Vacation Journal V: Family

I first traveled abroad at the age of 11.  Amazingly, my parents put me on a plane with my older sister for 3 weeks in Sweden with the cousins.  Amazingly, I recall being a mostly uncranky preteen in a country where the only phrases I could conversationally use were Hej! (Hi!) and Kan jag få smör. (Please pass the butter.)

I also recall, at a number of points, being so homesick I cried.

This past week, I am still a fool in Hungarian.  But I can eke out egészségedre (exclaimed when toasting) and am an expert on köszönöm (thank you).

And I haven't at all been homesick.  That's mostly because of my hosts -- who have bunked me at their lovely home in the country (mosquitoes aside), kept me in three square meals a day (with dessert at every one), provided a nightly venue for watching the World Cup matches, and treated me like a second daughter.  

I could say that being unaware of what is being said in 90 percent of all conversations might be disconcerting.  But it's vacation.  I have found it is more enjoyable to eat my home-picked arugula and homemade rice pudding, sausage, and cold cherry soup, sitting on the patio in the morning sunshine overlooking the rose garden and be grateful for good people.

Good family.

Mama.

Papa.

Sister Julia.