Transitions

With one eye cocked on my upcoming six-month anniversary of this unusual way of life I have adopted, reflection is found at every corner. I am now thoroughly used to living in Budapest for just over half my time. Its normal. Its natural. And its great. It won’t last forever, but its here, and its now, and that’s what’s important.

What strikes me today is the transitions between here and there. For example in London, my time seems controlled. I need to get that bus, catch that flight, put the hours in at work, see the people I need to see. In Budapest I’m control my time. But that freedom brings its own set of challenges. Am I making the most of my free time? How many things can I get done that I want to do?

And the transitions are interesting to me. When I land back in London I land with a bump, the mundane familiarity of the English trains, the adjustment to my mindset to get up, go to work, make sure the clothes are washed. The journey to Budapest is more languid. Arriving at thoroughly English Luton airport, the sound of Hungarian falls like gentle rain in my ears. By the time I’ve boarded my mind is already in Budapest, and as I enter my flat, a mixture of relaxation and excitement rises in me as I think about the week ahead. The week ahead is like a mountain here for me, how much progress up the face can I make? What traverses will open up? What views from the other side?

Where do I live? I’m not sure. My head is in the clouds.