weeks later (in the hungarian universe this is timely, I believe), I was surprised with a birthday party tonight. on a number of levels, really, and I must admit to feeling rather unworthy of the generosity bestowed upon me this evening.
I walked into my little jazz internet cafe without fully knowing. at the big table in the corner, surrounded by handwritten happy birthday banners, a number of co-teachers and gabi’s lovely girls stood and began to sing happy birthday to me. the barista cracked a smile as I blushed to my toes and received my glass of champagne and rather a lot of hugs and double kisses.
I successfully avoided the presents for a while as I had my laptop with me and could finally show Kata, our devoted art teacher, the pictures I took to document her name day (as she so lovingly documents all her classes). I was however caught into the toast, which after a fashion turned rather sweet, if slightly ungainly as non-native speakers struggled perhaps with english, perhaps with unfamiliarity of expressions of such gratuitous kindness to a near stranger. they are my friends, in a way, but like everything in hungary things progress slowly. yet I felt tonight received and welcomed for the first time as a friend.
I drew it out a bit, the opening of the presents when time no longer allowed me leeway. hidden under kata’s paisley scarf a pile of packages and loose objects awaited. though the teachers bought me a spectacularly soft plum cardigan (and laughed when, finding it so ‘me’ that it must already be mine. I checked if for holes, as all my other sweaters poses more than the usual four) and an rust coloured paisley scarf I found oddly suitable, and gabi presented me with a beautiful, handmade-paper-covered book by her favorite hungarian author, it was her children’s presents that left me rather speechless. it usually is, isn’t it.
boro (maybe 7?), in addition to the brightly coloured banner, had painted a bottle in red and black to use for a vase, or perhaps as was suggested some homemade palinka. she had also wound a paper clip into a flower and strung it on a blue ribbon for a necklace. she admittedly giggled when at my attempt to put it on immediately I found it didn’t entirely encircle my neck. so we tied it around my wrist instead. eszter (ten, I think), creator of the medieval calligraphy banner laid across the table, had fastened a handmade wool flower, green with an outline of orange, to her handmade black paper box. Sure, neither knew how to spell my name properly, writing instead the half english half hungarian transliteration ‘Any’ (in hungarian the sound of my name would be ‘Eny’) but I found this somehow appropriate and charming. I grinned conspicuously and thanked her copiously, only to once again bring laughter as she pointed out that there was in fact something in the box. I opened it to reveal a handmade wool necklace, on yet another too short string so she tied it around the other wrist. Real laughter burst forth as I went to put the box down carefully again only to be informed that I really ought to look inside again. A pair of rolled wool earrings (a technique I’ve yet to see anywhere else, I’ve eyed frequently, and must really learn to do) in lovely oceanic blue and green found a home in my ears, even if I couldn’t manage to close the clasp on the first try.
it was the noticing that took me by surprise. though some of us had talked about heavy or lighthearted things, I never thought they really gave me a second glance. I didn’t realize so many of them had been learning me as carefully as I’d been learning them.
merriment ensued, with the help of champagne, and even as some had to leave to tend to their children others arrived knocking at the windows and generally enjoying one silly moment after another. gabi taunted me with the hungarian tongue twister I enjoy not being able to wrap my brain around and the girls and I swatted and played even as we all discussed philosophy and cultural differences and the dramas at Agy Tanoda. in the midst of this beautiful chaos I realized eszter (an incredibly gifted artist) was writing something along the top of her banner. I’d really no idea whether she was doodling and there was no other paper, which seemed a shame but it’s her creation to do with as she wishes, but as she crossed the table, appearing to write one or two words per sheet, my interest and curiosity grew.
perhaps it’s the changes this country has begun to make in me, maybe I’m just getting old. there are times sentences are said, praise lauded, that I don’t believe a word no matter who the source, just as at times I choose to accept it regardless because it’s what I need to hear. when gabi, whom I trust perhaps more than any other individual in this entire country, called me her best friend, the best foreign teacher Agy Tanoda has ever seen, I chose to accept the former as good natured exaggeration (admittedly I did literally raise an eyebrow) and simply completely ignore the latter. yet children are different. they may hint towards inheriting the traits of their parents, they may scheme and berate, but they do so more often than not without true guile or pretext. they may claim a thousand reasons for failure to turn in homework, but they know full well you’re not going to buy it for a penny, and they may praise you to the heavens but it’s in my experience always accompanied with a certain lilt of a smile and so timed that there’s no confusion that it’s meant to gain favor. (I could of course be wrong, about all sorts of things, but at this juncture I choose not to entertain that possibility.) it is, with children and perhaps with adults, the most spontaneous utterances that hold the greatest portion of honesty. and eszter, though wise beyond her years, is still a child.
finished, she looked up, saw me watching, and simply said it was ok for me to read it :
“If you are smiling, we are smiling too. If you are with us we are happy, Any.”