I’m not sure if I discussed this much (although I didn’t try to keep it a secret) but I wasn’t really looking forward to coming back to Budapest after my summer on the road.
The first six months in Budapest were very difficult for me–unexpectedly so–and I couldn’t drum up enthusiasm to come back. Living here for six months before leaving again didn’t give us a lot of time to develop that much attachment, and add in the fact that we were moving to a new neighborhood that I was unsure of AND I would be starting yet another new job…this new beginning didn’t bring the excitement of adventure I usually feel.
It was one of the few times in my life where staying somewhere (in this case, America) was sounding more appealing than going. Seeing all of our friends and family members made it even harder to leave.
A few months after returning, though, and I’m so grateful I gave Budapest another chance. I love my job, I love our place, I love the city, I love the exploring we’ve been able to do, I love that we are making new social connections, and we’re at the tail end of one of the most glorious autumns of my life.
One thing that really struck me recently is how much it’s starting to feel like home here, both the city and our flat. I never thought I would feel “at home” in a city where I don’t speak 95% of the language–but I do.
E and I apparently had an unspoken agreement when we moved in that we would really settle into this apartment–and that included buying things we haven’t had the inclination for in years. We never discussed any of it–usually any purchase that isn’t a strict necessity has been heavily debated in the past few years–we just did it. We bought it. Stuff like cozy blankets and actual kitchen supplies and candles.
I seriously cannot stop buying candles.
What’s funny about all this is that just recently I realized that we are only in this place, and I’m only in this job, until June. Of course, the chances are good that we could stay another year–or even longer–but it’s only official until the end of this school year. Either we stay, we have to find a way to squeeze in my beloved kitchen scale (…who am I?), or we leave our already furnished place more well-equipped than before.
I can’t imagine staying here, or anywhere, really–settling anywhere has always been a vague “someday” sort of thing, or a fun way to dream about living in my ultimate places…but as I light one of my many candles and eat some amazing soup E made in our functioning kitchen, I also wonder if maybe this could be home.
And maybe I’m ready for a home, more than I ever thought I could be.
Crazier things have happened.