Meeting Zoe, continued

As Maisie said, we met Zoe and she was very nice. The whole family -- Zoe, Kata and Gabor -- was vibrant and welcoming, and I think it speaks well for both the Dévais and the Göcseis that they are such good friends. Kata Horvath came with them (we're all neighbors by two or three streets!), and at first did a great deal of translating for us all -- do we want swimming lessons for the girls, canoeing, horseback riding. The Göcseis claimed not to speak English, at least not well; but Kata and Zoe were by no means shy -- Zoe marched in and introduced herself to the girls in English; Kata made many jokes -- and soon they were speaking very directly. English did the heavy lifting because Stephanie and I put our miserable Hungarian away.

While our children were very shy (Kata H. observed that in our entire walk into town the other day, she didn't hear the girls at all), Zoe was very much at home, and, because she is going to the same school as our kids, and especially because she is so energetic and embracing and fun, I watched her with relief and joy.

They all took us on a beautiful walk to the water tower (seen in the background of the yard scenes of my birthday blog); and though its entrance is only half a block away, it might have taken me many runs and bicycle rides to discover it. Down a road I might have taken as a driveway or an alley, there is a sudden incline on the left, studded with tall, white gravestones, and at their crest, a noble crucifix; and then a path through a tall bush suddenly opens to an open expanse and the behomoth of the dead tower.

Above: Kata Horvath, Amelia, Maisie, Stephanie, part of Sophie, Kata Göcsei, and Zoe.

I'm not sure what Stephanie is doing above. She's either a) describing the aesthetics from the view above the stones, or b) gathering energy from the hillside, or c) saying fat Americans could never fit down this hill on their sleds.  

At the tower, the children placed flowers in various cracks while the adults came to know each other better, telling stories about upbringings and family and how everyone arrived in Barcs.

Rather than the red tiles and spires of Barcs, the other side of the tower provided a vista of farm houses, trees and vineyards and other crops. Walking down the dirt roads that cut straight lines through land, we were very happy to be in Barcs, finding things to laugh at in our interwoven languages.