Mysteries often manifest themselves as questions and heaven knows, Hungary raises a lot of questions. Some are trivial, some are profound but from what I see as a newcomer, these questions are distinctly Hungarian. And finding answers can sometimes feel like trying to find the square root of Pi. For instance, how can such an isolated and lonely country have the highest per capita rate of Nobel prize winners? And why aren’t they working on the economy? How can a country so small have so many people over 7 feet tall? A week doesn’t go by when I don’t see someone that tall walking down a street. How can a country with a population of only 10 million and a brutally difficult language support 160 publishing companies? What’s with all the dogs? And where are the cats? Why do the police pull drivers over to the side of the road to fill out questionnaires? When you say ‘hello’ in Hungarian, why does it sometimes mean ‘hello’ and other times mean ‘goodbye’? When there are only six people in the movie theatre, why do we all have to sit together? Why is it so easy to find a dentist and so hard to find an electrician? Why does the Post Office sell stuffed animals? Does anyone buy them? If so, why? Why did the restaurant toilet flush when I turned on the bathroom light?One of the great mysteries is simply the way Hungarians think. It’s different. Hungary is not a country where one would want to try to eek out a living selling copies of The Power of Positive Thinking. On the contrary, every day you see evidence that Hungarians can make the Power of Negative Thinking work really well. All you have to do is tell a Hungarian that something won’t work and by golly they’ll prove you wrong. Heaven help you if you try to tell a Hungarian that something will work because they’ll prove you wrong on that, too. But to realize that the rest of us might be wrong all you have to do is look at what people from this tiny nation have given the world. The ballpoint pen. The light bulb. The carburetor. The slide projector. Stereo broadcasting. Holography. And best of all? A dark, dark sense of humour. You gotta love this place. I do.
