at. A colorful outfit with a handknitted item and barefoot shoes is just so odd. The headwrap must be most curious (either I am a Muslim, Christian or sick). Often times, cultural behavior and outlooks seems not to align with mine when in provincial towns. Their inheritance of who they are is not overlapping with mine. I need exorbitance. When Geo and I are out, the only people who talk to us are the Latter-day Saints. They are being sent abroad from the USA. Besides a crash course in the Hungarian language, they speak English. Our only option in a country where it seems near to impossible to make spontaneous chitchats.

Why foreigners come to Hungary?

‘What do you see that I don’t?’ was asked in the movie ‘The Best Marigold Hotel’. Our answer would be: ‘The cheap living costs (house, water, electricity), the freedom to built and be. The amount of space, the quietness and the safe feeling of the country.’

The eternal traveler

Not feeling at home isn’t unusual to a traveler. A feeling of home is easily created. It crumbles quickly when the invisible ties are not there. These ties become tangible as soon as you feel intuitively one of a kind. In other words: home lasts only as long as identity and values are balanced. This balance must exist within a community.

How I see it

I have come to see Hungary as a poor country, where many people struggle to have ends meet. There is a big Roma population. Though, it is a country where we feel incredible safe and where we are aware how favored we are. In stark opposition are the many alcoholics, homeless and poor health care, that leave their mark. Especially when the doctors choose amputation and dentists go for pulling of teeth rather quick.

The Hungarian

Hungarians are kind people with a high standard of manners and an immense subtility. Their skills in the commercial field are overall not very advanced. I find them rather an introvert folk, like myself and that’s why Hungary can’t loosen me up. Just like Nigeria, Iraqi Kurdistan, Bosnia, Yemen, USA and India fit me. Because in those countries the people are outgoing, bubbly and curious. But this may well only be so because I was a traveler. People in Liberia, Afghanistan and Guinea were not outgoing and enthusiastic. It has a reason, just like Hungarians are not and therefor do not attract me.

Though I notice a difference when I am a traveler in Hungary. There is more approach towards me. People who speak English did offer help on several occasions.

Solutions to integration

When we would speak the language. When we would have a lifestyle that includes opportunities for engagement with the locals. When fostering a sense of community, we would thrive. As we witness with the only person we know who speaks Hungarian. But then, he’s half Hungarian and has a Hungarian partner. It seems people with school attending children integrate too.

Awareness of our place

We do love our home. It is an extra-ordinary spacious and beautiful place surrounded by forest. We have a private retreat with the best organic food available. Both needing quietness and loneliness we are at an excellent spot. But, compared to batteries, we can not recharge them by our home alone. For this we need electrolytes in the form other than forest, house and garden.

How do we charge our batteries?

Geo and I regularly drive to Bosnia where we feel good. To feel extra alive I travel abroad with a walking trailer or bicycle. It is challenging for me to have an ever same scenery where I move about. I thrive by views from mountains and seeing new scenery. Then again, I simply devour homemade food I can put on our table. It is nowhere as good. Besides, Hungary has simply no quality cuisine.

The friends on Instagram

‘The human dimension needs to be fed. To feel that there are more links to the land than just the land itself.’ Wrote a friend I made on Instagram. She is spot on.

Our Hungarian cats

The 5 cats we had and that we lost is a big throwback. A cat makes a home truly a home. Yet, our immediate German neighbor has other opinions. With the cat and the fun and care for it gone, our feeling of home has declined. The routine has become predictable and my arm tendons overworked.

I understand that locals are not engaging with people who do not speak their language. Especially provincial Hungarians who can’t speak English and are shy by nature. And so, we need another focus. One where we can learn the language from.

Circling around each other is not what feels okay. Now, even with the cat gone to circle around, what is left is enough to leave behind.

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My hand-made embroidery projects can be yours

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