During a recent free period I decided to take an early morning walk to one of my favorite bakeries just down the street from school.  As I stepped out into the sweet smelling air and bright spring sunshine I recalled some of the many times I had made this familiar stroll – through searing summer heat, crisp autumn breezes, rain and gently falling snow.  I also realized that this walk, along with the daily drive to and from school, explorations of the sights and sounds of Széchenyi Square, and travels to the Mecsek hills, Harkány, Villány and beyond would soon become a distant memory.  I wished to transform what had become a familiar walk into a fresh experience. 

Opening my eyes, I attempted to concentrate my senses on the small, indistinct, often over-looked details.  The lilacs, releasing their sweet smell, stretched upwards, reaching the second floor of the school.  Multi colored tulips, newly awakened from their winter siesta, swayed gently in the cool breeze.  Dandelions crept from the cracks in the sidewalk. Further down the street an old woman, stockings slipping below her knees, crossed the busy street, basket in hand. Cabbies, resting in their vehicles under the shade of lofty trees, their faces partially obscured by the daily news awaited their patrons.  I reached the small square where shopkeepers were busy organizing their displays – books and magazines, clothing, fruits and vegetables.  People filled the opposite side, anxiously awaiting the imminent arrival of one in an endless caravan of buses.  I crossed the street and passed the small outdoor market, its produce reflecting the change of seasons – mushrooms, potatoes, tomatoes.  Bright red strawberries, in a few weeks time, would be added to the colorful mix. 

Entering the bakery, I joined the omnipresent line and enjoyed the wonderful aroma of fresh baked bread.  The familiar face of the clerk soon greeted me and, feeling adventurous, I requested two items not pieces of my typical repertoire – “mecsek kiffl” and “virslis baguette”.  I received a smile - no doubt from my amusingly poor pronunciation and, baked goods in hand, left the pleasant smells of the bakery behind.  Passing the tiny newsstand, I continued down the pollen covered sidewalk, past a window washer, a mother enjoying the early morning with her newborn and a woman rushing out of her apartment, young boy in tow.  Crossing the street, I returned to the school and, turning to review the sidewalk stage, paused to reflect on the beauty of the ordinary and celebrate the sublime.

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