Category Archives: Love

3 tiny stories about Hungary

Posted in Life, Love, Travel by

One.

Spring and summer in Hungary aren’t tracked by time. (How could they be when the heat leaves you so sluggish, minutes take hours . . .unless you’re swimming in the lake or visiting with friends, in which case hours take minutes.) Instead days move through blossoming trees and changing appetites. With each passing week another fruit comes into season and the previous fruit goes out. So for instance, last year I arrived here at the start of cherry season. That meant my mouth was permanently stained with the sweet dark juice of cherries, which essentially explode as you pop them into your mouth. Until I started finding the bugs. Then I couldn’t bring myself to ‘pop’ any more cherries, no matter how tempting. Those little white worms are everywhere. However, not a single other person in Hungary seems to mind.  Now we’re in peach season, which is my favourite (mostly bug-free), and watermelon season. Before we leave for Canada, it will just be creeping into apple-picking-time. Fruit litters the street, suburbs and gardens. Free, juicy, organic fruit.

I love idea of tracking time with food. From pig killing season, bread making day, to the growing of ripe produce across the year – it’s all about the food.

 Two.

A long time ago the Turkish made a play for Europe. They essentially invaded the region – them and every other culture, it seems to me. Anyhow, during this time of the Turkish invasion (lasting a way long time), the Hungarian fighters managed to beat them back. There is a man on a horse (statue) here in Pecs in the main square. He is accredited for pushing back the Turkish.

Anyhow, the Hungarian win was a win for Christianity (I’m not purposely mixing religion and storytelling, but it’s true – that’s just how it was perceived at the time). And the pope declared that churches everywhere would ring their bells at noon to honour the Hungarians who fought for Europe.  Now all across the world, not only in Europe, church bells ring at noon – signalling lunch for many, but for those in Hungary who keep it in mind, also signalling respect and memorial.

The other day Zsolt and I were working in the garden when the bells began to ring, and it made Zsolt recount that story. Who doesn’t love listening to church bells ring over a city? These traditional markers of the day are so familiar that I don’t even think to ‘expect’ them. And yet once the bells are tolling, I can’t help but stop my work and listen.

 

Three.

There is an excellent culinary dish in Hungary that’s familiar in all the homes. It’s called Kaposta. I almost 100%  for sure spelt that word wrong. Basically it’s stewed sour cabbage with pork meat balls mixed with rice and wrapped in cabbage leaves, plus the addition of fried onions, smoked sausage, possibly bacon and of course paprika. (And salt.) It is thick, tasty and one of my favourite meals. Served with a heaping of sour cream with Eros Pista on the top (a puree of hot pepper) and you’ve just entered home-cooked paradise.

Yesterday while we were eating this meal, Zsolt’s mother remarked that it’s really good for hangovers. Apparently weddings in Hungary will always make available kaposta to their guests after midnight has passed, in order to ease the following day’s hangover. Looking back on a friend’s wedding we attending, this is true. We ate the awesome cabbage stew after midnight. This tells you two things about the Hungarians: they like their liquor in times of celebration, and they really know how to please a guest.

 

And there you have it. Three stories about Hungary, my home away from home.

Here comes the thirty train!!

Posted in Finding Home, Fun, Life, Love, self growth by

My birthday is in 25 minutes and counting down. It’s not like fireworks are going to erupt at 9 a.m. but I will suddenly and officially be thirty. Zsolt likes to say that I’ve been 30 these past six months, which reeks of logic and tastes like haste. I’m 29 this very moment, and then, once the clock ticks ahead – WHAMO – 30.

A lady editor once taught me that numbers over ten are to be written in word-form. Like forty-six or eighteen or twenty-nine. She did not teach me about those little dashes, however, and I put them in only because I think it looks better. Much of my grammar is based on ‘what looks better’, which likely explains why much of my grammar is incorrect.

So here is a secret about my thirties (which I hope by declaring will no longer make it a secret and banish away this stupid notion) . . . I’m a wee bit worried about them, because for the entirety of my life – thinking back to when I was ten, or 12, or 19, or 20, or 25, I could never imagine what it would be like in my thirties. What would my face look like? How tall would I be? What sort of work would I be doing? Would I live in a house, have a dog, babies, purpose? Marriage . . . I could never imagine my wedding until it had actually happened.

And I thought to myself (very quietly) what I was wasn’t going to turn 30? What if I couldn’t imagine it because it was never going to happen? Would I die before I turned 30? (Now you have a sense for how dramatic my stupid thoughts can get!)

Flashback two years ago when I was diagnosed with cancer at 27 (almost 28), and my panic mode was really kicking in. It was all – “oh, shit, Catherine, you have cursed yourself with this stupid unknown decade obsession. Now hurry up and start WANTING something from your next chunk of life, and the one after that, and after that, and etc.”

Because I reckon when we really, really want something, we can accomplish that desire even if it takes time. Actually, I think it’s a powerful sort of thing to want something badly – and to know in your mind  that it will happen. That stuff is better than magic beans and three wishes combined. That’s determination, and I think it makes all the difference.

So what am I determined to do in my thirties? Live, survive, become a novelist, love-love-love, buy a cottage in Balaton (Hungary), have those babies (this desire is attached with many other quiet and dramatic fears, which need to be dealt with eventually), be with Zsolt, laugh with Zsolt, explore with Zsolt, have family dinners, keep my amazing friends and make even more (if it’s possible since we keep freaking moving!), stay in shape, never have cancer again,  get a dog, and be good to others – take care, support, encourage, contribute, be there.

Anyhow, that’s my life. My life in my thirties. Once the forties creep up I’ll need to revise this list.

Everyday is a good day and every birthday granted is really the best gift possible. I love living, so am very glad to be doing so today.

There it is – ten minutes left! Here comes the 30 train, and I’ll be hopping on quite happily.

(Psst. I bought myself a big 30 piñata that I’m going to smash to pieces, therefore showing 30 that I can indeed conquered this stupid age-hump of unknowingness that is in my mind. Plus I bought myself balloons that say 30 on them, and napkins, and this blow-up thing that shoots out 30 everywhere, and a candle in the shape of a 30, and fireworks for the evening. Because I figured that for me today was special, even if on the outside it looks like yet another birthday, and it was going to be celebrated in a ridiculous way here at this cottage . . . even if the party only consists of my closest family, that’s okay. I’m turning 30. Everything is okay.)

And if it’s your birthday soon too, of if it’s just past, or you just want to join the party – HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you too!! Wooohoooo! Isn’t it nice to celebrate good things? 🙂

(Hey! It’s now past 9 a.m. – we made it!!! )

Happy Father’s Day!

Posted in Life, Love by

Today is father’s day, which mean we’ve spent the entire Sunday eating great food. First there was the truck stop by Arnprior, then we had a BBQ, and then there was a beautiful pavlova. So today’s post is going to be a short one. Really, a million things are happening right now here in the world of Bumpyboobs (i.e. my life) but I have a gag order placed on several of them. You’ll hear more about that later.

In the meanwhile, in honour of father’s day, here’s a list of some top-ten dad moments from my dad, Tony Bony. I am sure there are more, but at the moment, these spring to mind.

  • Dad pulling a giant fish from the water – cursing like a sailor, and smiling like a fool.
  • Dad making me sweet potato French fries after my chemotherapy, when I was so hungry and emotional, it was more than many men could tolerate.
  • Stories after dinner, when he rolls back time and entertains us with something hilarious that happened in his childhood. Our narrative nature must come from his side of the family.
  • Dad giving a speech on the day Zsolt and I were married, basically saying how proud he was, and holding back the tears.
  • Dad as a hippy, which I’ve only witnessed through old photographs.
  • Dad picking me up at 3 am in the middle of nowhere, after I had decided to go for a walk (let’s not worry as to why I was in the middle of nowhere at 3 am.) and not giving me shit until the next morning.
  • Dad coming home from work when I was a little girl sick with a cold and saying, “It’s no fun being sick, eh kid?”
  • Dad pushing me to go out to Jasper, Alberta for the summer. It was a completely amazing experience.
  • Dad walking out of mass on Christmas, leading the entire line of people who’d just received communion, and then breaking down laughing when we realize this wasn’t the right way to go.
  • Dad talking to me every other day during the chemotherapy via skype – taking my mind off all the crap with a little light conversation, and some funny stories to pass the time.

Even though he can sometimes drive me crazy, he’s been a great father. I guess we all drive each other crazy occasionally . . . what really matters, I reckon, is the polar moments – whether it’s shit hitting the fan, or all the good stuff happening at once, what really  matters is that for those highs and lows, we support one another. It’s something to be counted on.

So happy father’s day. I hope your dad is as awesome as mine. Please do share your best dad moments if you have some. 🙂

See you later,

Catherine

P.S.

We bought an inflatable, two person KAYAK!!! More later. Let’s just say, I decided to finally realize that long-awaited chemo dream of paddling on the water.