Back at the arrival gates

Oh boy, oh boy. Tomorrow a friend is arriving here in Hungary – a Canadian friend. I won’t mention her name because, in general, she’s a stickler for privacy, though at some point I may be forced to assign an alias, because “my good friend from Canada” runs slightly long.

She arriving tomorrow around noon. Zsolt and I will cruise along the highway starting  9 am(ish) in order to meet her on arrival. Something tells me that the 9th of June will involve a lot of ass-flattening a la car seat, again, but at least the reward of seeing “my good friend from Canada” is worthwhile.

Man, I can remember so well the first time I arrived in Hungary nearly six years ago. I’d worn a green hooded sweater, and my Dad’s undershirt (which I thought was a cute top, wearing my Dad’s clothing was a less-than-hip trend I followed all through high school, and then maintained well past university).  The flight from Toronto was about nine hours, and I was totally knackered upon arrival, despite having had the middle four seats of the row to myself. (at this point I remember an instrument, maybe a trumpet . . . I think one of the passengers had a brass instrument with them, but that’s speculation at this point . . . sometimes my memories feel more like dreams than reality. Time deconstructs the facts.)

Anyhow, I arrived and went through customs – all prepared for a difficult line of questioning about where I was going, who I was visiting, why I was in Hungary. Instead they stamped my passport and waved me through – nice. And then, having collected my luggage, I walked through the gate.

That sweet, universal, gate – where someone you love is on the other side waiting, and seeing them is the best thing to happen in that moment.  

And there was Zsolt, looking tall and handsome and lean, with pink tulips in his hand. The guy has the sweetest smile, really. Sometimes I look at him and think, geez – he’s with me? But then again, sometimes I look at photos of myself and think, geez – I look like that?  But I guess Zsolt and I match rather well. My old neighbours spent a good chunk of the acquaintance thinking we were brother and sister. Yowzers. That’s what I call matching a little too much.

My first impression of Hungary: Zsolt.

I wonder what my friend’s impression will be? We’ll try and show her the cream of the cream, and rest in between the efforts. A rough sketch of our plan for her is as follows: Pecs, Balaton, Budapest. That keeps things rather broad, but I’m also thinking: Spa, Lake, Spa to align with each city/village visited.

Right. Time for bed! This morning I work at 6 freaking AM, way too early, with ideas ringing between my ears. So, I’m outtie five thousand. Take care, and good night!

PS – Thank goodness for my little Spanish fan, because I’m so hot flashing right now, it’s ridiculous.

2 thoughts on “Back at the arrival gates

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