Silent Tunes

The main problem with this blog is that it's about me. Though I may be captivated by all that I write about me, I doubt that anyone else is. In fiction you can write about yourself under the guise of writing about made-up people.

I live in Budapest, Hungary; I'm here studying music. My father's a diplomat and was posted here for three years. When he got a new assignment in Africa (Libreville, Gabon) my older brother began attending college in the States (Notre Dame), and I decided to stay here. I study piano with a private teacher and attend a music high school for other subjects like solfege and music theory.

I'm interested in people. I enjoy watching them in the buses, on the sidewalks, and in the underpasses. I like listening to them. And I like writing about them. I haven't quite figured out yet how much of a person's art comes from themselves or from the people around them.

Because Daddy's in the Foreign Service, we've traveled a lot. I've lived overseas since I was five, with only relatively brief returns to the United States. This has had the result of making America a foreign country to me: strictly speaking, it is not my home. There really isn't a culture or society that I feel is my home, as I've grown up in so many. Being homeschooled has added to this effect.

I expect it would be good to thrown in a mention (for effect) at this point of the failed mutiny we lived through in Central Africa, and of the riot that took place when we were in China. The latter resulted in our being evacuated from our apartment behind the consulate to a hotel, and the former in our being evacuated back to the States, though in both cases Daddy had to stay behind. During the riot I remember being frightened by the burning down of the consul general's residence next door, and by the thought of how small the walls around our apartment building were. My brother and sisters slept through that night. During the mutiny, I recall continuous gun fire (I was ten at the time) and driving in a military truck through town and not being able to take off at first for Cameroon because of fighting near the airport.

On a final note, my favorite Agatha Christie mystery novel is And Then There Were None.

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		wWednesday, June 23, 2004
		There's no one like Leopold. No one. I am in GABON! You have no idea how nice it is to be with everyone again. When I wake up in the morning I have to remember a) where I am, and b) what day it is. The answer to both is generally satisfactory, since I'm not supposed to be doing any practicing till next week. My sister takes French lessons with a teacher at the embassy and I'm going to start today. I hope I learn more than I did at the French Institute. Will let you know. It's not very hot here, as a matter of fact. It's the dry season and often cloudy, but it doesn't rain. So we've been playing tennis. Of course, the lack of sun means I did buy those new sunglasses for nothing, but what the heck. They're cool anyway and will no doubt come in handy at some point. Mama is giving a Lady's Lunch tomorrow, and of course is spending most of today cooking and twitting. "There are ten people coming tomorrow, right?" says my sister. "No, ten ladies," says my daddy. One of them is French with a little boy to whom I may teach English in order to earn some moolah. Sarah teaches a couple of little Korean kids English and rakes in serious dough. Of course, they are apparently brats so the incentive has to be great. I brought my novels along to work on and have so far not written a single word. But then I have a lot more time left. No doubt I will get to work on them soon. No doubt. Ta ta! posted by Rebekkah at 1:38 PM

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