Another year
Earlier this year I was contemplating leaving Budapest. Four, going on five years, stagnating interest in the language and culture, no intention to settle here - why stay?
First is work. Second is my flat.
I laugh a lot at work. A few of us start earlier than the rest, and take advantage of the relative quiet of the open plan office to sing, swear loudly and make fun of each other's muppetry. I think there's the right balance of being serious and dedicated to work but also not being pedants for the sake of it. No one blinks when you leave at 1pm because you've finished. When things are shitty people rally round you. We have pub quizzes.
And then I go home to my spacious, high-ceilinged flat. It's not in the nicest neighbourhood (now that the weather is warmer I choose to walk in the middle of the road, as far as possible from the pavements with the less than delectable scents and spurts of gifts left by all manner of canine). And there's a lot wrong with the flat: our blinds are stuck, the cold water pressure sounds like it's got a hysterically sobbing hyena in there, it's hard to heat in the winter and stifling and still in the summer. But otherwise it's pretty perfect.
I doubt the two will be easily topped in any other place I go to after this year. But sacrifices will have to be made for better cuisine, I'm afraid...
First is work. Second is my flat.
I laugh a lot at work. A few of us start earlier than the rest, and take advantage of the relative quiet of the open plan office to sing, swear loudly and make fun of each other's muppetry. I think there's the right balance of being serious and dedicated to work but also not being pedants for the sake of it. No one blinks when you leave at 1pm because you've finished. When things are shitty people rally round you. We have pub quizzes.
And then I go home to my spacious, high-ceilinged flat. It's not in the nicest neighbourhood (now that the weather is warmer I choose to walk in the middle of the road, as far as possible from the pavements with the less than delectable scents and spurts of gifts left by all manner of canine). And there's a lot wrong with the flat: our blinds are stuck, the cold water pressure sounds like it's got a hysterically sobbing hyena in there, it's hard to heat in the winter and stifling and still in the summer. But otherwise it's pretty perfect.
I doubt the two will be easily topped in any other place I go to after this year. But sacrifices will have to be made for better cuisine, I'm afraid...
posted by Sze at 7:12 pm
9 comments
Now THAT'S what I call a pout
