Badogos

I have no idea what the word "badogos" (pronounced bahd-oh-gosh in these parts) means, but it certainly looks suspiciously like "Oh gosh, things are bad" to this American, wandering the dark streets of this little Hungarian town, absolutely alone.

Or, should I say, "allein." As if imposed by some sort of foreign invaders, German, not my prized English or the Hungarian that I am so forgiven for not understanding, might be my language of survival here. Agi, the deputy director or vice principal at Eötvös Joszef Közepiskola, met me as I made my first footstep onto the decidedly out-of-this-worldly soil of Heves. Her German was fast and sharp and harsh. Only slowly did I begin to realize that she wants me to teach German this year, in German mind you, in addition to English.

She explained the flat to me, I understood a significant percentage of what she said. I'll estimate half, probably as much or more than I actually need to understand at this point. We talked around a map for a while, Agi and I, and that was a little better. I believe I actually began to construct full sentences in German at that point. Barely, though. She blamed the hardship on jetlag, hoping I was just tired. I, on the other hand, have noticed a trend over the past seven years: the assumption of fluency. Sooner or later, hopefully everyone else will realize what I've long known, I'm not actually all that good at German.

Outside of being scared shitless and feeling more alone that I've felt since my first year at camp as a boy long ago, there are glimmers of hope. The first is that I've always said I like challenges. This might prove to be more of a soul-pounding expedition than previously assumed.

The second is Peter, the young English teacher who picked me up in Budapest. He seemed very nice, although the main topic of our conversation on the hour-and-a-half drive from the capital back to Heves was his lifelong, but as of yet unsuccessful attempt to leave Heves.

Third, the apartment seems livable. Improvable, of course, but livable. A large bedroom/living room/dining room is spacious, with wonderfully large windows that, I am guessing, face south. I don't really have my bearings yet. The kitchen is more of the end of a hallway than a room, but I am not a large man and will have no difficulty using it. And the bathroom seems quite delightful, the shower region actually has a curtain and a mounting for the water nozzle. I look forward to not having to take a shower sitting in a bathtub. Appliances provided include a t.v. with cable, a "Staubsaugen," microwave and refrigerator. I supplied the Connect 4 board and Twister mat and plan to add a CD player tomorrow. Modern conveniences I'll have to go without include any mirror larger than a sheet of paper, a washing machine and a computer/etc. Half the fun, I suppose.

All mention of the city of Heves, outside of the charming "Do not park your horse-drawn carriage or tractor here" sign (which I was able to understand through the pictures alone) will have to wait until further exploration tomorrow.