Irreplaceable

February 15, 2007
Budapest, Hunagry

Irreplaceable

The song is in the room somewhere, I can hear it. I look up, catch Maureen's eye and we both start laughing until we are cracking up and I almost fall out of my broken chair. We look at Nino, who is rocking out to Beyonce and blissfully unaware, with the blaring music coming from her headphones. For days after her birthday, she has played that one song on repeat from the CD we got her. Last night, she requested it at the bar and the eight or nine of us sang (or screamed, depending on your definition of "tone deaf") along with her.

The last three months have been so – how do I put this – stable. That might sound boring, but it's really not. There have been no ups and downs, and while that means that there were no bad times, there were also no exceptionally amazing or brilliant events, either.

However, it has always been a very good time, which is more than I can say for my time in Turkey . I remember how much I hated it in the beginning, writing that the days felt like weeks and the weeks felt like years. Yet, when I talk about Turkey now, saying how rough it was, Mo always reminds me, "Well, when you talk about it, it sounds like you had a great time."

Here, I can't even tell you where the last three months have gone. It's been a blur of experiences, tranquility, and friendships. My first day at work, my second day in the city, I met Nino and Maureen, and at the end of my first week, I met Annie and Cam. In between, we've made dozens of friends, and it's strange to think how we all have to go our separate ways. Yet, it's not so sad or sentimental this time; none of us are going to be here very long.

Most of us will be in the US or the UK for school or work or life so we'll see each other often. I guess you could say, (oh, yes, I am going to be cheesy-- not surprising) it has been irreplaceable.

Oh, god, it is so cliché that it hurts, but more often than not, I feel like my life is a tad bit cliché.

For example, when we were out last night, long story short, some guy ended up saying to me, "You won't talk to me because I am black, right?" and "There are too many whites in South Africa." COME ON. I feel like no matter how much some people travel, educate themselves, and live, they just don't get it. I felt a little bit sorry for him at first, but for the love of God, he is a student at CEU. I am sure life was/is perfect for him, but using race as bait is unacceptable. Talk about a life lesson straight out of My So-Called Life.

I think I've learned a lot more than I think at the HHC. Gabor and I usually end up in fierce question/answer sessions, Andrew and I have war debates (and I find that I can support my answers so much better now), Nina, Bako, and I spent the weekend talking about current events and politics, and I have been writing country reports, doing translations, visiting refugee camps, researching country of origin information which has been infinitely rewarding.

Our last trip to a refugee camp is when Nino and I will go to Debrecen next Friday, and everyone keeps telling us to be ready. No tears, little emotion, and a strong will, they say, because it is supposed to be a nightmare. Needless to say, I can't wait.

The next time you hear from me, I will be in the Balkans, on my first real "trip." Most people would choose Greece or Italy. I chose Albania , Bosnia, Serbia, Kosovo, and Macedonia . I want to spend the majority of my time in Sarajevo, if possible, and just wander and write, write, write.

On the 17 th of March, I am going home to Carlsbad (I really wish I could visit the Bay Area before leaving again but my parents would kill me if I ever thought to leave C-bad). It's strange to think that two years ago I was just back from my first trip abroad trip solo, and thinking what a big deal it was to go to Spain and the UK. The Brazilian grad student on the late night shuttle to Berkeley with me listened patiently to my energetic descriptions of Barcelona and Edinburgh , sometimes even asking questions in between my gushing. Oh, the poor guy. Except that I was the one who was slightly embarrassed every time I ran into him in the Spanish/Portuguese Department.

Now, it's strange to think of the Middle Eastand how I will be living there for at least six months. I'm not nearly as nervous as I was about Turkey/Hungary, just excited. Jordan, I am sure, will be an interesting and safe (I promise) experience. Also, in case you haven't heard, I am going to Gaza . It's final. If I keep mulling it over, it will never happen. However, I am going to wait until next February to go, and if the security clearance, etc doesn't work out, then, oh well. But if all is OK, consider me the next Christiane Amanpour. Yeah, right, but let me just say one thing: If any of you ever, EVER see her, you MUST talk to her (Ahem, Sabzi). End of story.

I applied when Cagri was here thinking that no one would respond and I could just pretend I didn't apply. Yet, the director replied and we have been in constant contact. I have hot and cold phases where I say yes but think no, say no but think yes, and so far, we are still at step one. He just wrote to me today, and even though I asked about fifteen questions and told him that I couldn't come 'til this time next year so if he wanted to give my job to some one else, he could. Instead, he wrote back with answers to all my questions and said that they will wait for me and I can come to Gaza whenever I want.

The more I think about it, the more I want to go, but I am also waiting a year so I know that I will make the best decision for myself (However, I think someone was right in saying that I would either get shot, sad, or have to do something extreme to get myself out while I am there). I can't believe Turkey and Hungary really are over; where did it all go? I loved meeting all these people, learning what it really means to be passionate about something, and being given the chance to learn so much. Yet, I cannot wait to come home.