Noémie's novel E-Book

Garamvölgyi Noémi

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 516

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

What makes a good autobiographical novel? Certainly if it's twisty, interesting, colourful... but is that enough? Noémi's novel undoubtedly meets all these criteria, but it goes further than that; much deeper content is revealed to the reader, unfolding from the events and situations described, which are emotionally charged for the author. The book is a combination of 35 years of teaching and 58 years of life experience, and is not without humour or everyday human wisdom, making it a book that can be enjoyed by almost all ages.

Leseprobe

Noémi's novel

Introduction

I joined the Dreamers of Dreams team. Dreams of great people – scientists, doctors, explorers – that came true and shook the world. My humble dream is the Noémi trilogy . Present – past – future in structure, in arrangement.

They dared to dream big, why can't I?

Basically, it's all clichés and clichés, but repetition is the father of knowledge, so I'll try to make the repetition of life enjoyable and experiential through my own example, which anyone can do if they have a little time and an affinity for writing. I just got it.

I have so much to say that I want to share it not only with my friends, but also make it available to others, in case someone benefits from it, from me.

A reckless goal – I don't deny it, I admit it. It could be a huge failure, an overestimation of myself, but if I don't try it, I'll never know what the truth is. So this is a feedback for me, which is only possible with the cooperation of the reader.

I trust you!

You will only have a future if you know where you came from and who you are. That is why the past has a reason to exist, because without knowing our roots we cannot understand ourselves, our existence, our present. And so seeing the future, the vision of the future is also important, otherwise we are just hanging in the air, we do not understand why we do what we do today, the purpose gives meaning to our actions today, which leads us into the future.

What made you do it? What is it all about?

Oh, well, I just had no idea why I was on Earth, right now, right here. What was my job, my mission? What did I have to do with the people around me? Maybe I would find answers to these cardinal questions, but at least I would think about it and come up with something.

I received the greatest encouragement from my girlfriend, who gave me wings, who wrote to me after reading the draft:

"I've read it, several times. Interesting, meaningful, telling. Headlines behind which there is a multitude, waiting to be unfolded. I see diversity in it, because it is a summary of a life so far, with profound thoughts, a conclusion, but fortunately not yet closed."

Wow, the tree is big, but I have the axe :)”

Why might it be interesting to the reader?

I should be writing a great book recommendation now, but I can only guarantee that my busy life is not boring, at least not for me. It is extremely entertaining, and I trust that those I interact with will also find it enjoyable, eventful, twisty, and mysterious.

Once upon a time, there were two wealthy families...

To paraphrase: my father and mother got married, I was born, and I'm still living happily, because I didn't die.

A little more: My name is Noémi, I was born in '65 and...

And now I'm coming.

Life begins at 50, I didn't believe it, now I know.

My motto:

Always step out of your comfort zone, push your limits, that's how you develop, this is the price of your development!

NOÉMI'S ADVENTUROUS LIFE

Part 1 (my thefts and leaving traces)

I always listened to "hints": objects, plants, animals, people, and I always left my mark on them - this is the law of interaction.

Nomen est omen:

Why did I become Noémi instead of Zoltán, and what does it mean?

Let's start with its meaning: my beauty. It is of Hebrew origin.

I almost became Timea, but when my mother was thinking about the name towards the end of her pregnancy, the soap opera Timea came out, and she didn't want her daughter to be a soap opera if she had a daughter. At that time, she reread The Golden Man , saw Ildikó Pécsi play Noémi in the theater, she was beautiful, and she vacillated between the cold-hearted Timea or the warm-hearted Noémi.

My father was expecting a boy only, so exclusively that he told the obstetrician to feel free to write Zoltán in advance, because it was going to be a boy. The doctor came out pale and told my father in a barely audible voice that he had a healthy child, only not Zoltán, but Noémi.

Well, if you could have seen it, my father's mind was going, "I already have a girl at home, Mónika, who is one and a half years old, what should I do with another girl?" So our relationship started off pretty well, the ideal beginning of a father-daughter relationship. This is of crucial importance, but let's move on!

Scorpio. According to the Chinese horoscope, it's a snake. A sensitive, hypersensitive mimosa. Well, that's also true, very true. Starting from my wasp sting allergy to my emotional sensitivity. More on that later...

My favorite number is 8 because it's the symbol for infinity when turned upside down.

Basic rule: everyone does what they like with me. Me too.

My guests know exactly that this is really my main rule: whoever gets tired can go to sleep, I'll make a bed for them, but if I get tired, I get up from the table, leave food and drink, and they can continue the conversation without me, because when the time comes, I'll go to sleep.

"He who gets up early really finds gold - or silver, or treasures - and is very tired by evening."

I wake up early, because I went to bed early – I learned to keep myself busy in silence so as not to disturb those around me who are still sleeping, because they are still resting, which I have already gotten over. I am proud of this ability to adapt. However, it took me years to develop and apply it. I have now perfected it, as my ex-husband, son and my guests who slept there can attest. The topics of gold, silver and treasures still have to wait, but what is delayed does not pass, this too will come, just be patient – at the same time, I wrote it this way with the aim of motivation and maintaining interest.

“I work day and night.”

Well, don't be scared, I'm not a masochist or a Stakhanovist, I just had a surreal experience with the loss of my wisdom tooth.

The other day I was deprived of my second such tooth and the doctor joked that I might be wise enough now, so I don't need it, she'll pull it out. It didn't come as a surprise, I arrived at her fully prepared, I felt that today I would leave the office with one less tooth. The whole thing took 20 seconds, she pulled it out professionally, in one go, I turned out to be an easy case. Of course, anyone who has already undergone a similar operation knows exactly what awaits them in the next 3 days.

Pulsation, hunger, fever, etc. In the case of an upper tooth, they recommend sleeping sitting up to clear the cavity, it's all child's play, except sometimes I slipped off the pillows, which immediately woke me up with the throbbing, etc. And then I felt like I was experiencing time travel.

I woke up at 2, drank my usual morning coffee without milk, because I'm not allowed to drink or eat milk or dairy products for 3 days, wrote my shopping list, tidied up the kitchen, washed the mugs, from which I tried to drink without spilling the tea – with more or less success. The miracle of the anesthetic effect is that it doesn't hurt to draw, and even afterwards. Drinking is interesting during this time, but when the effect wears off, well, then the haddelhadd comes.

Then I got tired of this, and lay back down on the pillows. I slipped down again, woke up again at 3:30, drank my usual morning coffee, this time started the washing machine, and in the meantime wiped down the shelf in the bathroom, since I was already there. I got tired again, a routine pillow fight ensued, I managed to sleep again for about 1 hour, then the usual coffee, and I got out of the machine, by then it was already 6 o'clock, and I realized that the day was only just starting, but I had already done so much. Isn't this a time travel? I turned night into day - I had a night shift feeling, hm!

A joke flashed through my mind. Which wasn't even a joke, it was reality.

Juliska is preparing for a five-day trip with her two friends. She doesn't want to forget anything, so she writes a list. First point: make coffee, bring it in. Second point: cut cookies, bring it in. Third point: fill a soda and bring it in on a tray. Bözsike and Mariska arrive. They chat pleasantly, she remembers the note, goes out to the kitchen, reads it. 1st point: make coffee, bring it in. She makes it, they drink it, they continue chatting, she remembers the list again, goes out. 1st point: make coffee, bring it in, they drink it, continue gossiping, she remembers the note again, goes out, coffee, bring it in, etc.

It's getting late, her friends are saying goodbye to her. As they head home, Mariska says:

– We had such a good time, we had a good conversation, but Juliska could have at least offered us a coffee.

To this Bözsike speaks:

– You are absolutely right, but who is Juliska?!

Well, I'm somewhere here too - I start the day with 3 coffees, and then a question pops up:

Have I had coffee today?

And who is Noémi?

Well, let's see, who is it?!

Someone (specifically a lawyer with whom life sometimes collides – I'll explain this below, maybe, if I don't forget!) said about me the other day:

I have the ability to expect miracles, which means that I look to the future positively and with a good sense of humor. Difficulties are just problems to be solved for me, I deal with them from a sufficient distance, emotionally distancing myself appropriately, and doing the necessary things related to them as a necessary evil, meaning I don't get lost in them, but I approach the big things in life with a seemingly unemotional attitude. You're right.

I have really learned to approach things in the right way. It may seem as if I am trivializing important issues that concern me. But this is not the case, but I am looking at events from a little more distance, from the outside, and this makes it much easier to make realistic, good decisions.

Those who get lost in themselves cannot see the forest for the trees. That's why I stand a little to the edge of the forest and assess the situation from there. I can see it much better. I can see clearly all the way to the end, which is interesting because we might think that from the middle of the forest you can focus everything well, but this is actually an optical illusion.

My personality is still not final, it is constantly changing, adapting to the present. But I already have solid character traits, which is obviously age-dependent.

When I was young, I was a young lady with a lot of energy, quick, almost hasty. Emotion always prevailed over reason. The ratio gradually changed.

Over 30, I made more and more rational decisions, but by then I had already gotten married, given birth, filed for divorce, got into a new relationship, and got married.

Until I was 40, I was preoccupied with a lot of dilemmas – how should I live, in general, what is the purpose of life, am I doing what I am doing right? Does this merry-go-round make sense? Would this be LIFE with a capital letter? And what is good for me in this? Where am I?

Until I was 50, I vegetated in this uncertainty, I struggled, I tried to break out of the monotony, the gray, constant everyday life, I made an attempt here and there, but in fact I suffered from everything. Nothing was appropriate, joyful, gave a vision for the future, encouraged, or gave me hope.

And my 50th birthday was approaching, which is thought-provoking for everyone, because half of our lives have certainly flown by, there is certainly less ahead than behind us.

This is when it comes to taking stock of what I've achieved, what I'm proud of, whether it was worth it, how to move forward, etc.

Well, this inventory showed me a pretty sad picture. I wasn't satisfied. I didn't get the good feeling that should have filled me with the feeling that yes, all the struggle was worth it, because... and so on.

Instead, I still had a sense of searching for a goal, a path. There was no satisfaction with everything, there were only parts that I was truly satisfied with, but overall I was not at peace with the whole.

I vowed not to be bitter, but to continue to correct whatever I can.

The beginning was divorce (again). Starting everything from scratch with a clean slate – I thought this would be the best. I had no idea if this would really be the best. I jumped into the big void, everyone looked at me like I was stupid, the questions “why aren’t you holding on, you’ve been doing well so far?” made me nervous. I can’t hold on anymore, I’m just showing you that I can live alone and much better than… I gained strength and nourishment from feelings to continue living.

There were sentences starting with “It’s easy for you.” Well, these also gave me strength, and I just replied: “You can start putting your life in order, no one is stopping you. Only you.”

The sentence “Good for you for being so brave!” was also fuel to the fire. “It’s all a matter of determination,” was the response.

From then on, what needs to be done must be done in a planned and conscious manner. This is where the beautiful duality of reason-emotion, decision and implementation, comes together, forming a rounded whole.

It all started with River Cottage, so Hugh is to blame for everything. Up until then, I had been watching action-shooting movies on TV, and some Jessica (Killing Row) for thrills, and maybe Monk for professional development.

But Hugh changed everything in me. I too had a dream of having a River Cottage that I could create. And I did it on the family property. Or at least I would like to think I did, not alone by any means, and I am still a long way from done, but determined.

Creating a miracle from nothing – that's Hugh, getting from zero to Canaan on our own, with our own hands, with the help of friends, living in nature again, living with nature, where we should have been all along. I devoured the series.

Then the series of his student, the Australian Paul West, and from then on I was only willing to watch series that made sense to me. For example, Castle Dream Home or The Gardener's Garden or The Memorial Workshop or The Restorers with Drew Pritchard or The Masters of Tailoring, The Masters of Ceramics, Bakers from the Victorian Era.

Creation, saving the old, that's what interests me.

Anyone who knows me knows that although I don't watch much TV, even that little bit is limited to 2-3 channels. I can watch repeats of repeats because an important sentence always jumps out at me - that's why I watch it again and again.

This may be because I travel less these days, but I used to travel more, and these channels take me to places I've been to or want to go to. And I'm really enjoying the feeling that I don't have to get on a plane anymore, take uncomfortable, expensive trips, it's like I'm actually there. These two channels are not channels for travel shows, but for gastronomic adventures.

For me, culinary art is art – when it is practiced on an artistic level. That's why I watch it selectively, but I have been following some of its significant representatives for 20 years, who have had a great influence on me.

James Martin and Paul Hollywood are one of them. They had a multi-part series together about 20 years ago. The tension between them shone through the screen, I didn't even understand who forced them to work together.

So, 2 handsome, young chefs, bakers, confectioners – who are professionals in their own way in their fields – in a terrible series. The silver fox Paul (it wasn't autumn yet) baked professionally, the handsome-big-faced James cooked and baked sweets professionally and I felt uncomfortable as a spectator because the professional jealousy and rivalry between them was screaming.

It must not have been just me who noticed this, because this was their first and last activity together – fortunately. They started going their separate ways – thank God, and both had beautiful careers, and have continued to do so ever since.

I love that silver fox is featured with my favorite Merry Berry.

She is like Aunt Hantos to me, who was my neighbor and was like my grandmother, teaching me the ins and outs of baking, cooking, knitting, sewing, and cleaning. Her favorite saying was: “My daughter, I should have married a miller or a margarine manufacturer, I bake so much for my family.” That was really true.

Another saying of his was: “You don’t have to clean before the guests, but after them.” Hm, of course, because he always had a sterile cleanliness, so he only cleaned up the food brought in by the guests. I don’t even understand how he did it, even though he was still working at the time, but he always had order, cleanliness, and a selection of cakes.

I love Nigella. The Italian virtuosity that emanates from her captivates me.

Nigella cooks up her life, the important events of her life (both good and bad).

Whoever picks up a brush becomes a painter, whoever picks up a chisel and hammer becomes a sculptor, whoever picks up a pen becomes a writer, whoever picks up a wooden spoon becomes a chef.

She always talks about her family, her ancestors, her grandmother's recipes, and her famous saying are important to her: Food should be celebrated, and so should cooking itself.

She often mentions it as "at this point in my life," and she even explains why she's sharing this particular recipe with us, how she welcomes friends, how she prepares for a dinner party. Her life, guided by her natural instincts, is adorable. And yet, she wasn't completely crazy.

I'm still attracted to Italian food, cities, men – everything Italian – shoes, clothes, movies, music, fragrance, fine art, and even detergent...

I've been to Venice twice, my son Mark (St. Mark's Square). I skied in Madonna di Campiglio. Sicily is also close to my heart and after my second divorce I immediately went to Rome, it attracted me so much, it called me – no matter how much I asked my ex-husband, he didn't take me there, he took me somewhere else like a gentleman. But in the end it's understandable: I had to go to Rome without a male companion, we traveled with my girlfriend and it was a delight!

Professionalism: Rick Style has an equally big influence on me. I love listening to his stories and watching his moves.

Let's be clear: for me, a chef is someone who plants the seedlings and washes up after himself while cooking something delicious.

A star chef who uses tweezers to stir at least 20 ingredients, carefully cut into julienne and baton strips, and then elegantly spices them with at least 32 spices in front of the camera, the names of which I can't even pronounce, let alone remember.

Jamie Oliver. A charismatic individual. I am impressed by what he does for sustainable food production, against waste, and for reforming British public catering.

Simon Hopkinson. Precision itself, a storehouse of experience.

Michael Rue. The epitome of French elegance, his mischievous eyes reveal a man's omniscience. Of course, he sweeps every woman off her feet.

Gino d' Acampo. He sparkles, he vibrates, I don't know a bigger womanizer than him – who really loves women while respecting them. He's relaxed, natural, humorous, doesn't take life seriously, a real showman. The cameras love him, he's really in his element.

Gennaro Contaldo. Icon. Italian cuisine is in every corner of his hands. We can believe everything he says, because he has dedicated his entire life to gastronomy. A true friend, young, old, it doesn't matter, just speak the common language of cuisine with him.

We can follow the development of David Rocco (the Italian name itself makes me shudder, especially since a former colleague of mine knows David personally. The lucky one!), he has also found his place in the world of Italian food.

Martha Stewart is the “walking cookbook”. By heart, anything, easily and clearly. What she doesn’t know doesn’t exist. A perfectly structured businesswoman, she knows everything about hospitality, precise, thorough. She made mistakes, got back up again – she had a disagreement with the tax authorities – her perseverance is worth following.

Anna Olson is eternal optimism, cheerfulness, and poise. Every move she makes is justified and in place. She is a true teaching personality, which is why she has a cooking school.

Judit Stahl is a practical expert. She cooks and bakes using Hungarian ingredients, based on Hungarian conditions, and is therefore a great help, especially for beginners.

Chef Lázár, the heartthrob, cooks delicious, flavorful homemade dishes. It's relaxed and pleasing to the eye.

Names like Gundel, Auguszt, Ruszwurm, Törley also make me excited. Stories of old families, how the family became, for example, a confectioner dynasty. I am increasingly interested, I am looking for the point when it became clear to each of the family members that this was their profession, their family duty.

I visited Gundel, soaking up the atmosphere of the walls, I also looked for the answer in the Törley winery, just as I listened to the authentic story of Augustzt's family in the Auguszt Confectionery. It's amazing how he, who wasn't a confectioner, became one. And then there's the Ruszwurm Confectionery, which is the oldest confectionary in Europe – drinking a coffee there with a cookie among the old objects and walls – it's heaven!

My first trip to Vienna will obviously be to Schönbrunn, then, following in Sissi's footsteps and following her violet cake, I'll visit Zacher and Demel Confectionery. There's a melange in them, as if I'd been drinking with Sissi.

And then Schönbrunn… I had the opportunity to do something that few people get to do twice, but I did: I was able to attend 2 balls. When I was 20-21 years old, I danced a waltz with my partner's family in a ball gown on the same floors as Sissi, and I was surrounded by the same walls where such social life used to take place in the past.

I go everywhere Sissi has been, e.g. Corfu, Madeira. I watch anything related to Sissi. The musical, which I saw twice in Győr and on Margaret Island – once from behind the stage – was an unforgettable, eerie feeling, an experience. Especially since my former classmate – Bea, who became an opera singer – plays Zsófia in it, she plays her unforgettable, perfect rendition, her voice was alto, deep and full even in her teens.

Death appears several times in the play, when Sissi is still young but sick, and begs that she still wants to live, not to take her with her. She fights to stay alive. When she is very sick and old, Death appears again. Sissi again begs to take her away. Death looks at her and says: I don't need you anymore.

Well, I've wandered a lot, but that's just who I am.

I looked up to chefs as my role models...

The duo of Si King and David Myers is a true match. They complement each other, they are a complete whole together.

Raymond Blanc is enthusiasm itself. All smiles, he loves to live, he loves to give love to others wrapped in his cooking. He cooks and explains with such passion, you can't help but watch and learn from everything he says.

The lively, dancing Ainsley Herriott brings us Latin and Caribbean virtuosity. Her erotic movements and aura sometimes completely distract me from her cooking, and I have no idea whether she is actually throwing together a dessert or a meaty main course.

I have to mention the anonymous Moms, Nonnas, and Grandmas – I learned and continue to learn from them, my role models who quietly lurk in the background.

There is one exception: Gordon Ramsay, who is clearly a genius, crazy, hyperactive – but his style of wanting to win at all costs repels me. Despite this, I watch it because I have learned a lot from him.

I write down who I saw it from next to every recipe, because as I make it, the show is playing in front of me, I just copy it and that's it! Success is guaranteed.

When I make Aunt Hantos' recipes, it's as if she were there with me, I see her movements, I hear her advice – the memory is so wonderful that it conjures up the person as if they were there in their living reality. This is also time travel for me, and it's so good to be a child again, to relive the frailty, the fluttering of the guardian angel's wings, the feeling of security that all this creates in me.

James Martin has had the biggest influence on me. Obviously, I bow to his professional knowledge, commitment, and professionalism. I love his relaxed, outspoken nature, the way he pays homage to Keith Floyd – his role model. (He bought his car, used it to visit important locations, which also took his great predecessor on his journeys for 16 years.)

I love the way he dresses, his sophisticated appearance, his taste, his style, and his carefully selected shirts.

He also gets up early, at 5 am, works 12 hours a day, cooks, and shoots.

Obviously, tastes and preferences are different (that's why we're not the same and that's fine), but I'm head over heels in love, and it's okay to dream!

I'm literally salivating as I watch it (I can't offer a very attractive view, it's a good thing that only I can see him through the screen, he can't see me), and it's not primarily the roast beef that makes me drool, yum, but the person who made it.

He's only 7 years younger than me, and he's definitely waiting for me, who else: he speaks English and French, I speak Hungarian and German – ideal for a relationship, since I wouldn't want to talk to him or read Shakespeare in the original anyway. And the language of love is international anyway.

He would pamper me with his cooking, I would pamper his dog, Ralph, and/or him (well, not with my cooking), and I'm a cat person, but that shouldn't be an obstacle. Let's not let it remain platonic love! Hey, James, I'm here!

Speaking of – or, as my girlfriend says: tiny butt – quality, luxury.

I didn't pay much attention to it in the past, but - and this is not a sign of snobbery on my part - I increasingly adhere to the principle of "quality or nothing."

Quality for me means a production where the raw material, vegetables, fruit, meat, wine, cheese, salt, furniture, jewelry, whatever, is created using ancient methods and movements. No mechanization, no plastics, no chemicals, nothing industrial or modern. A sense of luxury that does not equal expensiveness – it is really necessary.

Just naturalness in everything.

This is especially true for ourselves, our bodies. I look at the silicone breasts, the plasticized artificial bodies with sincere regret – a serious self-esteem disorder, a mental illness leads to this, even though we should only be friends with ourselves, accept our gifts and be true to ourselves.

My deceased colleague, Luca, said: "I would never have my wrinkles sewn up, because it's a lifetime's work, I'm proud of it." Hm, how wise she was... She committed suicide, and I still have a bad feeling about her that we, those close to her, didn't notice the big problems she was struggling with, which she eventually solved by quitting because she couldn't take it anymore.

I wish he had honored me with his trust and I could have helped him in time! I think of him very often. He encouraged me when I was in a professional crisis, for example with a difficult child: “Take it as a challenge, look into it, try different methods and one will work!”

He was such a strong, creative, problem solver, and this is happening to him...

A warning example for me in every way. You have to signal, you have to ask for help and you have to be able to accept help – everything can be solved. Throwing away a life is a sin, taking a life is an even greater one!

Among the many midwives, the child gets lost – a typical example is Luca (the name means light-bringing, radiantly bright). Among the 87 colleagues with whom he was in daily contact, no one, not even me – noticed it in time and did not help him to avoid this ending.

It really hurt me, it will always hurt me. I don't blame anyone, Luca was clever at hiding himself from us, he was cleverer than all of us – unfortunately!

Since then, I haven't been able to swim in Lake Velence; I stand on the shore of the lake and my feet are rooted to the ground, because that's where Luca's earthly life ended.

At that time, I was not as insightful and wise (and I still am not now) as Aunt Jánoshegyi, my neighbor, who once stopped me at the gate when I came home, grabbed both of my shoulders, shook me, and said: "I watched you as you came down the street, only your body came, your soul was not in it."

My first thought: she's gone crazy, and how does she even think she's going to shake me? I didn't have time to say it because I started sobbing. She listened for a moment, then said: "We women survive everything, we can endure everything. You had an abortion because now wasn't the time for it, you'll only understand why many years later." And then she added: come on, let's drink a heart tonic!

Aunt Gizi, my other neighbor, was also this wise: she fixed me thoroughly when she saw it, she ALREADY saw the end of my marriage, when I still thought I just needed to fix it a little. I drank a heart tonic with her too.

And before you even think I'm an alcoholic, my neighbor Éva and I also drink a little eggnog, just for the taste, and of course, while having a good conversation.

I try to thank them for their guardian angel service by keeping my eyes open to notice when there is a problem, and just like they did, I will do my job. I hope I won't have much work, but if I do, I will do it immediately and with all my love!

The more makeup, the bigger the problem. Just look at how true it is. Charlie sings: He who is beautiful is beautiful in the morning when he wakes up, even if the bed has crumpled him. A real man who is okay with himself, and therefore with others, knows this exactly.

Makeup can be used to cover up problems – that's what it's for, but by doing so we deceive not only ourselves, but also those around us. The "mirror lies" when we stand in front of it wearing makeup, and that's not the mirror's fault, right?

Of course, we should strive for an aesthetic appearance, appear well-groomed in a company, and in this way we mutually respect each other, but we should not lie to those around us about ourselves.

It's scary to hear someone I haven't seen in years say, "You haven't changed a thing!" It sounds good at first, but it actually means that you haven't changed in years, either on the outside or the inside. I'm happy about the former, but not so much about the latter.

In other words, gastronomy started the need and process of CHANGE in me. It is no coincidence, because you become what you eat. A healthy mind in a healthy body. As soon as I started eating well and cooking well, my body changed and with it my soul.

I've reached my ideal weight, I always eat what I like and as much as I want. I've struggled with my excess weight for years, I could have a PhD in dieting, I've tortured myself with the most modern trends - to no avail.

Because I didn't take my own needs into account, I didn't pay attention to the signals of my body, which only apply to me. Every person is unique and unrepeatable. An individual, a personality, an individual. I wouldn't want to run into my own alter ego, a cloned self. It would upset me if I came face to face with myself, because I am ME! I don't want to become another copy of myself! Some of you are probably exclaiming now: One Noémi is too many! More than enough!

This book is not an itinerary to be like... but just one example out of many, out of a million variations, that you can do it this way, and of course, differently, everyone tuned to their own taste. I am calm in the fact that they will not imitate me, because that is not my goal and it is impossible anyway. There is only one of me!

I read the following sentence in an advertisement for a chiropractor, which at first seemed like a good advertising ploy, but then I realized how true it was.

"If you don't have time for your health, you will have time for your illness."

Hm. That's true.

Those who do not take care of themselves, their body, and their soul, will certainly be forced to deal with the treatment of diseases. And obviously the doctor will be the one, two, or three to blame for their health not improving. Then come the alternative options, herbal teas, homeopathy, and Chinese medicine.

However, change will only happen if we map out our own body, its functioning, and its individual needs, satisfy them, and at the same time do the same with our soul. The article entitled The Spiritual Origin of Diseases is like a medical encyclopedia for me.

When I break a hand, lose a tooth, have a fibroid, etc., I look at what could have caused it. I can always identify why it actually happened. This way I can protect myself in advance, prevent the development of the disease, because there is a solution: live in a way that prevents you from getting sick.

European medicine basically treats symptoms, not the underlying causes.

Chinese doctors, as family doctors who know the genetics of the entire family, get paid until no family member gets sick.

Of course, they also prescribe a personalized diet, strictly enforce it, and monitor the smallest mental signs to prevent the appearance of physical symptoms in time.

I find the method of European doctors, of making categorical diagnoses and treating based on them, pitiful. Respect for the exception! Thank God, I know many such great exceptions.

Take the blood pressure problem, for example. You know the formula: normal blood pressure is 120/80. If it's higher than that, they prescribe blood pressure medication. Obviously, the chemical takes it down, constantly poisoning the body with side effects. The body gets used to it, and like a drug, you can't stop taking it for the rest of your life.

This benefits pharmaceutical companies, as there is a new drug for the symptoms caused by side effects, and a new pill for its side effects, and profitable operation is already guaranteed.

BUT! Why should 7 billion people all have a blood pressure of 120/80?

It all starts there, man – woman. Young – old. Short – tall. Is his body weight normal or not, taking into account his physique. Are his eating habits good or bad. Where does he live? In a cold or warm climate? What is his genetics determined by? What is his lifestyle like? Is he sporty or lazy? Is his work physical or intellectual? Is he more active or passive in his free time? Is he mentally healthy or not quite so. Does he have a social, communal life, how important is it for him to achieve well-being?

And then there's the question of the Moon. It cycles every 28 days. If the Moon can cause the ebb and flow of the oceans, then it can also affect the blood pressure of a 150-pound person.

Fronts: cold-warm, the blood vessels dilate-narrow, thereby changing the pressure within them.

Light: dark-light, it already affects the pressure inside us.

Wind: has an extraordinary effect on our blood pressure.

Altitude: we know that temperature and air pressure are different every meter.

Underlying diseases: if you already have one, it can completely affect your blood pressure, and persistent, abnormal blood pressure can also lead to the development of the disease.

In the case of inflammation in the body, the body produces heat, a fever, because it is trying to destroy the bacteria that are causing the fever, which reduces the inflammation caused by the presence of the bacteria.

Therefore, you should not take fever reducers for a few days, because fever heals. Only in the case of an extremely high fever should you use tablets, a cooling bath, or a cold compress.

Life situations: obviously serious tragedies, e.g. losing a loved one, divorce, exams, etc. affect your blood pressure, because this is how your body signals what changes are currently taking place in your soul and body. The brain produces adrenaline so that you can survive, for example, exam stress and even perform properly. In order for you to survive the loss of a person in a way that is bearable for you, you need adrenaline, which is why your very smart brain produces it, helping you with it. Sedating this with artificial drugs… oh!

Well, then let's forget about the magic constant number! Because this, like everything else, is individual, the individual's own, specific characteristic. I hear the question:

How do I know what is normal for me?

Obviously, you have to take these many aspects into account, and the most important thing is when you feel good and comfortable. For example, I have 110/70 and a pulse of 88, even though 72 is “normal”.

They gave me something to lower my heart rate, I took it, I wandered around, and then finally a real doctor who saw how my body worked as a whole, examined everything from my thyroid to my heart ultrasound, and found it fine.

He stopped it immediately. Don't take anything, he said, move more, especially in the fresh air, pay even more attention to your diet, be the most important thing to yourself, pamper your body and soul, sleep well, relax, and feel good every day at work and at home. Pay attention to any small changes, find the cause, eliminate it if you can, or temporarily alleviate the problem until it disappears. (Obviously, a divorce is a few months, until then I can only alleviate my symptoms, but not eliminate them immediately, but the accompanying symptoms of nervousness, insomnia, loss of appetite, etc. must be controlled as much as possible).

Thank you, I'm fine! Very much so!

I went to see him yesterday for a check-up. I accompanied my uncle for a post-infarction check-up. He looked at me with an X-ray and ultrasound eye, and then said, “You’re fine.” That’s how he diagnoses. If he felt the need for any tests, he would send them immediately, but since he didn’t notice anything abnormal, he deemed them unnecessary.

I agree with him. I'm doing very well!

Speaking of numbers. I am a law-abiding driver, I obey speed limit signs. I have been driving for 41 years, I have never had an accident, but I was once fined for speeding. (I passed my driving test at 17 because that was all I wanted at the time).

I was speeding at 43.5 km/h with the little Polski at the 40 sign. The policeman stopped me. I paid the fine. But it has been annoying ever since. Today, in the world of satellites and GPS, technology is able to handle this differently.

A car starts from A to B. The departure time, the arrival time, and the length of the route are known, so its average speed can be calculated based on the distance and time traveled. If this really exceeds the permitted limit, then it should be punished; if it is below the limit, then it is fine.

There are slower and faster sections. There should be signs for safe passage near dangerous road sections and pedestrian crossings, and we should obey them, but to get a ticket because I started slowing down 1 second later and sped into the 40 sign line, that didn't sit well.

It was a good lesson, I pay attention, but I'm not a snail, so I drive dynamically but safely.

I deeply condemn drag racers in public spaces. There needs to be a track for this (maybe there is one), a playground for adult adrenaline junkies where they can safely fulfill their need.

But the fact that they irresponsibly, for their own amusement, endanger and even take the lives of others (innocent victims), I don't tolerate it well. This irresponsibility is a serious crime, deserving of a serious punishment. Taking a life, that of a stranger, so not even anger motivates the act – well, that's what blows the fuse for me. No one has the right to do that.

Not even for reasons like I was angry with him, he annoyed me, he needed the money – these are just explanations, excuses. Talk to him! Or rather, talk to yourself about what your problem is and solve it. But not like this!

Nutrition – gastronomy. Here we go again, and we're still here.

It's not just the body that needs to be nourished, but also the mind and soul. You need to pamper the body so that the soul feels good inside it! And it's not just about the nutrients you take in, is it? And nourishing the spirit is a whole new topic.

Well, let's see! We have to satisfy our intellectual needs throughout our lives. By studying, by doing activities that are relevant to our area of interest. This can be reading, listening to music, playing music, experiencing the theater, if this is important to us. It can be baking, cooking, any hobby, keeping animals, gardening, watching movies, sports, any leisure activity, walking, tidying up, doing crafts, talking to people, etc.

In short: anything we find joy in. We have a need for it, we do it with pleasure.

It can be our job, our chosen profession, or taking care of our family – the main thing is that we do it with love! We are interested in a given activity because we are attracted to what we do, because it brings us joy, and it satisfies our needs. It is a pleasure for ourselves.

I'm a theater and concert fanatic. I get withdrawal symptoms if I don't go at least once a week.

My reading habits are characterized by the fact that I read little, but the more valuable it is. Sándor Márai, Albert Wass these days, obviously not them in my earlier years, but Jókai, for example.

Zsolna Ugron – even her name is a mystery, let alone her life. How does the tangle of family roots draw her back to Transylvania? Creepily chaotic locations, exotic relationships, aristocratic features, gourmand habits, refined tastes, delicate, feminine movements, fragile figure, restraint, exceptionally elegant appearance and clothing, recipe-collecting mania. The mystery itself. And a deep history at the same time. Reading, listening, seeing, watching are both pleasant and exciting, even through a woman's eyes.

György Dragomán has an extraordinary influence on me; when I saw the play Máglya at the Vígszínház, I participated interactively, I was present at the performance. For a week I could barely sleep, and I was so disturbed, I was so moved. But I managed to fix the things that upset me, and I drew very important conclusions from it. The spiritual struggle had its results.

Movies.

Not in order of importance, and without claim to completeness.

Wine, intoxication, Provence 2006. It's worth watching for the hundredth time, too, for the scene where the housekeeper cleans, music plays and she dances. Her every move radiates eroticism.

Tastes, Prayers, Loves 2010. Miss Julia Roberts (portrayed by) searching for her way, oh, as if I could only see and hear myself!

Life is beautiful 1997. The noblest thing is to remain human in inhumanity. Prepare tissues, turn off mobile phones!

Bitter Honey 1992. Oh, more about that a few lines down.

Shoe Charmer 2014. Creepy, because that's exactly the purpose of the film.

Fellini 8 and a half. In 1963, I wasn't even a thought. It's worth watching it again every 5 years, because as our personalities mature, we notice new and new moments, new thoughts and things to say whisper to us.

Miss Daisy's Driver from 1989 is a wonderful example of overcoming stereotypes, presented charmingly.

Love Actually 2003. A multi-threaded plot whose lives are intertwined, drawn together, and come together into a perfectly rounded whole by the end of the film.

And for the young people, another one from 2019: A Letter Before Christmas, which follows the structural unity of Love Actually, is a slightly more understandable formulation of today's modern world.

And Ferrari 2023. It brilliantly shows that career and personal life can never be successful at the same time, we pay a high price for fame and wealth. Is it worth it? Everyone should decide for themselves. Penélope Cruz plays a role – I think she is already an Oscar winner – in the form of a perfectly experienced cheated Italian wife, that just wow!

Sean Connery, Roger Moore, Pierce Brosnan, it doesn't matter which movie they're in, I can't pay attention to the content anyway because the sight of them completely distracts me from the movie and its message. Well, that's it!

Bitter Honey was born right around the time my son was born, in 1992. I wish it had been made earlier, because I watched this movie three times to understand it. I saw it in '95, when I was divorcing my first husband.

I obviously didn't understand what I was doing, I just felt like I had to go because I couldn't breathe, my chest was tight, I was suffocating. Am I allowed to do this to my husband, to leave him, am I allowed to do this to my 3-year-old son, to change his childhood from this moment on?

Serious questions, serious answers without answers. Just intuitions. Rationality? The exact opposite of my feelings.

A leap into nothingness with death-defying courage. At 30, with zero life experience...

All I was sure of was that I had to go, no matter what. Something was pulling me, I couldn't hold myself back, so whatever had to come, come. What was it? I had no idea. A leap into the unknown. Hoping that I would end up somewhere better than where I was now, because anything was better.

And then I found Bitter Honey. Even the title is contradictory. Honey is sweet, so why is it bitter?

At first glance, it was a creepy, incomprehensible mess, a mess. The cinema called me again, I watched it a second time. By then, a little light had begun to shine at the end of the tunnel, but a thousand questions were still swirling inside me. So I wandered into the cinema for the third time, and managed to understand the complicated system of relationships between men and women, the intrigues, the signs that we don't notice. It was also difficult to understand the human tactical games that are an inevitable part of our lives.

I literally felt the bitter taste in my mouth as I watched the film – that's what makes it a brilliant piece of work. I would make it mandatory for everyone before getting married to understand and prepare for the life that awaits, to wait for it, because obviously the bitter taste can be avoided if we know the whys and see the traps.

I had no idea how the landing would be. I knew it would hurt. It did. I had to say goodbye to family members, I lost friends, I sacrificed my son because I dragged him along. A new life, a new place to live, a new location, a new job – all unknowns. Starting over. Scary!

BUT! Anyone who has jumped like me will experience that a hand always reaches out and softens the landing. It's a wonderful feeling. This hand was my second husband. Or rather, it became later. Yes, I am grateful to him for healing my wounds, for being the perfect surrogate father for my son. He was my companion, and together everything went much easier.

Back to the movies, to the music of the movies!

For about 6 years now, I have had the opportunity to regularly enjoy the Film Music Concerts brought to life by the Szent István Film Harmonics. This year, they also treated me to the wonder of 18 selected film music at the Congress Center at the end of December.

The conductor tells stories about the films, the scene runs on the projector and the music plays. Obviously, the experience makes you want to watch it again when you get home. Every year they surpass the previous year, how? I don't know, and I'm always afraid of what will happen when the films run out? But I reassure myself that there are constantly great films being made, with great music, and repeating the classics is never enough.

I would always like to sit in the audience and enjoy, enjoy this miracle!

Film - music.

Together and separately, they are a miracle. I secretly hope, dear reader, that many AHA words were uttered while reading my film recommendation, because I'm sure that you have already seen, re-watched, and will watch more of these again.

The example of the protagonists can be followed or, on the contrary, to avoid failure, they fail on the big screen instead of us, because we have learned from their case and we can skillfully avoid pitfalls.

We need to hear a lot of fairy tales as children because it prepares us for the events that occur in life. If the situation is already familiar, because we have put ourselves in the role, situation, and dilemma of the protagonist, then it is easier to experience and act correctly and make decisions when the same or similar thing happens to us again.

It creates a feeling, sad or happy, thought-provoking or entertaining. It creates a mood. It changes. It takes you to ecstasy. It is a mind-altering drug. Without harmful side effects.

Its accompanying symptom and ever-present side effect is dancing. Because when someone hears music, their body, hands, feet, or even their eyelids involuntarily move. Dancing is the expression and experience of sexuality in a vertical form, in a standing position.

My competitive dancing background proves that when I was dancing standard and Latin, I was at my best when my partner and I danced as if we were making love.

You surrender to the music, the rhythm pulses through your veins, everything from your toes to the roots of your hair moves to the beat. For this, as for a good sex partner, trust is essential.

You can have good sex horizontally and dance vertically with someone if you trust them completely, surrender yourself to the feeling, entrust yourself to them, because you know that the cooperation between you two will be perfect. After all, you only transform feelings into movement, which, if the feeling between you is good, then the movements that embody it are beautiful.

I love to dance. Horizontally or vertically – either way. Anywhere and anytime, while cooking in the kitchen, while taking a bath in the bathtub. And on the dance floor, with a partner.

I am always amazed by the conductor leading the orchestra. He has the best job. He just conducts, he waves, the musicians follow his instructions, they follow what he wants, he dictates the tempo, the volume, and together they create a miracle. In fact, they transmit the sound of heavenly bells and angels. The instruments sound through vibration, which makes the heavenly music audible.

The conductor (I also studied conducting) plays a special role. Although I had few opportunities to experience this, my most outstanding concert was at the Basilica, where I conducted the choir of our class as a surprise at the wedding of my colleague and friend.

We sang Serkenj fel with great success, because it was truly a surprise, the bride even burst into tears, and the Japanese tourists who were there applauded us back. They congratulated us in English, the parents in Hungarian, because they didn't know it either, they thought that Aunt Noémi could also conduct, and not just teach their children math.

It was December, it was freezing cold, snow was falling outside, and inside, a choir of angels was chiming. 20 little angels who opened the gates of heaven with their voices so that everyone could enjoy the joy that was being heard. They each gave a white rose in exchange for a kiss to the bride, who still couldn't find the words to say, she just wiped her tears. An eternal memory in my heart!

Let's get back to the conductor!

So he waves to the beat of the music, or to simplify it even further: the movement of his body conveys the feelings that prompted the composer to write the piece of music. This is a special evocation of the author, even if he has long since passed away. It's as if the author is here, whispering to the conductor, who helps him speak to us. He's always sending us something. What? Well, it depends on the receptors, who gets what, right then and there. It's awesome! This is how the spirit takes shape.

Anyway, it's just that the conductor is the most famous pornographic personality. I started from myself, it may not be true for anyone else. I apologize now, so that you don't misunderstand or get sued for this sentence of mine. I'll explain it now. He stands in front of a large audience, in front of the members of an orchestra, dressed, and reaches orgasm. Of course, only if he does it right. What is this, if not public, officially licensed porn, for which those who watch it even pay - of course with a ticket purchased against an invoice, so that the National Tax Service finds it okay.

Group sex could be something like that, I just heard from a friend of mine who has already met someone who may have participated in it, because there are comments like at concerts: wow, this is awesome, congratulations; this feeling was uplifting, the air stopped at the climax; oh, wow, I want to experience more of this, when is the next concert?

All kidding aside, I would also like to conduct someone somewhere, sometime.

We know why singing is a special activity. Brain researchers have proven that the fear center and singing do not work simultaneously in the brain. If we sing, we are not afraid, and vice versa. That is why soldiers are made to sing right before training and going into battle. Military songs and marching songs were created for this reason, because it helps soldiers not to be afraid, to be brave, to go to fight, to be heroes with courage that defies death.

I am an omnivore when it comes to music. I attended a music school for 8 years, graduated from teacher training with a singing major. I studied solfège, piano, flute, was a choir member, directed musical shows on Christmas and Mother's Day themes, and even staged The Magic Flute and Harry John with my students.

From classical music to pop music, if it's quality, then it's okay. The musical maturity is also interesting. Obviously Judit Halász as a child, then Mozart, Chopin, and I've already reached Ferenc Liszt and Beethoven.

I stood in the middle of the circle with Edda, even groping around in my Trapper jeans and Alföldi slippers.

I was obviously the Pearl-Haired Girl that Omega sang about. The Lady of Summer Nights is also true.

Or I could be the Blue Lady of Locomotiv GT, who took my heart and left nothing behind, oh, nothing but a song.

Gábor Presser also wrote the song for me – Lady, you who gave life into my hands, so that I could write a song for you too…

I Romanticized with Zoran, and My Father's Faith can obviously be about my father as well.

Meanwhile, Phil Collins was humming tunes for me.

And George Michael, without whom there is no Christmas, I know every frame of the Last Christmas video.

Sade's humming voice makes me start humming too.

I loved Whitney Houston – to the point of fanaticism, but it's a shame for her! And for her daughter too. Two geniuses who struggled with serious mental health issues.

Tina Turner – wow, what a name, an unforgettable icon, the rock queen!

Ella Fitzgerald and Jazz+Az. Jazz is a separate world, the art of improvisation.

And a good blues – in a hot blues with Gary Moore or Joe Cocker, hm!

Andrea Rost, Maria Callas, Pavarotti – I don't even need to explain, do I!

These days, Dua Lipa and Jason Derulo are knocking me off my feet, for example with Savage Love. Their music and movements are very attractive.

I really can't list everyone I listen to because of the melody and/or lyrics.

A Tosca, a Bánk bán – there's always a reason why I have to take it out.

Erika Miklósa would be happy to see her Queen of the Night again anytime.

When I hear Hungaria Kasza Bubuja, I immediately start to boogie in my feet.

Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah could also come in, right?

Or the Rose Garden?

Ben E. King Stand By Me from 1961, I wasn't even alive then.

And the Latin of Antal Gábor Szűcs?

Or maybe the Kerekes Band, if we want rock-style folk music.

Vaya Con Dios, the mood wizard! The conjurer of the French chanson world.

Lou Bega for those with dancing feet.

The eternal Queen of all things.

Santana, crying with a guitar in his hand, is so beautiful. My favorite is Foo Foo.

But Boggie Perfume is also pleasant to my nose and ears.

Rod Stewart can't be left out either. And neither can Havasi.

Every song by Zséda is about me, as if she were singing to me. I proudly keep and listen to the CD she dedicated to me.

I left the music that belongs to the Our Music category for last.

We each have a partner with whom we cried or laughed over our songs. I hope I'm not the only one who looks back on these with joyful nostalgia.

Barry White: You are the first, the last, the everything

Candi Staton: Young Hearts Run Free.

I can still cry for Soldier Klári.

My heart still beats to the song "I Know You in My Heart" by Familiar Faces - it will stay that way forever.

2Cellos: the meeting of music and humor in the performances of 2 crazy professionals - Thunderstruck and Wake Me Up.

Falling in love with Ravel's Bolero – well, that's also memorable.

So, I have been surrounded by music since my early childhood, I was raised in music, I grew up with it, I taught music for 22 years in a music elementary school, where music was playing every minute from somewhere, in some room.

And the performances. Even as a child, I was fascinated by the Academy of Music with the blue balls on the railing of the stairs, the stage where I was honored to perform. Later, when I accompanied my classes to concerts and was also an audience member, I could. I will be forever grateful for this privilege.

When I was in eighth grade, my singing teacher, Mária Katanics, tried to help us understand the works and oeuvre of Ferenc Liszt as we progressed through the music curriculum.

Well, he pretty much drove me out of school, and even out of life, with this activity. I was absolutely immature for that at the time. But I continued to understand the great works of the great masters, only much later than the curriculum dictated at the time.

I am not ashamed to admit that I was already over 50 when I managed to make Liszt's Dante Symphony feel like my own. That's when I understood the genius of the genius, the way he structured the 3 parts: Hell, Purgatory, Paradise.

The three Ps. The most shocking experience was Purgatory, which means Purgatory. It had a shocking effect on me! But for this I had to understand a lot, and that's how this whole, brilliantly perfect piece of music made sense.

The same development is needed for the art of painting and for painters.

Let's not even try Picasso at the age of 20. Guernica requires serious historical knowledge, it is impossible to understand without knowing what this "horror" is.

Rembrandt also needs time.

Klimt's "golden ones", wow!

Manet, Monet are easier to digest.

I actually have my own art historian, in the person of painter and sculptor Iván.

We've been together for 40 years, I became his model when I was 18 and a half, and we've had a working relationship ever since. We can call hundreds of pictures our own, because he paints, I sit and stand as a model, whenever he asks. In other words, the creation, the product, is at least as much mine as it is his. Obviously, the division of labor between us is good; each of us does what we're good at. The other way around would be tragic. That's all for now, I'll go into more detail below, don't worry!

So, an hour before the theater and concert, a monodrama begins at my house without an audience, entitled: I don't even have a rag!

I stand in front of the closet and realize:

This was good last year, it must have gone bad.

This is too much.

This is really tight.

That never worked well for me.