Category Archives: Travel

A time to dance, hopefully

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Fun, Life, Travel, Treatment by

Friday, Friday – gotta get down on Friday. Tonight I’m going out, and hoping it’ll be fun, fun, fun because I’m looking forward to the weekend. With my friend in town (literally in town, she’s gone off sightseeing and I’m still at home taking it easy – this possibly makes me a bad host, but at least it prevents a severe case of the grumps. Seems to me that while I’ve recovered so much from what chemo changed, I still have no tolerance for long, hot walks on the heat-waving pavements of capital cities.) she’s requested we visit a real European nightclub.

Hmm. Real European night club? I’ve been to several clubs in Europe, all with a general vibe of ‘small hole-in-the-wall place to dance’ as opposed to the monster clubs you might get in, for instance, Cancun, Mexico.  So I believe this might be a case of reality not meeting expectation. However, another friend, a Hungarian friend, has promised to take us out on the town tonight – he has a club in mind that is, apparently, “Hungaricum”. Whatever that means! (Geez, I hope it’s not rude, but then he isn’t a fellow to be crass, so I’m guessing that whatever Hungaricum means, it’s a nice phrase).

Anyhow. Why is this night special? It’s special because I haven’t gone out dancing in over a year. More than a year. For ages!

First: will I remember how to dance? Meh, it’s not too hard, I’ll likely remember.

Second: will I stay awake? My general bedtime is 10pm, which is pathetic for a woman not yet thirty, but there you go. I love my bed, and my bed loves me. We have a close relationship.  So fingers crossed I’ve enough energy to shake my booty, at least till midnight.

Third: will it be a good night? Yes. That shouldn’t even be a question. It will, for sure, be a good night.

And then Saturday will follow Friday (duh), and we’ll sleep in and visit another spa. This time we’ll be going to Széchenyi Gyógyfürdő (http://www.budapestgyogyfurdoi.hu/hu/szechenyi/elerhetoseg) which is a beautiful old spa in the park area of Budapest. This will be Cami’s last day in the city, since on Sunday she’ll fly out, and hopefully it’s a nice end to her Hungarian experience.

And then (and then, and then, and then). . .  I’ll get back to the real world – sorta – and start figuring out this online lit mag idea I’ve been having. It’s an attempt to give breast cancer fighters, family, carers, friend a place for creative thinking. Should be good, if I can ever get it started!

And while I type this, Goofy the dog, is pushing her muzzle against my arm in a constant attempt for attention. I’d forgotten how sweet and earnest dogs can be; they’re happy balls of fur and slobber.

I’m no tourist, baby

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Canada, Finding Home, Food, Life, Love, Travel by

Ever since reading that green tea helps fight cancer, I’ve been sucking it back on a daily basis. But, now in Hungary, my Anti Cancer regiment of ass-kicking foods has been challenged, meaning that I had my green tea around 9.30 PM, instead of 9.30 AM today. This explains why Zsolt is in the bed beside me with a pillow over his head, and why I’m still here at the computer clacking away on this large keyboard.

So, that’s the explanation. Not that it helps anything, because I still don’t feel like hitting the bed.

My CAN friend is here and it’s been such a surreal experience – a wonderful experience, of course, but surreal to mix worlds together. In my dreams, worlds are constantly overlapping (Zsolt at my elementary school, my parents at a house party, etc) . . . but in the real world they’re rather well defined. Canada has my family and close (currently visiting) friend. England has my English (and international) friends, Hungary has my other family (Zsols’s family) and my Hungarian friends. These people do not mix and meet. Ever. With three exceptions: my wedding, my BC bullshit, and right now.

Watching Cami (alias suggested by a website called Rum & Monkey, a page forwarded by another, non-visiting, friend from Canada – so Cami is now short for ‘my friend from Canada who is visiting’) mix with Zsolt’s family is so much like my first time in this country. There are the wild gestures, the miscommunication, the repeating “jo” meaning good, and “egan” meaning yes, etc. And seeing this helps me appreciate how far things have come. I’m no longer the guest, I’m the daughter in law. Their conversations do not allude me (not entirely) and I can actually contribute with my barrel scraping knowledge of the language. No one minds when I wash a dish. And most importantly, Hungary isn’t  a place to visit, it’s a place to go home.

So here I am at 11pm, household sleeping all around, typing in my Hungarian bedroom, waiting for the tea to wear away. Thank goodness for this blog. She keeps me company no matter what time of day (or night). And thank goodness for green tea too – despite the buzz, because it’s helping fight a good fight.

But now I’ll post this and get off the computer. Zsolt must be going bonkers with all this clacking at the keyboard. Tea or no tea, it’s time to sleep.

Good night!

Back at the arrival gates

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Life, Travel by

Oh boy, oh boy. Tomorrow a friend is arriving here in Hungary – a Canadian friend. I won’t mention her name because, in general, she’s a stickler for privacy, though at some point I may be forced to assign an alias, because “my good friend from Canada” runs slightly long.

She arriving tomorrow around noon. Zsolt and I will cruise along the highway starting  9 am(ish) in order to meet her on arrival. Something tells me that the 9th of June will involve a lot of ass-flattening a la car seat, again, but at least the reward of seeing “my good friend from Canada” is worthwhile.

Man, I can remember so well the first time I arrived in Hungary nearly six years ago. I’d worn a green hooded sweater, and my Dad’s undershirt (which I thought was a cute top, wearing my Dad’s clothing was a less-than-hip trend I followed all through high school, and then maintained well past university).  The flight from Toronto was about nine hours, and I was totally knackered upon arrival, despite having had the middle four seats of the row to myself. (at this point I remember an instrument, maybe a trumpet . . . I think one of the passengers had a brass instrument with them, but that’s speculation at this point . . . sometimes my memories feel more like dreams than reality. Time deconstructs the facts.)

Anyhow, I arrived and went through customs – all prepared for a difficult line of questioning about where I was going, who I was visiting, why I was in Hungary. Instead they stamped my passport and waved me through – nice. And then, having collected my luggage, I walked through the gate.

That sweet, universal, gate – where someone you love is on the other side waiting, and seeing them is the best thing to happen in that moment.  

And there was Zsolt, looking tall and handsome and lean, with pink tulips in his hand. The guy has the sweetest smile, really. Sometimes I look at him and think, geez – he’s with me? But then again, sometimes I look at photos of myself and think, geez – I look like that?  But I guess Zsolt and I match rather well. My old neighbours spent a good chunk of the acquaintance thinking we were brother and sister. Yowzers. That’s what I call matching a little too much.

My first impression of Hungary: Zsolt.

I wonder what my friend’s impression will be? We’ll try and show her the cream of the cream, and rest in between the efforts. A rough sketch of our plan for her is as follows: Pecs, Balaton, Budapest. That keeps things rather broad, but I’m also thinking: Spa, Lake, Spa to align with each city/village visited.

Right. Time for bed! This morning I work at 6 freaking AM, way too early, with ideas ringing between my ears. So, I’m outtie five thousand. Take care, and good night!

PS – Thank goodness for my little Spanish fan, because I’m so hot flashing right now, it’s ridiculous.