Back to school. Tell me a school where the year starts on 24th of August. Ok, except the American and maybe some of the other private ones. That’s when I wish my son attends a hungarian local establishment.

With school comes the daily 4 hour drive, God how I hate it.  We live only 30 kms from it but with the traffic it lasts forever sometimes to get there. We learnt to make the most of it, you would be amazed at  the things that can be found in  our car.  Loads of books, ipad, full sets of clothes, raincoats, umbrellas, blankets, water, juice bottles, cookies, crackers, dried fruits and nuts, spoons, forks, pencils and some makeup of course, me being a woman. Once in a while there is a strange smell in it, that’s when we get on all fours with Mish and search for the culprit. Mostly it is a rotten fruit, rarely a half eaten sandwich. We always joke about it. We could easily feed a complete mouse(rat)family. Me the clean freak.  2 things that I can’t keep organized are my car and the fridge.

So while I drive we get to listen to lots of great songs and practice spelling and math.  Last year Mish became the “King of timetables”  courtesy of the long drives.

New year,  new teacher, luckily he seems to be a nice guy.  Same friends, new friends, so far so good. Great to catch up on gossips while waiting to pick up the kids in the afternoon.

 

It’s a different world. An expensive world. Yet the same. Kids and teachers and parents. I’ve been trying to come up with justifiable reasons for sending Mish there. Mainly because his Dad wanted to, the reason behind it is that they are taught in English in this school.  Him not understanding hungarian at all, apart from “igen”, “nem”, “koszonom”, that is the only language that they can communicate with.  For his first 2 years I only talked to him in English, his hungarian suffered because of it, which can be felt even now. I’ve missed out on singing him hungarian lullabies, reading him hungarian folk tales. It’s too late now, he is not interested in them anymore.  But we get to speak it at home, leaving English  behind the minute we leave the school gates at 3.30.pm.

It’s a surreal world, kids arriving in expensive cars, sometimes driven by drivers. Older ones in year 12 and 13 arriving in their own Porsches  carrying Louis Vouitton bags.

Mothers  dressed in track suits rushing their kids through the gates not wanting to miss their Pilates and TRX classes.

Fathers dressed in suits, walking  slowly holding their daughter’s hands. Proud Dads enjoying every second they get to spend with their precious ones or just have more time than the busy Mums with loads of appointments on their calendar? Who knows?

Then there are the ones who work, I see determination in their eyes, there is purpose to their steps. Talking briskly on their phones, snapping at someone on the other end of the line.

Some of them come together. Bring their kids in the morning and pick them up in the afternoon. These are the ones I envy sometimes. I always imagine a couple who is still madly in love with each other, the love at first sight type, so in sync with each other, that they cannot even spend a minute apart . Just how do they get to pay the tuition fees? Now that we don’t ask here.

Pretty perfect ones come next. I don’t know how they do it but they are always immaculately dressed, shoes matching handbags, glossy hair, polished nails. Blindingly white teeth, long lean bodies, everything defying gravity courtesy of the best plastic surgeons and personal trainers in town.

I so don’t belong here. My hair mostly tied in a pony tail except when I come from the hairdresser, casual wear, my only absolute must are my sunglasses.

Hides late nights, lonely nights with red wine and  a tear or two,  eyes without make up, hides pretty much everything.

I am relieved. Must be so hard to be perfect, to always smile. Competition is tough, there is always a younger one, prettier, more exciting one. So easy to be forgotten, ignored once you reach a certain age.

I am alone. Nobody tells me what to do, how to dress, how to look. I am free. I am happy. I’ve completed a full circle. Another one is about to start.