The romanian village nearby, right across the river from a hungarian village. In the last twenty years, the villages turned out differently - while on the hungarian side they're building and growing, the Romanians have dwindled to mere 220 houses, plus many uninhabited ones, which are crumbling. As of 2011, there were about 40 unmarried guys, which didn't happen even under communists, who were allegedly screwing peasants any way they could.
It has three churches now. The catholic [one] has still not fallen, the only catholics in the village were the austrohungarian state administrators, they're long gone. The diocese, of course, doesn't let go of the property, but doesn't maintain it either. The priest's house (right behind our garden) they likewise wait to see when it falls, and its plot they leased to a neighbor, who planted apricots, therefore it's for a bit longer term.
The next is the romanian orthodox, big one, visible from afar, but the number of Romanians in the village is dwindling, most of them have moved to Zrenjanin and sold the parental houses to weekenders like me.
At the corner of my street there was an old richer house, which was abandoned when the inheritors didn't need it, and in its place there's a new church, serbian orthodox.
The village has two shops, a fake bakery (same chain as in the next village, the bread is baked somewhere far), an abandoned culture home and not a single tavern. The social life is beer on the bench in front of the retail shop.
The name of the village is Clinţaid, in hungarian Klincahíd (long last i), because híd is a bridge in hungarian and the village is romanian. The aitch remained in hungarian but not the other two, but then there's a surname Klincahidac, complete with the aitch. Please don't pronounce as clink-ade, it's klintz-a-eed. Thanks.