The Rug Whipper

Laci and I walk Ati three times a day through the maze of paths and streets that connect our neighbourhood. Living in a neighbourhood built during Hungary's communist period, we experience our streets as variations on a theme, pachelbel's cannon for the eyes - each block outfitted with 5-storey buildings, a school, at least one shop, a playground, and standing lonely outside each building, one of these. 

Having not seen them before I had imagined they were exercise bars of a bygone era and I guess Laci found this amusing because he never corrected me. But this morning I was set straight. With the baby down for his morning nap I heard the thunderous clapping coming from outside our first-floor flat. I raced to the lodga to investigate. There, on the park bench outside...

I learned that my 'exercise bar' had another life. It was the proud holder-upper of heavy, trodden, dust-filled rugs - where the shag underfoot was dragged for a proper spring beating.

When I first arrived all was still. A rug lay in waiting and a paddle nearby. I ran inside for my camera and when I got back a man was hard at work beating the living daylights out of his dining room floor.

Meet Ferenc - willing teacher and master rug whipper - who explained in immaculate English that today he could beat the rugs as he pleased for on  this particular morning his wife was not around to tell him how to beat the rugs.  

He also explained that it was a task to be performed with the utmost of stealth for if he lingered too long at the rug-whipping bar his racket would alert neighbouring women who would surely come out of their homes, rugs in hand, asking if Ference would also kindly whip their rugs clean as well. It quickly became apparent why.

Whipping rugs is hard work.

Really hard work!

And so the seemingly abandoned exercise bars are not so forgotten after all... but whoever hangs out near them does get a workout.

honk if you love to pose

We nearly stopped traffic last week on an industrial stretch of Illatos Way. Niki and Sylvi, two Budapest sisters, could have made a fortune if they had a dollar for every car that honked in passing as they posed. With no common language between us, I felt myself lucky that these two beauties needed little guidance. Here are some of our faves from last week's shoot.    

The Usual Suspects

 The Budapest Zoo in downtown Pest is truly one of the prettiest places I've seen. Almost 150 years old the Zoo has withstood decades of peace and turmoil yet serves as a perfect example of the stunning artistic and architectural heritage that exists in this city. The elephants and hippos are especially lucky - they live in this award winning domed roof building exemplary of Hungarian Art Nouveau.    

 The Zoo suffered a particularly hard blow during the Second World War when it was repeatedly bombed. With only 14 surviving animals the zoo was rebuilt and restored to its former pomp. This isn't a new story for this part of the world but it's a testament to their passion for art, symbolism and persistence.

We thought we'd share with you some of the usual suspects that we met there this week. The new baby giraffe (who unsurprisingly already towers far above our heads) was particularly popular.

xo from Pest

Tick Tock a Mother's Clock

Three thousand miles away my dear friend Becky awaits the birth of her second child. The operative word of course is awaits for this is key to the art of becoming a mother. You might say, 'But of course - a mother has no choice but to wait!' In this waiting however, a woman shows who she is. My friend Becky is an artist of 'the wait.'

Becky is crocheting her way through waiting. Blanket squares gave way to hats, scarves, mitts and booties. As baby grew ears, limbs and tiny little toes, Becky found patterns to bundle them up.

Every now and then, Becky would stop to rest. But knowing my friend, this was likely only every NOW and THEN. ;)

Her latest masterpiece arrived in a shipping envelope a couple weeks ago. Christened by slobber the woolly teddy got a big thumbs up from the resident quality control expert. 

From all of us who know you and love you - however many thousand miles separate us - we send our love and strength as your wait comes to an end and three become four. 

Love, 

Angela, Laci, Ati and Ati Bear 

From Russia with Love

It always amazes me how people find one another. For Alex and Elena, the story is not unheard of but nonetheless a story of fateful paths crossing far from home.

Alex and Elena are both from the former Soviet Union - Alex from the Ukraine and Elena from Siberia. A testament to their personal courage they each left home as young adults without their families, Alex detouring through Israel for a few years before arriving in Canada.

Alex spoke little English when he got here but set out to working in Toronto, undiscouraged and optimistic. Elena, having studied English in University arrived in Canada in 2006 as a Nanny for a family in Timmins,ON.

Alex & Elena's story began at a party hosted by a Russian speaking woman who invited strangers - Russian speaking strangers - to mingle without having met one another. Brave? Perhaps. But away from one's family, the company of others who share things in common with you is like being transported home. It won't replace a mother's hug, but there was something about it for these two that drew them to one another.

 It's not hard to imagine these two sets of eyes meeting from across a room and these two young adventurers getting lost in one another's gentle disposition and kindness. But this is not their story at all. In fact, neither Alex nor Elena were single when they first met, but they later found themselves both bachelors and spent time brainstorming mates for one another. A classic case of overlooking what's right in front of us.

Alex and Elena married in 2009 and have spent the last couple of years building a nest for themselves, and most recently, transforming a tired house into a family home. The last few months we've spent getting to know them has reminded us of a few important things: The world is smaller than we think; the universe understands balance and kindness begets kindness; and the harder we work the luckier we are. These two also make me wonder if some things shouldn't change so much - the way Elena dotes on Alex and the way he, in turn, takes care of her is a lesson in friendship and love that is far from old fashioned.

 

Lest We Forget - Sarajevo

A rich and stunning multi-cultural and interfaith city, Sarajevo simultaneously emanates its ancient roots and resonates its modern mindset. Nestled in Bosnia's Sarajevo valley, the city emits a glow at night that is nothing shy of mesmerizing. 

Sarajevo's past, unlike our own, is written all over. Where we, on days like November 11th, organize and gather to remember, in Sarajevo it's hard to forget.

The most striking reminders of war and loss in Sarajevo are not the messages spray painted on the walls of places of worship, but the once open spaces that were transformed into graveyards during the four-year siege of Sarajevo from 1992-1996. 

Surrounded and trapped in the valley and cut off from outlaying cemeteries, loved ones buried the dead of Sarajevo in any open spaces they could find - schoolyards, alleys, parks, gardens - the spaces in between the cityscape became resting places for more than 4,000 people. Some families buried members directly outside their homes.

The graves are permanent fixtures of the urban capital's landscape. Known by some as 'the largest graveyard in the world', the makeshift burial grounds are disconcerting to many who consider the health risk of bodies buried improperly. Certainly, the white monuments have become commonplace to those who pass them daily and but are a stark reminder to a good deal of North America that for so many others, "over there" is in your front yard.  

Keeping it Real

Flippy and Mandy don't go to the cottage on weekends with the migrating masses of city folk jetting up the 400. They live at the cottage. They have managed to do what so many people spend their lives working toward - keeping it simple. Before their son was born Flippy and Mandy made it their weekend warrior mission to turn a once tired little cottage into the lakefront oasis they happily now call home. No matter how cold it is outside, you can always bet that inside you could parade around in shorts thanks to a stoked fire and a busy oven (the contents of which are always mouthwatering!) Soon enough, Mandy and Flippy will be moving up in the world as my dear friend completes her PhD and takes a fancy job in a faraway fancy town. So, in the spirit of remembering a simpler time I thought it was a good idea to record a few memories of life in their wee cottage, with their wee son, when they were successfully perfecting the art of Keeping it Real.

xo

 

 

my way or the camino

With the release of Emilio Estevez's new film The Way, about a man's journey along the Camino de Santiago, I began to reminisce about my own experience along the ancient route. The photos I had taken, now caged in an external storage device, were worth sharing, I thought, even if they can only skim the surface of what the 800km trek has to offer. Indeed, it would be senseless to recite to you the lessons I learned along 'the way' for the Camino would have other lessons to teach you were you to go yourself. This was my way.   

The Camino came to me in a peculiar way. In the winter of 2008 I met a Bulgarian man traveling on a bus in Morocco who had just come off the medieval Camino. He was careful not to tell me too much but after our meeting I couldn't stop thinking about how a month of walking would alter my life. I returned home to Quebec City, packed up my life and with only a 9kg pack I made my way back to the French side of the Pyrenees where European Camino routes converge and begin to head west toward Santiago de Compostela.

40 days and 1050kms later, I had made my way west along the North of Spain, reached Santiago, and pivoted South, walking backward along the Camino Portguese to Porto. This was my camino through a lens.

  

I Scott take you, Blue

Casually walking hand in hand, Scott recounted first meeting Melissa and the moment he fell in love with her eyes. Good thing, I said, because eyes are one of  the few things we have from birth that don't change - no matter how old. 'No really', he said, shy about his profession of weakness for this blue-eyed beauty. He wanted to make it clear. Melissa blushed.

It's a heart-warming afternoon spent with Scott and Melissa. They are smitten. They are giddy. They are beautiful together.

In the same creek where Melissa hunted crayfish as a child, she held hands with her love and they talked the day away about the amber season, a green wedding and blue-eyed babies.

Being this much in love infuses one with a stoicism that nothing can shake.

Long glances remind onlookers of the conversations between souls that need no words. 

There's not much you can hide in the eyes.

Although we suspect Melissa might be stashing some jewels in hers... ;) 

Congratulations Scott and Melissa. Snuggle up for winter - your spring vows are around the corner!

Angela & Laci