Category Archives: Hungary
So just say you can’t make it. Honestly, it took me a long time to learn this. I used to feel needlessly guilty for all sorts of things until my friend Bekah taught me how to say no to things.
Perhaps the trick isn’t finding the perfect place, the perfect pen, the perfect aesthetic, the correct combination of elbow patches, pipe smoke, and whiskey. Perhaps the trick is simply to not have a trick.
Caroline and I lock eyes over Bea’s back: “Jackpot!”
I took a train every morning in Budapest to a little café called Budapest Bagel: a bar and a bagel shop where I somehow received college credit to write short stories and read novels following a longstanding expatriate tradition.
Sometimes I wonder what happened to all of those kids. To little Mamu and Japuca. And I’m sad that they didn’t grow up with all the love and happiness that my niece has.
I attend graduate school, work as a nanny, and live above a bakery. This is an easy and compact answer to toss, like a Tic-Tac, at the question I too often hear: “So, what are you up to?”
It was the pilot who brought us together. We couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm and excitement. A shared laugh is more bonding than a shared complaint.
Turning the key four times to the right. The coos of belligerent pigeons roosting outside their window, the flaps of their wings oddly resonate in the small living space.
We listen to her stories of her young years there. It’s strange to hear older adults rave about the being the age you are now, and I am always unsure how to respond.