Budapest – The Musical

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Many of us have been to Budapest before, it is a stunningly beautiful city famous for its Turkish baths, incredible architecture and my favourite river… At this point I should ask if anybody else has a favourite stretch of water? Friends often laugh when I list off my 5 favourite rivers…Ralph stop…

The purpose of our visit to the Hungarian capital was not to enjoy the baths, but to watch one of Hungary’s most famous football teams while exploring the city in search of good food (klobasa) and of course the local beer.

6.22am and we were off, comfortably positioned in a Czech Railway dining car, where we would stay for the entire 4hr 23mins of the journey south-east. One of the finest (I am keen to avoid using favourite too much) qualities of Czech Railways is the dining car – the service is good and the prices are excellent – highly recommended if you are ever lucky enough to find yourself travelling in the Czech Republic.

Roughly half an hour into the journey and not even in Slovakia we had already ordered our first beer of to go with our equally unhealthy breakfast of ham and eggs. We were also using the time to refresh our knowledge of Hungarian,  very much like the scene in Monty Python with the very same phrasebook. It’s a difficult language to grasp, but we were both determined to refresh our knowledge of the pleasantries.

The train journey from the Czech Republic is one of the nicest is Central Europe, especially when you cross the border into Hungary from Slovakia. While, the Hungarians may be blessed with stunning countryside, they haven’t been so lucky with ticket inspectors, as a couple of young ladies sat behind us in the buffet car found out when the most miserable inspector told them that a mobile phone was not a train ticket (I suppose he’s right there) and charged them an extra 80 euros for not taking the time to read the small print. No matter how much they pleaded with him, he was not going to let them off, unless they promised to give him back Dunajska Streda. I made that last bit up. However, they did leave the train lighter.

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As we approached Budapest Keleti, two things of note happened – First of all, with us keen to settle the bill, we went in search of a buffet car member of staff. It had been a while since we had seen them, but before you call the police, we did find them, all of them, fast asleep in the first class department and I felt awful having to wake them up. Welcome to Ceske Drahy.

The second, and this might give you an insight into life on the road with The Blansko Klobasa, was that Craggy turned to me right as we pulled into Keleti station and said, “maybe, we should turn this trip into a musical”. Now before you laugh, and we’d only had a couple of beers, honest – I thought this was a brilliant idea. Yes, you are all welcome to join us on a trip. We’ll list the bizarre songs that come into our heads later.

At Keleti train station, I made my first mistake of the day by heading over to change some Czech crowns into Hungarian forint. In untypical fashion, I went to the first place I saw.

“Excuse me, could I change some Czech crowns into Hungarian forints, please?”

I handed over the equivalent of about 35 GBP.

The woman behind the counter smiled and took the money and asked a question that took me by surprise.

“How long are you staying in Budapest for?”

Now, I took that as her asking me out on a date, but before we could finalise a night out on the tiles and possibly a life together in the Hungarian capital, I realised that she was encouraging me to change more money, so that she could rip me off a little bit more…The lesson learned here is – don’t change any money at the train station and although they a being extremely friendly, they are not inviting you out for ghoulash.

So, about 5 beers down in commission, we walked out of the terminal and into the bustling centre of Budapest, where we encountered another, and we must final, attempt to get more forint from us. Craggy will have to watch his back while withdrawing money at Budapest cash machines.

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After that final attempt at the cashpoint, we found a cafe happy enough to provide us with our first Hungarian beer of the day, for probably the only time during the trip we were not there for food or alcohol, but to use modern technology called WIFI to locate our hotel, somewhere over the river. Years ago, we’d have picked up a map from tourist information, now we have smartphones to ruin the fun..

“It’s about a 25 minute walk that way” said Craggy, while confidently pointing in the direction of the Danube, my favourite river if I hadn’t mentioned it all. What my travel partner hadn’t mentioned was that the entire journey was uphill.

So across the Chain Bridge we went, and then up and up and up. It was a challenge. While on that journey, we noticed piles of rubbish on the streets, I can’t really explain it, some people were selling junk, some of the residents had left whatever they didn’t need anymore. There was old furniture, pool tables, computers, old televisions, not in organised piles, but it looked like they had just been thrown from the nearest balcony… Could anyone from Budapest tell us why?

We finally got into the hotel Bi&Bi Panzio, and to my relief without needing climbing equipment, about 3 hrs before kick off. Even though it was a bit of a walk from the Keleti station, it was in a great location and we’d also heard wonderful things about the breakfast. It was also close to the metro line and we had a game to get to. Of course, not before we tried a restaurant recommended to us by the incredibly friendly lady at our hotel reception.

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Trombitás Gösserező was a gem, not the kind of place you would perhaps enter from unwelcoming facade, but a paradise of Hungarian cuisine and beer on the inside. The food did not disappoint and with a belly full, we paid and took various modes of transport before arriving at Budapest Honved’s magnificent stadium.

Arriving 30 minutes before the game might be enough time to get a ticket and find your place in the stadium, but not at Honved. Fans patiently queued well into the first half (apart from two annoying Australian tourists), and the only reason I can think of for waiting in silence without complaint was they knew something we didn’t… That Hungarian football would wait until everybody was safely in the stadium before scoring a goal.

We finally secured our tickets in 32nd minute, after providing I.D and speaking more Hungarian than we’d done in any of our previous visits. The only thing we didn’t understand was probably “Don’t worry about the score, we have asked both teams to pass the ball around in the centre circle until all fans are in the ground”, okay maybe the ticket lady didn’t utter those words, but there were still a healthy number of Honved fans queuing without a care in the world – so we knew the action would wait.

The Hondved stadium should be under UNESCO. It’s sadly been ruined by the plastic seats, but the floodlights are just glorious. For anybody who knows me well, they know that floodlights, rivers and Central European train journeys are up there as my most favourite things ever…

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Beers bought, we positioned ourselves behind the goals and as close to the ultras as possible – I still don’t know how MattLostBoyo finds his way in home end, there must be a talent to obtaining those tickets. Matt?

The game was as you would expect, a bit dull with moments of magic from both teams…The first half went by without much action, but that might have been because we missed the first 35 minutes….aaaahhh. Half-time was spent making sure Honved knew who the Blansko Klobasa were by plastering as many stickers as we could in and around the stadium, while trying to take the perfect photo of the floodlights with our crappy smartphones… The football tourist, hey? Can’t live with them … can’t live without them.

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The second half (a full 45 minutes of action) was entertaining. I actually thought Debrecen were the better team for much of the game and had several chances to score with former QPR and Watford midfielder Daniel Tozser pulling the strings in midfield and second half sub Hyun-Jun Suk running intelligently in attack, they probably should have won the game..but what do we know about football with 85 minutes on the clock scored the only goal we have seen in 360 minutes of Hungarian football, Marton Eppel latching on to a through ball from Kabangu. Against the run of play, but for us it didn’t matter, we just wanted a goal.

With Hungarian football not keen to give us much more, Craggy suggested finding some trendy bars in Pest. By this he meant hipster, where beers are served in bicycle repair shops. Admittedly, it was good place to start, but with none of us in possession of a Raleigh Racer we knew we had to leave after our our only beer and headed for more local climates.

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Those “climates” were a local dive where a local man took an instant shine to our Craggy, offering a leather belt and some perfume for something we are still unsure of. While, we were not in need of something to keep our trousers up or a fragrance that may have been to our advantage, we were in need of beer and the more Hungarian the better. With every sip of beer, came more questions from our new friend.”You like the belt, special price for you my friend”. Sometimes it helps to be the ugly one.

With both of us declining the option of a second beer and bidding farewell to our new friends (which included one who had possibly been sleeping in the same position since our previous visit to Budapest), we made our best decision of the night to find as many local pubs on our way back to the hotel, but not before we had popped next door to Kobe Sausage for what can only be described as a few small sausages in a cone, with lots of sauce. As we were trying to get a photo of this very unique snack, two men approached us..

“Mmmm..klobasa? Is it good?”

“Er…we don’t know, it’s difficult to eat” ( and it was)

“Do you want some cocaine?”

“Er..no thank you” we both replied.

“Grass?”

Well, we declined both, but what impressed us most was that he started on a Class A drug and moved down to something less classy.

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A lot of sauce in an awkward bread cone

Beer stops were made, photos were taken until we arrived in one of our final stops of the evening after being waved away from a tiny bar that had been so welcoming the year or so before. With midnight fast approaching we walked into an empty cafe across the river and a km from our home for the night.

“Are you still open?” I enquired

“Well, we would like to close, but you can have a small beer if you promise to drink it in 25 minutes” The barmaid responded.

She had obviously no idea of who we were, or maybe just thought we had already had one too many.

Then something strange happened, the music changed to mixture of late 80s classics and her colleague came in from the cold. Now, they no longer wanted us to leave, they were locking us in and asking us  if we wanted a shot… this all to a Simple Minds soundtrack. We accepted their offer of a palinka, but we weren’t too sure about them locking us in…It was a bit of a turnaround and one we were not expecting. Suspecting they now wanted a bit more than to dance to Tiffany’s “I think we’re alone now”, we downed the shots, thanked them politely for their hospitality and asked them to unlock the door and let us out. It was a very bizarre moment and one that completely took us by surprise.

We tried other bars on the way up to the hill, finding a Croatian pub open to provide us with one final beer and a nightcap. Budapest we love you.

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Our second day started with the most incredible breakfast we’ve had on our travels, service with a smile and a meal that was worth hotel fee on its own. Follow the link to Bi&Bi Panzio here, it’s worth every single forint.

The Sunday was spent in typical Klobasa style, taking in the sights of one of the most beautiful cities in the world, while finding watering holes to quench our thirst.  In our opinion there’s nothing better than seeing the sights of such a spectacular city, while tasting the local beverages and cuisine.

As we were on the Buda side, we made the short walk up to the castle, past the Matthias church, where like every other tourist in Budapest we stopped for photos – before slowly walking down the hill to the Chain Bridge, to the cities second most popular place for selfies. One too many selfie stick for us and we headed straight to our first beer stop. The rest of the day was pretty much the same, sightseeing and Soproni drinking.

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Around 3.00pm we found ourselves, quite by chance, just outside Keleti Train Station and with two hours to kill and feeling a tad peckish, we found another great Hungarian restaurant, Huszár étterem, on one of the side streets.

“Welcome, Welcome to Budapest”

And I suppose , even though we on our way out of Budapest, the people, the food, the palinka, the beer had made it such a great trip that we knew we’d be back for more.

As Craggy so often says when he likes a place…

“I could live here”

Viva Budapest. Viva Soproni. Viva Palinki.

Craggy: and what about the setlist for the musical, I can hear you asking? Well, this is the rather inexplicable, and somewhat embarrassing setlist that we sang all weekend:

Driftwood by Travis (You’re driftwood floating down the Danube. Can also be artistically applied to suit the names of Blansko players flying down the left wing)

Summer Son by Texas (Really painful one, this one)

Don’t You Forget About Me by Simple Minds (sounds even better after about 15 beers)

I Think We’re Alone Now by Tiffany (don’t ask…)

Cocaine Blues by Johnny Cash

Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode

Don’t You Want Me by The Human League (Sang by the guy in the bar offering himself to Craggy)

Living on a Prayer by Bon Jovi (Which Craggy was doing)

Freelove on the Freelove Freeway by Ricky Gervais

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Ralph and his favourite river

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20 highlights from 2016

As the end of the year draws near, here’s a collection of highlights from the Klobasa’s 2016

Because Gyor Gorgeous

 

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“Hello and welcome to fun and relax, my name is Beatka and I will be servicing you on your journey”.

Hello, Beatka.

“Fun and Relax” was not quite what we were expecting once onboard the 7.30 morning bus from Brno to Gyor, a town on the Hungarian/Slovakian border, and when she added politely to us that there may be no beers available we were starting to wonder just how this trip was going to pan out. However, after a quick discussion with the driver she did indeed find two cans of Gambrinus, much to the driver’s disappointment I imagine.

A trip to Hungary is pretty straightforward from Brno, so after arriving in Gyor within a mere three hours we headed past the Belgian pub (which we would make an unwise stop in later) and in to the enchanting, historic town centre. We were planning on pacing ourselves on this trip, which is why we waited until 10.30 to have our second drink, and as we always make an effort to blend in with the local culture we were keen to try a local beer. Cue our first pub = specialising in Czech and German beers. An accident maybe, but we were lucky that they were actually selling a local micro-brew (more on that later) which went down nicely.

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What do you think of when you hear the name Hungary? Well, we thought of goulash. So off we went in search of steamer, Westy Hajo, sitting serenely on the banks of the Danube (Ralph’s favourite river, by the way) and tucked in to pint of Borsodi and a fine goulash in a bread bowl which I broke my teeth on. Following this success Ralph scored another by passing the polyglot challenge and asking for the bill in Hungarian, which apparently becomes easier after three beers. Firing on all cylinders, we set off in to the unknown (well, Gyirmót) in search of new breweries and football.

Goulash

Gyirmót is suburb of Gyor, but the train delivered us to a sparse, flat landscape presenting a barren area at odds with the charm of the centre of the city . We alighted the train on to a stark and lonely platform, with the road running across us far in to either direction. A pizzeria and a track side pub sat on either side, surrounded by a clamour of houses. On one of these streets is purported to be a brewery. The brewery, we hoped, that had provided us with our first beer in Gyor.

Gyirmot train station

The brewery  is supposedly situated in someone’s back garden, and sure enough when we arrived at the address there was nothing more than a standard residential home with no beers signs and an empty driveway, signalling that the owners had found something better to do on a cold Saturday than serve us. Disappointed, we headed back to the pub beside the tracks, Csanaki Fészek, and interrupted a children’s birthday party. Sitting quietly and dodging pink balloons, we swiftly finished off our beers. Whether or not they had ever heard an English voice in there before it was hard to tell, but one thing we could say is that we were enjoying a warm welcome everywhere we went.

One notable thing about Gyirmót – there are a lot of dogs, and they are huge and waiting to kill. From every direction massive dogs barked and howled at us from every garden of this sprawling residential maze. Some were trying to tear through fences, whilst one had even laid a trap by placing a football within kicking distance of his kennel. Even Ralph, who can never resist the urge to kick a stray football, dared not go any closer. It was pure madness. Nevertheless, we survived the gauntlet and made it to the game between Gyirmót FC and Kisvarda Master Good.

Gyirmot snacks

Gyirmót FC sit at the top of the second league and are obviously being financially well supported, as you can see the name of the sponsors plastered all over the newly redeveloped stadium. The stadium is modern and big – maybe too big for Gyirmót FC as one of the side stands was completely empty. But this team has big plans it seems, so maybe the empty stands are sitting pretty, waiting for the big league. Tonight though, it is cold, and the atmosphere in the stands is an odd one. The crowd has a strangely large number of young children in it, as if on some school trip. And it is them that are doing all the singing. Whether the singing is anything to do with the football or not we have no idea, but it looked a lot more fun in the away end, where a small group of Kisvarda fans were making a racket in the smaller, but classic stands. The football on offer was less than good, matching the quality of the beer. The schnitzel burger was pretty good though.

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Back in Gyor we had a few minutes to kill before heading to Sopron, so nipped in to the Royal Belgian Beer Cafe and Restaurant. Stumbling upon our second birthday party of the trip we were greeted by a waitress who could barely conceal her contempt at our lack of a reservation as she called “Hallo” repeatedly after a bewildered Ralph who had dared to walk further than the  welcome mat. Her disappointment was cemented after discovering we would only be drinking, and a Hungarian lager at that. We were placed, neglected, at the bar and forced to stare at the glass cleaning facilities. As we left she she attempted to show interest and asked us where we were from. Before I could answer, Ralph referred solely to himself and said, “Wales”. “Ah Wales”, she replied, “Guinness!” … I laughed, we left.

A 30 minute train journey away, Sopron, although no less beautiful, is a little smaller than Gyor and provides less in the way of evening entertainment. The friendly staff at our (rather posh) hotel, Pannonia, directed us to an English-style pub for dinner, where we ingested more than should be allowed and set of in search of a more lively hole to spend the evening in. After some walking with little luck, we ended the evening warmly in a busy Croatian pub where the barmaid amused herself with our attempts at the Hungarian language.

Hungarian food

The weather over the whole weekend was beautiful and we took full advantage of it by exploring the city the next day, grabbing a beer in the morning sunshine after a fulfilling hotel breakfast of cheese and sausages. We dodged armies of tourists and even took a couple of photos for them, but our offers of our own personal tour were turned down. We had a quick look a the FC Sopron stadium, watched a bit of training then headed back to Gyor for a couple more beers before our bus back to Brno, ending putting the full stop on an excellent trip to north west Hungary. Next stop, Rosice – for the the first Blansko away game of the season.

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Ege shege drink – A day on the banks of The Danube.

The Klobasa over the river Danube

The Klobasa over the river Danube

With the winter season keeping some of us off the drink (one of us) and no football to speak of anywhere in Central Europe, we decided to travel down to Komarno, a town on the Slovak side of the Danube and twinned with Blansko, heart of Klobasaland. We’d also heard on the grapevine that the Hungarian klobasa is pretty spicy, so that was firmly placed on the menu.

Originally, we had discussed adding Dunajska Streda to the trip, mainly to meet Batman. Yes, Batman. He lives in Slovakia, don’t you know? His other name is Zoltan and he protects the people of the town against all evil. We probably would have been put in the “evil” category, so crossed it off the list fairly promptly.

The night before was one for celebration, we were all back on the pivo and headed on a pub crawl of a few pubs in Brno, finishing in Flexaret, owned by Tereza, fellow teacher and all round good girl. When we polished off our final beer and said goodbye, we didn’t exactly expect Tereza to turn up at the train station for the 8.21 out of Brno. Not only was she looking a lot better than both of us, but she was also armed with a return ticket and more worryingly, a video camera. Shortly after joining the train, the ticket inspector told us to get off the train. This train was stopping in Breclav and not going any further. Although, it quite clearly said Budapest on the departure board, it was not going there. Now, hindsight is a wonderful thing, but perhaps we should have followed the train into the depot and left it at that, but we swapped it for the the fast train to Hungary and at 9.00 we were in the buffet car, drinking our first beer of the day. Our waiter for the duration of the journey to Nove Zamky, no doubt enjoys a beer himself in the morning as by our reckoning, he’d had a few himself and was struggling to deal with large number of passengers in the dining carriage. 5 of them.

Breakfast

Breakfast

As the train took us through the lowlands of Slovakia, we sometimes looked out of the window, but spent a lot of the time listening to Tereza’s story of how she left communist Czechoslovakia for Vienna as an 5 year old. Most Czechs filled in application forms and waited for confirmation from the government they could go on holiday to  Tito’s Yugoslavia. Once they had crossed the Hungarian/Yugoslav border they would drive to Austria border and claim political asylum, it was as easy as that.. not. However, the Richter family were a bit special. The Communist Party actually wanted them to leave and allowed them to go legally. The reason being both parents, one a psychologist and the other a sociologist had signed Charter 77 and were therefore considered troublemakers. The Austrian Chancellor Bruno Kreisky didn’t quite share the same opinion and welcomed the family with open arms. The story continues (it was a long train journey) and of course the family struggled with settling into their new home. Mum and Dad took jobs as bricklayers, cleaners and also washed dishes to make ends meet before retraining as computer programmers. The girls changed schools a few times and struggled with a new language and the trauma of leaving family behind.

The Danube

The Danube

We had been assured that our connecting train at Nove Zamky would be awaiting our late arrival at the platform, and we were happy to have this confirmed when we were sitting comfortably on the service to Komarno. Finally we touched down at Komarno’s grand station and set off in search of adventure, only to find that the town’s centre of excitement was nestled firmly between two of Europe’s bastions of questionable-quality groceries – Lidl and Billa. Unimpressed, we decided to switch country. Ralph stopped a man in the street and politely asked ‘Where is Hungary?’, leading the kind man the inform us it is over the bridge, helpfully pointing at it to avoid any confusion on our part. So off we went – to Hungary.

Across the Danube to Komarom

Across the Danube to Komarom

If we thought adventures in Komarno’s supermarket’s wasn’t our cup of tea, then Komarom offered little else in the way of solace. We wandered idly through empty streets, beneath the half-sized tower blocks, looking in vain for entertainment or interest. Eventually, however, we did happen upon a pizzeria, where we had our first Hungarian beer and used a supermarket brochure to practice the local lingo, while the locals eyed us with a suspicion usually reserved for aliens. Our first pint here was a Soproni, or a Soprano if you choose to misread the label, and it went down a treat before we decided to quickly move on and back Komarno to give it another shot.

Soproni

Soproni

Our return to the Slovak side was more successful and we quickly fell in to an Irish bar for a quick Czech lager (we like to mix cultures here at the Klobasa), and a couple of games of table football. Ralph’s growing excitement at his winning streak was helped along by Tereza’s story involving table football, a lot of alcohol and risque bet, the details of which we can’t go in to here – but let’s just say Ralph’s head was hot and positively glowing.

Ralph and his glowing head

Ralph and his glowing head

All that sport and talk made us hungry and the bartender recommended Restaurace Hubert, and it was evident why. The fake rock-pool and hunting decor were delightful, and it was heartwarming to eat opposite a carved boar-head candle holder. If it’s taste you want, Hubert has it in spades. That, and garlic soup, which was the size of the real boar’s head that hung on the wall by the hanging ivy and flat screen TV. The staff were sincerely lovely, and offered us a menu in three different languages – non being Hungarian though, so we had no chance to continue practicing, although we would get our chance to learn a lot more later.

Enjoying the decor at Hubert

Enjoying the decor at Hubert

Our goal was Esztergom, a small town tucked-in neatly to the Hungarian side of the great Danube river, but before that the bus would sail through the evening (affording us some kip) to the town staring directly from the opposing bank of the river – Strurovo. Our stop here would be brief, but certainly worth it, as we headed for the one bar we needed – the red London bus, otherwise named the Bristol Pub. This pajzl (a pub with ‘atmosphere’ – boozer) was packed solidly in to the double-Decker, adorned with odd bits of British memorabilia and, much to the chagrin of Ralph and the sniggering delight of the rest of us, a large England flag to accompany you up the stairs. We stopped for one quick one and just as the barman had said ‘hello’ to welcome us, he said ‘hello’ again to bid us farewell. And on we went, in to the freezing cold night and over the Danube in to Esztergom.

The Bristol Pub

The Bristol Pub

As we crossed the cool flowing waters of the Danube, Esztergom’s breathtaking basilica (otherwise known as The Primatial Basilica of the Blessed Virgin Mary Assumed Into Heaven and St Adalbert… and breathe) came impressively closer in to view, prompting Tereza to ask, ‘is that a pub?’ It did truly glow like a pub to a Klobasa, but our ascension would have to take place in more modest surroundings, for although blessed are the Klobasa, I think the Basilica’s incumbents are just not ready for our kind of awakening.

The Basilica

The Basilica

So instead we marched forth and happened upon a bar that appeared just to our tastes – Art Bistro. Walking in to this endearing establishment, and braving the attack of an aggressively insecure dog, we found seats in our favourite space in any watering-hole – the bar. Amidst the stickers, posters, and ramshackle furniture we set up camp for the rest of the evening, learning to order drinks in Hungarian from the charming and helpful barmaid, Dora, who had to suffer our endless questions about Hungary, the language, alcohol and the relationship with Slovaks. By this point of the trip the beer had perhaps started to take it’s toll, and as our English started to sound more Hungarian Tereza got more happy with the camera and we had trouble staying on our high stools. One final beer and a palenka later, Dora looked on nervously as we emptied our pockets in desperation for enough florints to pay the bill. All nervous smiles were laid to rest when we scraped it together, only for Ralph to find, much later, a whole bucket full of them buried in his bag.

Esztergom

Art Bistro, Esztergom

We left the bar merrily, and walked back to Sturovo, singing our way through a wide repertoire of songs including Living on a Prayer and Heaven is a Place on Earth, and encoring with some Roxette before we stumbled in to the drunks at Sturovo train station for another quick pivo, and to show them that we were perhaps more drunk than they were. Enjoying life as we were, we forgot about the train and had to sprint faster than Linford to get on it, but beer is a wonderful thing and with that power we achieved it! The train was packed with night-goers, but for some bizarre reason no one wanted to join us in our musical compartment, and after securing some alcohol from some dodgy box room in one of the cars we were happily one our way home. Unfortunately we had to make a stop at Breclav, where our eventful evening continued. Craggy, frustrated with the delay in departure (1 hour – thank you Czech transport), decided to pop out for a quick smoke. No sooner had he lit his coffin nail than the train doors closed behind him, delighting of a group of guys in the carriage entrance. Panicking about being stuck in Breclav without a warm coat, Craggy shouted a string of pleasantries and waved politely down train and someone kindly opened the doors once again. This whole event escaped the notice of the other two who were fast asleep, Ralph with beer still resting gently in his hand. Much to the amusement of a group of Japanese tourists this beer fell out of his hand and soaked his leg and, not so much to the amusement of Tereza, her woolly hat. Finally we all arrived in Brno safely in the early hours, bidding farewell to Tereza and to eventually fall asleep at home, kebab in hand.

Art Bistro Esztergom

Art Bistro Esztergom

Komarno station

Komarno station