From easing pains to soothing souls, laughter’s healing prowess knows no bounds.

Beyond its mere ability to evoke smiles, chuckles, and belly laughs, laughter emerges as a transformative force, capable of mending wounds, alleviating stress, and cultivating positive effects throughout our being.

Think of it as a yoga session for your mood. It’s like striking a pose that stretches your smile muscles.

The Science Behind Laughter Therapy

Why Do We Laugh?

At its core, laughter is a natural response to humour that triggers an array of physiological and psychological changes in the body.

When we laugh, our brain releases a cocktail of feel-good chemicals, including endorphins, dopamine, and serotonin.

This surge of neurochemicals not only elevates our mood but also boosts the immune system, reduces stress hormones, and promotes relaxation.

Laughter’s Impact on the Body and Mind

Picture this: you stumble upon a hilarious meme, and before you know it, you’re doubled over in laughter. What’s happening behind the scenes is nothing short of extraordinary.

When your brain registers something funny, it gleefully releases the “feel-good” chemicals, or what we also call “happy hormones,” starring the dynamic trio—endorphins, dopamine, and serotonin.

Endorphins send waves of euphoria through your veins, while dopamine, the motivation booster, jumps in, making you feel amazing. Serotonin, the mood stabilizer, steps up, wrapping you in a warm, fuzzy blanket of contentment.

Benefits of Laughter Therapy

1. The Joyous Medicine: Healing with Humour

Laughter therapy isn’t just about having a good time; it’s a legitimate form of holistic healing. Laughter exercises can have a transformative impact on your mind and body, such as reduced stress levels, improved cardiovascular health, enhanced social bonding, and even increased pain tolerance.

Its ability to activate the body’s relaxation response contributes to an overall sense of well-being.

2. Stress Reduction and Immune Boosting

Chronic stress weakens the immune system, making us susceptible to illnesses. Laughter therapy offers a simple yet effective strategy to counteract stress’s harmful effects.

Through regular laughter sessions, stress hormones like cortisol take a back seat, allowing the immune system to function optimally.

As a result, laughter becomes an effective immune booster, safeguarding us against ailments.

3. Laughing Your Way to Fitness

Believe it or not, laughter therapy can also contribute to physical fitness. Laughter engages various muscle groups, increases heart rate, and burns calories. While it’s not a replacement for a full workout, including laughter in a fitness routine can add a joyful twist to staying active.

The Art of Laughter Therapy

Laughter Yoga: Exercising Smiles and Chuckles

One of the most popular forms of laughter therapy is laughter yoga.

Combining intentional laughter with yogic breathing, this practice promotes a sense of joy and relaxation.

Participants engage in playful activities that induce laughter, such as “imaginary laughing” and “cell phone laughter.” By embracing childlike playfulness, individuals can discover a renewed sense of wellness.

Comedy Nights: Laughter as Social Glue

Bringing laughter into social interactions can deepen connections and strengthen relationships.

Hosting “comedy nights” with friends or family, where everyone shares jokes or funny stories, creates a positive bonding experience. Laughter’s contagious nature fosters a sense of unity and shared joy.

Bringing Laughter Therapy into Your Life

Start Small, Think Big

It’s not that hard to practice laughter therapy in your life. You can start by seeking out humorous content, whether it’s funny movies, Instagram reels, stand-up comedy, or amusing books.

Set aside time for laughter breaks during the day, even if it’s just a few minutes of watching hilarious videos/reels online.

Spend Time with People Who Have a Good Sense of Humour

This one’s very important. You should surround yourself with people who take things lightly and know how to make others laugh.

Seek out the people who can turn a grocery run into a stand-up routine or handle problems with a wink and a smile. These are the people who mix jokes with wisdom, like your very own life coaches from the comedy club.

In the grand theatre of life, these laughter magicians are the stars you want on your team. They will turn your rainy days into a rainbow of giggles and remind you that life is like a roller coaster – sometimes it’s crazy, but you can scream and laugh at the same time.

Final Thoughts

So, as you journey forward, remember that laughter is a gift you can share with the world and cherish for yourself. From laughter yoga sessions that blend giggles with wellness to comedy nights with friends that strengthen bonds, there are countless ways to infuse your days with the healing power of humour.

Let laughter be your compass, guiding you through the ups and downs, and reminding you that every chuckle is a step toward a brighter, more joyful existence.

Photo Credits

Image by 5688709 from Pixabay

Guest Author Bio
Tooba Tahir

Tooba, the proprietor of BloomingGuide, is an experienced educator, writer, and career counsellor, holding a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology with a gold medal for academic excellence and is a Professional Member of ISSUP & Member of ANZMH. Passionate about mental health advocacy, she combines her expertise in personal growth and well-being to provide valuable insights in these areas.

We had some friends over last night. Good food, good wine, good company. Did I mention good wine? This morning, my synapses are not firing as quickly as usual. Colleen has headed off to work and I am now editing posts, answering e-mails and building a few websites for some clients. It’s tough sledding when your brain is not in gear, but I trudge on towards the completion of the tasks at hand.

Dog or Salmon?

Several hours later, around 11:00 AM,  my very faithful companion Jazz Dog, a chocolate Labrador Retriever, is gently nudging me. It’s time for a walk! I save my work, get up and head downstairs to the basement where his leash awaits.

Walking Jazz is an interesting experience. He has two modes. One mode is like walking a salmon. Have you ever landed a salmon on a hand-held fishing rod (not a downrigger)? Salmon “run” – they go left, right, left, forward, full speed back under your boat, left, right … it’s dizzying. Jazz walks like this. His other mode is like walking an anchor. Jazz was born to sniff the world. Our previous Black Lab, Pharaoh, was a retriever in every sense of the word. He was a dog that would play fetch all day long. Jazz prefers games like find it, at which he excels. When he is in mode two, he walks like a hound dog: nose to the ground and lots of snorting sounds. When he finds something of interest, he lowers his center of gravity, digs in with his claws and there is no way you are going to move him. Those walks are much longer. Stop. Sniff sniff sniff. Go … STOP … etc.

Today, however, Jazz, is a Coho.

We walk down our street, turn right up the next one and then left on Moresby Park Terrace. As we walk, I adjust my step and fall into the rhythm of walking a salmon. My mind starts to wander and I find myself thinking about War Of The Worlds. We’ve seen the latest version with Tom Cruise and I have been thinking lately that I would like to watch it again. In my mind, I flip back and forth between the original and this latest version, thinking about various scenes and wondering how it would feel to see one of those giant tripods appearing before my eyes.

A sharp pull to the left brings me back to the moment. I am walking a salmon and he is intent on going in every which way. We get to the top of Moresby Park Terrace, round the cul-de-sac and start heading back down the street. Suddenly, Jazz flips into mode two, digs in and starts to investigate something with his super refined olfactory abilities. A reprieve! We have come to a full stop and I am glad for it. I relax and my eyes wander down the street. All of a sudden, on the horizon, a black ball … with eyes!

The black ball slowly rises, revealing a tripod of sorts beneath it. What the hell is that? I watch the scene unfold wondering if thinking my War Of The Worlds thoughts had perhaps been a bad idea. As it rises higher on the horizon I see something metallic under the tripod. It’s the roof of a car … it’s … the Google Street View Car!

Right at that moment I realize that the leash has gone totally slack. Did I lose my catch? I turn to look and Jazz is doing what dogs are suppose to do on walks. Relieving himself. A number two. Oh my God … this is being filmed!

Instinctively, I grab a bag and do what responsible dog owners do. Pick up the poo. WAIT! This is being filmed! I turn and the car is upon us, rounding the cul-de-sa. We’re doomed!

The one I saw had a black ball

As the car heads down the road, my eyes never leave it despite the fact that Jazz is back in salmon mode. We finish our walk and head home.

Later that day, I am speaking on the phone with then Editor In Chief of Life As A Human, Kerry Slavens, and I tell her about the incident. She tells me I must write this down as it would make for a funny story. I decide that “Close Encounters Of The Google Kind” would make a great title, and Kerry heartily agrees. But … what about photos … what about street view … what will Google show?

May 2013

Shortly after this happened, I also mentioned the incident to another good friend, Lochinvar, our Software Development Manager at Life As A Human. He told me it can take 18 months or more for Google to refresh Street View data. That’s why I waited. Well, the data is now refreshed.

I have walked this street back and forth with Street View and much to my relief, other than the telling of it in this post, our integrity is intact.

Then … I remembered Bing’s Birds Eye View.

We’re doomed!

Photo Credits

Jazz Dog – by Gil Namur – All Rights Reserved

War Of The Worlds – Wikimedia Public Domain

Street View – Screen Cap From Google Street View

Google Street View Car – by Ian Muttoo on Flickr – Some Rights Reserved

First published on Fri, Jun 7, 2013. Updated on Aug 11, 2023

What Are Dad Jokes?

Dad Jokes are short funny puns and one-liners usually cracked by – yes, you guessed it right – dads! Dad jokes are filled with simplistic humor and wit. The fact that they are often so lame and dry actually makes them funny.

Though dad jokes have always been deeply ingrained in family culture, recently they have become a great source of entertainment. From trending memes on social media to comedy face-offs, dad jokes are all over the internet.

Here are some of the best dad jokes you will ever hear:

Funny One-Liners

1. I want to tell a joke about pizza, but it’s cheesy… (get it?)
2. My teacher accused me of plagiarism. His words, not mine!
3. I only know 25 alphabets. I don’t know y.
4. I asked my cat what’s five minus five. He said nothing.
5. Don’t trust stairs. They are always up to something.
6. I had a dream I was floating in orange soda. It was like a Fanta sea.
7. I am so good at sleeping. I can do it with my eyes closed!
8. Seeing a crime at the Apple store will make you an iWitness.
9. Don’t trust what atoms say, they make up everything.
10. What if I don’t know what “Armageddon” means? It is not the end of the world.
11. My wife asked me to sync her phone so I threw it in the pool. I don’t know why she’s mad at me.
12. I have a great joke about nepotism, but I will only tell it to my kids.

Out of the Box Dad Jokes

These dad jokes are super clever with some very expected answers:

Q. What do you call ghost poop?
A. Boo Boo

Q. Why can’t the toilet paper cross the road?
A. It got stuck in the crack

Q. What do you call a cheese that is not yours?
A. Nacho cheese

Q. What time did the man go to the dentist?
A. Tooth hurty

Q. Why don’t lobsters give to charity?
A. Because they are shellfish.

Q. Does anyone want an ark?
A. Cuz I Noah guy!

Q. How do you attract a country girl’s attention?
A. A tractor.

Dad Jokes About Pop Culture

Here are some super funny dad jokes about pop culture that millennials and Gen Z will love:

Q. How does Albus get into Hogwarts?
A. Through the Dumble-door.

Q. How did Elsa lose a balloon?
A. Because she let it go!

Q. What kind of sushi does Lady Gaga eat?
A. Raw, raw, raw, raw, rawwww!

Q. How does Sherlock Homes flirt?
A. My eyes are Sherlocked on you…

Q. How do you weigh a millennial?
A. In Instagrams.

Witty Dad Jokes

Q. How does Moses make his coffee?
A. Hebrews it.

Q. Why do vampires seem sick?
A. They are always coffin.

Q. Did you hear about the restaurant at Mars?
A. Great food, no atmosphere!

And to finish it all off here’s our favorite poker pun:

Q. What did the giraffe say to the tiger at the poker table?
A. I thought you were a cheetah.

Conclusion

Dad jokes are gems. Sure, it takes a certain kind of sense of humor to appreciate dad jokes, but everyone still enjoys them. While dad jokes are ridiculously bad, the wit, the corniness, and the semantic ambiguity make it worth a chuckle.

Photo Credits

Father Laughing – Tal Atlas on Flickr – Some Rights Reserved

Graphic Joke – RepublicWorld

Guest Author Bio
David J.

My name is David. A 29-year-old, here to share my passion for writing. Having years of experience in guest blogging and content writing, I have managed to write about a wide range of topics. My topics of interest include entertainment, social media, fitness, mental health and movies. I enjoy creating engaging and unique content that readers would love to read. In my free time, I love to read, solve puzzles and binge-watch Netflix.

The centipede always waited until I was home alone to show itself. One night I was sitting on my yoga mat on the basement floor and had a thought: What if that centipede is here somewhere? Seconds later it appeared, right on cue. I stood up, shouting, and it disappeared under a piece of furniture.

When I described the incident to my husband, he laughed. “Did you call me? Here I am,” he said, imitating an overly friendly, humanized version of the thing. I started referring to it as Mr. Centipede, a name that suggested to my husband I was ready to make peace with it. I wasn’t.

“Could you get some traps?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said, but then forgot.

Heading to the basement to change a load of laundry a few evenings later, I spotted it at the bottom of the stairs, just sitting out in the open. It was a fatal mistake. I clobbered it with a boot—seven or eight times because that’s how many blows it took to get it to stop writhing and squirming. Even after it was in pieces, the pieces kept squirming.

Later my conscience started to bother me. What had the centipede done to me besides being ugly? A quick internet search told me that centipedes are carnivorous hunters with venomous bites that, if large enough, will eat a frog or a small bird. (The reptile-eating versions are found in the tropics, not in Canada, but it’s the possibility that counts.) I also learned that they will bite humans and their bites can sting and even cause a rash. I went to bed feeling justified.

The next morning I headed downstairs to collect some clothes I had hung on the line. Just outside the laundry room door was Mr. Centipede’s larger, fatter brother. Score one for my second theory. I opened the closet door to grab a shoe and it disappeared under the baseboard. I was horrified to find another one on the sleeve of a shirt I had hung to dry. “Centipede revenge?” I thought. I headed back upstairs without the clothes.

Unnerved, my skin crawling, I decided to go for a walk to get the image of the creatures out of my head. I slipped on my shoes, bent over to tie the laces, and there on the side of my right shoe was another centipede. I kicked off the shoe and the centipede ran into the coat closet and disappeared. “Probably into another shoe,” I thought.

“Sorry you’re dealing with those bugs,” my husband later texted me from his conference in Denver.

“Not bugs,” I replied. “Bugs are flies, or mosquitoes, or maybe ants. These are monsters.”

“Got it,” he said.

The centipedes may have won this battle, but the war is not over.

Photo Credit

Photo is by Jared Belson on flickr – Some Rights Reserved

Guest Author Bio
Barbara Hampson

Barbara Hampson is a new writer who lives in Hamilton, Ontario with her husband, two adult sons who come and go, and some centipedes she wishes were gone.

To be clear, I’m brand spanking new to the whole concept of safewords, but I know there’s no wading in gently, and by gently, I mean very painfully, but in a good way (or so some people say). So here goes.

I heard the term somewhere not too long ago, probably at the family dinner table now that I think about it, and then I looked it up on Urban Dictionary. Since then, I’ve been intrigued with the idea that safewords aren’t just for consenting adult time.

If you’re in the dark, allow me to illuminate, especially since my family may be reading: It’s not my bag, but it is a lot of people’s bag, and those people use an agreed upon word, decided ahead of time (this is important), that alerts the pain giver that the pain receiver has reached the end of his or her rope (pun intended). Hence, the “safe” part of the word, “safeword.” Safewords are basically the verbal version of what extreme cage-fighters do when they “tap out,” that is, when they sense the nearness of that stage of the shenanigans at which they just want off the fun bus. Hey, there’s another metaphor: Remember when buses had long cords that ran from the front of the bus to the back, and one would pull it as a way of telling the driver to stop the bus? Exactly.

Semantics aside, let’s ease into how safewords work. A safeword must be completely unrelated to adult time of this sort. In other words, it should be random, given the context of the situation. And since it is designed to instantaneously halt unwanted activity, brevity is key! Examples of good safewords might be “log!” or “toe!” But make no mistake, what it means is, “Seriously. Not kidding. No, for real this time, knock it off!”

(Note: If by now you’ve stopped reading to Google “safeword” yourself, and yet you’ve come back for more, our safeword for this column is, “acorn.”

Surprising Fact: Everyday folk like you and me use safewords regularly without even realizing it. Take for example the following activities, and the safewords one might use to bring them to an immediate and abrupt halt:

Mondays: “Zin!”

Tuesdays: “Coors!”

Wednesdays – Friday: “Double Martini-two-olives-up!” (A little long, yet effective, nevertheless.)

At the precise moment those safewords (or hyphenated phrases) are uttered, it’s over! Desks, half-made lasagnas, conversations, and children not dependent on their parents for survival are left abandoned, and the pain ceases. BAM!

Circling back, it’s occurred to me recently that the world needs more safewords for everyday situations. So I’ve come up with some, when I can’t take even one more second of the nonsense going on around me, whether I’m scanning Facebook, watching politicians move their mouths while holding microphones, or hanging around my kitchen.

I tested my theory recently, during a particularly painful Skype instant messaging conversation with a co-worker, when I wanted the asinine banter about absolutely nothing to just stop. So I abruptly typed, “safeword!” into the message field, and I waited. I chuckled at my cleverness. I knew he’d understand my point, which was, “Duuuude, my brain is going to pop out of my left ear and plop onto the floor like a poached egg if I remain in this conversation for one more second.” So of course, the reply I expected to see was, “Ha ha. See ya.” But the message that popped up? “Cadiddlehopper.”

What the heck? I decided to investigate (I regretted it). So I typed:

“Huh?”

“That was my and my first-wife’s safeword.”

“That seems like a lot of syllables when you’re like, you know…”

“We never used it.”

“Safeword.”

He did not reply. He got it. (See poached egg section above.)

Here’s another situation when safewords might come in handy: convos with husbands about sports.

Husband: “So, blah, blah, quarterback, blah, blah, fantasy football team, blah, blah, trade…”

Wife: “Kumquat.”

Husband: “What the heck is that?”

Wife: “It’s a safeword.”

Husband: “What’s a safeword?”

Wife: “Well, in this context, it’s a word that means, ‘Shhhhh.’”

Husband: “But why did you say it?”

Wife: “I’m in pain. I want it to stop.”

Now that I’ve covered the office and sports, let’s move on to the recent election.

Acorn.

Photo Credits

Photos courtesy of Lisa Lucke

First published at The Surreal Housewife

Speaking of husbands, mine is still mourning the passing of his favorite holiday: Thanksgiving. It’s his favorite because it’s all about the Fs: Family, Food and Football, and not in that order. But I have a strong affinity for Thanksgiving because of a few things it doesn’t have: religious hypocrisy (love thy neighbor, unless I disapprove with whomever he or she might love, in the biblical sense) or strange rituals (hunting for eggs laid by rabbits).

This year, for some strange reason, I want to be helpful with my holiday posts. In the spirit of helpful advice, here are some tips that might help your next holiday dinner run more smoothly.

My first tip is to plan ahead. Don’t wait until the last minute to consider options, from menus to which flavor of pain you are in the mood for this year. In-laws or immediate family? Siblings or cousins? Neighbors or workmates? Ham or turducken (a turkey, stuffed with a duck, that’s been stuffed with a chicken.)

Once that’s all settled, it’s time to work out the details: Who is the most likely troublemaker? Will he or she wait until dinner to create the beastly moments (BMs) or will they get the ball rolling early, before the numbing juice has been sufficiently dispensed? What form(s) will the BMs take? (the presidential candidates, global warming, Russia, etc.) Which amount of wine goes best with Donald Trump, barely enough or too much?

Finally, whether you are hosting or attending someone else’s holiday dinner, do not forget to establish an SOS list. That is, the person(s) you can count on to run interference should a BM land at your feet.

And why is that? Well, like most get togethers, holiday or otherwise, group gropes always include THAT person who likes to push buttons. But the holidays are special, because you’re trapped. You can’t leave early. And it’s not a matter of IF the BMs will be launched, it’s a matter of WHEN, which creates a weird tension in the room. For four or five hours. This year, BMs will be brought to us by the fine folks at both political parties. However, as much as I’d hoped for it, one thing you won’t hear is, “Trump really got a raw deal in that election. It was totally rigged; you do know that, right?”

Still, regardless of which way you wanted the election to go, no Thanksgiving is complete without a big helping of verbal turducken: An ill-informed point, wrapped inside a lie, shoved inside a jackass. Verbal turducken cannot be countered; there is no winning. Once you’ve got a bite in your mouth, you must chew the turducken slowly, 20 times, before swallowing. Use the opportunity to smile and nod. Sip. Sip once more. Rinse, repeat. Imagine a bowling alley, and a super slow-moving, 17-lb bowling ball (the BM), rolling into the pins. You’re that one pin that topples, spins, and sits there. You don’t get knocked away, off the lane and into safety. Instead, you lay there whispering desperately for the lane clearing machine to put you out of your misery: “Please, metal sweeper; get me out of here. I’m suffering.”

And that’s when you make eye contact with your SOS person, widening your eyes slightly to silently convey the torture of the BM that you are currently experiencing. If your SOS person turns away, you’re in trouble. But if they respond by somehow bailing you out, you have found your soulmate. Marry him or her immediately, even if it’s your long-eared coonhound, Flappers, or your same-sex cousin and neither of you are gay.

Just think of all the turducken it will provide for years to come.

Photo Credits

Photos courtesy of Lisa Lucke

First published at The Surreal Housewife

With dreams of being the next Disney Channel darling or Nickelodeon star, most child entertainers need to be a triple or even quadruple threat: they have to be able to act, sing, dance and, oftentimes, perform comedy. Most children arrive with some dance and musical training and even some experience in acting, but very few show up with comedic skills.

So, it helps to have a guiding hand from experienced comics who understand qualities like timing and writing and re-writing comedy material.

Adam Richmond is a Los Angeles-based comedian known for high-energy performances, a sharp wit and an almost larger than life stage presence. He’s also someone who over the years has offered to use his experience to guide children who have comedic ambitions.

Originally from Toronto, Canada, Richmond was one of the top headliners to come from the country and has toured as a comedian across the United States, Canada and even internationally. He’s also been featured on Last Comic Standing, Last Call with Carson Daly and has had his hands as a writer and producer on plenty of projects in LA.

Working alongside Collette Craan, founder of Standing Tall Comedy Kids and Teens, Adam Richmond has spent time over the past couple years writing jokes for young, aspiring entertainers, helping them perfect their comedic timing, punching up their delivery, and, most importantly, giving them the right material to boost their confidence.

Significantly, Richmond also understands what the big studios are looking for when it comes to young talent. He’s done extensive voice over work with Disney, signed with one of the most influential VO talent agents in the business and recently filmed a guest role for a TV show on Nickelodeon.

“Collette saw me perform at a few spots around LA and I guess she liked it. So, she asked me to work with her kids,” Adam Richmond recounts. “From there, she started sending me some of the material the kids had written and I would go through it and try to figure out what they’re really saying and try to make it work. Maybe help them get some laughs…or twelve”

While being funny may come naturally to Richmond, transitioning from his brand of adult comedy to the mindset of writing for a younger audience has proven to be the most challenging part.

“Because they are so young, their life experience is quite limited. So, I have to remember that when I help them with their jokes,” continues Richmond. “I see a lot of mom and dad jokes and bits about their teachers and being in school. That kind of material makes sense. After all, those are the things that are most relevant to them. It would be weird if the joke had them in the back of a bar, smoking a cigarette, talking about all their past relationships gone bad (he laughs)…or would it?”

Keeping this in mind, Richmond takes the material the kids write and are comfortable with and ‘punches it up’ as he calls it. This often requires writing directional notes such as, ‘Throw arms up here,’ or ‘do an impersonation of your mom’s voice here’, making him more of a director and teacher than just a joke writer.

Richmond’s work culminates when the children from Standing Tall Comedy Kids and Teens perform in two showcases each year. Held at the Hollywood Improv and the Edgemar Centre, the young comedians take to the stage to perform their jokes and showcase their talent in front of a live crowd AKA their parents and friends.

“That’s where it all pays off,” smiles Richmond. “It’s almost like a proud dad moment watching them perform and hearing the crowd laugh at their jokes.”

Because of everyone’s busy schedule, these performances are often the first chance Richmond gets to meet these young joke slingers in person. Having the opportunity to speak with the kids he has written material for is a truly rewarding experience.

“They will come up to me and thank me and say stuff like you made the jokes so funny,” says Richmond. “It’s incredibly great to get a chance like that to interact with these talented kids.”

With veteran comedians taking the time to nurture the next generation, we can all rest assure that the future will be funny indeed.

Photo Credit

Photo courtesy of Adam Richmond

Guest Author Bio
Alice Pugh

Alice Pugh is a childhood educator and freelance writer. Alice has previously taught English abroad and is passionate about writing on a variety of topics including education, technology, travel, business and fitness. Considering herself a type of cultural anthropologist, Alice enjoys learning about new cultures and traditions through the stories of people. In her spare time, she enjoys staying active through regular yoga and Pilates classes. She is also an active board member and volunteer with a number of local charity boards and organizations.

There, in the shadows of a building that dated back to the Soviet occupation, by the look of it, she smoked as I sipped beer. But chatting about our day of exploring the city, we weren’t expecting the slice of Budapest life that was about to unfold.

And we would have missed it completely if our accommodation plans had worked out as intended.

Several floors up, a door opened and a man hovered on the threshold. From the shadows inside the front door a woman softly called…

But I’m getting ahead of myself here.

A birthday surprise

The trip to the Hungarian capital came as a complete surprise. It was my birthday a few days before, so I had just a few days to prepare myself and plan for the trip. I was flying on a Friday evening to meet my other half, already in the city for a conference. But rather than stay in the conference hotel, she had booked an apartment for a couple of nights.

Online, it looked pretty good. And I’m sure it is.

But when she collected the keys from the agent, it turned out we’d been allocated quite a different property. Whereas the apartment we had seen online was refurbished to a pretty good standard, the one we got was a shambles and was poorly furnished. The double bed seemed to be a couple of pieces of furniture pushed together. I didn’t investigate what, but no bed is that shape. And there was a danger of us falling through the gap. The front door didn’t even lock, although thankfully there was a grill that did. 

But there was hot and cold running water, a small kitchen with a fridge, and there was wi-fi. And it was located right in the centre of Budapest, so couldn’t have been more ideal, from that single point of view. Not exactly luxury accommodation.

That was what we had, so that was what we would make do with. We were not planning on spending hours in our apartment. We just needed somewhere to sleep and a place to store our luggage while we were out exploring the city.

Friday night: banks of the Danube

And explore Budapest we did. I arrived just in time for us to go to a nearby restaurant for a much-needed beer and something to eat.

I was looking forward to Hungarian food and drink, and on the whole I was not disappointed. Almost everything we ate was really good and excellent value for money. The local brew tasted good, too.

You see a lot of goulash on restaurant menus, a dish that is definitely worth trying at least once. Many dishes are spiced with paprika, and sour cream is another frequent ingredient.

After dinner, we took a stroll along the bank of the Danube, watching the moonlight on the surface of the black water compete with the lights of the city and the occasional river traffic.

Budapest was created in the nineteenth century by the unification of three towns; Buda and Óbuda on the west bank of the Danube, and Pest—where we stayed—on the east.

Walking along the riverside, there were plenty of youngsters sitting and drinking, enjoying the warm weather before it finally broke. We got as far as the Chain Bridge, a suspension bridge opened in 1849 and, according to Wikipedia, the first permanent bridge across the Danube. On that Friday night they appeared to be filming though, the area taken over by a film crew and a car crash staged on the bridge.

On the way back along the banks of the river, we came to a small square where a dance class was taking place. A number of couples danced their own tango, with music provided by a portable music player. It was surreal, but nice to see the locals enjoying themselves on a warm Friday night.

Saturday sightseeing

We slept surprisingly well on that odd bed, and woke to another glorious day.

First job of the day was to find somewhere for breakfast while we decided exactly what to do with ourselves. I had had little time to plan our sightseeing but spent a couple of hours the day before flying looking at some of the itineraries posted online. From those, I added the most frequently recommended sites to a custom Google map I had access to on my iPhone, while on the move.

Buda Castle at night

While enjoying a delicious “Budapest breakfast” at Anna Café on Váci Street, we talked about what we would do for the day. From there we walked to Kossuth Lajos Square and the Parliament building. It is pretty impressive, but best seen from the other side of the river, but from our position, we could take the metro under the river to go to and explore the Castle District. This area is dominated by Buda Castle, but consists of many architectural gems, including the Fisherman’s Bastion and Matthias Church. Here, the cobbled streets and mixture of Medieval, Baroque, and 19th-century buildings make it a natural draw for tourists, and the Fisherman’s Bastion provides a spectacular vantage point for viewing the Pest side of the city.

We visited the ruins of the church of Mary Magdalene, and here the true horror of Budapest’s more recent history became apparent. A tower that is almost all that remains of the church, mostly reduced to rubble during the Second World War.

Here among the ruins is an exhibition of photography comparing modern Budapest side by side with shell-damaged buildings. The damage remains atrocious, and much of the city’s glorious architecture has been rebuilt, having been flattened; first by allied bombers, and then during the siege of Budapest. For 50 days from December 1944, the city, defended by Hungarian and German troops, was surrounded by Soviet forces and pounded mercilessly. It wasn’t until the 1960s that most of the city began to be reconstructed to reclaim its former glory.

After being refuelled and refreshed by a beer and goulash at one of the many restaurants in the area, we headed for Buda Castle. But when we arrived we found there was a chocolate festival, and decided to not go in after all. Instead we explored as much as we could of the castle and its gardens from the outside. In fact, it consists of a rather spectacular palace surrounded by the castle walls, and is immensely impressive when illuminated at night. However, it is largely a post-war reconstruction. The communist regime tore down much of what remained during the 1950s, and even rooms that survived were gutted. The interior was modernised and several surviving exterior details were simply demolished.

After Buda Castle, we walked down the hill and along the Danube again before taking the tram across the river to Deák Ferenc Square and back to the apartment.

St Stephen’s Basilica

That night we headed to see St Stephen’s Basilica, and then to the area where you find the so-called “ruin bars” for a beer and a bite to eat.

There we went into the Yellow Zebra Pub, which as well as food and drink, weirdly, offers bike rental. It was extremely relaxed and the staff were friendly, but the bar did get packed. But that’s as it should be on a Saturday night.

Locals and tourists alike enjoyed live music. I sampled one of a selection of local beers and we shared a bottle of a local red wine.

For starter we tried camembert marinated in some kind of pickle, the only wrong move we made all weekend. It was one of the worst-tasting things I have ever eaten. The main dish was a selection of cold meats, which was interesting, although not spectacular. The Yellow Zebra was great value, though, and after dinner we took a leisurely stroll back to the apartment via the Danube. And that brings us back to where we began.

A slice of real Budapest life

Back at the apartment we sat outside in the dark, with a cigarette and a beer while planning our Sunday morning. Several floors above us a woman called softly to a man just outside the front door. When the man tried to leave she wrapped her arms around him, kissing him, unwilling to let him go.

And as he tried to disentangle himself, she just held on tighter until she followed him out onto the gangway, running the full width of the apartment block.

She was completely naked. Although she appeared to become aware of our silent presence several floors down, she continued to call to the man as he escaped her clutches, blowing kisses and waving at him as he descended the stairwell. Only after he disappeared into the night did she slip inside her apartment and softly close the door.

Photo Credits

Photos by David Leigh – All Rights Reserved

Guest Author Bio

David Leigh
David Leigh has lived in Catalonia since 2001, where he runs Simply Barcelona Tickets. He visited Budapest in September 2015.

Blog / Website: Simply Barcelona Tickets

What I had accomplished, though, was to learn a whole lot about the world of job-searching. For instance, did you know that the success rate of getting an interview from an online application is reported to be in the single digits? And even though you know that, you’ll still spend hours a day ‘posting and praying’, just hoping to hit the online application jackpot. You’ll also frequently find yourself longing for the day when you can again say things like, “I’m so busy and I wish I didn’t have to work today”. You may even put on a suit or heels to do your errands or join an online support group for job searchers.

But the one thing you will still be totally unprepared for is what to say the first time you are introduced to someone and they ask that age-old question, “What do you do?” Seriously, shouldn’t that question be illegal or something? Don’t’ get me wrong, there’s no shame in being unemployed, but there’s still a good chance you’ll pause awkwardly and stutter with surprise every time you hear that question. Fear not. You are not alone. These are some tried-and-true responses from a seasoned unemployee to help you through the awkwardness (and maybe even have a little fun in the meantime.)

The Euphemism response

“I’m a not-for-profit online recruitment specialist”. This is just a fancy way of saying that you spend 40 hours a week scouring internet job boards and no one needs to know that but you. Related key phrases: key accountabilities evaluation and benefit/compensation analysis. Those should throw them off the scent.

The Spiritual Seeker response

“I’ve recently left the corporate world in search of my true calling”. This one takes some conviction and practice, but if you really pull it off your audience will be dazzled, wishing they too were brave enough to go in search of adventure and fulfillment. Related key phrases: deeper meaning, sustainable lifestyle, kale/kombucha. Those should really seal the deal.

The Divert and Run response

This one is a two-parter. First respond with a mildly passive-aggressive existential question such as, “What do any of us really do?” If they attempt to respond, simply meet them with an intense, unblinking stare. Eventually one of you will just walk away. Problem solved.

If none of those appeal to you, you could always try a more practical solution like finding a part-time job while you search. When I first lost my job, I made a mental list of all the cool places I’d work just for fun which landed me in a seasonal job at Wrigley Field. No, it would never pay the bills but it was an unforgettable experience and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Plus, when people asked me “What do you do?”, I was armed with a great response.

And if all else fails, remind yourself that this is only temporary. One day you will rejoin the ranks of those lucky people that say things like “I don’t want to go to work today”. One day you will again cash a paycheck. And when that day comes you will be wiser, stronger, humbler and more compassionate thanks to this crazy experience we call unemployment.

Happy job searching my friends!

Photo Credit

Meditate by Kai C. Schwarzer on flickr – some rights reserved

Guest Author Bio

Jennifer Veto
Jennifer is a born and raised Wisconsinite. She now lives near the shores of Lake Michigan with her boyfriend, 4-year old stepdaughter and a couple of rambunctious doodles. She has spent more than two decades travelling the world collecting experiences and has a passion for photography, spiritual pursuits and building relationships with human beings from all walks of life.

Today I decided to make scones—for the first time ever, while my husband “The Lunchmaker” toiled away.

Our conversation went something like this:

“Why am I doing this? Who calls for 3/4 cup plus 3 tablespoons of milk? That’s stupid!”

“You hate to bake for exactly the reason I like to: numbers.”

“I need a cooking show. I’m going to call it ‘The Bitchy Baker.’”

So anyway, I’m following the directions, which means reading every sentence 25 times because I can’t retain things I read that contain numbers, and I’m at the step where I have to “turn out the dough onto the floured countertop.” Well, that’s not going to happen! Has anyone seen my countertop? So I get a large cutting board and throw down the flour. I plop down the dough. I immediately notice two things, in this order:

1) It actually looks like the description says it should look (“shaggy”)

2) There are no berries in my mixed-berry scone dough!

Doh! I must have missed that step? Seems a little late now to add berries, but then again, it’s my first time and all, so who am I to judge? I glance at the next step: “Shape dough into a rectangle, 6” x 12” and cut into triangles.” No mention of berries! I scan the steps, backward. Still, no berries. The last time berries were mentioned in this recipe it was in the ingredients list: “1-3/4 cups of mixed berries” (because two cups, or better yet, ‘A couple of fat-fisted handfuls’ would have been too difficult).

F-WORD! They forgot to tell me to add the berries! And because I was so intent on following the directions, measuring and folding and scraping and such, it never occurred to me that anything was amiss. Who is this recipe writer?!

So I put the dough back into the bowl…the perfect, raggedy dough that I had taken so much care not to “over handle.” I poured the raspberries and sliced strawberries on top. Then, I mixed. Guess what happens when you add juicy berries to lovely scone dough? A gluey shit storm happens, that’s what. It was 6:55. The kids would be up soon.

Twenty years in the restaurant business was not lost on me, not to mention having come from a long line of fierce cooks. I quickly greased a baking dish and slid the snotty dough right into it. Into the oven it went for…hmmm. Well, I guess I’ll just have to improvise that, too!

Turns out, I made a scone cake. Mixed berry scone cake, to be precise, and it is amazing.

Photo Credits

Magazine  – Courtesy of Cook’s Country, Aug/Sept 2015

All others by Lisa Lucke – All Rights Reserved