Budapest!
In 1993, Torbjörn and I took our 2 children, Marc, then 2 1/2 years old, and Sandrine, then 6 months old, to live in Budapest, Hungary.
It was a tumultuous time in Hungary’s history; the Berlin wall fell not even 4 years then, and Hungary had one excited foot in the West, and a suspicious foot still in the bygone era. There were still a lot of Trabants on the streets, but the shiny cars of the West were speeding past them in large numbers. It was a period of enormous change in the country, and I was 25 years old, a very young mother, in a country where English was not spoken, and whose language I did not have the energy to learn. (I regret that to this day.) I needed help… and along came Katalin, who miraculously spoke near-fluent Swedish, and was the head of a large daycare in a town outside of Budapest called Százhalombatta. She became my children’s extra mother, taking care of them so I could breathe, while Torbjörn worked in the southern and eastern towns of Hungary, and was home only during weekends.
Katalin was a package deal with her husband Sándor, just as I was a package deal with my little family. We quickly became very close friends, and they helped us not only with the kids, but with life in Hungary in general. Torbjörn loved his job and enjoyed being in Hungary; I did not feel the same way. Hungary was really difficult for me, but Katalin and Sándor were heaven-sent. They saved me. They saved my family.
When we left Hungary, my heart was sad because I had to leave them behind, but I knew I’d see them again. That was 28 years ago. (They did visit us a year later in Stockholm, where we moved after Hungary.)
The family had wanted to come and visit Budapest again years later, but life somehow got in the way. And, after the losses that we suffered, coming back to Budapest as a family of 2 instead of the original 4, was not something that I was going to do, ever. Never ever.
But… 4 weeks ago, as I was beginning to plan my trip to Europe to see Sandrine for Christmas, I went to Google Maps to see if I could find our old house in Budapest. I did, and I sobbed all night, thinking of all the memories of our Hungarian life.
That night, when there were no more tears to cry, I found myself messaging Katalin: “We’re coming.”
At the airport, a bittersweet homecoming to Budapest: Katalin, Sándor, Sandrine, and me. I’m still holding myself together here.
Somehow, the bond between them never disappeared.
And when Katalin and I hugged, I lost it.
Sándor and Katalin took us to a dinner cruise on the Danube River, my first taste of genuine Hungarian food in decades. So familiar, so delicious!
Töltött káposzta (stuffed cabbage rolls) and pörkölt (beef stew). This was pure joy. Pure joy!
Kisbaba (“little baby,” as Hungarians used to call her) trying Hungarian desserts.