Big Life Questions: 101 ways to bore your readers!

Spring is here, truly truly here, I think. It was absolutely beautiful the past couple of days (disregarding the requisite daily blizzard, in typical Hungarian fashion).

The city is so different when it's warm and sunny, the transformation is a bit shocking. I went for a run along the river on Sunday morning, and even though it was gray and drizzling, somehow the air seemed to vibrate differently; it had undercurrents of something warm, light, hopeful. In short, spring. I ran all the way to Arpad Bridge, which is about 2 miles, then I ran back, the exact same way. That side of the river is just too nice to give up for the sake of change.

This time last year I was driven to a happy, mad-scientist kind of distraction by my senior thesis, while simultaneously being dragged down to the pits of despair by thinking about my future. Now I'm in a different country, teaching English language, of all things. The weird concept I'm trying to get adjusted to is that this is that implausible, nebulous post-college future. I feel differently about it day to day. Sometimes it feels like I've emerged out of a wide cavern into the light, the sun warm on my face, with the path right there, unassuming and solid. Other times it feels like I got out of bed to go to work, and the heat is off in the house, and I've already missed my bus. Missed opportunities, terror, etc etc.

I've managed to stave off "reality" for another ten-twelve months, though so far it feels bitterly real. If this isn't reality, I'm not sure what would earn that title. When do I cross that line? Did I already cross it when I flipped my tassel to the other side? Did I cross it when I flew over the ocean to Budapest? Will I cross it when I make my "real" life plan? This is my own personal, Central European hajj, so shouldn't I be coming to some cataclysmic discovery? I know, I know. Let go of that crap. I'm trying. But this is what I do/like best: splitting atoms.

On a more serious note, my couch smells like dog. It didn't smell like dog this morning. It's probably fine.

They always come back...

I haven't posted in two weeks, maybe more, so no better time than the present. A brief catch-up is in order:

1) Michael, Annalynne, Ben and Sara came to visit. That. Was. Amazing. It was quite a strange sensation, sharing this city, this country, with them; since I had been going through this experience in relative isolation, trying to describe it via blog or Skype didn't quite capture the reality here. Having people from home actually come and see this place, showing them all the awesomeness, laughing at the absurdities with them made it feel more real for me. The hardest part, of course, was saying goodbye, but them's the breaks. Those things are never long enough.



2) My first real translation work (D. Rubina's "Adam and Miriam") was met with much enthusiasm by the author herself, who sent it to other translators and a literary agent, and this story may be featured in the New Yorker, of all things. She said the translation was "very American," which I hope was a compliment and which I find very ironic, given my status in said country. In any case, I am really excited that something I really enjoy overlaps with something I'm good at doing.

3) Looking forward to visits by Katie and Danny in April, then Anna in May. Anyone want to visit in June, come on down. My bed fits three quite cozily ("A bed for lovers," my program director called it).

4) Writing my favorite professor/thesis advisor a Letter of Recommendation for a Teaching Award. Mayhap this will give me a leg up when I apply to UMass next year. Fingers crossed, all.

5) There's a five-day sunny streak coming up next week. ENOUGH SAID.

I'm sure there's more, but daylight savings is nigh, and just thinking about changing the clock one hour ahead is making me sleepy. Jo eszakat, one and all.

Word Muesli and March 15

My Stack of Ungraded Assignments is metastasizing on my desk like a hairy mole on an old man's scalp. Some of it is a month (a month!) old. It's not my fault, though, truly. Every time I assign something to my classes, about 70%, nay, 90% will forget to bring it in the first week around, making me wait another week to get the majority of their papers, then another week so that I can hand them back all at once.

The root of it all, the crux (what an awesome word), is that they -- how do I say this eloquently? -- don't give a flying frenulum about me or my class. Surely, you might cry, you can make them care by giving them grades? Alas, gentle reader, no. My grade is "combined" with the grade of the OTHER English teacher, the not-conversational one; that is to say, even if they behave like rabid monkeys (and they do, by the Hammer of Thor), they can still get a decent grade through the grammar-focused English classes they have. Luckily, my colleagues seem very reasonable, and have been nothing but helpful.

On a lighter (or graver?) note, this weekend is the National Day for Hungary, celebrating Hungarian... nationalism. It's actually a bit difficult to pinpoint what they're celebrating, since they haven't had much luck revolting against ANY of the foreign powers that have come, conquered, and re-conquered this place. March 15, 1848 was the day Hungary started a revolution against the Hapsburg Hemophiliacs (I kid,I kid, I'm sure there wasn't ANY inbreeding on the AUSTRIAN side...), which failed, though it weakened the Austrian powers until they finally tumbled down at the end of the 19th century, leaving Hungary to enjoy unfettered-ness for, like, five seconds, before being seized by the Nazis then the Soviets.* And they aren't exactly all there now, either. To phrase it in the words of 11th grade Attila: "Hungary is very much in the shits."



ANYHOOS, the high-school kids and the teachers were all dressed in black and white with Hungarian pins on their lapels, and it was all very interesting and somber. What amazed me most of all was the pride, the fierce love Hungarians have for Hungary, in spite of, and maybe even because of the fact that the government, the economy, health care, everything, is in the shitter (I mean truly in the toilet; America, by comparison, is enjoying a Tropical Punch CapriSun at a family picnic five miles away from said shitter).

It's damn near impossible to find a Hungarian who approves of the government, or thinks that things are great the way they are. Some Hungarians have told me despair is quite tangible here, and yet, they're still here somehow, and they still wave their Hungarian flags in earnest rather than as lip service. To me, that is patriotism. Acknowledging the faults of your country and loving it in spite of them. That is a demonstration of hope, and the only way a country can change itself for its people (thank you very much, Rush "Grotesque" Limbaugh).

I never realized until I left that I love America to tears.


*If any history is wrong, feel free to correct me.

iGoogle word of the day

stridulate (verb) To produce a shrill grating, chirping, or hissing sound by rubbing body parts together, as certain insects do.
Synonyms: clitter
Usage: The meadow was filled with the sound of countless unseen grasshoppers stridulating in unison.


Is it just me or is that totally awkward??

The Sunny Side of the Utca

So today Budapest received its weekly ration of sunlight, which lasted for a good 6 hours. In fact, I didn't even need to turn my lights on when I came home from work, and simply let the blue and gold of the sunset seep through the diaphanous curtains. It's amazing what a little vitamin D can do for one's soul.

In fact, I reread a few of my earlier entries and it seemed to me that many of them could be construed as discontented or grumpy. This would be an inaccurate and unfair summary of my life in Hungary so far. Of course, the challenges of my job and knowing I won't see anyone I love back home for many more months-- those get me down. Lately in particular, and I suspect that the absence of sun is a strong factor in this. And yet, unfailingly, every day something amazing or interesting or funny happens to me, and I can't believe I am where I am, living out this part of my life. So, inspired by Lauren's "sunspots," I, too, have decided to put down the many things that make me smile:

My beautiful kids. I've said all the important things about them already, but just the feeling of looking forward to going into work, even though I want to throttle them most of the time (even my favorites -- especially my favorites), is an incredible feeling.

Teaching high school. This has been a curiously rewarding thing. Tonight, for example, I was busy grading my 12th graders' "hobbies and pass-times" quiz, and some of their responses were absolutely amazing. Berci's (one of my faves') definition of "to sew": "It's a woman's hobby!! She can sew a T-shirt." Trying to explain "to catch (fish, butterflies, etc)," he philosophically observes that "this hobby is for boring boys and girls. I don't like fishing, it is too long to catch one if you don't have luck." Too true, my friend. Of the same word, Kata said it means "the butterflies is fly and you catch with your hand." This last one reminded me of your kids, Hanna, and likewise melted the dreariness away. There were a lot of other good ones, but you get it. Too cute.

Hungarian interjections. If you hear me muttering "Oj joj" (pr. Oy-yoy) under my breath in exasperation when I come back to the States, don't be alarmed. Thank me, actually, because it's one hell of a useful expression. It's the rough equivalent to "oh dear," but also so much more. It can mean "Well, aren't you fancy!" and "Chase me around the room!" and "Really!?". There is also "HAH-hoh!", which translates to the American "HELLO!", when one is trying to get one's attention. "Chah" is also a good one, and signifies a casual form of greeting between close/familiar people.

Princess. This is a pastry chain (as ubiquitous as Dunkins back home), and you'll be hard-pressed not to find one at every metro stop. If you must know anything about me, know that I have an unbridled, irrational passion for pastries. If ever found in an extreme enough situation, I would kill for a fresh-baked croissant. Luckily, the Hungarians feel the same way and have been magnificently cooperative.

There are many more things I enjoy, and want to dedicate whole entries to, so you'll have to wait and see. For now though, enjoy the sunshine and warmth, which seem to be bestowing their presence across the globe.

Lingua Franca?! Who needs you.

I'm sitting in Coffee Heaven right now, and on one side, I'm listening to a giant group of young people speaking English, Spanish, German, and Russian to each other, while to the left, I'm eavesdropping on a Hebrew student and her Israeli tutor discussing the weather.

Thank you, Europe. I am so happy to be where I am.