Put down the sandwich and come to brunch!

In two day's time I will be in Greece. This is a bizarre concept for me. Hungary has, oddly enough, become sort of... homey to me. When I left work today, wishing a happy Easter to all that I passed, I was actually a little bit sad to not see everyone, all my kiddies and colleagues, for a week. I am aware that this is massively lame of me. It's just... I love my job! I spent this past week teaching Easter to the children. We made bunny faces out of egg cartons, sang Little Bunny Foo Foo, and bopped each other on the head. It was actually, really fun. And the little geniuses were so good at everything. Balint was amazed today that they could break out the whole Bunny Foo Foo song. But when something is fun, when the kids (and the teacher!) are having fun, dancing and hopping and singing... how can they not learn?

I'm dying of allergies. Absolutely dying. I've started taking the meds again, but they take a few days. It would probably help if I didn't keep doing things like laying in the grass on Margaret Island, soaking up the sun. Or smelling flowers. Or throwing handfuls of fallen tree blooms at children in a "flower-fight."

The sunshine has brought out a new and different Hungary. I'm sure that this is a Hungary that I saw in August when I first arrived, but I was too overwhelmed by all my many changes to notice it. Now, though! I can hardly believe my eyes. The streets are full of smiling Hungarians in ridiculous clothing, laughing and eating ice cream. Small children chase after their parents on tiny kick-bikes. Every transit stop is populated with nenis selling flowers and fruit grown in their garden. Fruit sellers actively sell to you, and soft comments of "nagyon szep! very beautiful!" follow all the young girls. Oh, Hungary. I've fallen in love again.

I also found brunch this weekend! After a marvelously funny day spent at the hands-on science museum in Buda with Lyla and Balint, where we played with magnets and fell over due to optical illusions, I had a somewhat ridiculous Saturday night. Several sober expats, proud of their knowledge of their adopted town, wound up lost in the middle of the city, distracted by the clear night sky, the stars, the warm breeze rubbing the hairs on their necks, and laughter. Getting lost, though, is only a detour, and the night was not ruined. Waking up early on Sunday by the sun shining through the open patio door and the wind tickling my feet, there was only one thing that would do. Brunch. Real brunch. So we trooped out to Bar Ladino, where we ate spinach-and-goat-cheese omelets, homefries, and sausage, and drank long coffees, and laughed about Hungarians and their penchant for eating half a dozen sandwiches a day, and sighed about the weather.

Sitting in the shade of a large, leafy tree on Margaret Island while my friends dozed in the sun, staring at my feet in my oh-so-American flip flops, listening to my Spanish music with one ear and the birds chirping with the other, I took a long sip of my Hungarian fizzy water. The bubbles sizzled, and in that moment I knew exactly who I am. Then it was gone, and I was left wondering again. I smiled, and forced my friends to scooch over so I could have a spot in the sun.