THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, September 15, 1994 TAG: 9409130161
SECTION: NORFOLK COMPASS PAGE: 14 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY GEORGIA WAINGER, HIGH SCHOOL CORRESPONDENT
LENGTH: Medium: 82 lines
Tourists in foreign countries spend time sightseeing and rooting around relic-filled museums. But until they go grocery shopping, tourists cannot truly understand the country.
For six weeks this summer I traveled throughout Eastern Europe with 11 aspiring journalists and photojournalists as part of Interlocken, a New Hampshire-based organization that offers programs for youth.
Some of the best times we had were shopping for food.
Our first major food excursion was in Prague, Czech Republic. It was the eve of a national holiday, the Sokol Parade, a gymnastics fest which had been banned under Communist rule and was being celebrated for the first time in more than 40 years.
Since stores would be closed on the holiday, we needed to shop for food for dinner and the next day. We left for the market around 5:30 p.m. and arrived 10 minutes later. It had closed early because of the holiday.
Arriving seconds after we did was a man who spoke fair English. He told us of another market three bus stops away. We ran for the bus stop while he continued yelling American expletives, angry that the market was closed.
To save time, we decided to walk, but when we got to the market it was closing and there was no bargaining to keep it open.
We were getting desperate. We had been gone for more than 90 minutes. Our leaders did not know where we were and neither did we. We decided that it was more important that we return late to the hostel with food than to go back empty-handed. So we took the subway into the center of town where we spotted a grocery store.
The five of us raced around the small, crowded store picking up vegetables (including a 1 1/2-foot-long cucumber); boxes of apple and black currant juice; thick, warm, 5 percent milk called Eko Meleko; and tubes of meat they called salami that had pieces of tendon in it.
But there was no bread; a nearby bakery was sold out. It took us a while just to find out if they even sold bread, because we had to resort to pretending we were eating a sandwich for them to understand us.
It was late when we opted to break one of the ``non-negotiable'' rules and split into two groups, one of three and one of two. (We were always supposed to be in at least groups of three.) My friend Tamar Brown, of California, and I returned to the hostel to tell everyone what happened while the other three stayed out looking for bread. What they ended up buying wasn't the white bread we expected, it was poppy seed swirl.
At the hostel in Budapest, Hungary, we could cook, and we planned a Hungarian stew for dinner. As we peeled and chopped vegetables we had bought that day, we noticed we were missing onions.
It was almost 7 p.m. Most stores close early in Eastern Europe, but my friend Heather Brome, of New Jersey, and I decided we would go on a quest for onions. We were staying in Buda, (the Danube River flows down the middle of Budapest, creating the two cities of Buda and Pest), so stores were all around us, but they were closed.
We walked for a few blocks hoping for an open store or even a restaurant, but there were none. Then we spotted a bar. It was worth a try.
We walked inside the dirty, musky tavern and asked for a menu. Ha! An English menu and a Hungarian menu. But more importantly, a dish called ``Beef With Onions.''
Having forgotten our Eastern European phrase book, we pointed at the word ``onion'' hoping the bartender would understand. She didn't. Heather and I then pretended to cut an onion and cry. The only reaction we got was from a drunk man who was laughing and pointing at us.
Then we tried finding the word for onion on the Hungarian menu, but even after pointing to it, the bartender didn't understand. This scene went on for 20 minutes before the bartender brought out an onion.
Heather and I were ecstatic over the onions. I am fairly certain that we are the only two people that have ever been shopping for onions in a Hungarian bar.
It was unique experiences like these that gave all of us a true taste of Eastern Europe. We had a great deal of interaction with people of other races and nationalities that allowed us to discover new things not only of the people we came in contact with, but ourselves as well. MEMO: Georgia Wainger, 16, is a junior at Norfolk Academy. ILLUSTRATION: Photo
Georgia Wainger learned the value of shopping for food while
traveling through Europe.
by CNB