Tirano

Posted in Travel by

We woke up this morning at 3 am to catch the plane for Milan. Guess who wasn’t a happy camper? šŸ™‚ After saying goodbye to Hungary and family at the airport (I might have more to say about that in another post) we flew into Milan, grabbed a train to the city centre, grabbed another train after that and were on our way to Tirano, a small (tiny) ‘city’ in the valley of the Italian Alps.

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And since arriving, also since taking a nap, I’ve between smiling like crazy. This is the place for me. You can keep you large and striking cities; give me flows of streams and waterfalls tumbling down mountain sides; give me vineyards that layer themselves one after the other up and up into the clouds; give me a cool rainy day with a complete lack of tourists (except us); give me a riverside hotel room and mountain view; give me baskets of strawberries for only 60 cents. That is all I ask to make me happy. šŸ˜‰

Gosh, I’ve missed the mountains. One summer over ten years ago, I had the joy of working on top of a mountain for the Jasper Tramway in Alberta. That was a very special time. Looking up into the mountains, particularly when the air was damp and cloud hung low in random wisps – it felt like being wrapped up in God.

So, you can understand why Tirano makes me smile.

Zsolt and I spent a few happy hours walking around this compact place and snapping pictures like crazy. We must have looked ridiculous. It was raining all day here – so whenever Zsolt pulled out the phone to snap a picture, I’d hold the umbrella way, way high up above his head, and somehow we kept walking around like that! šŸ™‚ Did I mention this umbrella is BROKEN and half flops down into us? Well, there you go.

The smile didn’t leave my face for the entire afternoon. Maybe it is because we had time together, just the two of us. Maybe it was because I was delirious for lack of sleep. But most likely it was because I felt so blessed and so happy to enjoy this beautiful place.

And tomorrow gets even better!! We will be going through the Alps on the Bernina express. It will be spectacular.

Riding the train in Hungary

Posted in Finding Home, Life by

I sometimes wonder if Hungarians realise how lucky they are to be riding the train. It may be one of the slowest services in Europe but on a bright day when the cabin windows are down and the green and yellow fields seem to roll along endlessly, I can’t imagine a better way to travel. Zsolt and I have started our week of train traveling. First to Erd, later through Budapest, and then onto Prague. We read and look out the window. We travel through long tunnels in total darkness as the wheels scream. We listen and watch as old men hit on groups of teenage girls. We sweat in the sunshine and breath the enveloping warmth.

And in between it all my mind thinks about stories and my fingers get to writing.

So here is what is on my mind:

Yesterday we meet one of Zsolt’s high school friends for some ice cream downtown. Let’s call him The Big Man, because he’s tall and wide like a superhero. The Big Man is a guy who always looks like he is on the go, crusing for ladies and making important deals. Yesterday when we met, he showed up in a dark leather jacket and wore mirrored sunglasses even though it was about twenty-five degrees outside.

Anyhow, we meet with TBM and after some chatting I did not understand (whenever Zsolt and TBM meet, there is a lot of Hungarian spoken. I think they talk about women and life – but who knows?), we went off for some ice cream.

Here is something you’d never expect: Zsolt’s highschool buddy, TBM had a stroke three years ago this Sunday. That stroke took away his ability to speak and walk – everything had to relearned. But you wouldn’t know it to look at him today. And I guess since that happened (right around the time I was diagnosed with cancer) I’ve seen him as a different person – not as anyone less impressive, but certainly as someone more relatable.

And yesterday TBM said something that made him seem even more normal.

Even though he comes off looking successful and confident . . . not all is well. He’s looking for work, as are so many these days. When I asked him (since his English is excellent), “If you could do anything or be anything, what what you do or be?”

He replied, “That’s the problem, I don’t know. I could lie and make something up, but the truth is that I don’t know. I feel purposeless.”

It’s hard to get anywhere when you don’t know where you are going. But on the other hand, not all who wander are lost. I don’t know when the window of finding yourself closes in society, but I reckon it ought to stay open as long as needed, and then reopened again and again to air out our lives and take in fresh perspectives.

But to feel purposeless is a heavy thing. I wouldn’t have suspected it since TBM really does come off as a ‘big man’ in more than just the physical sense – he’s just somehow impressive.

So there you have it. Everyone has their struggles, from physical challenges like strokes, growth spurts, back pains, losing breasts, etc., and everyone has personal challenges too. So the next time I look upon someone with defensive judgement (because I have an instinctual distrust toward people who seem too cool), I will try to remember TBM and the vulnerability he so honestly shared.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Inspiration at the Kitchen Table

Posted in Life, Travel by

Jimminy Crickets, it’s been a while since I’ve written. But I’ve got a story for you, sort of . . . a spur of the moment decision story of going to Italy. Here’s how it happened:

Later in the month, Zsolt and IĀ  will be taking a train ride (a damn long train ride) to Prague to meet with friends and have fun. But we had the idea that Zsolt’s parents, Anna and Laszlo, could come along with us a couple days earlier and explore the city. Zsolt’s parents don’t speak English, so it limits their ability to travel. (Also, Anna gets really nervous when going to new places. She reads every single bit of travel information available, memorizes words from the dictionary, makes lists of translations . . . and then still gets completely lost whenever we arrive in town.)

Anyhow, while they wanted to go on a trip with us, they really didn’t want to go to Prague. This is so weird. My cousin told me it’s one of his favourite cities in Europe. He said, “You have to go to Prague.” I’ve heard nothing but rave reviews for this city. But Zsolt’s parents don’t want to go. And actually, Zsolt’s not so bothered either. Apparently it’s less charming because it’s Eastern European . . . less exotic for them, less alluring . . . also, Zsolt says it is a tiny city and there’s not much to do.

But it’s PRAGUE! It’s beautiful. What else does one need?

Anyhow, they suggested we go somewhere else. So there we are at the kitchen table, sitting around the plates of cheese, kolbasz (salami-like but better), peppers and bread, wondering were we could go. I suggested we just go up to Budapest and enjoy the baths and very inexpensive opera. But then somehow the conversation wound it’s way to other places . . . places that would take hours and hours by car, which then led to “Why don’t we fly somewhere?” But where? “Italy!” Which is when Zsolt’s dad become very, very excited – saying he’d do anything to go to Italy. I might not understand everything they say, but I know Laszlo is excited when he starts speaking really, really fast and then jumps up from his chair – runs out the room – and calls back to us that he’d “do anything to go to Italy!” (I can’t remember why he left the room. Let’s just leave that hanging.)

IMG_20130414_085348So, of course we look up flights and Ryan Air is having a sale. Maybe people in North America don’t know about Ryan Air. I’ve always been a bit suspicious of them, since their prices are so stupidly low . . . they are the lowest of low cost airlines in Europe. I think the owner once proposed to have people standing up on flights . . . it didn’t pass of course, but that just gives you an idea of how cheap they are.

Right. Anyhow, Ryan Air had a stupidly low price on flights to Pisa. And wham, bam, thank you ma’am, we are booked and flying to Florence! One second we’re at the kitchen table eating kobasz, the next we’re on the plane flying to Italy. Crazy!

It was an extremely fast trip. We arrived in Pisa, took a train to Florence, spent a day and a half in Florence, took the train back to Pisa, went up the leaning tower (where I had vertigo . . . it felt like there wasn’t enough room, and I was going to fall over, and nothing was safe. Mind you, every other person up there seemed just fine. That’s me in the picture trying not to have a breakdown, and displaying my conditioning to ‘always smile for the camera’), walked through a very exciting market where I bought a tiny (and wonderfully cheap) piece of art that I think will look fantastic alongside my other bits of art, grabbed the return plane and flew home.

Knackering! But also, a real privilege. It is such a privilege to see the world, to enjoy other cultures, to hear stories from Italian women about the sons who married English girls and now live in Scotland, to walk these ancient roads, to see masterpieces first-hand, to eat gelato non-stop, to explore . . . it was lovely, and it was a privilege.

So that’s the story of that. And there will be more travelling to come. I’ve been trying to fit in my work between flights, trains and car rides, and I have to say it’s great to be flexible in online engagement and ghost-blogging, and assistance giving. I love that I can live anywhere and still have a working life. That’s quite the privilege too. The hard part is that my computer screen totally died. This is the third time ACER COMPUTERS (if you are reading this post), and while I love the speed and convenience of my laptop . . . staring at a black screen makes it rather difficult to work. But it’s all being managed. Once back in Canada I’ll replace the screen.

On a side note, my drawing pad also died. I’m not sure if it just needs a new battery . . but time will tell.

So all of this wonderfulness was experienced this past weekend, and I’m very grateful.Then last Monday in the night I read about Boston and the bombings. And I have to ask, how does any of it make sense? How? This world is a gift. I’ve seen people be saints and savours to one another. Working in the online community of support, I’ve seen strangers comfort strangers, and compassion shared freely. Walking through the amazing streets of Europe, I think of all the beauty that’s been poured in here . . . and then at the same time, the wars, the holocaust, the massacres. . . I think of the goodness and the evil. And I don’t know what to say.

All I know – right down deep inside me – is that people want to be good, and people can always be better. The bombings were heartbreaking, and my thoughts are going out to the city of Boston. I know within that madness people were proving just how good they could be. But it still breaks my heart to hear of the hateful things.I just don’t know what to say.

I’m glad for what I’ve been given in life. And I hope that kindness, art, exploration, openness and compassion win-out over that dirty and destructive word, ‘hate’.

And that is the end of this post!