Pilgrim in America

Until 9:30 we stay in the bed, house is shaking, Patrick is fixing the skylight on the roof. I go out for a walk and take several pictures. It is good to roam the woods, brings back memories from Transylvania. Breakfast: fruit salad, eggy bread made by Patrick, with eggs from their own (!) chicken. Very delicious.

Patrick tells the story of his childhood compulsory problems: "walking the line". We go out to the empty riverbed. Magnificient scenery with a Q rushing off toward another dog in the distance. Screaming and shouting with no avail, but he comes back after all.

Going back, Susan and Patrick are thanking us that we spent the weekend with them. We are embarrased: we should be the ones to be thankful. In the truck again: playing word games, Q excitedly scanning the road ahead. At Patrick's house I say goodbye to Jacquie and Susan. Patrick takes me to the backyard to see the 4 chickens, producers of the eggs for the eggybread.

Patrick takes me home. I take a shower, wash my things. I realize this have been a transforming experience. After the impressing American civilization: the similarly impressing American wilderness. And a similarly civilised wild dog.

Don introduces me to Mike, his son. After four a clock we leave to Albany. I invited my hosts for a Hungarian dinner. We drove around the town for a while, made a telephone call eventually, and found Novak's Hungarian Restaurant.

Nice place, lots of people. We have chicken paprikás with Don, before that vegetable soup. Everything is Hungarian, I only have to add a little salt to the soup. Don seems to enjoy it too, they feel sorry there is no Hungarian restaurant in Portland.

I ask the middle aged woman if there is someone who speaks Hungarian. Only Papa Novák she says, but he comes only in the afternoon, or in case he has a guest from Hungary. She brings me the e-mail address.