on novelty, hymns, and bus stops

I was standing on my balcony in the wee hours of last night with Lyla, letting the cool air blow across our faces and admiring the strange new things we can see outside this flat that we've lived in for almost a year, only because they cut down a few trees. Can you believe the year is over? Ha, no. And can you believe that at this time next year, we will be getting ready to leave? Yeah but that's a long time away. But just think of how quickly this year has gone. Wow. Yeah.

At my school's closing ceremony yesterday, there were rhythmic gymnastics demonstrations, cute little high school break dancers, and a man who could juggle a football for hours in interesting ways. And I giggled through them all, giddy with the beautiful blue sky, the knowledge of being cute in my dress, the sun on my cheeks, and relief over this week working out, well, exactly as I could have planned it. A colleague asked why I was laughing, and I answered, "Every day there is something new here. Every day I see or experience or do something new."

At the beginning of the ceremony, as the music swelled for Himnusz and I stopped talking and stood up straight, I thought about a lot of funny little things. That I know most of the words to that nationalistic dirge. That I'm starting to consider it pretty. That sometimes I miss the uplifting strains of American hymns, which are certainly much more optimistic. That less than 10 months ago, when I first had that song, I had no idea what it was, what was going on, what I was doing- while now, I can do practically anything I need to do. After the ceremony I wandered the school, visiting all the teachers that have actually helped me so much, giving the two kisses, and wishing a happy summer vacation. And I smiled that I have had a job that I love so much.

I've been lost for most of my time here. Literally, when street signs fail me, and nobody will give me directions. Or when they do give directions and I'm too proud to admit I didn't understand them! And figuratively, when I discover when walking into the staff room that the day's schedule has changed, was changed two weeks ago, but I was never told and have to make up a new plan right now. Or when I plan a great lesson, and simply can't explain it to the children in English. Or on the rare occasions when I find someone I simply cannot communicate with. Or when I need something very specific, and have to spend a lot of prep time planning, asking for words, printing pictures off the internet.

And yet, I feel myself. I feel my doubts, my pride, my successes and failures, my anger, and my love more clearly than I have in a long, long time. If ever. I feel myself here, and I grow and change and become new everytime I do something new.

I was looking for a bus with Balint the other day after he helped us out at the immigration office. As we wandered up the street, he asked if I knew where we were going. All I could say was, "Well, I know where I am." And sure enough, we soon found the bus.

Tomorrow my parents come, and they meet this funny little place that I love so much. I can't wait.