Conversation with a Hungarian

I couldn't help but notice the "Cocaine" printed boldly on Sylvia's bright blue tee, so she pulled out a can with the same logo from the counter. "It's about 10 times stronger than Red Bull," she said, then noticing my reaction, "Yeah, it's an odd name to give a drink."

In the few minutes before that exchange, she had only spoken scant English to take my order and Hungarian to the other patrons, so I had timidly considered asking whether she knew the significance of what she wore. Sylvia turned out to be one of the first locals I've come across who spoke English proficiently and I told her as much.

"You Americans, all you need to know is English and you're fine," Sylvia said. "But Hungarian doesn't go very far, so I don't understand why more people here don't learn English. Especially downtown where the tourists are."

Neither do I, but it seems times are changing. She had to learn English in primary school, though she's been out of the education system for at least half a decade. But now her brother is finishing up secondary school, where he's required to learn two languages. On Americans knowing English, though, I tend to agree more with Eddie Izzard; about two minutes in, he pokes fun at the British for not taking up any foreign languages.

What's more, Sylvia spoke French and German, more so when she worked on a French cruise liner sailing from here to Amsterdam. She now stewards for a Swiss ship eight months out of the year and told me how the company set up an office in Cyprus to avoid Swiss taxes. The rationale of the taxes, she thinks, is to deter people from applying for permanent residence, for which they are eligible after working at a Swiss company for a number of years. I suppose no one wants residence in Cyprus.

I happened to catch her during the passenger ship's down time, but business also wasn't booming at her winter job, a cafe in the central fifth district. I was the only real guest for the hour that we talked, the others being friends and fellow employees in the neighborhood. This is normal for the season, but the dearth reminded her of Budapest's street riots in 2006, which cut tourism in half. Sylvia was sailing at the time, but the news and friends and family told her about the fires and violence that erupted in response to a failing economy and impotent government. She didn't know the solution, but the protests - which were likened to 1956 and 1989 - weren't it. "It just hurt our economy even more," she said. "The street is not the answer."

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Listening to: Coldplay, "Viva La Vida"