Panic

 As life here becomes routine, I have less and less to publish on this blog. I have a few chapters of a book written that I might publish just to show that I haven't forgotten about my blog audience. I'm afraid my only adventures this month will be figuring out how and where to get a COVID shot and figuring out whehter I can turn my dissertation into a novel. 

Yesterday, I went on my routine Saturday trip to the market to buy fruits, vegetables, and eggs. Sadly, my Hungarian is regressing in spite of my faithful practice on Duolingo. I repeated "nyolcvan" (80) to the vendor for the carrots and onion, then gave him fifty forint, expecting 10 forint in change (40 is negyven). I didn't hear the price of the bananas, but rather than repeat it, the vendor resorted to showing me the number on the scale.  I paid for the cherries with a 1000 forint bill because I didn't hear the price she gave me either.  When I dropped by Goodsmart (the Hungarian version of the Dollar Store) to buy canned fish, I heard 1200 and something forints, but it was only 980. The real revelation that my language had fallen far behind was when I left the store and felt that my wallet was not in my pocket. I did not have my phone with me, so I could not engage the help of Google Translate. I went back in, but it was not on the counter or on the floor near where I paid the cashier.  I went out of the store again, took everything out of my bag and repacked it, finding not even the smallest sign of my wallet.  I know that taska is bag, which is a little bigger than my wallet, and I could not think of the word for money, so I just said forint and with those two words felt reasonably satisfied that the shopkeepers knew what I was talking about. They looked with me again at the counter and the floor where I had last used the wallet. Just as I was about to give up hope and the shopkeepers were shaking their heads about not being able to find it, one of the customers pointed to a small wallet next to the shopping baskets. It must have fallen when I was putting my purchases into my bag. "Koszonom" (Thank you), I said to the customer, to the shopkeepers who were rejoicing that I had found my bag, and to God.  

My word for this week is pénztárcámat.  I hope there is no next time, but if someone else loses theirs, I'll know the word for wallet. The word that Google gives for dropped, when I have it retranslated means "threw down" so I'm going to have to figure out the appropriate word. 

I guess I did have an adventure last Sunday that I still haven't written about. I went to a small town about 90 minutes away. Several groups from our church went to a conference that was held in an old movie theater. There was big movie projector there with the reels.  Some of the old seats from the old movie theater were also in the building, but the seats for the conference attendees were soft, cushioned chairs. The driver who invited me and two other members to ride with him wanted to practice English. He had some well-thought out discussion questions for us to talk about, which made the trip go faster.