Last night I went to my bi-weekly dance class. Hungarian folk dancing may look easy, and may even be easy if you are at all co-ordinated, know your left from right or can understand what they are saying. I however, do not fit into any of these categories. So yet another evening was spent sweatily watching other people's feet, and being told "Nem, jobb!". The fact that we meet every other week is made up for by the fact that dance class is somewhere between 3 and 31/2 hours long.
Last night I was fairly happy as we began with the Chardas (I am not sure how to spell any of the dance names), but instead of continuing on with the crazy spinny one which I never do correctly, we did Romanian circle dances instead. These are much easier. About the 5th dance in, I began to notice similarities, and I realized that I had done these, albeit better for about 3 beers, back in the Gyula Renaissance Festival with the Turkish re-enactors. Some things are easier when aided by liquid courage.
On the way home, Csaba and Edina's husband (whose name I never remember, but is awesome) sang drinking songs, about wine bottles crying. I laughed almost the whole way home.
Working for a catholic school is different from the other CETP experiences that I hear about. One example was that today instead of teaching, we had a religious day. This means that we sat in the library and listened to a priest and a nun, while students were busy somewhere else with other priests. In the break we ate Polgácsa and drank tea. Then at 11:15 we went to Mass. This was both fantastic and awful. Fantastic because Wednesday is my busy day, when I teach 6 classes and I got to skip it. Awful because I managed to leave my papers in the church and have to wait until 4pm for someone to unlock it for me. Hopefully they are still there, but it also means screwing around with my tutoring schedule. ack.
Well at least the weather is nice. Blue sky and 20 degrees Celsius.