I have heard it said that you can live in Hungary without speaking the language.
To learn a language is no easy endeavor, this is true. To learn Hungarian, I have come to believe, is a tremendous commitment sprinkled with a bit of insanity. Worth it? Absolutely. For the faint of heart? No. Will I give up? Never. Will I ever be fluent? Probably not in this lifetime.
Walking into a hall turned waiting room in a busy Hungarian rendelő (clinic), I hear my solid heart skip a beat. A long line of people wait quietly but for what do they wait? I have come to pick up lab results. Is this my line?
This environment is incredibly intimidating.
Winding my way to another room, I ask again for the lab results. The lady at the desk thinks I am there to see the doctor. I am not. The kindness of a stranger bubbles to the service and he gallantly steps up to help. His English is only slightly better than my Hungarian.
I consider leaving without the results but Jenna is sick and I need them for the doctor.
I am frustrated.
Later, with supper put away and dishes done, I call my friend Monika. Today was the first day of Hungarian school and she has sent her two teens off to a new gimnázium. My garbled and nearly unintelligible Hungarian well-wishes grope their way across cyber-optic cables. ‘Puszi’, she responds. (Kisses)
I am touched but my heart longs to say so much more.