Row, row, row your boat

Continuing our Friday story, The Uncle and his friends had reached Hungary and were out and about.  From what I can glean, they managed to do a few trips to the interior, as it were.

Naturally enough, given that it was 1938 in rural Hungary, ponies and traps seemed to be common:

That's a pretty impressive looking residence in the distance, there - the roadside shop less so.

The Lads were clearly up for a bit of rowing, on the Danube, no less, but this time near the City of Esztergom, northern Hungary:

There's The Uncle's friend Balazs, recognisable with his moustache.  Afterwards they posed for a photograph:

I'm really not dying about the cut of some of those bathing trunks, I have to admit.  There's a rare shot of The Uncle himself, back right, who appears to have gone native and has a towel wrapped around his head.

All that exercise called for some refreshments, and where better than the local cafe.  Looks like either extreme boredom has set in for some of the lads there.  Perhaps they are just tired after the rowing or maybe they've just found out the cafe has no licence to sell beer:

I really like that shot.  It's such a perfect moment - The Lad's expressions and postures are just great.

Note the empty camera case on the table - some sort of folding thing.  Presumably The Uncle's, who is taking the photograph.  Unfortunately we don't have the camera, but we do have a lot of the negs from this trip - lovely big 6x9s.