My Home - Az Én Hazám

In a few days, after having spent a couple of weeks here in Hungary, we'll be travelling back to Italy for Easter. In that time, the children were finally able to meet their great-Grandmother as well as the rest of my family, I've discovered more of our history and we're all staying in our ancestral home which is wonderful. Firstly because I love sleeping in a house with many loved ones, whether it's extended family or friends, I'm always relaxed knowing there is lots of love in the house, despite the extra noise and commotion.

Secondly, it's the only place that's ever felt like home for me. This might sound strange given that I've spent most of my life in Australia. But it was here I learnt to walk and talk and played countless games with my grandparents and uncles, from the time I was a baby until the age of 5 when my parents escaped the country. Since then I have moved close to 30 times, between 4 countries (the counting gets hazy after 25) so it's fair to say I haven't exactly put down roots.

In addition, my great-great-Grandfather built our house here over 120 years ago but my family has lived here, on these lands for centuries. There are three cemetaries in town, each one older than the next, and some ruins of a fourth. In each one are graves with our family name, most of them with full names and dates. One summer with my cousins we discovered the oldest one so far but the years had worn away the stone making it difficult to read the headstone completely, apart from recognising our name. Given the age of the others it probably dates back to the 1700's. Yes, it's a long time ago but somehow it gives me a sense of certainty to know my family has had a known presence here for so long. I feel connected to this place despite, or maybe because of, my travelling ways.

All this might sound macabre but I've been visiting family graves since I was little so it's never seemed strange. Also most Hungarian graves are regularly tended to and planted with bright flowers. It also helps that All Saints Eve on the 1st of November is a special occasion for many people which is observed with great reverence. Here is a great article describing the event which is similarly celebrated here in Hungary.

And another bonus of having a hometown : When I walk down the street old ladies recognise my features and from that alone immediately know which family I'm from. Their faces soften as they smile and start telling me tales of my mother playing in their garden. I'm never quite sure who they are though, they don't introduce themselves and I feel bad for not remembering so at home I ask my Grandmother, 'Who's the lady at No. 42?' and I get another wonderful story in return about the lady in question and how we're directly related 5 generations back.

Last week I took the children for a walk to the vineyards. On our way back an old man stopped his tractor on the road to offer us a lift back home. We started chatting, he was funny and kind and offered us all water as we'd been out walking. The kids took to him immediately. Afterwards he told my aunt Magda that when he asked our names he couldn't hear the response over the noise of the tractor - but when he first looked into my daughter's eyes he knew immediately she was a Bajomi.

Central Italy to Hungary

Also called 'How to drive 1200km in 2 days with 2 kids under 5 and survive'.

Our suggestions are: Frequent stopping, homemade panini (skip the food at the AutoGrill), non messy fruit, counting tunnels, patience, flashcards, plastic animals, blankets and pillows, singing, stopping to play and run around, and more patience.
Here they are on a pit stop outside Verona:


I love a road trip for many reasons. I love driving and seeing new things. I love finding exotic and intriguingly named items in the supermarket. I love the way your eyes are fresh to new sights every minute. Also, I don't mind the uncertainty of having to find necessities in unfamiliar places, or even that the everyday things we're used to may be vastly different, if they're available at all. Every change makes you fully experience the new place in which you find yourself and then, when it's over, it makes you appreciate home all the more.

Which is why it's a shame that my husband and kids do not like them at all. Now it's true that the kiddies are little (4 and a half and almost 3) so being an optimist I like to think they'll come around in due course. Sadly, Dan is pretty much fixed in his opinion. He thinks travelling is the annoying part before arriving somewhere. Which is a fair enough viewpoint but one that I think would limit the joy to be found in ordinary things. C'est la vie.

Things went pretty much to plan: on Thursday morning we set off for Avezzano, then Pescara where we had our first glimpse of the Adriatic.


No stopping allowed, unfortunately, we continued North-ish via Bologna, Modena and Verona to Lonigo, where Dan's cousin Sandra lives with her children. We spent a lovely night here catching up. Good food, good wine, good company, great family, is there anything better? Thank you, Sandra for conveniently living halfway between our families!


Day 2 we set off again, heading to Trieste before crossing into Slovenia. We found the best playground so far in Europe, at a fuel stop where the kids could run around a bit but otherwise driving through Slovenia took 3 and a half uneventful hours. I'm sure it's a lovely place but we didn't have time to find out. They do have cheap petrol though.

The first Hungarian words I heard were "Karcsi! Itt vagyunk!" (translation: 'Charlie, we're over here!') and I couldn't help but smile. We hadn't yet crossed the border but I knew we were close because Hungarian guys were crossing over to Slovenia to buy the aforementioned cheap petrol. It was enough to bring a tear to my eye.

A few minutes later we were here. Driving along the Balaton at sunset was magic and by dusk we had arrived.

Later on, I realised I had to wait till I was 35 before first driving in my homeland. Isn't that strange?