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Iron Men and Jolly Men

We got up real early today, at the crack of 7:30am to go on a road trip to the birthplace of my Great-Grandfather.

So we trotted off, visited my Grandfather's old Catholic school (which did terrible things for his relationship with the church) and drove of to get lost in the bowels and non-bowels (that’s a horrid image) of Budapest and beyond. Once we were on the road to Great-Grandfather town (I’ve forgotten its name) we made a stop in at a place called Statue Park. It’s a place where all the old communist statues from Hungary have gone to retire. It’s an odd place, full of dead grass and 6 metre tall iron men holding guns and waving flags. It wasn’t very inspiring. If was a Hindu I would try not to get reincarnated as a communist statue. I’m still having trouble actually making the communist thing seem like it was real. But I guess that’s a blessing for me.

We arrived in the town and were greeted at the local library by a jolly Hungarian man (as jolly men tend to be in Hungary) who proudly showed us his library. He then took us to the property where my Great Grandfather had his childhood and my Great-Great Grandmother had a bootleg liquor store. It was hard to imagine the house he lived in because the property is now owned by a German family and it has be quite thoroughly Deutchified.

The Jolly Hungarian took us to his house for biscuits and drinks with his family. It was very fun. The were a lovely family, welcoming and smiling, and I kissed every woman in the family, such is the Hungarian hospitality here. Not many of us spoke languages that the others could understand well so we spent a long time trying to understand each other. Except for my Grandfather who impressed them all with his native speaking comedy routine.

Then we drove home. After lunch we lay around the flat, went out for dinner and lay around the flat some more. I’ve been writing postcards and reading Salman, I’m almost done. I have very much enjoyed a night of lying around. It feels like holidays.