why I waited until today to take my Christmas picture off my blog

Pop quiz: Yesterday was the 12th day of Christmas. That makes today _______.

If you said Epiphany, you’ve won… nothing. (The last time I offered a prize on this blog I unexpectedly had to actually deliver on my promise. I’m not making that mistake again, Neal.) Those of you who’ve hung around me in recent years know how much I’ve come to treasure the liturgical calendar. It’s the chronological depiction of God’s grace, annually taking us step-by-step through the dramatic story of God’s interaction with his world. Epiphany is one of the lost Christian holidays (a group which I fear will soon include all Christian holidays besides Christmas and Easter, and we can have a healthy discussion about how those two are celebrated). Indulge me for a moment, and allow me to give you three reasons why you should celebrate Epiphany this year (and every year).

First: the events of Epiphany are really cool. I know Christmas is pretty fun with the cute barnyard animals, the angel choir, and the miracle of the virgin birth, but when you get right down to it all that stuff’s pretty dirty and gross (I wouldn’t want anybody I know to give birth in a nasty manure-filled sheep cave). The “absurdity” of this incarnation (see Kent’s post) is put in harsh perspective by visits from the greatest minds of foreign countries and Simeon’s bold declaration of faith at Jesus’ circumcision. Imagine a refugee baby born in a disgusting stable visited by great heads of state, or intellectual giants – now that’s absurd! (For more on this look into the Berlioz oratorio “L’Enfance du Christ,” a great Christmas counterpoint to Handel’s “Messiah.”)

Second: Epiphany means “to show” or “to reveal,” as in this Jesus child being revealed for what he is, the Messiah, the King of Kings, the very Son of God. If Christmas is about the wonder of Christ becoming human, Epiphany is about the wonder of Christ becoming human. On this day the world-shaking reality of Jesus’ divinity is revealed to us, and it’s our privilege to reveal that divinity to others. Light is a big theme for Epiphany, and as carriers of Christ’s light we get to reveal it to the entire world. (For more take a good look at Isaiah 60 and 61, great Epiphany chapters.)

And third: Simeon, one of the most underrated Biblical characters. This old man’s been told by God that he’ll see the Messiah in his life. Of course, for a Jew of his day that means he’ll see a new David to usher in a time of peace, prosperity, and prominence for Israel. It’s back to the good ol’ days! Don’t you think he would want to hang around to see how this thing turns out? Don’t you think he would want to keep tabs on this Jesus kid? But these are Simeon’s words after seeing the baby Jesus in the temple:

“Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
you now dismiss your servant in peace.
For my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the sight of all people,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel." (Luke 2:29-32 NIV)

Simply seeing the Christ child was enough. The revelation – the Epiphany – of this child’s true identity and nature was what gave Simeon shalom. This Epiphany join in his prayer (if you can sing it, all the better), and recognize this savior graciously revealed to us.

ugh

Disclaimer: This will likely be another whiny and maybe even gross blog post. Sorry.

You ever have one of those days that can best be described by that strange in between a groan and a grunt noise? I woke up this morning still feeling like somebody had a belt cinched around my chest, and groggy from the overdose of cold meds I took last night so I could get to sleep. I took a long shower that involved Tarzan-like beating of my chest in an effort to dislodge the phlegm coating my alveoli (brought back great memories of post-heart-surgery physical therapy - if only I had those rubber suction cup beating things they gave me). I take the time to have some eggs for breakfast (it was that or lentils - the only foods I have in the house) and still get to school plenty early enough to make the copies I need for today's classes. I grab my books and head down to the teacher's room and find the copier's broken. No copies = new lesson plans. Then I do my morning internet check (e-mail, blogs, news.bbc.co.uk, and of course ESPN.com) and find that Texas has just scored a touchdown to go up 41-38 on USC with something absurd like 19 seconds to play. Then I have to wait approximately 15 minutes before they refreshed their site with news that Texas did in fact hold on to win (I was so close to calling you to find out, Dad). You can imagine my state as I walked into class this morning. Of course, nothing can cheer you up like hearing a happy bouncy 14 year-old respond to your good morning with "You sound like frog death." Priceless.

incarnation realities

I have smart friends. Kent and Bethany, the two other original members of our little blogging cabal, made profound Christmas observations on their blogs. I advise you to take a look.

As for me, my first Christmas away from my family was equal parts bitter and sweet. Fellow ESI-er Danielle did a wonderful job of making it feel like Christmas by opening her home to a random collection of folks with no place to go. Our potluck Christmas dinner was wonderful, and we had a great time. The toughest moment came when I woke up at 6:30 Christmas morning to call my family in Seattle (where it was 9:30 PM Christmas Eve). For as long as I can remember our family has gathered around our Christmas tree after church on Christmas Eve and all shared a Christmas reading of some kind - poem, scripture, short story, song lyrics, devotional, or anything, really. I think my family would agree that I'm particularly enamored with this tradition (I put it down to being the English major of the family) so I was really happy to be able to use Danielle's internet phone to take part in this tradition intercontinentally. My reading this year was excerpts from a sermon by Fleming Rutledge on the massacre of the infants, commenting on the importance of that detail within the Christmas narrative. She observed that without a recognition of pain, evil, and suffering in the narrative itself it has no more importance than the Rudolf story, or Frosty the Snowman. I was once again reminded how easy it is to insulate ourselves from the pain of the world, and that as long as one of my brothers or sisters is in pain, I am too. My New Years resolution (as it was last year, and the year before): be an agent of God's shalom in this world of pain.

holiday greeting

Here's some Christmas cheer from the wonderful 9A1 class!

scatterbrained

I can't seem to pull together coherent ideas, so here's a list of what's bouncing around in my noggin:

• Today was the last day of school for me, and I'm remarkably happy about it. Spending the break here in Budapest should be very relaxing, if a bit lonely. My students, sweethearts that they are, even offered to put together an ice skating party over the break so I would have something to do. I'm looking forward to sleeping, writing, reading, cooking, and playing guitar.
• Budapest is one beautiful city, especially with all the Christmas lights and decorations! I don't know how anybody can work around downtown and not feel at least a little bit festive!
• Last night my school had it's annual talent show, Kossuth Est. I enjoyed the parts of it I could understand and faked my way through the parts I couldn't (just clap when everybody else claps...). It's good to know that most high school bands are the same worldwide: loud and bad.
• The highlight of Kossuth Est gets it's own bullet point! The first act was not a current Kossuth student, but one who graduated last year and went on to fame and fortune by placing second in the Hungarian equivalent of American Idol. He even has a record contract! It was quite a big deal that he came back (my left ear is still a bit deaf from the girl who sat behind me and her screaming!), and he has a very good voice - high and velvety, like Otis Redding.
• It's amazing how one chord on my guitar immediately silenced the class that I can NEVER get to shut up. They actually participated today in our Christmas carol sing-along without (much) extraneous talking. Talk about your Christmas miracles...
• I love good jazz bari sax! I also love listening to the Duke Ellington version of the Nutcracker Suite at this time of year, especially Dance of the Sugar Rum Cherry. Coincidence? I think not.
• As advent is the season of waiting, both for our celebration of Christ's first coming and for his second, themes of social justice have been prominent in my mind lately. Budapest is a city with lots of people begging for handouts, and I never know what to do. I've started trying to give a little to those who ask, not necessarily for them, but as a spiritual discipline for myself. I don't, though, know if I should do this because so many people have told me it doesn't really help anyone. It's not hurting me - I marvel at how much God has provided me with - but I'm still unsure about what is just.
• Finally, thanks to Sam, I'm craving grits of all things! I know, it's crazy for a yankee like me to want them, but I can't help it.

That's what's in my head this evening, ladies and gentlemen.

a gift

My students gave me a Christmas present today. In the middle of class they suddenly stood, sang a rousing (but sadly monotone) rendition of We Wish You a Merry Christmas, and presented me with a small package wrapped in newspaper. I took this picture in my flat with my "gift" this afternoon.

One of my students commented, "We don't think you look bad. We just think you need to shave your beard." Thanks.

Side notes: Anybody want to take a guess at which mountain is just over my right shoulder? Kent? And speaking of Kent, it seems the Thorubos group blog may be primed for a re-birth of sorts. Stay tuned for further updates.

vent

[disclaimer: I'm about to vent in an annoyingly whiny sort of way. Sorry.]

I gave a major oral test to 36 of my students today, a test so major they get excused from their normal classes. The poor kids take turns entering a room to sit at a table and face their four English teachers (yes, they all have four hours of English class every day!). The test is the responsibility of their two native-English-speaking teachers, so we ask the questions and give the grades. I think I was as nervous as the kids were, but we were well-prepared and it was a fair test. We followed our rubric and the grades were about what I expected.

So, the problem? I'm told that some teachers are unhappy with the grades we gave. Let me assure you this was a fair test and the grades will not be changed, but this sort of passive gossip makes me particularly angry. I would love to talk to the other teachers about their concerns, after all I'm trying to learn how to be a teacher as quickly as I can - any suggestions/constructive criticism is always appreciated. Furthermore, at the conclusion of the test we asked the other teachers how they thought it went. We got the same response I get every day when I ask my students how they are: fine. (Mom: I'm sorry I used to answer that exact same word every day when I got home from school. Please forgive me!)

I feel like I'm stuck in some Jane Austen alternate reality where people don't communicate. I want a little open conflict. I want some discussion about this. Instead, it will probably just fade away and slowly fester until the next flare up. And to clarify, I don't think this sort of gossip is a particularly Hungarian problem. We all do it, of course, but that just makes it all the more annoying. I hate it when I see my own weaknesses demonstrated in other people - I don't even have enough moral high ground for some righteous indignation! I guess I'll just have to forgive them and try to prevent some of that festering.

risky busyness

I've been both looking forward to and dreading this week for some time. It's been (and will continue to be) filled with all sorts of fun activities, but I'm getting low on sleep. Let me fill you in on some of the details. Monday night I returned to my church's weekly coffee house event which is mainly run for refugees. It's wonderful to spend time with people from Nigeria, Iran, Ethiopia, and other very different cultures. It's funny that I can be living in what is a foreign country to me and still miss international culture. I'm exposed to my American values and the general Hungarian culture, but rarely do I interact with any other cultural groups. For that reason coffee house is a breath of fresh air. Tuesday I was fortunate to have my regional director here, all the way from LA. She observed one of my classes (I felt much better about it this time!), and we got to have lunch and hang out for most of the afternoon. Our visit to parliament to see St. Istvan's crown was a success, and it was a treat to have some good discussions with her about my teaching and the rest of my life. Last night I went out to celebrate my teammate's birthday and had one of the fanciest evenings I've ever had in my life. We dined in style. Went out for cocktails. I even wore my tie. For a brief moment I felt like part of a culture I've never known, but then it past. It's amazing how much money makes a difference in your approach to life. Tonight I'm off to see Madame Butterfly in the cheap seats at the Opera House. And then tomorrow I jump on the train right after school to go to Prague and some friends' school ball. And somewhere in this whole process I have to find time to grade the quizzes I gave this week (yes, I stupidly gave every single one of my students a quiz in the same week - what a fool!).

When I have weeks like this I wonder a little bit. As most of you know, I'm here to do a job. I have a strong sense of calling and commitment to this work, and that keeps me going. However, weeks like this I wonder if I'm allowed to have this much fun! Going to fancy restaurants, taking in the opera, and gallivanting around Eastern Europe is not why I came to Budapest, so the good ol' Calvinist work ethic/guilt complex fires up. I think I'm doing my best to live up to my calling, but the clouds of my own disapproval gather when I live "the good life." I think about other places I could have sent the money I paid for a nice bottle of wine last night. I think about the activities with my students I could organize this weekend instead of dashing off to Prague. Then a still, small voice in the back of my head pops up and says (in a voice that sounds surprisingly like Laura Smit), "Rest, and enjoy the beauty of creation." This, of course, is solid Calvinist doctrine. To quote the CRC contemporary testimony, Our World Belongs to God, "Rest and leisure are gifts of God to relax us and to set us free to discover and to explore. Believing that he provides for us we can rest more trustingly and entertain ourselves more simply." Maybe I could work on the simplicity part of that, but the idea that leisure sets me free from my own expectations of myself is wonderful. It reminds me that the work I do is not mine to do. I am God's instrument - his tool - and as such I'm not the one who has the final say in the success or failure of the work. What a relief! I think the only thing I can do in response is to go enjoy the opera.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Somewhere somebody once said you never appreciate things until they're gone. At least I think somebody said that, and if not I'm saying it. I'm feeling pretty mixed emotions about tomorrow, to be frank. It's my first Thanksgiving away from America, and I miss so many of the traditional holiday trappings (ask my family - they'll confirm I'm a tradition nut). I'm very glad I'll get to celebrate with my TeachOverseas colleagues tomorrow (I'm even skipping school!), but when I roll out of bed tomorrow morning I'll miss smelling Mom cooking the sausage for stuffing (and to you doubters, yes, my mom's stuffing has sausage in it, and it's the best stuffing in the world... so there). I have great memories of our "international-flavored" Thanksgivings back in State College, playing in the Thanksgiving Day football game with Uncle Dan in Holland, and the wonderful hospitality of the DeVries family in Grand Rapids (they even made me brussel sprouts!). There's so much to be thankful for, but I think it's good for me to step back from the tradition a bit. I've learned so much about my own culture in my short time here, and seeing things through the eyes of my students and my Hungarian colleagues helps me to understand myself. So tomorrow will be a different sort of celebration for me. Amidst the incredible blessedness I feel, I think I'll wonder about some of those things I've always been thankful for. Is my life really so much better because of the affluence, the things, and the luxuries I have? But don't worry - I won't let it get me too down. There's a lot of turkey and pumpkin pie to be eaten! Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

snow

In an effort to be more positive I will now list the five best things about snow in Budapest:

5) It covers up the trash left in the field I walk across on my way to school.
4) It is yet another reason to be thankful for the terrific public transit here - I never have to drive in it.
3) I'm not sure but I think mulled wine tastes better when it's snowing.
2) Ice skating in City Park by Heroes' Square is even more fun when Vajdahunyad Castle is dusted with snow.
And the number one reason: 1) It makes it feel like Grand Rapids!

Actually, that was a joke. The real number one reason is that a trip to the outdoor thermal baths in the snow is incredible. And here's something a friend sent me today that I loved. It's by Stanley Hauerwas (I think). "The beauty of a green leaf turning red, the brightness of a stranger's face, the joy of a cat at play, the sheer wonder coming from the generosity of friends--for all this and so much more we give you thanks, we praise you, gifting God. Help us remember, however, that you have made us, through Jesus Christ, your thanksgiving sacrifice for a world that refuses to acknowledge its giftedness. Let us rush again and again to your feast of the new age, where you provide the space and time for us to enjoy being your joy."

a few photos

Some favorite fall break photos...

"Mad" King Ludwig's Castle in Bavaria (and the model for Disneyland):

The Austrian Alps:

A favorite Munich activity:

observation

As I alluded to in my last post, it's been a busy week. I found time for some fun activities (the opera on Wednesday night and after school table tennis with my students, to name a few), but my work week was dominated by the four class observations I had this week (one unofficial).

This is the first time anyone besides my students has seen me teach, and it was a little disconcerting. It probably goes without saying, but I think about my students when I plan my lessons, when I teach, and when I grade. Their needs are foremost in my mind. This week, though, as I prepared to be observed by my department chair, my ESI country director, and a group of about 20 or 25 guests for Pedagogy Day I started to think about other things. What would other people think of my teaching techniques? What nifty slick tricks do I have up my sleeve that I can use to wow these other teachers? Instead of focusing on what my students' needed (to practice using "would" for imaginary situations so they stop saying things like, "If I went to the beach I will take sunscreen so I will not burn down") I focused on what would impress other teachers.

The thing is, it worked. The other teachers liked my lessons, and I got good feedback. I felt lousy about one of the four observations (the "unofficial" one, fortunately), but otherwise I thought I had done pretty well. Then last night I was unwinding by reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (again), and I was blown away by how caught up in other people's opinions they were. Why does Ron care so much that he might not be able to apperate? Why does Harry worry that people will think he put Ron on the quidditch team just because they're mates?

I was actually thinking to myself, "boy, am I glad I'm not in that world anymore" when it hit me. That's exactly what I did this week. I sold out my students, and taught them lessons that were designed so they could show off their (and consequently my) brilliance, instead of ones that challenged them and taught them new things, and I did it because I was worried about what other people would think. In a word, pathetic. I owe them an apology for forgetting why I'm a teacher.

don't worry, I'm fine (or am I?)

It seems that going a week without posting anything on my blog causes some worry among friends and family on the other side of the world. I guess that probably says something about my poor communication skills in other forums. My plan, mentioned in my last post, to bounce back from vacation with strength and vigor was derailed by a bad cold and cough. Instead I spent three days of last week at home in bed, eating strange Hungarian soup mixes, listening to soothing music, watching an occasional episode of Joan of Arcadia, and trying not to cough too much. I mainly stayed home so my students wouldn’t have the chance to make fun of my frog voice. I believe I’m back up to normal strength, which is good because I have a busy week ahead.

Between the road trip and my brief stint as an invalid I had some time to think, so I turned to my favorite subject: myself. Don Miller says we’re all “lifeboat people,” that is like those stranded at sea in a lifeboat trying not to be the one who gets it when the water runs out. To prevent that from happening we focus our energy on proving our significance to others, usually at the expense of others. I’ve only been in my current life situation for two and a half months, but it’s the most independent I’ve ever been in my life. It’s easy for me to fall into the lifeboat trap because I have few people around for whom I need to sacrifice my wishes and desires. As I teacher I essentially impose my will on my students (not necessarily a bad thing), and since I’m basically living alone I don’t have to worry about shared living space relationships. I don’t spend much time with friends, and when I do it’s often sadly superficial. Right now everything I do happens on my terms, and that’s not healthy.

Several recent events have brought this truth into stark reality: my parents’ visit (do I need to elaborate?), my trip with Sam, a recent e-mail from a friend living and working in some amazing Intentional Christian Community in New York City, an article I read on “the new monasticism” of urban ICCs that sounded so much like what we wanted Project Neighborhood to be last year (and sometimes was), and a few good chats with good friends. While being convicted of selfishness and self-idolatry is not a fun process, it’s made me draw closer to my many communities. As a Christian I’m called to live in community with my brothers and sisters, and that inevitably means sharing, compromising, giving, letting go of my need to feel worldly significance (read: superior to others), and serving others. I’ve been ignoring or avoiding that calling of late.

As usual, it feels good to get this out in the open (even if it’s through the passive channel that is my blog). The next step is for me to speak to those with whom I’m committed to being in community. Then I need to remember that my Christian ministry begins with my example of Christianity, and true Christian communities demonstrate God’s love in deep and beautiful ways. Perhaps by making this public I will force myself into a little accountability. As Luke Girardi would say, “Hey, Copernicus called. He wanted you to know he discovered the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

i love Bavaria (and more)

So, to summarize, vacation's good. After travelling through Austria (hitting both Vienna and Salzburg, with a drive through the alps and the Austrian lake district) and Germany (Munich and Bavaria), I'm relaxing in Praha (Prague). The lovely Aaron and Phoebe graciously agreed to host us, even though their two year old son, Nehemiah, proceeded to run around laughing, screaming, and throwing himself on the floor for a good hour after we arrived. He likes new people, I think.

Some brief highlights include seeing cows wearing actual cowbells, mad king Ludwig's castle (the model for the Disneyworld castle), drinking beer and eating soft pretzels in Munich, the Austrian Alps (which look surprisingly like western WA), going to All Saint's Day mass in Munich, and catching up with friends (Christina in Vienna, all the Cheb/Sokolov ESI folk, and now the Prague gang). I wish I could give you the blow by blow of all of Sam and my adventures, but it would be longer than a Rick Steeve travel book.

Mostly, though, it's been wonderful to get away from the routine. I love getting away from the daily grind, because it makes going back to the grind so comforting. Nothing makes me appreciate the little daily things like a few days away from them. I think I'll return to my teaching duties next week with renewed vigor and energy. But until then, a few more sights to see...

road trip

Greetings to my (7) faithful readers. I just finished teaching my last class before the much anticipated fall break. I will be spending next week driving around Europe, specifically to Vienna, Salzburg, Munich, Cheb/Sokolov, Prague, Bratislava, and back to Budapest. I'll try to update on the way. Until then!

"The Magical Food"

Though I often get work from students that makes me laugh until it hurts, I've hesitated to post it on my blog for general enjoyment. Remember I'm the same person who wonders at the ethics of censoring spam comments on my blog - publishing student work without permission seems sketchy. The following, however, is a story the author had to read aloud to his class. Because it is already a public document I don't feel bad about posting it. That and I really like it! By the way, a passable knowledge of the international soccer scene will help in the reading.

"Once upon a time there was a little fat soccer koala named Konaldo. He had a very good friend called Benhaldinho. Konaldo and Benhaldinho were football players on the Koalaian national team. They had a magical food, the eucalyptus footballus. But there was a very bad rock kangaroo called Jumpy. This rock kangaroo was the minister of Kangaruantina. He didn't like football and he hated Koalai. The standard of living was higher in Koalai. Education and tourism were also high, but inflation was very high in Kangaruantina. [editor's note: can you tell what type of vocab we were working on that they had to include in their story?] In Kangaruantina the government wanted to steal the eucalyptus footballus. They charged Jumpy to steal it. One day there was a football match between Koalai and Kangaruantina. It was a "war" because Konaldo played against his enemy Ronaldingo. Konaldo's team lost the match because Jumpy stole the eucalyptus footballus. The fans started to fight. The police came and took them to jail. The police also took Jumpy to jail because they discovered he stole the magical food. So they lived happily after in freedom."

Well done, Gabor.

parental units

I'll send some paprika to the first person who identifies the guys in the statue my Dad and I are standing by in the first picture.




By the way, it's 7:00 in the morning and game three of the World Series is still going on (11th inning). Can I skip my first class to watch the web cast? I'm guessing not.

Sinatra, baseball, a Zlaty, and Russian Lit

I'm feeling into bullet points today. Here goes...

• Mom and Dad left yesterday and I responded by spending the whole afternoon on my couch - grading, planning, relaxing, and watching Alias. I feel almost caught up.
• I'm sitting in an internet cafe sipping a Zlaty Bazant and it reminds me of Calvin Band Tours. I'm really thankful for those memories.
• At the big covered market today I saw a Jack-O-Lantern on top of a stack of pumpkins for sale. I nearly bought a pumpkin just so I could carve it.
• What happened to the 'Stros? I feel happy for the Sox and my Chicago connections, but I thought this would be a great series. Here's hoping Roy and the Astros can bounce back tonight.
• I have to preface the funny train story by saying I'm really not attracted to most Hungarian women because of the way they dress and act. Let's just say modesty is not a priority. So, when a tastefully dressed attractive young woman sat in our compartment on the trip home from Eger I took notice mostly because it's such a rare thing to see. I have no interest in dating a Hungarian (the cultural differences would make it challenging), but I have never wanted to speak Hungarian more than when this young woman pulled out a Hungarian copy of "The Master and Margarita" by Mikhail Bulgakov. This is at least one of my favorites, if not my favorite book of all time (with thanks to E. Ericson and R. Rienstra). It was crazy - I had been mildly attracted to this woman and seconds later, before I knew it, I desperately wanted to talk to her. Oh well, maybe I'll meet her again sometime when my Hungarian is a bit better.
• The Batman post is coming, but let me reiterate that humanity is what makes great people great. Nobody liked Superman until the comic book writers invented kryptonite. It's the same with Jesus. He went through the temptations we do, but didn't give in. Batman is the best superhero because he's not super.
• I saw a new ad on a tram this afternoon. It featured Dr. Green, Dr. Ross, Dr. Benton, Nurse Hathaway, and the Physicians assistant Gini from the old days of ER. I was trying to remember how long it's been since any of those people were actually on the show. Hungary - always on the cutting edge of culture.
• The internet cafe is playing Sinatra singing standards (I Only Have Eyes for You, The Way You Look Tonight, etc.). Nice.
• With fall break coming next week my students are about as cooperative as a three year old in a pet store. I need tranquilizers for them.
• Walking around Budapest and enjoying the wickedly beautiful fall weather while listening to Jack Johnson makes me very happy.

quick thought

Mom and Dad are here, and it's a surreal clash of worlds. My students are meeting my parents? So strange!

kedd

It's Tuesday (Kedd, in Hungarian), and it's cold. We had our first frost Sunday night, and now my early morning walk to school is full of the foot crunching wonderfulness that comes from frosted grass. Did that last sentence even make sense? The cool, crisp fall days have been beautiful, and last week I was inspired to walk around my little corner of Budapest taking pictures. I hope to soon post a photo-essay of sorts, documenting Csapel for you all. But as I was walking around yesterday, I realized that Sunday marks the two month anniversary of my arrival in Budapest. It's amazing how quickly that two months has past, but also how long ago that seems. I don't feel like waxing poetic to mark the occasion (at least any more than I already have), so, in honor of Sam, here are some random thoughts on a Kedd...

1. I went to Eger this weekend (that's where I had the chocolate/walnut/rum flavored pancake with fresh fruit and whipped cream that is featured below). I saw the second largest church in Hungary, a really cool library (with a letter from Mozart), and the castle where a mere 2,000 Hungarians held off 40,000 Turks in the middle of the 16th century (only to be conquered by those some Turks 40 years later in a truly Hungarian twist of fate). The area's famous for its red wine, which was quite good, though the Egri Bikaver I had (literally, bull's blood) wasn't too special. The legend is that the Hungarians with beards stained red by wine held off the Turks with such ferocity thought the Turks thought they must have been drinking bull's blood. Rick Steeve's debunked the myth for me (as usual, he knows everything) by saying the name doesn't appear until the mid 19th century.

2. Hungarian is hard! I have lessons with my wonderful tutor, Lidia, on Tuesday afternoons, and in preparing for this week I was struck (once again) at how different the language is. The structures of English I've spent so much of my life working on simply don't exist in Hungarian. The language has no prepositions - just 400 different ways to end words (slight exaggeration).

3. Pogacsa are wonderful. Just trust me - I eat too many.

4. I had lunch yesterday with Todd, a very cool American who's been here with his family for years working with church planting and summer camps for kids. They do a 10 day English camp and a 10 day arts camp every summer as an outreach ministry of the E-Free church here (KEGY). Maybe it's something I can be involved with.

5. One of the most interesting things about sharing an office with four other teachers is what I've come to call the I'm-gonna-kill-em face. The nearly daily moment of someone walking back into our office between classes with a look on their face that could freeze water is always interesting. As teachers we (at least try to) contain our emotions during class so we can maintain some sense of dignity. But when we get back in the sanctum of the office, all bets are off - the real feelings come to the forefront and it creates a funny sort of bond between us. Last week one of my colleagues had to deal with a tragic accident that put her sister and nephew in the hospital. We saw the face a lot, but we were able to be supportive. It felt like the way community is supposed to work.

6. I picked up some Russian Lit again (Pasternak this time), thanks to a funny thing that happened on the train back from Eger. It feels very appropriate to read it here.