It was really hard for me to return from Canada. At the airport in Montreal there was a moment when I almost turned back and I was desperate when my plane landed in Zurich. My friend Szilda was surprised that I was back in Hungary. She told me she had been convinced I would enjoy being in North America so much that it would make no sense to come home. That was when I realized that I always ask the wrong question. I shouldn't have looked for a powerful motivation to stay there but rather think about why am I attached to my homeland (I don't have many reasons for that...)
Anyway, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm at home. Of course, I can fly there again if I want to. The only worrying thing is the immigration procedure. I felt I wasn't convincing the first time, either. A young, Eastern European woman, travelling alone - there was a risk of not being allowed to enter the country. Good thing I knew the address of my (first) host and had a return ticket!
I am full of experience and this period was so dense, I couldn't even record all in my diary. I have uploaded more than 400 photos. I don't know if anyone will have enough patience to watch all of them but I just couldn't leave out more. Quebec City's centre is adorable with all those colours and flowers! It is always the small things that make a trip unforgettable The bells at Oratoire St Joseph that were sounded when Peter and I were about to leave. We stayed, of course, just to listen to them. Cirque du Soleil's Captain speaking Hungarian (= a language not understood by anyone else). My English-French interpretation between Antonio (my Quebec City host of Peruvian origin) and Theresa (the German couchsurfer I shared the room with). The closed cemetery on Mount Royal that Roberto (my last host, a Colombian-German) and I crossed to take a shortcut. Raccoons running across the path. The merengue disc from the 1970s. A black squirrel sounding like a crow. Travelling on the bicycle luggage carrier (prohibited). Drinking wine in the park at Petite Italie (also prohibited). Anticapitalist workshop about immigration. Canoeing on Lac Leon. Eating pancake (or crepe) on the dock with Nutella, banana and beautiful sunshine. Peace and calm at the lakeside forest. Clouds reflecting on the water. The sanguine biologist Isabelle who was our enthusiastic guide around the Biosphere...
I'm aware of the fact that all this is attractive because it is totally different from my everyday life. But I loved the city that was like one huge festival (even though I missed the greatest event, held a week before my arrival); people speaking more than one language and coming from different cultures. Roberto's family, for example, was amazing. He takes after his Colombian father (wheres his brother is rather like their mother). He couldn't tell me what his mother tongue is because he speaks English with his German mother, French with his Hispanic father and with his brother. He completed his studies in French but is fluent in all four languages. I should live in a country like that, too! I even got an answer to my question (that was intended a rhetorical one) "Who would need a Hungarian interpreter in Canada?": Roma immigrants! I haven't done explored this field yet, but it seems like an interesting challenge and it's exactly what I'm qualified for.
Anyway, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm at home. Of course, I can fly there again if I want to. The only worrying thing is the immigration procedure. I felt I wasn't convincing the first time, either. A young, Eastern European woman, travelling alone - there was a risk of not being allowed to enter the country. Good thing I knew the address of my (first) host and had a return ticket!
I am full of experience and this period was so dense, I couldn't even record all in my diary. I have uploaded more than 400 photos. I don't know if anyone will have enough patience to watch all of them but I just couldn't leave out more. Quebec City's centre is adorable with all those colours and flowers! It is always the small things that make a trip unforgettable The bells at Oratoire St Joseph that were sounded when Peter and I were about to leave. We stayed, of course, just to listen to them. Cirque du Soleil's Captain speaking Hungarian (= a language not understood by anyone else). My English-French interpretation between Antonio (my Quebec City host of Peruvian origin) and Theresa (the German couchsurfer I shared the room with). The closed cemetery on Mount Royal that Roberto (my last host, a Colombian-German) and I crossed to take a shortcut. Raccoons running across the path. The merengue disc from the 1970s. A black squirrel sounding like a crow. Travelling on the bicycle luggage carrier (prohibited). Drinking wine in the park at Petite Italie (also prohibited). Anticapitalist workshop about immigration. Canoeing on Lac Leon. Eating pancake (or crepe) on the dock with Nutella, banana and beautiful sunshine. Peace and calm at the lakeside forest. Clouds reflecting on the water. The sanguine biologist Isabelle who was our enthusiastic guide around the Biosphere...
I'm aware of the fact that all this is attractive because it is totally different from my everyday life. But I loved the city that was like one huge festival (even though I missed the greatest event, held a week before my arrival); people speaking more than one language and coming from different cultures. Roberto's family, for example, was amazing. He takes after his Colombian father (wheres his brother is rather like their mother). He couldn't tell me what his mother tongue is because he speaks English with his German mother, French with his Hispanic father and with his brother. He completed his studies in French but is fluent in all four languages. I should live in a country like that, too! I even got an answer to my question (that was intended a rhetorical one) "Who would need a Hungarian interpreter in Canada?": Roma immigrants! I haven't done explored this field yet, but it seems like an interesting challenge and it's exactly what I'm qualified for.
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