Day 21: Budapest to Ljubljana

Highlights:

• A sad farewell to Andrew and Gabo
• Sally from Southampton
• A great welcome to Ljubljana

I woke up to Gabo and Andrew's voices. I wouldn´t have minded another night in Budapest, but I had a train to catch.

Andrew looked crestfallen as I approached reception. He'd just had a bad review and couldn't understand it. I think in a city like Budapest and for a small hostel like HomePlus, a bad review really can damage your business. I promised to write a glowing review (and I will). Gabo offered me tea, which I declined. As he put sweetener in his he said 'this is sweet, but not as sweet as you!'. I think I've definitely made a friend. He offered to show me around Northern Italy, as he knows it well. I promised to email him (I will!). I got huge hugs from both of them, and I gathered my stuff and reluctantly left.

I walked to the Metro, where you HAD to pay for a ticket (Gabo had again advised getting the tram to the metro for free. I don't think he understood my reluctance to illegally ride transport in a foreign country). He'd said it was a long walk between the metro and main station. It was, but only because I accidentally got off a station too early. I've become a bit absent minded over this trip. Lucky it's not hindered me too much...

I was guided onto the train by a nice Hungarian station officer (I've found the Hungarians to be the nicest people of all the countries I've visited so far. Seriously friendly. I talked to someone later who agreed, but had said she felt the Polish and Hungarians seem somewhat repressed. It's true that in Poland, you couldn't see a lot of laughter, and no one really returned your smile. Not true of Hungarians though. Very jolly).

The train ride was nearly nine hours to Ljubljana (capital of Slovenia). I settled into a carriage and fashioned a bed out of the three adjacent seats. My phone was dead, and my Kindle and iPod were in their last minutes, but sleeping aside, the time just flew. I felt so relaxed, I had no worries, and my mind just ambled about pleasantly. I can't remember feeling this content in the last 10 years.

It wasn't all roses though. The toilet had no water, so was pretty grim and when we were told there were rail replacement services, it felt strangely reminiscent of every weekend trying to travel home from London and Essex. I'd also been in a rush so had only four biscuits, a bag of pom bear and a small bottle of water for the whole journey. I decided to impose some war-style rationing, but then ate all my food in the first twenty minutes of the journey. Yeah, rationing pretty difficult when you've got hangover munchies.

On the second train (even grubbier than the first) I overheard an English lady talking to two Hungarian girls. She was heading to Ljubljana also, so I knew my action plan from then on was to just follow her and hope for the best. We got talking as we transferred onto a bus. I couldn't tell you where we were. Middle of nowhere is probably a good description. Her name was Sally and I'll tell you later what I learned about her.

We arrived in Ljubljana an hour after we were supposed to. Coincidentally we were booked into the same Hostel, and she'd got a cab number from them to avoid getting ripped off by the station lurkers (charging up to €15 rather than the €3.20 we were charged). The driver was the big guy who spoke great English. Apparently it's compulsory in Hungary and Slovenia to graduate with two languages, and unlike the dubbing issue in Western Europe, Slovenians watch everything from cartoons to film with subtitles, so their English is a of a really good standard. The driver's first words were that Ljubljana was boring. Not a good start. He then explained that he meant for locals it was dull, being such a small city of 350,000. He gave us a bit of a guide on our short journey, pointing out this lovely castle on this steep hill in the middle of the city, and gave us walking directions from the hostel to the city centre. He was great, and of course we tipped him extra.

Sally and I dumped our stuff in separate rooms (I was in an 8 bed, and she in a 5 bed) and headed to a restaurant. She had Slovenian dumplings (made from potatoes, and a bit more like soft gnocchi, than the suet ones we're used to). We had wine to celebrate our arrival whilst I munched down a massive Pizza. Traditional er...slovenian pizza...

So Sally was on a 6 month sabbatical from her job as a Store Manager for a Superdrug in Southampton. She was near the end of the trip, having started in Florence for 2 months then with a few breaks home in between, had gone to stay with people she met in Italy in Czech Republic, Vancouver and Vienna. She was 48 and had decided to take the Sabbatical the day after her boyfriend broke up with her (quite sadly, he had developed Muscular Dystrophy and become depressed, and found a relationship too hard to handle). They'd got back together the day before her Sabbatical interview, but she went for it anyway; a good decision given they broke up shortly after. She looked amazing for 48. With skin almost as good as my Mum's (the youngest looking 50 something I know). She'd rented an apartment for two months in Florence, figuring it was a small enough city to live in, and a good base to see the rest of Italy from. On her last few days, she decided she wanted a bit of fun, so signed up to some internet dating site and immediately came across the profile of Bernardo. 'Hubba hubba', she thought. He was on business in Milan, but the next night they met up and spent the next week together. She said it felt like a traditional romance, the way he came to pick her up from her apartment every night, and then dropped her off after the date. I think Sally had a complex about being single (presumably other people make you feel there's something wrong with you if you're not settled by that age) so I hope it works out with Bernardo. At the end of the trip, she's finishing in Florence and staying at Bernardo's. She hadn't realised she would be, so unfortunately didn't have any sexy underwear, but I told her not to worry. He seemed pretty keen already.

It was good to meet someone of a different age group, and someone out of London. Sally did the comical middle class thing that Miranda Hart mentions in Miranda; lowering her voice whenever she mentioned the words gay/lesbian/black/asian. In Vancouver, she stayed with two girls she'd met in Florence, and only discovered on arrival that they were *hushed voice* lesbians. It was probably best that we didn't talk politics. I imagine there's probably a significant gap between us on the spectrum. It was good to meet her though. I was playing a significant part in her log that day; she was blown away by our chance meeting, with the same hostel and the same reason for going from Budapest to Ljubljana, instead of going to Croatia (we both had limited time, and realised Croatia needed a few weeks to enjoy the mix of cities, beaches and hiking). I didn't think it was that big a coincidence, but I like that I made an impact.

Went back to the dorm, and entered the room to hear Johnny Cash's Hurt playing. Good sign. Turns out I was with a few young people from Australia (Suz and Mim, sisters), Canada (Tim, 21 and has a pilot license) and an American (bit moany). We chatted until midnight about Seal, the song Killing Me Softly and Batman.

End of day 21.

Day 20: Budapest

Highlights:

• Vasarely Gallery Museum
• Szechenyi Spa
• Led Zeppelin: Celebration Day

I was called over by Andrew and Gabo first thing to declare my plans for the day. I wanted to check out the Hungarian Contemporary Art Museum but Gabo was all "No, no, no. I show you on map better places. 'I show you on map' seems to be his catchphrase alongside 'what means *insert any word here*'. He showed me two museums dedicated to Hungarian artists; Kassak, and Victor Vasarely (to use his Western name). Gabo sensibly suggested I get the tram, as we were going completely off map with these museums, up North on Buda side, but I was determined to walk, if only to get some good photos in the sun. I headed for breakfast at Cafe Europa first, just round the corner on Andrew and my guidebook's recommendation. Standard croissant and good coffee.

I walked across Margit Hid (Margaret Bridge) and took some photos of the Parliament building, which even at 10am and only a few hundred metres away was still caught in a sort of haze, so looked purple. Beautiful.

I did get lost. Of course I got lost. I found myself walking through this maze of Budapestian Council Estates. Eventually I found the river again and was able to reach Fo Ter (which Gabo told me means 'Main Place') and the Vasarely Museum. You'd probably recognise Vasarely's work; After years of doing fine art and a few other styles, he stumbled across Kineticism. So quite simply, he focused on movement within art, and achieved this using geometric patterns and a knowledge of the eye to brain nerve system. This exhibition provided a really good level of information, pushing you to step back and look at the painting again, and actually see the vibrations caused by putting black and white shapes together. Vasarely had studied the Bauhaus approach to colour and some interactive activities at the gallery showed how if you look at one block colour for a while, then look at a blank space, your eye ends up creating a blur of the opposite colour on the spectrum for a while. Try looking at a square of red for a minute, and then at a white square of the same size. It's cool.

Vasarely made his fame in Paris so I think I'll visit his gallery there. I left the gallery and slowly wandered to the Szechenyi Spa in the park around Heroes Square. It was a hot day and a weekend so it was pretty busy, but I'd already bought my ten quids ticket from Andrew, so went in. I lounged in the heated outdoor swimming pool for a while, astounded by the variety of shapes and sizes that came and went. If you're ever feeling overwhelmed by the ridiculous media images of the 'normal' woman or man, I suggest going to an outdoor swimming pool. Really perks you up to see ACTUAL normal (and a fair few potential entries to Channel 4's Embarrassing Bodies). From here, I then used the various facilities, including some sort of murky indoor pool which smelt like rank meat. I could only last a few minutes. A great experience though, and nice to fully relax after a few weeks of hectic sight-seeing.

I went back to the secret Hungarian restaurant for dinner and had the same again. Why mess with a classic egg and gnocchi dish. I then went back to the hostel to get ready for the evening, and found Gabo holding fort on reception. I was in a bit of a rush, and he can talk a lot, but he's always got some interesting story to tell. He told me how he worked for Tele Uno for a while, and made me guess that Berlusconi was his boss. He also filled me in on Andrew's love life; separated from his wife, so he entertains himself with a few girlfriends (including the lady from the day before...). Gabo then offered to show me around Vienna or Hungary if I came back, and gave me his email address. Turns out his name is Dr Pesti Gabor, but he's always gone as Gabo. Very sweet.

So when I'd been booking my ballet tickets, down the side of the screen under the 'you might also like) heading was the screening of Led Zeppelin's newly released live dvd, Celebration Day. Led Zeppelin? Budapest? Their O2 show in full viewing? I snapped up the ticket. It was at the Urania National Film Theatre, and Gabo told me this was a lovely old building near Astoria.

The show was at 9.30 so I walked there slowly, passing the flats Gabo had said he used to live in until a grenade came through their window during the revolution. The lady told me I was early, and as I couldn't find a bar, ran across to Tesco Expressz for some refreshments (so in Hungarian, a plain 's' makes a 'sh' sound, hence the 'Budapesht' pronunciation. And an 'sz' sounds like an 's', hence Expressz and Szex shop). On the way out I saw two large chinese guys passed out on the street. I'm certain they hadn't been there before I went in. One had been sick. Two minutes later though an Ambulance pulled up. They HADN'T been there before, so that was the quickest ambulance arrival ever. A joyful Tesco experience, and then I headed back to wait in the theatre entrance hall.

I was admiring the arched, painted ceilings and grand stairways when I looked up and was sort of in a state of disbelief as one clergy man after another came out of the cinema. Like a Priest Day Trip. As I stood there with my Led Zeppelin crowd, all heavy metal hair and beer guts, these priests filtered through us. The most bizarre sight. Then I noticed the poster for 'Pope John Paul II: The Movie' (ok, that wasn't the actual title, but something similar. The poster also explained the big advertising presence of JP II in Krakow). I can't say for sure, but I'm pretty sure that poster explained the priest party.

So when Led Zeppelin started a count down on facebook, ending in a DVD release, I was gutted it wasn't a tour. I'd planned to watch it in Edinburgh with my mate Tom, but suddenly, in Budapest, I was about to see the best next thing to a live show, in this newly resurfaced mega-theatre called Urania National Film Theatre. It was all chandeliers and intricately painted ceilings. The lady reading tickets couldn't understand the English on my print-out so an English-speaking Hungarian behind stepped in. As I was sitting down, he beckoned me forward, saying he had the ticket for a spare seat next to him. Instant upgrade to top seats dead centre.

His name was Robert, and he owned a bar in the neighbourhood (as I discovered later). We had a brief chat about his Led Zeppelin prior viewings (he'd seen the Page/Plant '97 tour and then Plant with his then-band in 2007. Then at a Rock Festival they have in Budapest every year, he met Robert Plant and got a photo with him). He said that this was one of those fleeting moments in life, where two lives collide by pure coincidence, then separate again.

Then bam! With big Bonham drums, Led Zeppelin came on. And I was blown away. It was amazing. A perfect performance with some great versions of their tracks. Jason Bonham on drums joining on vocals occasionally. Plant and Page laughing around. Plant with his signature hand-twisting moves and Page with his closed eyes and pouted lips as he played his 12string. Amazing.

The show ended and Robert asked if I wanted to go for a drink. I was meeting the Aussies I'd met in Prague/Krakow, but figured I could go for one. Robert said his bar was just five minutes away. Then he pulled two motorbike helmets from his spacey looking case. Uh-oh.

I'm pretty sure it would have all been safe, and I was so tempted to say yes, but it occurred to me that this would be in the news article when the details of my kidnap and murder came to light. 'Woman, 25, willingly goes with kidnappers to death'. I made my excuses and left.

I found Instant: The Enchanted Forest, and waited for the guys to arrive. I got hit on a few times, with the guys not even having seen my face before doing so ("and a good thing at that too...LOLS" as my mate Paddy said). Harry, Sven and Adam turned up and we played a card game called 'F*** the dealer' and we joined by a huge group of Americans. We followed them to a bar called Simpla, when I lost the Aussies and was left stranded with all these ridiculous Americans ("oh my god, I love your accent"). I've got a few ace US friends, but most of these were awful. Adam arrived a bit later and I pounced on him in relief. He'd got stuck taking a girl to the toilet on route ("she was so f***ing stupid"), and then had got lost and had to get a rikshaw to the bar. The other guys arrived shortly after and we stayed out until around 5 when the bars shut. And then home to bed, in a pleasantly empty dorm.

End of day 20.

Day 19: Budapest

Highlights:

• Gabo
• Scrambled Egg Gnocchi
• Hungarian State Ballet

The Americans got up pretty early, guilting me into getting up around 8.30. Still, I hung around and had some hot water and lemon (trying to cleanse my body of beer) whilst they went to breakfast with Hungarian Andrew (now the only Andrew). I was still struggling away on my blackberry trying to write yesterday's entry when Andrew returned. Shortly after, a friend of his arrived and I heard them have a big hug around the corner and assumed she was his wife. But I think like Gabo, she was just another good friend. He made me re-demonstrate the light feature on my kindle case in front of her, and we oohed and aahed over it a bit. With all the excitement it's causing, I wonder if they don't have the Kindle here yet?

I headed out a bit later than planned, and went to Alexander for a coffee and to finish The Pianist afterword. It was about the German Officer who helped Wladek (the pianist), and lots of other Jews (though was killed by Soviets after the war). Very moving. An absolute hero.

The rest of my morning/early afternoon was pretty uneventful, aside from an exciting spot of Tesco Expressz. Yes, with a z. I saw a T-co (I don't want to give them more mentions than necessary) van in Prague, though never saw the store. I didn't go in to this one; I'm sticking to the elaborate Lidls I keep finding, and a store called BCA which make these really good seeded, croissant-dough long rolls. Another store that's made it over here, I smelt from a block down. As I walked closer, I was thinking 'hang on a minute, that smells like Lu-' and then I saw that it was a Lush. Same sickening smell. It's just round the corner from my hostel though, so if I get lost in that area I can just sniff my way home.

Anyway, clearly an uninteresting day, and I was worried I'd have nothing to write here. Enter Gabo.

I'd been back an hour when Gabo came in. Andrew had told him he'd be back by 3pm (he only mans reception when he knows people are arriving, or when he can be useful) but didn't turn up until 8pm (Gabo says he always blames the traffic). Anyway, I sat and had tea with Gabo, this Hungarian born, longtime Austrian residing guy in his 60s. He's got a strong accent, pronouncing Vs instead of Ws. ('There's own-ly vun vay to do this'). He gave me a maths puzzle - what is 10 to the power of 100? He said it was a word I use every day. I didn't know, so he made me look over his shoulder as he typed 'what means google' into google. So 10 to the power of 100 is a google. Fact for you. Welsh Andrew had said Gabo had only recently discovered google and was obsessed. He also looked up Lord Nelson after some tea label he read, and a few more 'what means'. 

I was snooping the brochures in reception and figured I should do something that evening at the Opera House. There was a Ballet showing called Karamazov (after the novel by Dostoyevsky) so I booked a 12quids ticket (call back) and agreed to have a quick dinner with Gabo before it started at 7. The place he took us to was about a 10minute walk from the hostel though he was planning on getting a 1minute tram ride just to speed it up. He made me promise not to tell anyone about the restaurant, as he didn't like tourists (and was eyeing up two American guys pretty distastefully) and didn't want them ruining his favourite place.

So here's what I learned about Gabo over the early evening:

Andrew had told me he was a millionaire, and Gabo explained the reason he was in Budapest was because a guy owed him £67,000 that he had lent to his company. It was already overdue, and he was in town to serve the guy with legal papers if he didn't pay up. That day, Gabo had also been down to the CASTLE he owned 102km south of Budapest. He'd had it for 5years and was doing it up. He showed me pictures and it looked pretty impressive, laying just a short distance from the Danube. So, Gabo was in his early sixties (not quite old enough for OAP free travel) and had been born to two communist parents in Hungary. However, during the revolution in '56 (I learned all about this), his parents left for Vienna, with him and his sister following later. He studied Economics at Vienna University (where his sister has just retired from as an English Professor) and did a post-grad at Cambridge, where he met Prince Charles who admitted that he didn't want to be King. Gabo insists that William will take over instead.

I asked him when he retired and he responded '39'. 'A few months ago then' I joked, not taking him seriously (he jokes all the time. You've got to be careful around Gabo). '39 a few days ago', he said, with a twinkle in his eye. Then he told me he hadn't been a nice man at that age, and then one day he was driving his car at 140 km/h when he crashed into a truck going at a similar speed. He was seriously hurt; he lost his little finger on his left hand and some feeling in his arm, and has metal plates in his head and chest. He was in hospital for 6months, and then had to return daily for the following year. 'That's life', he said to me, shrugging. He slowed down at work and eventually quit and just invests his money from time to time. 

I had some sort of weird scrambled egg gnocchi dish (which I let Gabo finish), as I polished off some cold red wine (Gabo has never touched a drop of alcohol). We split the bill, and I think I was the only one to leave a tip. Gabo insisted on seeing me to the Opera House. We jumped on a tram, and Gabo explained that if anyone checked him for a ticket, he'd just pretend he didn't speak Hungarian (even though he's a native) or he'd keep an unused ticket in his pocket and explain that old age meant he'd forgotten to get it stamped). You don't stay rich if you spend money I think his motto must be. He pointed out that the main station in Hungary (Nyugati) was designed by the Eiffel Tower Architect and showed me the first metro station on the continent by Oktogon (Budapest was next after London in getting an underground). Their lines aren't particularly deep underground here though, and at Oktogon station there's maybe only a worrying 30cm of pavement between the street and the tunnel.

We arrived at the Opera House and Gabo bid me farewell, offering me a tour of the city tomorrow if I wanted it. I took my seat in a box, and was joined by three mid-30s Aussies, and two Hungarian teenagers (romantic date). The Australian woman looked like she could have been a Ballet dancer herself, and her partner was a bit of a silver fox. They mentioned having seen an actress they knew called Deirdre a few boxes along, but I couldn't eavesdrop enough to find out how they knew her.

The ballet started, and I was blown away. It was my first ballet, and I hadn't ever really considered it an art form before that moment. But it's just like a painting, with swirls and colour and movement, only this is live in front of you, and it's people twisting their bodies into phenomenal shapes and it looks beautiful and graceful rather than distorted and painful. And there's an Orchestra building up the emotion, and the set and lighting constantly change, just like a play. It was just incredible. And easy to follow (once I'd established that the person I thought was the three brothers' mum, was actually their younger, black-robed, clergy novice brother (I'd got a little suspicious when this vixen who had been seducing one brother, then started kissing this black-robed mum, but assumed it was just a way of drastically portraying the vixen weaving her way into the whole family, mum included. I only clocked on when they stripped the black robe to the waist, and the woman seemed ridiculously flat chested and six-packed, even for a ballet dancer), and the guy I'd thought was their third brother was actually their dad). Only about a 1hr 45 minute ballet, with a £4 glass of champagne in the middle, but really worth it. The opera building was phenomenal inside. All domed ceilings and epic murals. During the interval I went out onto the balcony which overlooks Budapest, and seeing the dark sky and the city all lit up...just, really nice. 

After three encores (two too many), I left and came back to the hostel. I bought a ticket from Andrew for the spa the next day and he welcomed me with open arms (this time I DID get a hug) when I asked to stay another night. I think he offered me an 'every second night free' deal, and recommended I stay until the Revolution Anniversary, as this usually got pretty rowdy/violent, and would be interesting to watch. In 2006, the old government approved police to shoot into the crowd. 

I'm thinking about it. If I hold out a week longer, I'll even get to see the Fit Parade as well. Like Gay Pride, but for Bodybuilders.

End of day 19.

Day 18: Budapest

Highlights:

• HomePlus Hostel and Andrew the owner
• Alexandra Book Shop
• Gellert Hill

He was a snorer. It was a weird sort of development of snoring. It started quite gently, a sort of breathy rumble, but then in the middle of the night I was woken up by a snore that sounded like he was eating a pringle. Really loud. Every time he breathed in, it was another pringle being crunched all in one. He munched a whole tube. If I hadn't been so tired, I'd have been amazed. I put in my ear phones, risking death by strangulation of the wire (mum always used to warn about this) and listened to some Brian Eno until he got off the train around 5am. I was too tired to look out the window to see where we were. I think we were in Slovakia. Later I had a look as we went into Hungary, and saw this:

I arrived in Budapest around 8.30am at Keleti station, and as it was a weekday it was rush hour. Arrival was similar to landing in Kathmandu a few years ago. As soon as you're on the platform, there are about 20 people asking if you need a cab. I find this a little overwhelming when you've just got off of a 10hour overnight train ride and need a few minutes to get your bearings. I stormed past them and arrogantly decided rather than get the advised metro and tram, I'd walk to the hostel to avoid the commuters. Turns out I hadn't got my bearings at all, and so I ended up walking 15mins in the wrong direction and having to backtrack. Still, as it was quite early it wasn't too hot and Budapest really is a lovely city to look at. At that time in the morning there also weren't many pedestrians in the back streets so I could slowly amble around looking up at all the buildings without being in anyone's way.

Two hours later I arrived at the HomePlus Hostel on Balissi Balint, toward the North of Pest, right near the Parliament buildings. I buzzed in to this huge old building, and went through to the entrance hall it shared with a few other residents and businesses. There were these two wide, old stairways either side of a hall, which lead onto a courtyard out back. They were a few old bikes resting on the stairs and against the walls. It looked like the entrance to a church, with this high ceiling and patterned grates in the door. Really cool. I was greeted by the Hungarian owner, Andrew. He had an arty flop of grey hair, permanently crinkled, laughing eyes and some little spectacles. He was so warm and welcoming, I think I almost got a hug.

He gave me some chocolate and sat me down to give me an amazingly descriptive run down of Budapest (pronounced Budapesht, but I'm going to feel like an idiot if I start pronouncing it properly at home). He used to be a literature teacher, so said he is permanently in education mode, but I told him that knowing nothing about Hungary, that's pretty useful to me. He didn't mind this; as long as I knew we were in Budapest and not Bucharest, that was a good start. Andrew told me about a friend of his called Gabo who helped out from time to time, but REALLY liked to talk, so to watch out. Gabo is apparently a millionaire (ex-investor) and lives in Vienna, but has properties elsewhere. He never married because (someone quoted him later to me) "it's cheaper to have two girlfriends than one wife". Andrew said he was really tight, but he helped him out on reception and I think they had one of those lifelong, frustrating but valued friendships.

I was sharing a five bed dorm with a Turkish girl (I never met her) and a Welsh guy, also called Andrew. Though because in his school class growing up there were three Andrew Davis', he had been called Benji (his middle name) growing up. He had a strong Welsh accent and said he was from South Wales. I mentioned the only place I knew near there was Cwmaman (where the Stereophonics are from) and he said that was only a few valleys over. Later I learned he'd shared a beer with Stuart Cable once. So I didn't sound too creepy, I said I wasn't such a fan anymore, forgetting that the pyjama top I was carrying was an old Phonics t-shirt...

Hungarian Andrew asked me if I wanted the bed made, but from his expression I could tell he was hoping I'd say no. He told me it was his least favourite job, and in the five years he's had the hostel he's changed over 3,000 beds.

I had a headache; the first morning I hadn't started with a coffee so clearly a worrying withdrawal symptom. I left and headed to a book shop Andrew recommended which was open until 10pm and often had musicians in. Sounded like heaven. Of course, I got lost and found myself walking by the horribly named 'Museum of Terror' which described the world war atrocities and weapons. I decided not to go in but bought The Pianist on my Kindle (again under Andrew's guidance) and sat in the book cafe reading and eating cake. The bookshop was called Alexandra and was on Andrassy Street. It was pretty posh and I figured it'd be expensive, but after two cappuccinos and a cake, it only came to about 3quid. 

After Auschwitz, I'd needed a break from learning about the Nazi persecution in Eastern Europe but felt ready to read The Pianist. Whilst obviously harrowing and really brutal, it was surprisingly clinical in its descriptions and the style was really easy to get through. I raced through it. It's unbelievable that the guy survived.

After a friendly conversation with the waitress about my Kindle, from here I took an unguided wander through town, heading through the Jewish quarter, which due to the
Nazis, fell into disrepair and is now the home of the alternative bar scene. It again had this sort of grunge cool feel to the place. I then walked across the Erzsebet Bridge and headed up Gellert Hegy; like Letenske Sady, it's a steep climb through a wooded area to give amazing views of the city. It was really hot and I think I gave myself sunstroke, so at the top of the hill I stopped at the expensive restaurant and ordered a beer (it didn't even occur to me to get water). The view was incredible. It was so warm that the horizon was really hazy, and it felt like I was in a mediterranean holiday resort.

So this was on the Buda side. The river runs from North to South, splitting what used to be two separate cities, Buda and Pest. Buda has an older style and up on another hill there's a huge castle on old town. I was bursting for the loo, and yet again managed to get lost. I wasn't even paying attention to the buildings as I was so single-minded, so I'll have to go back later and check it out with a lighter bladder. I eventually found somewhere, paying 200 Florins (345 Florins is about £1) and I think of the entire trip, that will be the best money I've spent. Seriously.

I'd agreed to meet Welsh Andrew for drinks, so as the sun was setting, I tried to head back across to Pest. This city seems to keep making me want to repeat myself, and so at least three times on the way back, I doubled back on my path. The timing was perfect though. As I eventually found the river, the sun was lowering leaving the sky first a beautiful purple, then red, then this crazy bright orange.

Made it back to the hostel to find Welsh Andrew watching folk youtube videos with Gabo, who made a few jokes with me when I came in and then giggled to himself. An American duo had arrived to fill our room. Catherine was just on a break from a term ("semester") in Turkey, and Beau had been wooffing for three weeks on an island in Greece. He'd just graduated from an arts degree and was starting a big adventure around Europe. I showered and then went to ask Hungarian Andrew recommendations for bars. He gave me a flyer to a place called 'The Enchanted Forest' and some discount cards, but we never found the place. He kept repeating 'you two are going out...together...' with a twinkle in his eye like he was setting us up on a date. As we left, I felt we both got a nudge and a wink from him.

We half-heartedly looked for The Enchanted Forest before heading to a bar Welsh Andrew had been to before in the Jewish district. We ordered some beers (490 Florins) and then found a table outside. So this is what I learnt about Andrew:

He had come to Budapest as a base to go to the Wales/Croatia match in Croatia. It was too small a game to qualify for the stadium in Zagreb, so was in the middle of nowhere, and you couldn't fly there from the UK. He'd ended up staying in a hostel with loads of Croatians, and spent the day before the match being bought drinks by a German Croat called Tony from Stuttgart, and got a ride the match on a Croatian team bus. He said Tony knew everyone, and a few of them looked like Croatian Mafia. Still, he'd rather meet some new people than only hang out with the Welsh. He'd travelled all around Europe going to football matches and every time I mentioned a place, it seemed he'd been. He went to Lithuania for a match, but ended up missing it as he made friends with some locals who took him to the beach. He lived in his home town and had a really straight forward view on work and life. He earnt money over the summers working for a couple who owned a burger van. With the work, he went all over the UK to Steam Ralleys (which apparently stay open to 1am sometimes), Shooting Events (where the van served steak fillets to tweed wearing posh guys), and even worked an MOD event in South Wales serving soldiers and arms companies. He earned enough doing this to save for all his European trips and to cover living costs for the next few months in Wales. £105 a month in rent. Mental.

Andrew was also involved in Welsh Politics. He knew the guy campaigning for Welsh Language Music (Jamie Bevan), and himself had organised an Anti-Monarchy event the previous year, though he wasn't all that aggressive in his beliefs. He just generally filled me in on Welsh culture and education. We stayed out until about 1, and then headed back as he was getting up the next day to go home.

End of Day 18.