In September 2018, my wife and I vacationed in Transylvania, a part of Romania that has a large Hungarian population inhabiting many of the most scenic parts of the country. My (American-born) spouse was apprehensive of assorted discomforts and misadventures in a part of the world most Americans associate only with Count Dracula. Her apprehensions were vindicated on one occasion only, when the atm at the Bucharest airport swallowed my credit card.

This visit was preceded by three others under varied historical and political circumstances. Born and growing up in Hungary, I was aware of the territories and populations Hungary lost after World War I as determined by the Treaty of Trianon. In 1940, when I was eight years old, my father took me on a trip to an area of Transylvania that had become part of Romania but was returned to Hungary as a reward for joining Nazi Germany’s Axis. After World War II, these territories were returned to Romania. The second visit, in 1996—to what by then was post-communist Romania—was occasioned by a series of talks to Hungarian groups. On the third visit, in 2010, I gave a lecture at the Institute for the Investigation of Communist Crimes in Bucharest.

I spoke Hungarian throughout the recent (fourth) visit, and the natives were friendly and surprised at meeting an American traveler fluent in unaccented Hungarian. When I explained that I left Hungary in 1956 after the Revolution, the usual response was “You did the right