Lake Balaton

As I am sure most everyone has figured out by now, Tom and I have returned home to California. It is wonderful being home. To feel complete with our Hungarian adventure, I have to post two more entries about our last week abroad: Lake Balaton and Vienna.

From the Danube Bend above Budapest, Tom and I drove to Lake Balaton to meet Gyozo and Andrea and their three kids. Gyozo represents a shoe company and is the businessman whom Tom accompanied to Romania.

We have gotten together with them often in Pecs. They spend their summers at a cottage on Lake Balaton, one her father built.

Lake Balaton is the largest lake in Europe and is the resort area for Hungarians. We also learned that the lake was a popular meeting place during the communist era for families from East Germany and West Germany because they could both travel there.

Gyozo and Andrea had booked us in a hotel where several Hungarians stayed with their families for a week or so. The hotel provided “half board”; they served breakfast and dinner. We felt slightly self-conscious because we were clearly not locals and appeared as intruders into this cozy Hungarian beach scene. Our English, manner, and dress give us away.

Everyone went around in bathing suits, no cover-ups, and I was struck by the different attitude toward the body. Many Hungarians are overweight (because of the high fat diet), yet no effort is made to cover the body. There is no evidence of shame or preoccupation with the body. Huge grandmas and grandpas go around in two piece suits and speedos. My one piece suit and Tom’s long leg suit were a novelty. Maybe Tom and I are not typical of American culture (perhaps more Southern culture), but I envied the Hungarian matter of fact attitude about the body as just a body, no residual puritan self-consciousness or the counter-response—preening and calling attention to it. In Hungary and probably all of Europe, it is what it is.

We kept noticing how everyone gathered up beach paraphernalia and headed down a path to the lake every morning. We walked down the path at dusk and were surprised to see that it ended on a very small wooden dock with metal steps leading down into the lake. No sand, no beach, no place to lay out. Only water surrounded by water reeds. Where was everyone going? The only option was in the water. The water stayed shallow for about a half a mile, I swear.

And it was cold, we thought. Nevertheless, everyone had a ball. The kids walked to the lake, played, got out, and simply walked back. No towels, no drying off.

We had a wonderful time visiting with our Hungarian friends. They grilled for us, and we sat around on beach chairs in their backyard chatting. I especially enjoyed talking with their children and listening to their attitudes toward Hungary. They complained a lot about how things don’t work and seem discouraged with their country. They also reported being tired of all the references to their tragic history: those days were over. Although impatience with the past is typical for this age, we did wonder how much this Hungarian generation would be willing to fight to make changes. We worry that many will just try to leave. These kids are very bright and have been provided with lots of opportunities and loving parents. Tom and I look forward to following their life paths.

This family became dear to us and we will miss them.