(Part 1)

Reminiscing about the pre-Trump era as a Hungarian summer student worker.

I remember when I went to the annual CCUSA student camp job fair in Budapest. I remember when, after staying in queue after queue, I reached the booth of Camp Airy, Maryland.

After a brief conversation, the deal was made. I was hired.

Two months of work in Thurmont, near Baltimore, as kitchen staff.

Next stage: applying for visa. Going through the preliminary questions. The sheer excitement. Moments of cussing, as the visa website rejected my photo over and over again.

After some meticulous fine tweaking of contrast and brightness, my image was finally accepted. An appointment was booked at the consulate. Questions asked, questions answered, accompanied by the friendly banter of the security guard.

An entire page in my passport gets ornamented, with a J-1 type visa.

All clear.

The Arrival

Budapest, Ferihegy Airport. Saying a temporary farewell to the family, and joining with the other students who were heading to the same camp.

Paris. Transfer at Charles De Gaulle, and preparing for the long flight.

Airplane. Watching a good movie and having a good conversation with some passengers. A young man gives his box of Kit-Kat crunchies he couldn’t finish; accompanied by a jovial smile. I accept it with a nod. Fine. What else could happen, anyway.

New York, La Guardia Airport. Security check. Going through the obligatory questions again. “Welcome to the United States.”

For a night, we reside in a youth hostel near Central Park. A tense feeling of an inbetween state, as I take a walk around the district. Just like in the movies, it is just… BIG. Bigly. The cars, the buildings — an extra size of everything.

The next day, we are on the road to Camp Airy, Thurmont. We are being oriented and instructed at the camp, while engaging in conversations with Mexican and Polish people; including a Ghanaian guy who studies in Poland. Diversity at its finest.