I bought new shoes a couple of weeks ago! Sometimes I have difficulty reconciling this with my joblessness, but most of the time I managed to rationalize it... I worry that the money I've saved over the semester has been mentally budgeted for too many things (deposit AND three months rent AND health care, etc. etc.)

The point of the story, though, is that these shoes are eating my feet alive. Breaking them in is a slow process; until I do, however, I have to contend with numerous moderately-infected sores covering my feet.

One strange thing for me about Hungary, coming as I do from the States, is that if you want anything moderately related to medicine/vitamin supplements/personal upkeep you have to go to the gyógyszertár (pharmacist's) and ask a nice lady to give it to you. I went in for some hydrocortizone cream, only to hear that I needed a prescription! I felt like my civil liberties were being infringed on! My right to self-medication. (I suppose this is right alongside Americans' right to name their children Adolf Hitler, another one you're denied in Europe.)

Baldur suggested a different cream I might try, so I went back to the same pharmacy for Take Two. The women didn't know what I was talking about. I explained that I had a "little infection" and pointed to a cut on my finger. They brought bandaides; I insisted I wanted cream. I pointed to a cut on my finger, hoping this would clear things up. Rather, the women insisted that cream was unnecessary.

I sighed; I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. Apologizing, I reached down, untied my shoe, removed my sock, and lifted up my somewhat infected foot for the benefit of the women. "Little infection!" I insisted.

They agreed, and I got my cream. I'm still really sorry.