Looking Back: One Month In

July 22, 2010: I sent an email inquiry to a woman at a teach abroad program called CETP. Was curious, thinking about possibly going next Spring.

August 22, 2010: I landed in Budapest, knowing no Hungarian, no one, and nothing about what I was really getting myself into.

September 22, 2010: Today.

...Wow.

May 21st: 4 months ago. CSUF Credential Commencement Ceremony.  My long hair ready for a beautiful wedding updo, a new outfit for all the interviews I was supposed to have, a bright shiny future ahead of me.  

It’s only been two months since I even really considered/looked into teaching overseas. When I think of it like that, it boggles my mind. It’s crazy how life can change. Four months ago, if you were to have asked me what I’d be doing in September, I’d say teaching, of course, but teaching history in Southern California—not English in Hungary. It's not so much that I was naïve, but I just had no idea what fate had in store. There are so many things that have changed, but this is probably the most dramatic—and awesome.



September 18: 4 weeks after moving to Hungary. Short-haired, single, and loving life in the moment--not worried about the future ahead. (Walking around the dome of the Basilica in Budapest.)

Here I am, living in a small town in Hungary. I am a legal resident of the European Union. I shop at the various small shops and markets, I pay for things in forints, I look up every word I need to use and often have to play charades to communicate my wants and needs. I wear tights under my jeans and scarves and gloves on my walk to school...in September. I walk everywhere. I eat soup every day, usually twice. I watch CNN and VH1 for hours on end. I turn the gas line on and off each time I use an appliance. I hang my laundry to dry from a shower rod in a utility closet and near a gas wall heater. I teach students new content and a foreign language in a language they don’t understand.

I’ve been here for one whole month—and only one month. As some of my new friends’ statuses have been saying, I don’t remember what life was like before Hungary. Okay, so perhaps it’s a bit overdramatic, but it has an air of validity we can’t deny. There is something strange about a move like this, where you leave your world behind and start a new one—you sorta forget that the world you left behind is still going on without you. You sorta forget what the world you left behind is like. You get consumed by your new world, the way of life and all of its strange little quirks to which you quickly have to adapt. Of course everything closes by 1pm on Saturday—how silly of me to think otherwise. Of course you can’t get Sudafed in a tablet form—I wanted it in a powder to “dissolve” in water anyways. Of course this train splits at the next train station. Of course there is another step to complete in the immigration/employment process. Of course, of course. (I have a Hungarian 7th grader who says “of course” to everything I say.)

I’ve experienced so much, grown and learned a lot, and I know that the coming months only have more in store.

Some observations:

The legacy of Soviet bureaucracy is far from forgotten. Everything requires tons of paperwork and numerous stamps and signatures in blue ink. It is also still possible to have favors done. I may or may not have made a friend at the tax office today who is going to put a rush on my tax id number so I get paid this year.

School is insane. The American system is far from perfect, and needs some serious overhauling, but I wouldn’t be lying to say that the Hungarian system could learn some things from the U.S. Mostly, what they do to teachers here. Many of us have more than 10—I have 14—different groups of students  across 9 different grades teaching 14 different curricula at MANY different levels of ability, most of which is “supported” by less-than-sufficient books. And it’s not just cruel and unusual punishment for the Americans, it’s everyone! I seriously don't know how some of the older teachers survive--I'm 23 and exhausted.

Smiling is overrated. I often forget, but I am becoming accustomed to the cultural tradition of not smiling at strangers. It's not rude, it's normal. I still smile at cute kids and dogs and such, but for the most part, I don't show much expression on my face while walking down the street.

I hate chalk. All but two of my classrooms have chalkboards, and it is sooo messy! I’m usually covered in a rainbow of dust, the darn things break all the time, and it’s hard to write legibly!

I read on one of the teacher's blogs who was here for several years that her New Year's Resolution was to learn Hungarian--and that each year, she didn't make that happen. You'd think that the stumbling around day after day would get frustrating--and believe me, it is--but there's just so little time or energy to devote to studying!

Things I miss (besides the obvious stuff like family/friends/English):  Fountain soda. When you go to a restaurant, even the food courts in the malls, you get bottled soda. Cans are even hard to come across.
Fast food in general. Not that I would necessarily go to McDonald’s regularly (if at all), but I miss knowing it’s an option. There are no American chains in my “big town,” and the only thing you can really get “to go” is pastries and gelato. I cook almost every meal.
Non-stick pans-- I never appreciated the magic of Teflon until I didn’t have it. Since I cook every meal, I scrub and scrub my pots and pans, resorting to bleach-soaking and microwaving my eggs. And Ziploc—near impossibly to find.
I miss my soft fluffy bed. I am surviving on this rock of a sofa-bed, but I can safely add my mattress to a list of things to look forward to in January.
I miss having a car. Walking everywhere is such an alternate universe from life in So Cal, and even in Dubai we took the bus or a cab to go most places.

These are all rather negative, so I should throw in some positives…

Good things:

Being greeted by the phrase “Csokolom!” (schow-ka-lowm) every day. It literally means “I kiss (your hand)” and is a sign of respect—usually only used towards the elderly. Or, in Pápa, towards teachers. It’s pretty awesome. One of my advanced students today asked how she should greet me in English, and I told her that a simple Hi or Hello would suffice at an American high school. She was shocked, and was afraid that was rude. I tried to explain to her that we are much less formal, and that we definitely have no equivalent for Csokolom.

Kinder Chocolate!!!!  I fell in love with this stuff when I lived in Dubai, and I even had someone bring me back some from Germany. I am very happy to have an endless supply here. Chocolate makes everything better.

They are very eco-friendly here—everyone reuses bags. You have to pay for the plastic ones at the grocery store, and you are better off investing in the cloth/vinyl/burlap bags… especially when you walk ¾ of a mile to the store in the rain. Today was also apparently “car-free day.” (Everyday is car-free day for me, so I didn’t feel bad about missing the festivities.)  

I’ve made some great friends—both my awesome American colleagues/neighbors as well as some great people I work with at the high school. One has even tossed around the idea of giving me Hungarian lessons. Oh, and the great support network I have of CETP teachers across the country—we Facebook each other all the time.

I get to travel! I mean, it’s really only the hideously low rate-of-pay that is keeping me from going everywhere, but I have been to 4 cities in 4 weeks. Not bad, huh? I still have no idea where I am spending my holidays, but I have some ideas… Transylvania for Halloween, for example… possibly Kecskemét this weekend too.  

 

This is definitely an adventure. I am gaining all kinds of experience--teaching, world, life varieties of experience. There are so many things that are not what I expected, and yet I tried to not have expectations. It is crazy and incredible, exhausting and often overwhelming, and yet refreshing and motivating. Some days make me feel like I can take on just about anything.  

I am so fortunate to have this opportunity, and blessed to have the support and love of my family and friends at home. Thank you for following my adventure (and my blog).
If you would like a postcard, please send me your address! I didn’t bring my address book.

"Distance is not for the fearful, it is for the bold. It's for those who are willing to spend a lot of time alone in exchange for a little time with the one they love. It's for those knowing a good thing when they see it, even if they don't see it nearly enough..." -Oprah

PS--check out my friend Alex's blog at alexinhungary.blogspot.com --he wrote a great 1-month reflection blog.