The last time I found myself on the other side of the planet for an indefinite period of time I had a full three weeks to process my new surroundings, start to get comfortable with the country before acclimating myself to the work bit. This time my grace period was four days.
Tomorrow marks two weeks in Hungary, and though I’ve figured out what a – crap, what’s the word, the big important book into which one enters what happened in class, who was missing, who did well or poorly, and of course exams and grades, naplo? – is I still don’t know how to say ‘please’. Though admittedly I’ve got three kinds of thank you under my belt already, and I’ve just used ‘ashtray’ for the first time, to the great amusement of my english speaking barrista.
(every now and again I check for airport signal – I just discovered ‘nasty nate’ but unfortunately he requires a password ; )
It’s sunny for the first time in four days, so I’m taking a moment to sit at my current favorite cafe near the river (the one that opened at the beginning of the summer and all the teachers talk about wanting to stop into but, save me dragging Andi in, have never done) sipping coffee with ice cream in (aka iced coffee, now that’s the proper way to do it) watching the old ladies and tourists and occasionally the high school teacher who moonlights as the horse-drawn carriage driver clip-clop past. My table base is almost the twin to the vintage Singer sewing machine bottom I’ve been using as my desk whenever I’m stateside, and the peeling green paint on the brass handled front door helps draw me in as well.
There’s a question as to whether the teachers have been paid as yet. They had been promised Monday, but as of yesterday everyone was comparing dusty bank accounts. If this is the situation in a private school (a very well funded one at that) I’m hesitant to think about the state of public schools. Though it appears that the majority of teachers live in town; as the rents are definitely higher here than a train stop away they’re presumably doing alright for themselves. Hungarians, it seems, rather like to complain, sometimes with cause sometimes perhaps with none. I’m still learning to tell the difference.
My impressions of Budapest have already faded into a stone-encrusted blur; my impressions of Szentendre exist primarily either inside the school walls or related to expedition-weight shopping excursions. My only proper town wander happened on a sunday in the rain, for which I’d forgotten my camera and just about everything inside was shut tight. I’ve yet to take a single photograph in this country, though there is perhaps something to be said for experiencing it a bit first before putting on critical lenses. This is, at least, my this-is-how-it-came-to-be rationalization. Fortunately it’s Friday, classes are done until Monday, I don’t go to Bratislava for my visa until Wednesday, so I’ve a whole lot of time coming in which to make up for my exploratory lacking. Here’s to hoping it doesn’t rain, as it’s about to do again right now…