Baja Hungary
July 5, 202
Baja, Hungary
(Sorry, this is several days late, but as you will read English Language Camp is busy.)
I’m too old for this—or at least that’s how it felt on some days. Camp was exciting, fun, and absolutely exhausting. I taught twelve teenagers, ranging from eighth to twelfth grade. Most of them spoke English remarkably well. In Hungary, students study Hungarian and English, and many take on a third language—French, German, or Italian. Being surrounded by these bright, multilingual young people made me feel a bit slow by comparison, but they were a joy all the same.
Our group was a lively mix: seven Americans (five adults and two girls, ages eight and ten), plus one German‑Hungarian woman and her eleven‑year‑old son. Every afternoon, at the boy’s enthusiastic insistence, we walked to “the shops” for snacks. It became a sweet little ritual, and I was grateful for the small grocery store just around the corner.
While in Baja, I stayed with a family of six—Mom, Dad, three energetic boys, and a baby
girl. They were wonderfully kind to me, even giving me an air‑conditioned bedroom. That was a blessing, because the temperatures during the first part of the week were brutal, well over 100 degrees. Air conditioning is rare in Hungary, so I felt spoiled. Another member of our team stayed with the same family, which meant seven of us sharing one shower. (The baby doesn’t count.) Showers happened at odd hours—sometimes I took mine at 11 PM, other times at 5 AM. It was chaotic, but the kind of chaos that comes from love and generosity.
I also had a bit of a health scare that week. Early Monday morning, the hair at the nape of my neck felt clumpy and sticky. A fellow teacher looked at it and thought it might just be dry skin, so I didn’t worry. But that night, when I ran my hand through my hair again, I felt small bumps on my scalp. That’s when my mind went straight to shingles.
I spent an hour researching shingles, trying to figure out how contagious it might be. I wasn’t in pain, but I didn’t want to risk spreading anything—rash, illness, mystery condition—to the family who had so kindly taken me in. After contacting the director of the camps and the leader of my group, I decided it would be wise to see a doctor.
I spoke with the Baja camp director about getting an appointment. Since he was also the husband and father in the home where I was staying, I assumed it would happen quickly. But Monday passed, then Tuesday, and still no appointment. By Wednesday, the rash was already healing nicely, so we agreed to skip the doctor altogether. I still don’t know whether it was heat rash, an allergy, or something else entirely. Thankfully, whatever it was, I was the only one who had it.
Just as Europeans struggle to grasp how big everything is in the United States, Americans often have trouble understanding how small many churches are in Europe. We served at the Baptista Templom, which has two buildings. The sanctuary and the babmamaszoba (the “baby mama room,” or nursery) are in one building, and the kitchen, dining area, and two classrooms are in the other. The restroom situation was… memorable. One bathroom for men and one for women in the second building, and none at all in the sanctuary. Who designs a building meant to hold crowds of people without a bathroom?
I taught in the children’s room upstairs in the second building. It was an unusual space—
the ceiling slanted sharply, beginning only about two and a half feet from the floor. Every time I reached for something on the table along the wall, I bumped my head. A few times, I really whacked it. This low, slanted ceiling is common in Hungarian architecture. Honestly, it belongs in a museum house, not in everyday life. Hungarians may walk around with headaches simply because of their ceilings.
I never quite know how well camp goes. This camp had about 70 campers. The children love the games and crafts, tolerate the English lessons, and silently pray for the Bible stories to end. You just hope a few seeds take root. This year’s theme was Biblical Heroes—Noah, Moses, Esther, Jesus, Peter, Paul, and the Holy Spirit. Because everything must be translated, you only manage to say or do about half of what you planned.
Each day, campers and staff walked to lunch—about twenty minutes each way. They kindly offered to drive me, and I accepted without hesitation. They were walking in 100‑degree heat for nearly three‑quarters of a mile. I rode every day except Thursday, when the temperature finally eased a bit and I decided to walk. By Friday, I realized I had sufficiently proved my point that I could walk—and that my driver genuinely preferred driving to walking. So, on Friday, I happily rode again.
That same Friday, we had to give a presentation for the parents. Usually, each group does its own thing, but this year the church had a different vision. We were asked to put on a full production that began with Adam and Eve and ended with the life of Jesus. My group—along with another—was assigned the impossible task of presenting the entire life of Jesus in five minutes. Quite an undertaking.
After much discussion, we settled on five scenes: the Nativity, Jesus healing a blind man, feeding the five thousand, the crucifixion (mostly narrated), and the resurrection. We had three days to prepare, and somehow, we managed to pull it off. The young people worked hard, and in the end, it was perfectly fine—earnest, heartfelt, and exactly what it needed to be.
This ambitious little production may have had something to do with the opening line of this blog. It was a week that stretched me in every direction, but it also reminded me how much joy there is in doing something difficult together.
Saturday morning brought goodbyes to our new friends in Baja as we headed to Balatonszemes. The drive was beautiful—both sides of the road were carpeted with sunflowers. More on Balatonszemes next week.
In one of those “it’s a small world” moments, I was talking with LeeAnn, our leader’s wife. She mentioned her family moving to South Carolina in the 1970s. We lived in South Carolina during the last half of that decade, so I asked where they had lived. “Anderson,” she said. David practiced medicine in Anderson, so our lives would have overlapped. I asked why her family moved there. She told me her father had been hired as director of the Haven of Rest Children’s Home. David was chairman of the board of Haven of Rest Ministries.
Suddenly everything clicked. I vaguely remembered her parents, and she called her father to ask if he remembered David. He did—as a wonderful doctor and board chairman. Once both families left Anderson, our paths never crossed again… until Hungary. It truly is a small, small world.
One final update: My suitcase has still not cleared Hungarian customs. Anything you bring into Hungary requires a Hungarian tax license—even used clothes that aren’t staying in the country. I thought I was being smart by traveling with fewer bags. I was wrong. I hope I see this suitcase again, but I’m not sure I will.
Balatonszemes weather – Partly Cloudy
High 78 F (25 C) Low 68 F (18 C)
Sunrise: 5:01 AM Sunset: 20:45 (8:45 PM)
Hours of Daylight: 15 hours and 43 minutes
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