Whisky Galore

June 2019

It was to be the trip of dreams (and drams) and, if we ignore the journey home, it was pretty wonderful.

A couple of years ago four friends went to Champagne (by car, so no report here) for a tasting and gastronomic journey into the world of bubbles. It was brilliant. We had a great guide for our tour and a happy day of chance discoveries when left to our own devices. The resolve to do it all again was strong from the start and after wondering whether to return to France and perhaps Bordeaux or Burgundy, we decided to indulge on of our other shared passions; Scotch Whisky.

I was left to research options, come up with an itinerary and then make the necessary arrangements. The advantage Champagne has over Scotland, on this instance at least, is that it is much more compact - we could not, in any reasonable amount of time, be expected to cover the whole gamut of whisky production in the same way as we could méthode champenoise in France so we would have to be much more selective. The other problem would be getting about; three of us could drive but none of us wanted to. The answer was to avail ourselves of a driver/guide for a couple of days to drive us around adding 'local colour' where appropriate. After many hours pouring over maps of Scotland, maps of distilleries and researching those whiskies we might prefer to visit, we settled on establishing a base in Fort William because it was convenient both for several Highland Distilleries and Speyside, and because it would enable us to take advantage of the opportunity to enjoy two of the world's "must do" rail journeys - the Caledonian Sleeper and the Jacobite Express.

And so it is, in late June, the four of us board a noon train at Fratton (of course).

Day One 

We cross town from Waterloo to Euston, leave our luggage at, appropriately, Left Luggage and tube it down to Soho because when one embarks on such a trip, it's best to start as you mean to go on. In that spirit I thought the best thing to do to really get us 'in the mood' was a private tasting at Milroy's whisky bar in Greek Street, and what an inspired idea that turned out to be. We booked a 3pm tasting of premium examples from each of Scotland's five whisky regions. We got a thorough outline of the basics of whisky production from our very knowledgeable host and a dram of some very fine malts, finishing with an astonishing Octomore, just the thing to set us up nicely for our journey.

With further astonishing foresight I had booked a table for dinner a few doors down at 10 Greek Street but after the tasting we had a little time to kill so a restorative coffee at Tintico across the street was very welcome. Only I noticed Burn Gorman at the next table reading a script and because I'm not one to disturb people just because they're a bit famous, it was quite funny to point out his presence to the others once he'd left. After coffee we had just enough time to buy a ridiculous/beautiful shirt at Zegerman's before our dinner at a very hipster but equally high quality restaurant at Number 10. That left plenty of time after dinner to take the Underground back to Euston, retrieve our luggage and wait in the crowded hall for the board to confirm the platform for the sleeper north.

When we booked, the website was all about the new rolling stock and how wonderful it would be compared with the tired old stock. As we approached the barrier it was clear that the new stock was not yet in operation on the Fort William route at least. A woman with a clipboard stood in place of the not-yet-operational electronic ticket barrier, who was keen to underline the fact that they were 'very short staffed' on the train tonight and could we get our breakfast orders done within 30 minutes of departure. Hmm. Anyway, we found our cabins and even though they seemed a little more cramped than those on European night trains we had used before, we settled in. The lounge was full, and restricted to first class passengers, while the kiosk/bar was very late opening due to the aforementioned staff shortages. By this time we had tired of the idea of a night cap and settled on sleep.

Any grumbles about the train the previous night disappeared upon waking. We spent the next three hours trundling through the most wonderful scenery, stopping at romantic sounding highland stations before this wonderful journey ended somewhat prosaically alongside Morrison's in Fort William.

Day Two

I would stake ready money on the fact that a significant proportion of visitors to Fort William arrive by sleeper train. This makes it all the more bizarre that our hotel was so intransigent when it came to checking in. This was not possible they assured us, under any circumstances before 3pm. Any circumstances. The train had berthed at 10am so there we were, less than twenty minutes later in the lobby of the Clan MacDuff Hotel failing to check in. They could look after our cases but that was it. Even in normal circumstances having over four hours to kill would be annoying, but because the hotel was a mile or so out of town it was necessary to take a taxi there and back it felt like a wasted journey. This is even before you factor in the rest of our day's itinerary.

We're booked on the Jacobite "Hogwarts" Express, which leaves Fort William for Mallaig at 2pm. We can't check in until 3pm. Okay we say, we'll check in when we get back from dinner. That's fine, they say, as long as that's before 10pm. However, the Jacobite doesn't get back to Fort William until after 8pm so we end up making a special trip back to the hotel just to check in before going out again to eat. We did, briefly, consider the option of eating at the hotel, but the restaurant only opens between six and eight. Really.

After a moment's staring at the loch across the road we resolve to spend the intervening hours in town and reception calls us a taxi. Just as we're beginning to wonder about Scottish hospitality, a Very Helpful taxi driver takes us to the heart of Fort William's main drag and points out several options for lunch and after a bit of a wander round, we end up at the Ben Nevis bar for perfectly tasty meal and some pretty good beer too.
The weather, I should say at this point is Hot, heatwave hot.

The Jacobite express to Mallaig is on many a "top ten" rail journeys list, and rightly so. The landscape of the "Road to the Isles" is beyond spectacular and travelling through it on a steam train is just perfect. Crossing the Glenfinnan Viaduct we can see crowds of people on the opposite hill aiming, it transpires, for the perfect shot of said Hogwarts Express as it passes by, ignoring in large part the monument to the Jacobite rebellion in the valley below. There's a few minutes to take a breather at Glenfinnan station and a quick look around the small museum before we head off again for Mallaig.

This west coast port turns out to be somewhere you go to get somewhere else - there's not much to do on such a visit as ours, although we later see an advert for a short sea safari that guaranteed to be back in time for the return train. Our wait is eased by some fat crab sandwiches and a cream tea of epic proportions. It is spoilt by an awful busker operating from the boot of his car opposite the café.
The return journey is naturally just as beautiful but the heat is now exacerbated by regular hot smuts from the engine being blown in through the necessarily open windows. We're starting to flag a bit now and we have yet to make the trip back to check in. We take the chance to change and freshen up before another taxi to the curry house we had booked earlier. I had a very decent chicken dansak but my companions were left raving about the quality of their various lamb dishes. One of the best curries we've had was supremely enhanced by the view over the loch. By the time we had finished eating it was approaching 11pm and it was still not dark. Just time for a nightcap before turning in. Thankfully we'd had the foresight to buy a bottle of Bunnahabhain from Morrisons for the purpose. It was still light when we turned in.

Day Three

Day three is Distillery Day One. The driver I had booked for the two days arrived as promised at 8.30am and we set off for the furthest distillery of the day, aiming to work our way back via Blair Athol and Dalwhinnie. After a pleasant drive through the stunningly beautiful landscape skirting the Cairngorms, we arrive at Edradour near Pitlochry.
Edradour is charming. Set in the small valley of the burn that feeds it, it looks like the sort of thing Disney would build if asked for a typical, Scottish, Olde Worlde distillery, all white walls and red paintwork, everyone in kilts and some of the finest whisky around. By now we were becoming very clear on the "how" of whisky production so when it came to our second stop of the day we headed straight to the bar. The Blair Athol distillery bar is a fine thing. Made from an old copper still and staffed by a very knowledgeable young woman who guided us expertly through a six dram tasting. (By the by, the Blair Athol distillery is in Pitlochry, not Blair Atholl a few miles away).

We had had a mild panic as a booking misunderstanding had become apparent - I had assumed that Stephen, our driver, was going to make any necessary arrangements but he had believed I was making them. A quick bout of googling reassures all that appointments were not always necessary and there are plenty of places to visit anyway. We lunch in Pitlochry. When we return to the car Stephen is redeemed as he has made arrangements for us to join the last tour of the day at the otherwise booked up Dalwhinnie distillery, the highest in Scotland. A fairly uneventful tour was enlivened by a tour leader approaching the nether end of her tether and an assistant of the less than helpful variety. It had clearly been a long day. Interestingly, Dalwhinnie had chosen to match their various expressions with handmade chocolates and not entirely unsuccessfully either.

That night we dressed up for dinner at the Lime Tree restaurant and art gallery and very good it was too.

Day Four

Today is to be spent on Speyside. After the previous day's non-booking misunderstanding, I had spent some of the evening checking and revising our proposed itinerary. It meant two things - one, we would not be able to visit the Speyside Cooperage, principally because it was shut, and that a visit to Aberlour was unlikely to be possible as tours were restricted owing to some remodelling work. A quick conversation with Katie, a friend and part time distillery guide, confirmed this. Despite this last minute chopping and changing, a suitable programme was worked out and a great day was had.

First stop is still Cragganmore, a bit more than a mile from the main road despite what the sign says. Again we opt not to take a tour, even though we had thought about their interesting food matching tour, it was still early and none of us were hungry enough. We settled on a full tasting in the shop and are suitably impressed. Impressed enough to spend a substantial amount on one bottle and a staggering amount on another. Our enthusiasm gets us a view of their stills anyway as they have very unusual flat tops and we ought to see them.

The next destination is Dufftown, putative capital of Speyside with a specialist shop, seven distilleries and a museum. On the way we pass the cooperage and stop for pictures anyway before rolling up Dufftown's main street to our first stop, the museum. Quaint doesn't even begin to describe it. Occupying a single shop front, it barely qualifies as a museum but does have a good number of antique whisky-making accoutrements and ephemera all presented by a delightfully enthusiastic and friendly woman who also points us to the local Costcutter as the best place to buy our whisky. She is right, it has almost as many whiskies on sale as the specialist shop and many at lower prices.

We decide to take lunch just outside Dufftown at Glenfiddich which is all super corporate polish but has a very decent café with whisky pairings for their menu. We all order the burger with its suggested dram of Glenfiddich IPA (for a separate, brief review see Will it Mac?). We're not too bothered about the rest of their products but look round the shop anyway before heading off again.
Final stop of the day is The Glenlivet, deep in the countryside, where after a wander around their very smart museum cum display and a quick tasting we are officially "Whiskied out". At least for now. We are all a bit jaded as we are driven back to the hotel where we wave a cheery farewell to Stephen and get ready for dinner at "The Geographer's".

Day Five

We awake to a change in the weather. No longer hot and sunny, it has turned quite dramatically and is now wet and windy, grey and misty. Which is a shame, because today's plan includes a boat trip on Loch Linnhe. After breakfast, something the hotel is pretty good at, we check out and get a taxi to the station to leave our bags in one of their very large lockers. While there my phone rings; it's the boat operator - 'were we still coming?' they ask. We confirm that we are and will be there before too much longer. The weather appears to be easing a bit but it's still not ideal by a long chalk.

"Souter's Lass" is an old Royal Naval tender that worked on the South Coast as "Bournemouth Belle" before operating as a ferry between John o’Groats and Orkney from 1980 to 1987. She now runs cruises on Loch Linnhe and thankfully has a sheltered, downstairs bar offering many things, but today the hot chocolate is most welcome. The mist clears quite well as we set off and we can see everything our guide talks about, with the added bonus of a sea eagle seen flying down the loch. Just before Corran, we turn back towards a rocky island where a colony of seals basks, as best it could. The skipper expertly approaches the isle and we get fantastic views of the creatures.

Handily, the boat is operated by the same people who run the very popular seafood restaurant on the pier and our lunch booking meshes neatly with the end of the trip. The restaurant doesn't disappoint with some excellent seafood nicely washed down with a bottle of Picpoul.

After lunch we head for our last distillery of the trip, the Ben Nevis distillery on the outskirts of Fort William under the shadow of its namesake. It's a much more industrial affair than the others we'd seen and, although the weather is not helping, it has an air of disappointment about it. Almost all its output is snapped up by its Japanese owners, leaving too little to market anywhere but at the distillery itself. It's nice enough, and its rarity is tempting but we resist adding to our seven bottle haul.

A last visit to the Ben Nevis pub is absolutely called for before picking up some picnic items for the journey home.

We get to an unnervingly deserted station but we're early so don't panic until Sarah notices the screen says our train is "cancelled", not 'late' or 'delayed' but "cancelled", and there's no-one there to explain themselves. Eventually someone is coaxed out of the back of the ticket office to tell us that the train broke down on Friday and they haven't managed to sort a repair or replacement in the intervening two days. We were to be ferried to Edinburgh by coach where we would wait for the Inverness section of the train to join. A three hour coach journey, a three hour wait at Edinburgh Waverley before we could board (and sleep), but we would get to Euston on time. Hooray. Grrr. The coach journey is horrendous and only briefly lit up by passing through the always stunning Glen Coe. The journey through the Trossachs is beautiful but coaches make me queasy at the best of times and this road is very twisty-turny. Eventually arriving at, or rather near, Waverley station to endure the further long wait until we finally board the train at nearly 1am. We do indeed arrive at Euston on time but its a fairly rag-tag bunch who fetch up at Waterloo for the SW Train back to Fratton.

We have since agreed a compensation package for our homeward journey troubles.

Carbon saved: 112.5kg

Danubian Adventure - part two; Vienna

Day six of our holiday dawns and we're off to Vienna, picking up our tickets, first class this time, from the automatic machine at the station. The weather's turned, there's rain in the air, which by the time we reach the border is hitting the ground pretty hard. Budapest and Vienna are within spitting distance of each other and we roll into the Westbahnhof before lunchtime. Our hotel is six stops on the metro, near the Donaukanal. It looks a bit 1970s from the outside but is very comfortable and with a metro and tram hub right outside, handy for everything. The rain has eased and we wander into the centre and have a look round. I'm trying not to burst into song but there's a post-downpour mistiness and the steady beat of a synth drum in my head.

Just around the corner from Stephanplatz and its dark and brooding St. Stephen's cathedral, so different from its Hungarian namesake, is the Mozarthaus and we go in just as the rain restarts. The composer looms large across the cultural landscape of Vienna but despite this ubiquity we later manage to buy a small bust of Beethoven for our souvenir by mistake!
The museum is a fascinating tour through Mozart's life and times in one of his many Viennese houses with scores, a few instruments even some original décor. It also sets the record straight on the Salieri controversy. The rain has stopped again by the time we leave.

We've scouted out three options for dinner just round the corner from the hotel, but one of them is shut and another doesn't appear to be there any more so we head into the third. It advertises traditional Austrian fare and I'm down for an authentic Wiener schnitzel followed by apfel strudel. Obvious but so tasty. Sarah's main course comes in two halves it's so substantial. It seems a really genuine place, there's an old man and his very small dog at a table by the door and the patron is very friendly. We like it so much we eat here both nights.
A post dinner wander finds us back at the Stephansdom where an art installation is being projected on to the façade, and we stumble across a statue of Johannes Gutenburg, father of modern printmaking and arguably one of the most important figures of the second millennium.

Our second and only full day in Vienna is one filled with art and cake. It's bright and sunny again and we spend the morning in the MuseumsQuartier, principally visiting the Leopold Museum of modern art and being blown away by its brilliant Schiele exhibition as well as a well curated tour through the Vienna secession. After lunch and a quick tour round MuMoK it's time for a little more tradition.

We head off across the Burggarten towards the Opera, pausing to admire the large Mozart statue, and onward to the Café Sacher because today's afternoon tea just has to be the world renowned Sacher Torte. It doesn't disappoint. Wedges of chocolatey, cakey loveliness duly consumed, we catch a tram around the inner ring back to the hotel. It's been a few weeks since Eurovision and Conchita Wurst's famous win, but the trams are all decked in rainbow flags alongside the city standard.


The plan for our early evening entertainment before dinner is to visit the Wiener Riesenrad - cue bouzouki music...

We enter the park and the sounds of Mozart hit us again, this time accompanying the dodgem riders. The Ferris wheel dominates the otherwise modern amusement park and we buy our tickets joining the thankfully sparse queue. Halfway round it gets a little rocky and my hand gets a bit crushed as the vertigo strikes. Otherwise, it's a thrilling end to the day.

Our final day in the Austrian capital is even busier, even though our train leaves that evening. After dropping our bags at the station we spend the morning at the Hofburg Palace with its ridiculous displays of opulence and wealth. There's a museum devoted to the royal silver collection, elaborate place settings and the finest porcelain the Hapsburgs could plunder and a very interesting exhibition on the life of the Empress Elisabeth.
We pass out through the stables of the Spanish riding school, catching some of the white horses being groomed, and on to the Albertina gallery - also part of the palace complex. Curiously there's a large pink rabbit on the canopy and we decide to go in. This last minute decision to visit turns out to be very serendipitous as it's one of the rare occasions that the extraordinary Albrecht Durer drawings are on show, hence the rabbit. But that's not all, the whole collection is stunning.



We had planned to finish off the day at the market getting provisions for the evening, but first we visit the Secession Building. A stunning architectural statement and exhibition space it also houses Klimt's famous Beethoven Frieze. It's breathtaking.
Alongside the market, Vienna's version of the Hollywood walk of fame, the Musik Meile, is little more classy than its American counterpart, a succession of the great and good of classical music are represented; we spot Strauss, Berlioz, Tchaikovsky, Beethoven and of course Mozart before we wander off and spend a small fortune on our train picnic. There's a bar with a massive bottle of Aperol on display so we sit a while with a spritz but find we still have a couple of hours spare. We decide to bite the bullet and cram one more sight in so head off to the Belvedere Palace, a large gallery housed in the former summer palace of Prince Eugene of Savoy. It's a little way out of the centre and I have a minor internal panic about missing the train but half way round the tour is the reason we came; a heart-stopping room full of the most sumptuous works of Gustav Klimt. There's a small crowd gathered at the far end and as they move away, there it is; The Kiss in all its golden glory. A fitting climax to a wonderful trip, and one we nearly missed.

Vienna is so beautiful and we're sad to leave but the Cologne sleeper pulls out at 21:40 and we have to be on it. As we wait at the station we're briefly tempted to get back on a train to Budapest but we restrain ourselves and board the EuroNight train as planned. We tuck into our picnic with a glass or two of a tasty red and are asleep not long out of Linz. After a restful night, breakfast is taken as we speed along the beautiful Rhine Valley, waving to our friend Marlene in Remagen as we pass.

We have the rest of the morning to kill in Cologne and as it's right there by the station we visit the famous cathedral before joining the Brussels express for the Eurostar home.

Carbon saved: 210kg

May 2014

Danubian Adventure - part one; Budapest

May 2014

It's nearly two years now since our first self-planned big adventure, a two centre jaunt to Budapest and Vienna. After Venice we were determined to travel more by rail and after a successful trip via the Dutch Flyer to Amsterdam we set about planning a more ambitious journey. Travelling via Paris and Munich, we would spend four nights in the Hungarian capital before transferring for two further nights in Vienna.

We left Fratton early and got to Paris with plenty of time for lunch before we needed to board the train to Munich. It's a short walk between the Gares du Nord and de l'Est and en route you will find Au Train de Vie, a railway themed café bistro serving a very tasty tartiflette among other delights. A couple of beers to wash it down and we're off down the steps by the Gare de l'Est (as featured in Amélie) to await the Paris-Munich train.

The Budapest sleeper,
Kalman Imre pulls in

Schnitzel at Mongdratzerl

The train speeds through France to Strasbourg before taking a more stately progress through Germany, arriving at busy Munich Hauptbahnhof at around 9.30pm leaving a good two hours for dinner at Mongdratzerl (sadly now closed down) where we dive into our first schnitzel of the trip. Our sleeper to the Hungarian capital, the Kalman Imre, pulls into the station ready to leave less than half an hour to midnight, it's reasonably comfortable and we settle in for the night.
Quick tip: in every sleeper train we've used on our travels so far, the only real disappointment has been the wholly inadequate pillows they give you, so if you can bring your own, do.

Day two

Feeling thoroughly rested, we roll into Budapest Keleti station at 9.30 the following morning.

I had booked an apartment hotel, the 7seasons, close to one of the main transport hubs, Deák Ferenc Tér, which proved an inspired decision on both counts. The accommodation was excellent, all the comfort of an apartment with the service of a hotel, and it was really nice to only have to walk about 50 yards home at the end of a busy day's sightseeing.

One of the first things we had resolved to do was to sort out tickets for the match on the Saturday. The tricky part is, thanks to years of hooligan violence, to watch football in Hungary you need to be a member of a supporter's club. We head for the metro and find our way out to the Ferencvaros supporters club building, which turned out to be a dodgy looking concrete bunker on a street corner near the old stadium. We tentatively wander inside and are greeted by some bemused but friendly Fradi who take copies of our passports and our photos for our membership cards. We are now able to buy our tickets and be on our way.

The Budapest transport system is nicely integrated and easy to navigate so after our successful foray into the 11th district we took a tram to the covered market near the river. Visiting the market is always a good way to get to know a city and we thoroughly enjoyed poking around this impressive structure on two levels with household, souvenir and myriad colourful food stalls. We bought some interesting looking bits and pieces for lunch, as well as a pork fillet and ingredients for goulash, and some paprika to take home. We also secure our traditional "tacky" souvenir for our holiday shelf. Our picnic lunch is enjoyed sitting by the Danube before heading back home to drop off the shopping. 

In the afternoon we visit St. Stephen's Basilica. Handily, this imposing structure is not far from the apartment and we're soon marvelling at the highly decorated interior, more solid than the airy Gothic cathedrals we're used to. There's a lift up to the dome and despite a general wariness about heights, we buy a ticket up and take a turn around the outside and enjoy some really great views.

Our day is rounded off with a relaxing stroll around our new locality, a beer by the river and being entertainment from a man playing a wine glass organ in the surprisingly deco square. We also stumble across a stall producing these weird tubes of cakey stuff, doused in cinnamon and barbecued. Very sweet, very delicious and perfect after our home-cooked goulash.

Our first day in Budapest, also our first in the old Eastern Bloc, has been a real experience and we're exhausted.

Day three

The next day dawns bright and we head off to cross the historic Chain Bridge for a day on the hill of old Buda across the river. There are buses up the hill and you can, of course, walk but there is also a funicular and as you know by now we love a funicular. Our Budapest card includes a free guided walking tour of the old town so we decide to visit the national gallery in the morning before the tour at two.

The day by now is starting to boil so the cool of the national gallery and its fascinating tour through the history of Hungarian art, is very welcome. There's still time for a bit of a wander, a beer and lunch before the walking tour starts. We take in the lovely view across the river from Fisherman's Bastion where there's also a large eagle on the arm of its handler with tourists paying to have their photo taken with it. It doesn't look happy. We, however, are very happy with our lunch at a lovely and shady café nearby.

Our tour starts outside the impressive Matthias Church and Viktoria our guide is a relative novice but very keen. The heat of the day is now intense as we head back towards the gallery, a former royal palace, for a quick history lesson. There's a small concession stand and we pay a relative fortune for some much needed cold water which we guzzle as Viktoria tells us about the extraordinary fountain. Further round the tour is a drinking fountain and we again drink deeply and replenish our bottles. Every scrap of shade is welcome.
The tour despite the heat is very interesting, including the tale of student superstition, rubbing the balls of the equestrian statue, which Viktoria relates without blushing.

Fisherman's Bastion

We finish up back at the Matthias Church and grab another drink and a slice of cherry pie before catching the bus back down to the city. There are roadworks and the bus stop has moved but we find the right place eventually and wait. Half way down the hill there's a horrible noise and an amount of smoke: we've broken down and have to wait on the verge for half an hour while a replacement is sent out before we can continue, weaving our way through the now rush hour traffic to Deák Ferenc. Back at the apartment we take a much needed shower and a restorative drink before dressing for our night out.


Our evening is to be spent on the river. We've booked a dinner cruise along the Danube with Legende cruises and we have a thoroughly enjoyable, romantic evening. Dinner itself is not bad at all and we've secured a table on the top deck and as the sun sets, the city lights up for our delight.

A selection of images from our dinner cruise.

Day four

The next day is very much a day of two halves, When the Warsaw Pact collapsed and Hungary was free to determine its own future, symbols of the communist era were torn down and instead of being totally destroyed, many of the statues were shipped out to Memento Park and put on show alongside displays of life under the soviet regime. It's a fair way outside the city and we have to get a tram to the end of the line and catch a bus, as the direct shuttle from near the apartment goes and returns at inconvenient times for us. The bus wends its way through suburban Budapest for what seems like an eternity and just as we're losing hope drops us outside the park.

It's an eerie spectacle, and the power these statues once held is still evident even as ghosts of their former selves. There's a pedestal topped by Stalin's boots, a statue of Lenin cut off at the hip and a rusty old Trabant to boot. The museum's building houses a fascinating display charting the ill-fated 1956 revolt along with an unintentionally hilarious spy training film.

A hot and dusty couple of hours later and we're heading across town to the Széchenyi spa for an afternoon 'taking the waters'. It's a little run down, frayed around the edges, but has many saunas, steam rooms, and pools of all temperatures and it's a most welcome three hours of much needed R&R.

Day five

Our final day in Budapest in many ways proves the most hectic. There's a famous flea market on the outskirts somewhere, I'm still not entirely sure where, and we're keen to visit. I've clocked its name but for some reason have not planned a proper route. Unfortunately there's a metro stop with the practically the same name as the market and I assume it's there. It's not. Twenty minutes wandering around later we get a map up on the phone and finally work out that we need to take a tram and a bus from where we are to where we want to be. It's an irritating interlude but the market is a joy. Row upon row of everything from junk to fine art, vintage clothing and collectibles, and a great little café in the corner.

The afternoon is taken up with Ferencváros v Diógyor. We're knackered, sat on the bleachers in the full glare of the hottest sun we've experienced for years, knee deep in sunflower seeds. The stand opposite fills with green smoke and we feel for the mascot; it can't be easy wearing a large green eagle costume in this heat and he's clearly flagging. Ferencváros play out a comfortable 2-1 victory and the crowd goes home happy.

Our last dinner in Hungary is at a popular traditional restaurant by the river, complete with roaming musicians, a fitting and tasty end to our time here. In the morning we're off to Vienna.