Budapest
It's all about the expectations, that's what I say. When I thought of Budapest (please note that for any travelling credibility you have to pronounce it Buda-PESHT), I envisioned some sort of East-meets-West paradise, a cross between Istanbul and Paris, perhaps. (Even though I haven't been to either of those cities yet). Well, I guess I was always going to be disappointed in the 'Pest with those expectations, but I was pretty damn surprised to find that Budapest was more like a shabby version of Vienna than anything else. I've never seen so many run-down buildings (mostly public) anywhere else in Eastern Europe. It's like after the collapse of the Eastern Bloc, there weren't quite enough construction industries to go around, and so in some version of musical chairs, Hungary has done without one for the last ten years. Example? I'm used to old shitty trams, but nowhere else do they feel like occasionally leave the tram tracks and bounce along the cobblestones for a few hundred metres. Example? The meeting place of my walking tour was described as "the big yellow church". For accuracy's sake, it should be the "big church with the yellow facade falling off as you watch, while you avoid the smelly drunk homeless dudes."

For all that, there are a lot of highlights to Budapest. The bee-yootiful state opera house kicks arse on Vienna (believe it or not), the parliament building can only be described as spesh, and the view at night over the Danube to the castle and citadel is damn nice, too.

Also, I went to an incredible restaurant while I was there. The portions were unimaginable -- huge towers of sausage and other deep-fried produce cruise past menancingly to other tables while you look at the menu. The first night I was there I ordered a fantastic kebab -- about a foot of food on top of the remanents of about 17 potatoes, of the fried variety. There was some sort of mild barbeque sauce beside it that pushed the whole experience even further heaven-wards. The name of the restaurant was very appropriate: Fatal (with some sort of dash over the second a). Eat there too often, and you may indeed expire. I searched my phrasebook for a suitably effusive compliment, but all I found was "I'm having a heart attack." While appropriate, I decided against it. The next night there was a group of about 12 of us trying to find a restaurant. After getting knocked back a few times, we settled on a crap pizza place and sat down. The second someone suggested going to Fatal, I was out of my door and out the door in seconds. I even ordered the same meal because I was scared that if I ordered something else it wouldn't be as good.

Another highlight of 'Pest was the hostel, the Back Pack Guest House. Each dorm room has its own theme -- I stayed in the Fish room, which had its walls covered in a painted aquarium of tropical fish. There was also a cool backyard gazebo, and part of the balcony had been converted into an opium-den style lounge area. They had a Backpackers Book of Records posted to the kitchen wall. Amongst the more memorable records: longest stay in hostel -- over 100 days; longest time without setting foot outside of hostel grounds -- 7.5 days; shorted guest 4ft, 9.5 inches; oldest guest -- 91; youngest guest -- 7.5 months; most videoes watched in one day -- 11; most perfectly round nipples -- some tart who wanted her photo taken without her top on and displayed on the kitchen wall for ever. I wanted to break the video record, but the sheer logistics of it (nearly 24 hours of watching movies of no more than 100 minutes) scared of all the potential co-conspirators. And the only thing more tragic than going to Budapest and breaking a movie marathon record with a group of people is doing it by yourself. Even I have my limits.