Tag: europe

Exploring Contemporary European Man in Szalay’s _All That Man Is_

February 13, 2026

The book All That Man Is by David Szalay has short stories about European men. The stories unfold chronologically from April to December, the first story starting with the youngest man, who is 17, and each subsequent story featuring an older man, culminating in the last story, which features a man who is 73.

The book has nine stories, starting with two students sightseeing in Berlin and Prague, followed by a young Frenchman vacationing in Cyprus. The subsequent stories are about a university student and his girlfriend driving ftrom Oxford, England to Poland; a bodyguard with his boss and the boss’ wife from Budapest working in London; a Danish journalist digging up dirt on a politician in Amsterdam; an English realtor selling condos in the Swiss Alps; an Englishman living on the Croatian Riviera; a Russian oligarch trying to commit suicide on his yacht on the Mediterranean, and a retired British diplomat living in Italy.

The stories center on white, heterosexual European males traveling or living in a country other than their home in Europe. Does this group of characters represent what it means to be the typical European man today, as the book’s title suggests? I think the author is exploring whether these men collectively illustrate a modern archetype.

I really enjoyed the book. The stories are compelling with well-written plots and fascinating characters whose problems feel real. The smooth language is punctuated by dialogue, balancing longer passages introducing the characters and describing the localities.

Some events are quite funny, as in the story where a married woman in Prague tries to seduce a young, shy boy and ends up sleeping with boy’s friend. Or, when the oversized girl and Bernard put the mattress on the floor in the Cyprus hotel in order to accommodate their lovemaking. However, the author never mocks the inept subjects. Instead, he uses gentle language to describe their frailties and haplessness.

A recurring theme in the stories is the lack of, or search for, meaning in life. This led me to question whether Szalay portrays contemporary European men as lacking purpose, ambition and opportunities, focusing instead on vacations, drinking, and sex. Through these motifs, the book prompts us to ask: Is this what defines the European man today?

An interesting writing craft the author uses is leaving the stories hanging at the end, with no conclusion about what happens next. For example, when the student finds out that his girlfriend is pregnant, he assumes an abortion will solve the problem, while the girlfriend absolutely refuses to do so and wants to keep the baby. The story ends without the reader knowing what happens with the couple. Another example is the Russian oligarch who wants to commit suicide but does not know how to do it. Again, the reader is left with uncertainty about what happens in the end. I found the stories with uncertain conclusions entertaining, leaving the reader to speculate about potential ends.

The stories are realistic; the plots are familiar. The book In Praise of Older Women came to mind while reading the first two stories about young men and older women (Stephen Vizinczey, 1978). The realtor story recalled brochures for ski chalets in Canada, and the story of the Hungarian woman in London reminded me of Central European girls brought to the US for prostitution. The Danish minister’s affair with a married woman is typical of politicians’ scandals. Such familiar situations made the book feel genuine to me.

The short stories also reminded me of Alice Munro’s work, such as Runaway (2004). However, in contrast to the women who suffer in Munro’s stories, the men in Szalay’s stories end up the losers. For example, Murray, retired on the Croatian Riviera, is chasing validation of his masculinity by going after a barmaid, and when losing her to a Dutch friend, he goes after the barmaid’s mother, not upscale choices by any standard.

If Szalay’s stories attempt to define the contemporary European male, I wonder about their lasting relevance. As Europe’s demographics change, will the image of the European man in this book remain accurate or become outdated? The book was short-listed for the Man Booker Prize, and I found it thought-provoking and enjoyable.

Ordering Made Easy: Exploring Architecture and Interior Design

January 13, 2026

I tried to purchase coffee on the order screen at McDonald’s yesterday. After three attempts at pushing the wrong buttons, I got it right. But it took more than twenty screen taps to get my simple order. To start with, choices were “here or takeout”; then pick one item from dozens of food and drink options; then “hot or cold” from numerous drink choices; then coffee size – three options; then what to put in the coffee; and then pay on the screen or at the cashier. I mean, I could have ordered it verbally by saying, “Small black coffee, please.” Four words. No matter. The screen works for all orders, and the more screens there are, the more people can order simultaneously.

I still prefer to speak with someone when ordering; I prefer a social interaction. As a result, I often end up at Starbucks or Tim Hortons, where one must order by speaking with a barista or server.

Surprisingly, there were many middle-aged people at this outlet next to Algonquin College in the early afternoon. I expected more students instead. And the people occupied the seats around the perimeter, sitting at tables for two and four, leaving the large communal tables in the middle of the restaurant empty.

Yes, I read that McDonald’s new interior design, called Luna, was developed by an Amsterdam consultant. According to the architect, the design concept encourages socializing, saying hello to people, and facilitating conversations. That is the theory, although I did not see people greeting each other and engaging in conversations.

The Luna design concept features large communal tables that are high and surrounded by barstools, as well as smaller tables around the perimeter. There are 10 or more stools around each large rectangular table. I did not see anyone sitting at these tables. But the furniture design and the colors were pleasing. The walls are painted brown, interspersed with grey accents. According to the designers, it is a subdued atmosphere with no bright colors.

And I did not see a children’s play area, a space I had seen years ago at many McDonald’s outlets. Clearly, McDonald’s moved on to cater to an older clientele. It may be a response to demographic changes, or the older age group may be financially better able to eat there.

I remember the original McDonald’s, with its huge Golden Arches to catch drivers’ attention on the highway. Then the company decided to blend the architecture into the residential areas, perhaps encouraged by zoning bylaws, coming up with the Mansard roof, which blends into the neighborhood. And now, the buildings seem to be simple rectangles, with the logo still intact and small Golden Arches along the fascia. These buildings could just as easily be office buildings, such as medical or insurance businesses. I saw how easily these McDonald’s structures could be converted into offices should the neighborhood’s demographics change and the outlet lose business.

I like the new interior designs, though not so much the exterior; the buildings are boxes with dull colors. I don’t know how the designers arrived at designing such boring buildings. Did they envision a plain, innocuous look that would correspond to the challenging economic and political conditions of the last few years, combined with the recent Covid pandemic?

However, I find McDonald’s an attractive stop on the highway, as their food quality is consistently good and they have kept their menu items up to date to satisfy regional tastes. For example, they offer sausage gravy in the southern states. I always look for sausage gravy, a favorite of mine, and I had some at a South Carolina McDonald’s that was excellent. Now, I am not commenting on the nutritional value of their food; that is a different issue.

I make stops at McDonald’s whenever I’m traveling on the highway. But it is certainly not equal to home-cooked meals in terms of nutritional value or compared to a comfortable home environment. But boy, is it ever tasty to chomp into a Big Mac with fries, occasionally? Despite the calories and fat!

An Evening at the Harvest Ball: Food, Music, and Memories

November 13, 2025

The challenge was figuring out what to wear to the Harvest Ball. I thought I had a sports jacket, but it wasn’t in the closet; then I remembered I’d given it to the charity store years ago. I have collared shirts and some fancy T-shirts, but the only formal wear I have is a black suit I haven’t worn in decades, and I was not sure if it still fits. The question was: What do people wear to a Ball today?

The Ball, organized by the Ottawa Hungarian House, was held at the Hungarian community hall, an informal space in an industrial building. I decided the safest thing to wear was the formal suit. But I could take off the jacket in the beginning, and with no tie and an open shirt, I would match the space’s informality.

We arrived 30 minutes early: the dinner was at 6pm. The hall was almost empty except for the organizers. There were no seating arrangements, so we picked a table on the side, next to a well-dressed woman sitting alone at the table next to us. By way of introduction, she said she was Clara and that she and her husband had come from Hungary in 1967. She spoke in Hungarian. When I said that Kathy does not speak Hungarian, she asked if she spoke English or French. When we settled on English, she said that she and her husband started a fur-making business and moved to Baie-Comeau, Quebec, in the early seventies, where the demand for furs was strong. When the local mining industry died and demand for fur declined, they moved to Ottawa. They continued making furs in their basement factory.

I went to the bar to buy a couple of glasses of wine. When I returned, a  Hungarian couple sat down at our table. His name was Zoltan, and I remarked that it was a good Hungarian name. I did not catch the wife’s name; it was getting noisy. Nokia hired Zoltan when he finished university in Hungary. After a couple of decades, Nokia transferred him to Seattle for two years, and then to Ottawa. They have been in Ottawa for a couple of years and like it here.

Zoltan’s wife was talkative and said that life is much easier here with all the appliances available, than in Hungary. I gathered they would like to stay on after their four-year work visa expires.

A huge bowl arrived at our table, filled with porkolt (pork stew). Although there were only four of us, the bowl could have served twice as many people. We served ourselves in family style. I enjoyed the porkolt, which was liquid and felt more like soup than stew. After tasting the porkolt, Zoltan’s wife thought that no real Hungarian paprika was used and that the porkolt could have been spicier. I agreed, but I enjoyed it with chunks of pork, carrots, and potatoes.

Oue Hungarian table companion serving “porkolt” family style

A couple of violinists and a bassist started playing Hungarian folk songs during the meal. The instruments reminded me of the music of Django Reinhardt – gypsy music with a swing – but these musicians played chardas, for Hungarian folk dance. People got up to dance, and soon the dance floor was packed. By now, the community hall had become extremely noisy, with over a hundred people talking, and dancing to the music. It was hard to speak and listen to our table companions.

As I have recently joined the Ottawa Hungarian House, I did not know anyone there. I have never been ethnically oriented. When we came to Canada, we were the type of immigrants who wanted to amalgamate into Canadian society. We did not live the life of the old country. And I married an American girl I met in graduate school at the University of North Carolina. We always spoke English at home, and the children grew up as native Canadians. I came to this event to hear some Hungarian spoken; I may be getting sentimental.

However, I knew some people from my high school in Hungary who studied with me at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver. I heard they came to Ottawa and approached the bartender if he knew any of my old friends, the twins Kalman and Peter Roller.  

He said, “Of course, Pista Roller is sitting back there,” and he took me to him, who was not Kalman or Peter but looked like their spitting image. Pista told me there were four brothers in the family. I was shocked to hear that the twins were dead: one had brain cancer and the other dementia. One was a pharmacist doing research in China and the other worked for the National Institutes of Health in Washington, DC. I wanted to follow up on this information and asked for his phone number to arrange for a get together.

Dessert came when I got back to my table. It was a caramelized pastry in the shape of a tube, four inches in diameter, and eight inches tall. I looked inside, thinking that there was some cream or fruit there. No, there was nothing inside; you ate the tube. The Hungarian couple explained that you tear a piece off with your hand, eat it, then keep tearing it apart and eating it. It is called kurtoskalach (chimney cake) and is a popular Hungarian dessert.

Chimney cake

It was an enjoyable evening of contrasts, combining ethnic foods, music, and dancing with people reading their iPhones and speaking English. The evening brought up memories. I described to our tablemates how we escaped from Hungary during the Hungarian Uprising of 1956. Our table companions who came to Canada two years ago acted like Canadians their age. And the Hungarians who came out decades ago enjoyed reliving the music and food of the time they left Hungary.

Reflections on the 1956 Hungarian Uprising Remembrance

October 28, 2025

This week, I attended a flag-raising ceremony commemorating the sixty-ninth anniversary of the Hungarian uprising of October 23, 1956, at Ottawa City Hall. I looked forward to meeting some grey-haired Hungarian refugees, with whom I could make contact, talk about the old country, and share our experiences in Canada.

About fifty people showed up for the ceremony. I did hear a few people speaking Hungarian, chatting in small groups. They seemed happy to talk with each other. I went by myself, looking for some social interaction and discussion. Still, nobody seemed interested in making contact, even though I walked around and tried to break into conversations.  

When I found a young fellow standing by himself, I asked him if he was Hungarian. To my surprise, he said he was an RCMP officer. I wondered if he was on an assignment to ensure security at the event, requested because staff from the Hungarian Embassy and other diplomats were in attendance. the event organizers.

Another person I approached was a black woman who, with a friendly smile, explained  with a friendly smile that she was with the Nigerian Embassy and had been invited to this event. I found myself confused; while I understood the logic behind inviting certain European nations, I questioned the inclusion of African countries. Nevertheless, she was charming, and we talked about Africa and my trip to Tanzania.  

Although the flag-raising was outside, due to inclement weather, the group moved to City Hall first to listen to the speeches by the dignitaries. The small conference room inside was insufficient to seat everyone, so I stood in the hallway listening to the speakers.

The Deputy Mayor, Sean Devine, who, by the way, is my local City Councilor, opened the ceremony. He paid tribute to the courageous Hungarians who perished during the 1956 uprising and commented on the contributions the refugees made to Canada. Although Sean did not mention it, well-known people such as Anna Porter, a writer and publisher, and Robert Lantos, a film director, were fifty-sixers, among others.

Ms. Katalin Haas, Charge d’Affaires at the Hungarian Embassy, spoke about the significance of the 1956 rebellion and invited representatives of the Canada-Hungary Parliamentary Friendship Group and a representative of Global Affairs Canada to speak.

Many speakers mentioned the 38,000 people who arrived in Canada after the uprising looking for freedom and dignity and the over 300,000 people of Hungarian descent now residing here. All the speakers emphasized the Hungarian people’s desire for freedom and dignity.  

Adam van Koeverdan, Co-Chair of the Canada-Hungary Friendship Group, spoke about his mother, who escaped Hungary during the uprising. That made me feel old. I was sixteen years old when I fled Hungary, and he was talking about his mother! Further indicating my age was a group of young people talking about being fourth-generation Hungarians. I felt ancient by that time.

The speeches were well delivered but seemed hollow to me, as the speakers lacked a fundamental understanding of the nature of life in Hungary in the 1950s that sparked the rebellion. None of the speakers had firsthand experience of life in Hungary at the time of the rebellion. The speakers’ comments were sincere but lacked the emotional gravity that people with direct experience could have brought.

For example, I remember when our neighbor in the apartment house where we lived disappeared one night, and nobody said anything about it. Nobody raised any questions. Or when my father, a medical doctor, was called many nights to patch up people caught trying to break through the Iron Curtain or swim across Lake Ferto. Or when my brother, a student in Budapest, walked home to Sopron, a distance of 200 kilometers, when the revolution broke out. During the uprising, the absence of cell phones or live communication made it difficult to receive updates from him for several days. This lack of information caused considerable concern among our family about his safety. The family feared the worst. After coming home from school one day, our mother told Peter and me to set off along the highway to Vienna, each of us carrying a sandwich in our backpacks, a memory that has stayed with me ever since.  

I thought that a few refugees talking about their escape, or a film showing the tanks in Budapet crawling with students during the uprising, would have been relevant and impactful. However, I recognise that the objective of the ceremony was to honour those who lost their lives, rather than revisit the events of the uprising. Those people attending who were old enough to witness the rebellion personally may not have felt completely satisfied. I wondered, how many of us oldtimers attended?

Boldt Castle Visit: History and Architecture Unveiled

October 22, 2025

October 11. We played tourists today. Although we live just an hour and a half’s drive from Boldt Castle, we had never visited it until now. I’ve heard of the castle, of course, but it’s located on Heart Island, in the Thousand Islands region of New York State, on the St. Lawrence River. Visiting from Canada requires a passport, and since we don’t carry our passports with us every day, we never thought about making the trip.

One can visit the castle from Alexandria Bay in New York State or from Canada, with ferries departing from Gananoque and Rockport, Ontario. We decided to go from Rockport to save time, as driving to Alexandria Bay takes longer.

Upon arriving in Rockport, we noticed eight large tour buses. To my surprise, many tourists from China started disembarking. A local who was familiar with the area explained that Chinese workers are often rewarded with tours to Canada, and many of them visit Montreal, or Toronto, making a side trip to Rockport on their way to Niagara Falls. We also encountered other visitors in the parking area, including a couple from Toronto who were making the long drive back home the same day. We met another couple from Pennsylvania, who decided to sightsee in Canada before visiting the castle. I hadn’t realized how popular the castle is as a tourist attraction. A guide told me that five hundred to two thousand people visit the castle each day.

The boat trip to Heart Island takes about half an hour and passes by some extravagant cottages that resemble large houses more than typical summer homes. Upon landing on Heart Island, we went through U.S. border control, which took a while due to the long lineup of visitors. After we cleared the U.S. border, where they took a photo of us without hats and with our glasses off, we had a couple of hours to explore the island and the castle. Then, we returned to the dock for our trip back.

The view from the ferry

As we approached the castle, we saw a wedding on the front lawn and were asked to leave by the organizers. Fortunately, the castle was open, so we explored the large central hall and the enormous dining room before heading upstairs to see the bedrooms. The castle has a total of one hundred and twenty rooms.

The main hall

On the second floor, we watched a short film about the history of George Boldt and the castle. George Boldt emigrated from Prussia to the US at the age of thirteen. He started working in the kitchen of a hotel in Philadelphia and quickly rose through the ranks to manage the hotel at a young age. He became the manager of New York’s Waldorf Hotel and merged it with the Astoria Hotel across the street, becoming the well-known Waldorf Astoria Hotel.

The dining room and a bedroom

As part of his heritage, Boldt is credited with popularizing the “Thousand Island” salad dressing in his hotel. The name originated in the Thousand Islands region of upstate New York, and its original version was made with mayonnaise, ketchup, and pickles. He also created the Waldorf salad, a classic American dish made with diced apples, celery, and mayonnaise.

The Boldt family spent their summers in upstate New York, where George Boldt decided to build a castle on Heart Island for his wife. He was going to give the castle to her on Valentine’s Day. The architecture resembles a Rhineland castle. Construction began at the turn of the century. However, in 1904, tragedy struck when George’s wife passed away unexpectedly. He called off the construction and laid off the three hundred workers who had been building the castle. George never returned to the island, and the castle remained untouched for seventy-three years, falling into a ramshackle state. In 1977, the Thousand Islands Bridge Authority took over the property and invested millions of dollars in its rehabilitation, preserving it for public enjoyment.

Also on the second floor, we saw the rehabilitated bedrooms decorated in period style, belonging to George, his wife, and their children. The floors above have not yet been fully renovated; they currently hold architectural drawings and additional information about the castle.

The garden is also worth visiting, featuring an Italian garden and professionally landscaped grounds with benches. We sat on one of the benches to enjoy our lunch, grateful for a moment of rest after climbing the stairs. It’s important to note that the ceiling heights in the castle are much higher than the typical eight-foot ceilings found in residential homes; climbing four floors felt more like going up six to eight floors in a standard building today.

On the return ferry trip, I bought a cold drink from the bar, which was refreshing and helped me process everything I had seen. If you have visited castles in Europe, this one may not impress you much. However, North America has very few buildings like this one, the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, NC, or Hearst Castle in San Simeon, CA. Visiting this Castle is certainly educational, especially for children. It is also steeped in history and serves as an essential example of the architectural style built during the Gilded Age. I recommend it as a great family outing on a sunny day.