Szék: An American Woman at Home in Transylvania

Nestled among the hills of Transylvania, Szék is certainly a place that is very near and dear to my heart.

Scenic view taken in the outskirts of Szék.

It is a place where tradition and modernity live side by side.

As you walk through the streets of Szék you will quickly see older men and women wearing traditional clothing.

The women are dressed in the colors of Szék - red and black.

Women dressed in the traditional clothing of Szék.

The men are wearing bright blue vests and hats made of woven straw.

Their clothing is steeped in symbolism, in heritage, and in honor.

For each member of our family, the traditions of Szék have a very personal meaning. 

For my husband, it is the birthplace of his father. 

For me, it was my home for our first ten years in Transylvania.

It is also the first place that our son, Miksa, ever knew.

János and Miksa wearing their hand-made Széki Kalapok.

Miksa reciting a poem wearing traditional clothing.

In this picturesque, Hungarian village, many women are named Zsuzsa, Rozsi or Sara and the men István, Márton or János. All grandmothers are called Nanó and all grandfathers are called Bapó. 

But my favorite people of all were my own Nanó and Bapó. 

It mattered little to them that I wasn’t related to them by blood or even by common language or culture, they took me in and cared for me as if I were their own. Even though I was thousands of miles from where I was born, I always felt loved, protected, and embraced by the warmth of the people from Szék.

During those first few years in Transylvania, first my husband and I, and then the three of us lived in a renovated attic in my husband’s grandparents’ small house. 

Some of my fondest memories are of how Bapó would stand outside at the gate and wait for us to arrive. In Hungarian, when someone is expecting guests, they lovingly say “Gyertek! Gyertek! Várunk” which literally means “Come! Come! We are waiting for you.” Far from expressing the somewhat impatient idea that the English implies, it means that food has been prepared, always in abundance and that everything and everyone is waiting to receive you with kindness, love, and hospitality.

It was Nanó who quickly became my closest friend and I spent much of my time in her kitchen.

It was there that I was fed and nurtured.

A special breakfast of polenta and pork ribs lovingly prepared by Nanó.

It was in her tiny kitchen that I slowly began to unravel the mystery of the Hungarian language and was taught to make Hungarian food.

Years later, it was in this same house that I stayed for months alone with our son. 

I learned to cut kindling with an ax, build a fire, and draw water from a well.

Over the years, I have become a different person in this village.

I am no longer the fearful, somewhat spoiled American woman that I was when I first came. Rather, I have become a type of hybrid. I am no longer really American, but am not truly Hungarian either. Rather, I am a somewhat more Eastern European version of my former self. 

I am able to welcome unexpected guests into our home at any time without fear or reservation. I answer readily to the name Sara or Sarika and I am able to switch between English, Hungarian, and Romanian all in the same sentence with a smile on my face, love in my heart, and not worry so much about all the mistakes that I make.

Today, we live 45 kilometers away in the city of Cluj, or Kolozsvár as it is known to the Hungarians. Here too, I continue to learn and grow, only returning to Szék for a few days at a time to breathe in the salt air and peace of our village.

Wooden Walking Path winding through the Nature Reserve

The wooden salt water swimming pool on the outskirts of Szék.

I hope that you will come and fall in love with it just as I have.

Gyertek, gyertek, várunk!

Scenic view taken in the outskirts of Szék.