To be honest, there are good days - days when I barely think of home unless I'm reminded by something or someone - and bad days, during which I waste my idle time by daydreaming of home and attempting to plan the future I might want to carve out for myself when I return. A friend of JM's sent us a bunch of photographs she took of Nebraska. I know that this is a great experience, and the fact that I get to share it with one of my best friends only makes it that much better, but on days like today - days when it is overcast and the rain spits and mists incessantly - I can't help but stare at these photos of trees exploding firecracker red and gold to celebrate the coming of fall. I can't help but stare and feel a little jealous. We're going to cover one wall in the apartment with the pictures; a sort of shrine to "The Good Life."
Last weekend we hung out with a group of awesome (and crazy - "of course we have weed!") Romanians and a few Hungarians. I met a guy named Zoltan. Seriously. I tried Palinka which, as far as I can tell after drinking it, is probably Hungarian for jet fuel. We took the bus without paying. We drank. We played some guitar. Sebe tried to get us to move from the kitchen to the living room, where there was more room for everyone to sit and hang out. I didn't know how to tell him that standing in a kitchen and drinking with people made it feel like home. Luckily, no one paid any attention to him. We hung out. We drank. Sebe wouldn't let me pay him for the alcohol JM and I drank; he's a good guy. We walked home. Could have mistaken it for a good night in Lincoln.
As for the rest of this week: tomorrow I'm going to walk to either the National Museum or the huge cemetery near our place. JM and I, along with a large group of people, are going to the ballet this Friday. Here is the link to what we're going to see: http://www.xpatloop.com/news/62876 . Luckily I've already read the book, so I'll have a better sense of what's going on (hopefully). This weekend it's supposed to be sunny and sort of warm, so I think I'm finally going to check out Margit Island (where I'll be doing most of my running once I'm all healed up). Everything else is up in the air, as it always is.
1 comment:
I know what you mean, man. The weird thing is a sense of betrayal, almost, when you start calling your new place "home." But you gotta live your life, and do what you gotta do, and I hope Hungary does get to feel like home for ya soon. And when you do come back, Lincoln will be right where it always was, waiting with open arms.
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