We finally arrived in Luvete, where my grandfather Louis Martin and his father Lajos Marton and mother Anna Gyorgy Marton were born. Levente had done all the preliminary legwork, contacting people, talking to the priest, finding out if we still had relatives in town. We had tea with one family of Martons and had lunch at the village's only restaurant. In the picture above, an old man walks up the street with a broad, wooden rake on his shoulder that they used to pile up their hay. Common first names were Jakab, Ferenc, and Istvan, which were often translated in America to Jacob, Frank, and Steve.We spoke to one World War II veteran named Istvan who almost looked old enough to be a World War I veteran. A very lovely young woman, Emoke [ee-moo-kuh], who was his neighbor and looked in on him, came over to help translate. Istvan recalled that our great grandmother had a great body.
The next morning we returned to the church in the middle of town and rousted the priest and the local historian. We gathered in the basement of the church to examine the ledgers that had births, weddings, and baptisms listed in them. After we found our ancestors listed in the books, the priest brought out the palinka and poured shots for me, Krista, Mike, and Aunt Liz. I believe me and Mike ended up doing double duty on that round. Again, it was a bit rough drinking 120 proof brandy -- this time first thing in the morning.
Mike embarassed us all by trying to get the priest to pour him an "upside down" shot of palinka, where he laid his head back on the desk and the priest would pour it directly into his mouth. Eventually, the language barrier proved too great, and we moved on.
Below is another view of Luvete [Loo' vee tah]. PS - Krista took all these pictures.
4 comments:
It was a simple town, lacking in modern acoutrement, with Emoke lacking even the most rudimentary support garments. Louie kept indicating her lack of support by holding his hands as if he was hefting two grapefruits across his chest, but Emoke didn't understand that Louie was offering to, however briefly, carry her burden.
Do we have any pictures of Emoke?
One of my favorite moments on the trip was the Martons inviting us in. They brought us in, sat us down, gave us coffee, pretzels, and these strange cheddar goldfish knock-offs and then asked who we were and what we wanted. They were proud to be hosts and went out of their way to be good hosts, even inviting over the neighbor, although I forget why.
Of course, if someone came to my house and claimed to be invited on me, I'd grab a torch and a rake to drive them off my property, perhaps calling the local militia in for good measure.
I don't drink coffee, but I thought of the beginning of "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" when the village offers them food and that dingy chick doesn't want to eat it and Indy explains that it's more food than those people get in a week and that it would be an insult not to eat it. I figured that this was, perhaps, the Marton's entire monthly ration of coffee and pretzels and I should eat it all. But again, that coffee was rough. I think the Eastern Europeans like harsh, strong coffee (the same qualities they like in a dictator).
Louie, whose last name is "Martin," kept trying to explain to the Martons that they were spelling their name wrong. I think they finally understood and have submitted the necessary legal documents to correct their error. Thanks, Lou!
Also, not to disparage our great grandmother, but Anna was built somewhere between a dancing bear and a golem. So, it was an interesting cultural perspective to see that to Istvan, a "great body" seemed to mean that Anna could carry many bushels of wheat, which I'm sure she could.
That priest was totally a partyier! I kept telling him that I didn't have a Palinka problem. I drink palinka, I pass out, no problem! Louie said that it didn't make any sense as a direct translation into Hungarian, but I think the guy really thought it was funny. And after his second shot, Lou kept pointing to himself and saying, "Luvente, Lou-vente!" The priest, I don't think he understood the humor, such as it was.
Wasn't Levete where Levente (who, I suppose, also could have made a case of pointing at himself and saying, "Levete, Levente,") picked up the town's only waitress? They're still dating! Way to go Levente in Levete!
I had some of that stuff once. Ironically it was in Bridgeville, or nearby, from an old man and a lady. We bought a '95 Cavalier off of them we had found in Auto Trader for dirt cheap. I guess they we're celebrating getting the piece of shit off their hands. As I recall the old man preferred his wife to drive a much older larger cars, and she eventually conceded, claiming it was still the newest car she'd ever owned. But the car was pretty decent. It did have a shoe polish "GT" across the side I never cared for, however.
Nice People.
Bud
P.S.
That shit was Busthead!
I have pictures of Emoke. Lovely young woman indeed.
As I recall the time in Lovete, I think of Mike playing the role of anthropologist, studying the people and their snacks. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Mike, I was studying him--the sophisticate encounters foreign snack products.
Bud, if you cross paths with your Bridgeville Austro-Hungarians again, see if they can hook us up.
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