To Paris and Back

Yes, surprise, we are back!

The reason we went was to see Michael who had a couple of week off from teaching, and, yes, yes, the wonderful baguettes...

The apartment we stayed in (on line photo). Our small bedroom was in the other room. This looks very neat!

...and the reason we came back early--Peter.

Okay. A few days later I felt and looked about the same.

 We had phoned Dr. Galraith before we left home, to find out about my CTscan results from a few weeks ago, and the result was that I have a lump under my left arm arm and also in my groin. Radiation here we go again! He strongly advised us to stay home, not because of the lumps, but should I get ill while in Paris, medical would not cover me, and the fee could well be over $100,000. Not a pretty picture...

But the week that we were there we managed to see a lot:

 

I will add a few more photos soon, but this will do for now.

The wash is pretty well done... the fresh bread I baked this morning looks and tastes just as good as a French baguette... the hash browns with Mennonite farmers sausage is now ready for breakfast. When it comes right down to it, we like our food the best, our home the best, our valley the best, and our friends and family the best.

Love to you,

Hilda 

PS--Michael is staying in Paris till Friday.

Birthdays are to be Celebrated!

A birthday celebration for both Hildas. 

L-R: Marg, Anna, Mary, Laurie, Betty Lou, 

Hilda B., Renata, Ev, and Elma. 

Sorry about the cut off faces. I will blame it on my new camera and using my good eye (left) instead of my right. It seems like I have known these friends forever. So nice to be with a group of friends that care. 

It felt like spring at our place. So cheery!

 A week ago it was Tony's birthday--47. We met at Starbucks, Tony's favourite coffee shop.

L-R: Tony, Hilda, Ron, Helga. 

 Peter took the photo...

Later on we met at Tony and Linda's place for pizza; some of  their friends came as well.

L-R: Julia, Levi, Leah, Sierra, Emma

The youngest and the oldest in the family.

And how is looking like this at 102! 

Jacob--Peter's dad.

Or looking even better at 22...

David--nephew.

Pretty small birthday celebration...just us and David. The rest of the family lived too far away or 

were gone for the week.

***

My Birthday Party

Growing up in Buenos Aires, we didn't “whoop it up” for birthdays. So, for my ninth birthday, I decided to take charge and invited a hand-full of friends from the Steiner school where I was attending. I can still see six young girls full of life and energy. Ponytails, pigtails, and braids flying around, giggling and skipping towards a birthday party. A party that only we girls knew was happening, for when we arrived home...

Ding, dong went the doorbell, and... 

“Surprise!” “We have arrived!” 

And what a surprise it was for my mother and sister, for I had not informed them that I would be having girls over for my birthday. (Thanks Andrea and Michael for not springing this one on me!) It never entered my mind to think that we needed food. Presents were good enough for me! My family, I guess, thought differently, and so...while we sat down to do homework on the dining room table, the door quietly closed and serious action began on the other side of the door, namely, the kitchen, where my mother and sister frantically baked my favourite cake: A white cake with two layers of whipping cream and juicy peaches in between. Yes, of course, the whole cake was covered in whipping cream and with a few slices of peaches on top for decoration. Too bad I don’t have a video of what went on in the kitchen, but you can imagine. Oh, Hilda...!

I still have the three hankies that I received at my "surprise" birthday party.

The initialed one I received later on.

Celebrate. Celebrate. Celebrate. 

It doesn't matter what you celebrate,

Tulips don't last forever...

Au revoir,

Hilda 

To Winnipeg and back home.

Christmas in Winnipeg 

Peter and I flew to Winnipeg to see A-Z, on Dec. 27, 2014, to celebrate a belated Christmas and my 65th birthday.

Card made by Caleb.

 Caleb (10)

Caleb, Andrea, Zachary, Byron

My suitcase stayed in Vancouver for a couple of days. "Who needs a lot of clothes anyway..." I am trying to convince myself.

    Zach (12)

    We were on Skype with Michael. No teaching for him tomorrow–its snowing in Istanbul.

    Backyard: good tree to climb on in the summer time.

 Photo of the neighborhood. Cold, but beautiful. 

    We all did what we had to do.

    Caleb

    Peter

    There were mugs to be filled and a birthday to celebrate 

with friends:

Norma, Elaine, Ken, John, Peter, Hilda, Elfie, Rudy.

Alma, Peter, Art, Bernie, Marg.

Andrea

Byron

 The Scream!

Our last event before we flew home to this:

Wishing you a wonderful 2015

Hilda

 Wishing you and your family a very blessed Christmas and a warm, bright, and healthy New Year.

I am so thankful that I am here to celebrate it with family and friends. We have much to be grateful for because, as you know, things looked a lot different for us/me a year ago.

Michael and Andrea are doing well in their teaching career. Michael is still in Istanbul,  and Andrea and her family will be celebrating Christmas at their home in Winnipeg. I will blog about them soon.

I was reminiscing again...

Christmas in Buenos Aires     

Growing up in Buenos Aires, I remember the number of times that we attended a Christmas Eve program by the number of fancy dresses that my mother sewed for me. And that would be two. Both made of chiffon and gathered at the waist. 

The first one I remember was light pink with tiny white embossed dots, normal round neck line and puffy sleeves. The elastic on my left sleeve was too tight and irritated me greatly. After the program, and much to my relief, I “accidentally” managed to sever the elastic. To this day I still strongly believe: If something bothers you, "fix it.”

 The following Christmas my dress was white, with a multitude of multicolored 5 cm. square patterns scattered here, there, and everywhere,  each square decreasing in size as it cascaded down in an arch. The neckline was square, and the sleeves were straight and short--nothing to “fix” this time. I remember walking home, after the Christmas program, feeling like a princess. A very hot princess indeed!  It was December 24, and the weather was hot and humid. 

Once we got home, I was finally allowed into the darkened living room to admire the lit Christmas tree. Yes, we had real candles and each candle had been carefully attached with a clip to a strong branch. Our tree was our very own “home grown” Christmas  tree.

For a number of years we would bring our potted Christmas tree into the living room, and each year it grew a little taller, until one year it grew THIS tall! 

          

I took this photograph in 2006 when Peter and I went to visit my brother Juan, and his wife Marta, in Buenos Aires, after not having been back in thirty-one years.

Some of my catholic friends went to church every Sunday. They would get all dressed up and returned each time with a 4x6 cm. picture card. On it was a beautiful icon painting and a Bible verse for the week. I thought they were so lucky...I loved the pictures. 

One day, I asked Renate Kaethler, or she asked me, I don’t remember who asked whom, you know how unreliable the little details of our memory can be, if I could go with her to church. Renate lived three houses over, and was much older than me––all of three years. I was almost 9 years old. I wanted to go because I was curious and because it gave me something to do on Sundays. She, on the other hand, went because she wanted to grow in her faith, and as I found out from observation, because she was interested in one of minister Martin Derksen’s sons. Not sure which was the stronger reason for going to church. 

Sunday mornings, Renate and I would walk down our street, for about two kilometres, and wait at the train station for the right train to come by. We chugged along till we got to our destination. Once we got off we walked a couple of blocks to the Mennonite church. And so the service began. After the usual preliminaries an offering basket was passed around with pesos in it to which I promptly helped myself to, and to my dismay was told by some very excited children to put it back.  “You have to give, not take.” Well, that was a rotten deal! 

The singing part I really enjoyed.  We were accompanied by the piano and sang along as the blond lady upfront with the old fashioned “schups,” pumped her right hand up and down to the beat of the much beloved Christmas carols: “Stille Nacht (Silent Night); O Tanenbam (O Christmas Tree); Ihr Kinderlein kommet (Little children come); O du froehliche, o du selige (Oh, How Joyfully, Oh, How Peacefully; “Kling Gloeckchen, Klingelingeling!” (ring little bell, ringalingaling)--this one really got me going!; and Leise rieselt der Schnee, (softly falls the snow). What snow? It was 30˚outside! But still we dreamt of softly falling snow in Canada.
These are some of the carols that stand out in my mind and to this day they still put me in that Christmas spirit.
 Ihr Kinderlein, kommet (O Come Little Children) ICC

 But beside the carols comes the memory of the the flat rectangular tin box of halva that my father would buy around this time of the year, and also the chocolate marzipan bars wrapped in shiny gold paper. After all, what would life be without childhood memories.

Wishing you the best of health,

Hilda