You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘Photography’ tag.
Not bad for a shot taken out the window of a moving bus in the middle of a rain shower! I have to admit that I adore windfarms. Sure, maybe not right next to my home, but they look like dancers to me. Magestic and beautiful.
Before we returned to Australia from Ireland my then brand-new husband Mister Emmet and I went to Hungary, well, specifically, Budapest. In fact we got stuck there, for a short while, due to that never-again-to-be-mentioned Icelandic volcano.
Hungary is integral to who I am, but it took me to actually go there, some twenty-seven years after my birth, and over fifty years since my family left their Eastern European homeland for the greener pastures and calmer waters of Australia, to realise just how much I needed to explore that part of my heritage.
My family, well, my maternal grandparents and my mother, arrived in Australia in 1956 after fleeing the policies and practices of the Soviets and the violence of the Revolution. I most regret that I didn’t have the opportunity to talk about my Grandfather’s experience before he passed away. That said, I was all of nine years old when he died. My grandmother has since developed rose coloured glasses when she speaks of her life in the old country. I believe some of what she tells me, but I know that she and her many siblings lived a poor upbringing in the countryside, somewhere. They, my grandparents, also lived for a time in Budapest, and this is where we went in April, shortly after we married, and in the company of my mum.
Since coming home my Nagymama, my mum’s mum, has been cooking for us once a week. So, I’ve decided that there’s no better way to learn about my heritage than through my passion for food. Now Nagymama is cooking for us twice a week! But the second time, at the weekend, I’m helping. And learning!
And shortly, so too will you, as I plan to pass on the recipes she is teaching me, so that you too can come to appreciate the joy of Hungarian cooking! It’s not for the faint hearted though. Eastern European is built on starch, oils, fats and spices. And plenty of meat. And one helping is never enough. Eat more…no seriously, eat more.
