Location: Túrkeve (Hungary)
"I don't like to eat the crust..." she stated tearing off another chunk of bread and discarding it on the table.
"My father used to push the loaves across the tiled floor once they had finished baking."
"My father used to push the loaves across the tiled floor once they had finished baking."
Whilst growing up as a little girl I would gleefully go through a libraries worth of photo albums at my grandmother's house. As I turned the pages and peered into the black and white photographs I was transported back in time. I would get a glimpse of the person she was, the life she lead and all the people I could call family but had not yet met. Since that young age I have deeply wished to see the house she grew up in but more importantly, I yearned to met my cousins and my blood relatives.
As we drove towards the town of Túrkeve in Hungary I was overwhelmed with a series of questions racing through my mind, would I have chills walking through the house which had been in our family for generations? Would my family like me, or would it be awkward and unnatural? As we pulled into the drive way I was both anxious and excited.
I clambered out of the car, my knees were stiff from the hours of driving. The sun was blaring high in the sky and the sounds of festive but foreign voices could be heard. I approached the gate and I took a deep breath...
As we drove towards the town of Túrkeve in Hungary I was overwhelmed with a series of questions racing through my mind, would I have chills walking through the house which had been in our family for generations? Would my family like me, or would it be awkward and unnatural? As we pulled into the drive way I was both anxious and excited.
I clambered out of the car, my knees were stiff from the hours of driving. The sun was blaring high in the sky and the sounds of festive but foreign voices could be heard. I approached the gate and I took a deep breath...
As I walked through the squeaky gate nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. I was swarmed with beaming faces smiling, kissing, hugging and eagerly speaking to me in Hungarian. I understood nothing and my world began to spin. I gained my composure and I realised that for the first time in my life I was shy. A few glasses of Pálinka should fix that!
Under the walnut tree in the garden that proudly towered over the house, we had lunch. Bowls of warm chicken soup, meat and a moist cherry and chocolate cake was shared amongst the flowing wine. After the exchange in stories and laughter I was able to explore the very house my grandmother, and her mother before her had grown up in.
The house was a warm yellow scattered with white windows, it was surrounded by sweet smelling roses and an assortment of fruits and vegetables beside an old well in the garden. Butterflies danced with me as I examined every nook and corner. My grandma showed me through each room in the quaint house, explaining where she had slept, where her father the local baker had made bread and where they kept their pigs. It was a beautiful.
Although I did not receive chills walking through the same yard that my grandmother had played in as a mischievous toddler, the house definitely had a sense of familiarity and in it's own private way... it felt like home.
Under the walnut tree in the garden that proudly towered over the house, we had lunch. Bowls of warm chicken soup, meat and a moist cherry and chocolate cake was shared amongst the flowing wine. After the exchange in stories and laughter I was able to explore the very house my grandmother, and her mother before her had grown up in.
The house was a warm yellow scattered with white windows, it was surrounded by sweet smelling roses and an assortment of fruits and vegetables beside an old well in the garden. Butterflies danced with me as I examined every nook and corner. My grandma showed me through each room in the quaint house, explaining where she had slept, where her father the local baker had made bread and where they kept their pigs. It was a beautiful.
Although I did not receive chills walking through the same yard that my grandmother had played in as a mischievous toddler, the house definitely had a sense of familiarity and in it's own private way... it felt like home.