Dinner at the home of the rector of Frigy's university before the last election provided interesting. Most spoke fairly good English, and were ambivalent about the election and socialism, fears of the country's economic fragility, the ripping of the social net. No concerns were voiced about the conflict to the south, some twenty miles to the border of former Yugoslavia. Another evening, Agnes and Frigy and their moody teen-aged daughter and I ate fish on the banks of the Sava River while Agnes shoed away the gypsy violinists. Szeged is home to the biggest manufacturer of Hungarian Salami, Pick.
Salami is anthema to health concious Americanas, but salami travels well.
With a green or yellow pepper, or paprika , maybe a little cheese, you can go for a while. In Budapest, the many small vegetable stands sell the yellow, or milder, banana peppers. Another stop for bread and cheese, and I would return to my garret, collapse on the kinder bed, open the window, turn on the television. I watched the returns on the election, the reporters, like opera singers, speaking in the strange rhythm of Hungarian, somewhere between pigeons cooing and dogs barking. It took two days for the final results.