back home

Dear all,

I am glad that most of you who pay a visit to my little site here more or less regularly think that I am more durable and viable than I myself think.

The fear of getting stabbed, shot, physically or mentally hurt was surprisingly high in me. The justification of mentioned fear was ridiculous. The strange thing is that I, as stated in the previous post (see below) did NOT fear being dead. What I feared was the journey between meeting a hostile man (or two) and death itself. Well, it's over and I am back now.

We walked the streets and found that about 40% of the inhabitants speak Hungarian. That's not bad, yet it is disappointing, for me at least. We visited the local market, where people sell the vegetables they produce in their own garden and there the ratio of Hungarian was like 90%. Late at night, when we were walking back home to the appartment, the ratio of Hungarian was a solid 0%. Yet the streets were surprisingly full with people. Laughing, shouting and possible drunken people. We avoided being met by them, of course. Well these people were youngsters heading for the only disco of the little town, but we wanted to avoid any conflict.

During daytime we have not seen nor encountered any harm. People were like people everywhere. Sometimes, however, when a non-Hungarian crossed our way I felt malignancy in his/her eyes - but I think most of that was prejudice on my side.

I would like to believe that atrocities do NEVER occur in such a beautiful village but I am unsure.