Atilla and Ildiko live down the road from us. They're an elderly couple who are Hungarian, of course. The first time I met them was on the bus. They got off a couple stops before me that day. Atilla helped Ildiko down the step from the bus, as she limped and held her cane. I watched them saunter down the sidewalk as the bus pulled away destined for the next stop. When I got off, I jumped in my car. (We often park at the bottom of our "mountain" to catch the bus to the city.) As I turned the car to go up the "mountain", I saw Atilla walking beside Ildiko as she hobbled up the road. I thought, she should not have to walk up this hill. Then Atilla stuck his hand out to wave me down. They wanted a ride! I stopped, helped them in the car and off we went. They spoke no English. I spoke my pathetic bits of Hungarian. We established that I didn't speak German or Italian either. But we had a great little chat and I dropped them at their house.
A couple weeks later I saw them trekking up the hill again. I told Will to stop and pull over. We gave them a lift again with me giving the directions this time. Later I saw Atilla walking on the village sidewalk and gave him a shout and wave from my bike.
Atilla and Ildiko are a small part of my new Hungarian village life. They are part of what makes me like my little Hungarian "mountain".