Budapest.

CITY OF MEMORIES.

It’s another five hours travel and towards the end a young Hungarian sits next to me and chats which makes the time go faster. He tells me his father was a soccer star and so the government made him leave school at fourteen to practice and so when his soccer career ended, he had no education and has been selling eggs but with the Ukraine war (eggs came from the Ukraine and were cheap), he is having trouble getting the product and making a profit. He made sure his two sons went to Uni and the government pays most of the tuition. His mother is an English teacher and his English is perfect. He tells me he’s off to see an ex of his that he still loves but they had a long distance relationship but decided to call it quits. He tells me his grandmother lives in Budapest and loves the busyness of the town but that although he loves and visits his grandma, he’s a country boy at heart. The long trip went quickly with a talkative companion.

And then we’re pulling into Budapest. The station outside is peeling and disintegrating. On the way into the centre in the taxi, I begin to wonder why I came here. My daughter didn’t like it but it looks so romantic in photos. My hotel is in the old town which is better. Beautiful old 19th century buildings are grand. Eighty percent of their buildings were destroyed or damaged during the war and the communists destroyed many more after the war to rebuild new ones.

It was one of the worst bombed sites because it had oil refineries and storage tanks that were vital to the German war machine that for a time Hungary supported. The Americans bombed it brutally and it is still being rebuilt.

I head straight to the Xmas markets and they are truly beautiful. Lots of gorgeous ceramics and wreaths of dried fruits, pyramids of pastel coloured truffles, slabs of salmon cooking over coals

That night I walk through the park and find a traditional restaurant and manage to find a table for one and have buckwheat crepes, the waitress is friendly and the food good.

During these few days I come down with a toothache to end all toothaches. I feel it is in a tooth up the top and that possibly the nerve is on its last legs. It’s agonising, I try panadol, nurofen and a mixture of both. It’s perfect during the day but as soon as I lie down, It’s agony. I go through Budapest, tired which doesn’t help me see it in the best light but it is slightly decaying and has a sadness about it that I can’t shake.

I start out with a coffee flavoured with beetroot which is tastier than it sounds and then walk the day away. It's a city of lovely old buildings in between modern monstrosities, gardens of fluffy kale adorn the sidewalks as I walk to the famous New York Cafe only to find the line was snaking along the street and around the corner but they let me go into the lobby and take some photos and very kindly ordered me a taxi to another cafe, Gerbeaud, from 1858 where I had an interesting macaroon. Budapest is known for its cafe society and the old ones don't disappoint.

Back to another market and honestly, the crafts and food here and the way everything is set up vintage style is so lovely.

I spend the day wandering the city past the park with memorabilia from the holocaust, the past lingers here, never to be forgotten.

Then I head towards the Strudel House. I had a great view of the guys making the thin strudel sheets, draped and flung in the air to achieve maximum thinness and I had duck with cabbage salad and of course, the famous ricotta strudel with caramel sauce and vanilla icecream.

Next day, I went to the famous bridge which was near the food markets which I loved. Beautiful packets and tins of paprika, artistically arranged pickles in glass jars, piles of different colours peppers and richly coloured tomatoes. Then on to the Paris Court that has been refurbished and is one of the most elaborately designed buildings in Europe. Stunning.

Next to the Astoria cafe for - you guessed it, coffee and cake, then more wandering through the city, finding art nouveau buildings.

The city at night is beautiful and I have dinner at a recommended restaurant but the waiter is so rude and unhelpful and then when my meal comes with some sort of noodle and chicken, the noodles are cold so I ask the same waiter if this is how they are served and he says yes! I ask another guy who is directing people to the tables and he is horrified and whisks it away. I'm brought a plate of warm noodles. Underneath the restaurant there is a museum which is interesting. Would recommend, hopefully the waiter is employed elsewhere.

The next day I go to the shoes on the Danube. I have left it to last as I know it will be thought provoking and fit is. I stand and think of them standing there, waiting for death, having to remove their shoes. Humanity has been and still is, incredibly cruel.

I walk back into the city for one last old cafe, Muvesz since 1898. I order a chai without thinking and it comes in three separate layers with little taste but the pistachio and raspberry layer cake is excellent.

I find another lovely old cafe, Kassza for more cake as this is an important activity whilst in Budapest and have another day wandering and managing the tooth pain. The art nouveau beauties, the street art keep me occupied and I go one last time to the first restaurant I went to, Kisharang Etkezde where they give me the local liquor, a fruit brandy which definitely helps with the pain and they give me an extra one on the house.