My grandparents lived in Perth Amboy, New Jersey. When I was a child, my parents would take me to visit them each weekend. In their backyard was a vineyard. My thoughts went right to those ripe, green grapes when I spotted a vineyard next to the family house in Lácza. Did my grandparents bring grape seeds with them when they came to America? Were the grapes that I remembered in Perth Amboy descendants from those in Lácza?

On display in the center of town, was an old firewagon, with a large wooden pump handle and a hitch for horses. Painted on it's side in ornate lettering was the town name, "Lácza."

As we strolled around the small village we couldn't help but think that the view must have been virtually identical to that seen by our relatives over a century ago. The old church steeple standing tall amid simple, single-story houses had not changed in generations.

Across the street from the main house (#15) was an empty field. It was there, on that very spot, that my great-grandfather and his father operated a carpentry business. My Aunt Elaine and I posed for a photo in that place rich with family history. It was moving to be there—smelling the sweet air and feeling the sun on our faces.

It was awesome! A Hogya family member was once again standing where the Hogya family once lived, worked and dreamed nearly a century before. I have to believe that when the family packed all of their belongings and left to sail a world away, across the ocean to America in the early 1900's, they never thought that they or any of their children would ever return.

They had scraped together all the money they had for a better life in the New World and in doing so said goodbye to their homeland for the last time, making it all the more amazing that we were there.

I scooped up a handful of soil and rubbed it in my fingers. It felt good. Afterwards, we both collected samples to bring home with us to remind us of that place and the day that we walked in the footsteps of our ancestors.

Hungary is a charming country filled with friendly, smiling people. As you leave each town and head to another there are signs wishing you good fortune and thanking you for visiting. As we said goodbye to Lácza for the last time we were pleasantly surprised to find a festival taking place right in town that very day!

There were demonstrations of marksmanship by costumed performers, local musicians playing tunes on old instruments and people—lots of people. They had come from all of the nearby villages to celebrate, dance, eat and enjoy the afternoon. And we joined them.

Hardly blending in with our decidedly Western clothes, we turned lots of heads among the locals, but received nothing less than an exuberant welcome. For even though this was their home, we didn't feel like outsiders. In fact, we felt right at home.

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