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Much of our time in Budapest involves wandering aimlessly with no plan or direction in mind – but this isn’t so bad, as every street has a different character. Visually, it’s seeping with faded, forlorn and decaying Communist glory while also sparkling with the ever more common pretense of new Capitalist prosperity.
There is hardly any point going to sleep. Our Budapest flight departs at after 6 in the morning, so we’re up around 2.30am to catch a double-decker ghost train to the airport. At the station, there is nobody but us. It’s bitingly cold and eerily silent – an unaltered stagnation in the dead of night, yet in the centre of a city.
