Idyll

On Mondays after I finish at Avicenna I go to a private lesson where I tutor a young Finnish boy, who attends a British high school in Hungary with a focus on German language (let your head explode there, it's ok), primarily in writing. He's a sweet kid with a lovely family and they really compensate me well for my efforts so it's a nice set-up. Plus they often feed me, which is sooooooo lovely.

Anyway, on my way to the lesson yesterday I receive a text stating that I should get off the bus a few stops later because they're going to come pick me up and it's a better spot. Have I mentioned that it hasn't stopped snowing since Saturday? And that they live three quarters of the way up one of the giant Buda hills? So I think, sweet, a car ride! I don't have to trudge up the hill in the intense, wet snow!

I get off the bus and there stands Wille in a blue-and-white sweater, all ruddy and blonde and oh-so-Finnish, holding two sleds.

And we sled down the hill to his house.

I arrive and his smiley mother gives me hot chocolate in a special mug set-up that includes a candle to keep it hot, as well as several varieties of cookies, and we go over his essays.

Afterwards I trot down the hill to my normal bus stop, hot cookies in the inside pocket of my jacket, alone in the hills. I hear the snow crunch under my feet. It falls, thick and soft, onto my cheeks, my eyelashes, my hair. The quaint old street lights make golden, spotted balls of light against the dark night, and through the trees I can make out the outline of Parliament, far away across the river. And, running down the hill so as not to fall, I start to laugh. And I laugh all the way to the bus, where I tell an old lady she has a beautiful sweater. She is slightly frightened by the presence of a foreigner in this far-out neighborhood, especially one soaked with snow, giggling, and complementing her outerwear. But she smiles, and pats my hand.

I lean my head against the window and watch the hill fade away into the blustery white night and return slowly to the real world of downtown.