Abroad Again: Moving to Budapest

                Four years ago, I made a decision that has altered the course of my life considerably.  At that point, I had been out of college for two years, was a rising manager in an exciting restaurant with a staff of 30 people.  I didn’t know where I was headed, but all I could see was up.  I was blinded by this early success, the ambition in the corporate structure, my growing IRA.  I didn’t see the lack of fulfillment. 

Even though I saw it as my own restaurant, I was still being controlled by those above me.  I’d pour my heart and work into projects for the betterment of the business, only to see them brushed aside.  Sure, I’d get a pat on the back for my hard work; I was being noticed by the head office in Chicago, but I really couldn’t do anything.  It did not matter though, because contentment had found me.  All I had to do was keep working hard, keep impressing my superiors and eventually, I’d reach some undetermined higher level of status.  

Contentment is a slow acting poison.  It seemed like happiness.  If you’d asked me how I was, I’d tell you I was happy.  But, work was always a phone call away.  My weekends were spent at home, ready to remedy a disaster at work.  My dreams were a series of problems at the workplace I could not control.  I had money to spend, but no time to spend it.  My one shot of 18 year old single malt scotch had become three and I didn’t even feel the difference.  In the corporate world, happiness is a pillar with only an illusory ladder.  The only escape I had were my emails to Australia.

My unexpected relationship with Jess was cut short not long after it had begun.  Just when we’d come to terms with our feelings for each other, shed the guilt from our situation and realized we wanted to explore the future together, she had to go home.  I don’t know if it was love for her or a hidden desire inside to escape the trap of the American Dream (surely it was both), but my choice to drop everything and cross the ocean involved little thought.

I’d always wanted to live in other places.  This belief was fostered in me through years of hosting exchange students.  It was given that I’d spend a year abroad and see the other side of this lifestyle that had become so normal.  My dreams were clouded by ambition, my need to live life by logic.  I didn’t know what I wanted to be, but spending a year as an exchange student would set it back.  Graduating in 2002, instead of 2001 was unacceptable, because I’d then graduate from college a year later as well.  This would make me underprivileged compared to my classmates, who would have a whole year head start on me.  I was losing the race before I’d even started it.  In the end I settled for a month backpacking in Germany when I was 17.

Eight years later, I found myself getting on a plane to cross the pacific, ready to start living with a family in Australia, taking back the dream I once saw as a threat to my happiness.  At age 25, I finally became an exchange student.

I’ve been traveling ever since.  Things with Jess did not work out, but it freed me to see the country.  After another year at home, I headed to Asia for another year-long adventure, where I met Michelle.

Now, I find myself following another woman across a different ocean, this time to Budapest, which is one of the last places I expected to find myself.  In a logic driven life, I’d not be here.  From years living abroad though, I’ve learned to embrace a life of curiosity and feeling, to ignore the ladders and the pillars (finding happiness is not a climb, it’s more about rolling down the right hills), and not to worry if my choices are setbacks.   Somehow, I’m engaged to marry a beautiful Norwegian and will spend four years in Hungary while she finishes he veterinary program.  I’m facing a forced career change, for with no Hungarian, few contacts, and absolutely no business, it would be impossible to fall back upon my prior dependencies.

I don’t know what I’ll do , but writing and English teaching are about all a native speaker can do in Budapest.   I’m signed up for a CELTA course, which will qualify me to teach.  After that month, who knows what  will happen next.  At least it will be impossible to accept contentment.