You and me in the summertime...

After the rather successful Sunday Dinner for 17 that VagueCraig and I whipped up, Balint finally arrived yesterday morning, 3 hours late after missing a connection in Singapore due to repairs.
It was (is) strange seeing him in Melbourne. I can't quite grasp yet that he's here.

Yesterday was spent in a haze of fatigue - we went out for a late breakfast and a coffee with VC and then wandered around the City looking at buildings until Balint wanted to come home for a nap. It was difficult to set off again, but we managed a swagger down to the Yarra and then sushi for dinner and by 9pm we were tucked up in bed.

Today both of us woke reasonably rested and after some serious faffing around, went to Fed square and then to the Queen Vic to buy food for dinner tonight (B is making lecso for Timea and Keir).
Every step of the way (and I'm certain the blazing sunshine helped with this) I was pummeled by the feeling of being home. I know how to operate here, I feel comfortable.
Hopefully the weather will stabilise and we shall have many more days like this...

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Monsoonal Melbourne

After coffee with Craig in the morning (okay, it was lunchtime) on Wednesday, I wandered up Little Bourke Street to meet Timea for lunch at the skinny men. They are a group of three skinny bronze sculptures, on the corner of Bourke and Swanston. We ate in a place called Gigi’s, Timea had eel, I had pork and it was so good to be together again!!

Afterwards, I walked home again, happy in the Melbournian bustle, and tried to get some work done, but the jetlag was not allowing me to think at all, so instead I slowly got ready (from my pathetically small range of clothes) and then went to Timea’s house at 7, from where we had a glass of wine at Percy’s, then walked to Keir’s house, where he decided he wouldn’t come to the show, and then we caught the bus to Northcote. The show was nowhere near starting when we got there, so we went across the road to a pub called the W…Anne something- very very cool, and had a big ‘peasant plate’ of goodies and a bottle of Pinot, and talked. And talked. And it was surprising and sometimes painful, and uplifting and comforting.
I think, thanks to that conversation, and one that I had earlier with Gergo, that the phd is not for me. I want to talk to Gary and not just say it in an email, so it will have to wait until I see him, but I really don’t think it’s what I need to be concentrating on now.

In the end, we made it to the show, to see a wonderful little burlesque by a gorgeous woman. I made an utter fool of myself, confusing Timea’s friends Tom and Tom (Fos) but then we got a tipsy cab back to Lygon Street around midnight. Then we snuggled under her new double doona and dranks cups of tea and watched Buffy and I thought I was in for a night of sleep. Alas, I managed only one and a half hours, and that wasn’t anywhere near enough. I tossed and turned for a while, then decamped to the loungeroom under an old quilt and started reading this book called The Game, about a ‘pick up artist’ in Los Angeles, Neil Strauss. I read most it by 8am, and just finished it now- it’s an eerie read to think what kind of people are out there.

Then I took the train to Geelong and spent a surprisingly pleasant day with Dad and Margo. There is a shroud of sadness in the house after Judit’s death, but we had a nice slow day of talking (and of course eating).

Coming back home, Craig had had his wisdom teeth out (the three of them are on the dining room table in a clear plastic bag) so I made carrot and coriander soup and milk rice with rhubarb and strawberries and then watched a bit of telly and then finally collapsed into bed, ingested a sleeping pill and slept like a log until 11am.

The internet is not working, so I can’t work, which is annoying, but neither can I go out, because (don’t laugh) I have nothing to wear as both jeans are in the wash and it’s too cold for skirts. So, I am catching up on letters, on blog-writing, and finishing Cloud Atlas, which will mean I will have to go to a bookshop soon!

The weather is furious and ever-changing, and although I have much to get done, and little time to do it in, as usual, I am very happy to be here.

Four seasons in one day...

or one afternoon as it were, here in Melbourne.

But to rewind a tad: Helsinki was impressive. Small, clean, bitterly cold and blowy, but very much with its own character. I walked red-faced and eyes streaming for a few hours, then went back to the hotel for lunch, and then a man who resembled a rocker/viking drove me to the airport. It was all so smooth and simple.

The next 2 legs of my flight were uncrowded, and I managed to sleep a fair bit, with just one sleeping pill and a glass of wine. I watched Mamma Mia and despite it being a comedy, it made me cry. perhaps I was feeling the wrench of distance, perhaps I was just too tired I don't know.
The changeover in Honk Kong was hideously short, but then I slept more on the flight over, right up until the time I woke, to see the last of the sun sink below clouds laced with burnished gold. It was beautiful, and was my first inkling that I was nearing home.

At the airport, with all my bags, I went to the customs xray machine where a lovely bloke said "you take the light one i'll take the heavy one, okay?" to which I replied, "mate you're going to have to take both, as they're both heavy" he laughed, and lifted both my suitcases onto the thing.
Then when I got them at the other end, he called out: "Are you alright love, do you need a hand?" What a legend!

Dale and Craig were a little late, but it was so so good to see them. Back at home i had a much needed shower, a feed, courtesy of Craig's housemate Jill, and then we went to the Gin Palace for cocktails and catch-ups.
Craig and I stayed on after Jill and Dale left, and got home at 4. Right now I can certainly feel the jet lag kicking in, but I'm going to a show with Timea tonight, and then sleeping at hers.

The sky is grey white and blue by turns, I'm sitting in my own little room at Craig's, surrounded by the few things I managed to bring with me. But I don't miss anything except B. I can't wait for his arrival, his reactions, his first impressions.

Helsinki despatch

I'm watching Juno with one eye and blogging with the other...
My first impression of Helsinki, seen from the tinted window of a taxi in the dark is austere. Big clean buildings without any ornamentation... I look forward to seeing them in the morning.
The weekend was grand - the farewell party on Saturday was big. Huge. But wonderful.
Sunday was subsequently difficult, but we spent some nice time with mum and B's dad who came to pick up a fraction of our shit. How much accumulates in a year...
It was sad packing up our happy little Budapest life, but I held it together for most of the day, until Jutka came to also pick up some of our shit and then I lost it a bit. Excitement and new beginnings are all well and good, but every new beginning is an ending too, and I just felt that this encroaching change - even if I chose the change - was scary and suddenly a little too much.
But after a good sleep at mum's on Sunday, we had a bit of a clean up day and then lunch with mum and then ... and then... there we were at the airport and all too suddenly I was behind those clanging metal doors and the new adventure began.

Slept on the flight, fought the heavy dark feeling that erupted when I saw we were landing in a strange new country and found a taxi pronto. And now here I am... I'm going to get back to watching Juno because after all it did cost me 14euros.

tomorrow...a brief Helsinki exploration (in minus 3 weather) and then a flight to Hong Kong...

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So close

The tumult of goodbyes has really begun in earnest. Autumn has arrived with a vengeance, as if Budapest is also gearing up for big change.
The packing is nowhere near done, panic is lurking 'round the corner but I'm *just* managing to hold it together. With a little help from my friends.
I got some nasty news on Thursday, when one of my jobs was rather suddenly pulled, and now the prospect of Australia with much less cash looms. Not a happy thought.

On Wednesday, quite unexpectedly, I caught up with DG, haven't spoken to him in about a year and a half. We went to Szimpla, and had whisky and beer and a packet of cigarettes, and talked about London and taboo and our secret lives. It was refreshing and exciting all at the same time.

On Thursday Jutka and Livia came over to sift through my clothes and take what fit and took their fancy, but as I look at the piles still left in the bedroom, I'm filled with a kind of dread. There will be a lot more left behind.

Last night was dinner with Jutka and while neither of us were tipsy, we had the most emotional conversation we'd ever had to date, and she said how much my being here had helped these past months. And then my eyes filled with tears and then she went to the kitchen. This goodbye and distance thing is a bastard, but I have hope that she'll eventually move to Oz, and we'll all be happy.

Today, we've three hours to clean the flat, pack and I have to bake a cake because we're going to Szabi's house for lunch and then tonight is the farewell party to end all farewell parties.

Dust from a distant sun...

Why it has to be quite this hard I haven't figured out yet...

The move I've been waiting for for the better part of two years is palpably close (the need to pack is in fact breathing down my neck with rancid urgency) and now I look at all the beautiful things/people around me and think how it will hurt to leave them. But it's always the way.
Remember how it felt to leave Fremantle the first time. The deluge of tears on Rob's shoulder.

These are small things, and are survived easily.

On top of all the worry about packing and cleaning and seeing everyone and not forgetting anything, I wonder (when I should be sleeping) how it will all be. How B will react to my home. How much like home it will still feel?

The weekend was a mess. Friday night we went out to dinner which was fantastic after a really hard week, but I had too much to drink and so did B. He brought up a topic i wasn't happy with (a mate of his that had hurt me, and the grudge that i still hold) and then I just got my usual awful drunk self. Saturday dawned milky grey and unhappy.
But we sorted it out like we always do- thankfully neither of us has a problem with apologising.

I had my hands and feet done, so I am all ready for beach weather :)

Then in the evening we met up with Szabi and Livia and later with a bunch of others which was lovely, but then we argued again because B kept me staying at the bar until 3am, where I had said I'd like to go home around midnight. I hate the 'oh please stay with me' line, when we really didn't have much to do with each other that night. And since then, we're fine, but we're both sleeping badly and I think it's taking extra efforts not to snarl. I know it's just the pre-leaving pressure, but the day spent with Jutka was a blessing yesterday.

So, now to the fridge. That smells .... I can't find the words.

In my memory I am walking up Solomon Street, and "Mean to Me" by crowded house loud LOUD in my ears, the asphalt rough beneath my bare feet. I felt this explosive joy, the kind I'm feeling right now (though i couldn't go outside without shoes for fear of cold and dogshit)...
Tonight, although it didn't look like it was going to be great, it turned out fantastic.
Jutka came for a short while, short...what am I talking about, is it ever long enough with people you love? but at least it was something, and then on the walk home, I was hassled by this dark skinned white toothed too friendly Kenyan, and I was very glad to get home, but then loneliness crashed around me a little, B is out at a games thingo and I looked at the dishes (did them) and the wine (drank some) and sat down to write some long overdue emails. And then Peter came online and we talked and I was reminded of the balmy easy wonderfulness of our time in Munich again. It was such a holiday for my soul. If only all family matters were that easy.
And after talking with Peter, and receiving an email from Claudia as full of love as any electronic communication can be, I feel suddenly beautiful and unalone and ready READY for this next big adventure.
All the people in my life are little gifts. I cherish them all so much.
The string of farewell dinners, phone calls, drinks I've been having and will continue to have in the next two weeks mean more to me than I can say. Whether it's a dinner for two in a dimly lit almost empty Pest restaurant with impeccable service and impeccable steak sitting across from a perfectly groomed wonderful friend M, or a party of 200 in Szekesfehervar where I know only a handful, but they all bring smiles, stained with beer but jovial, I really am the luckiest girl in the world.
And here we are, balmy november, in this happy, tiny little flat. I'm going to be leaving pure and happy memories behind.

I thought also this morning of Wray Avenue, and why it ripped me up so much to leave there. I think it had to do not just with it being the first place I was truly free, but it also had to do with remorse and guilt. Not regret, not that, but remorse. It was a heady time, and I can't bring myself to regret any of it.

How appropriate then, that the CD has spun to "Into Temptation" because I remember listening to this also, on the way up Solomon Street to the Monument, my head full of those thoughts. Was I just very young? I was, but it was so beautiful, in its own damaged way. I can't wait to see Freo again. And share it with the person I know I can be faithful to. Can be and want to be.

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