writer's moll

I’m so not a summer person. As the temperature rises, so do the number of stranded-in-the-desert fantasies that float into my mind – unbearable heat, flies, pain and thirst. No, if I’m to suffer temperature extremes I’d rather it be on an icy mountainside where I’d simply curl up in a ball and drift gently off to sleep unaware of anything. So on a recent trip to Budapest the searing heat makes me rethink the sightseeing criteria. We can still visit the art galleries and museums on our list because they’ll be nice and cool, and what about having a look round that building over there – but it’s a thimble museum – yes but it’s air conditioned, it’ll be fascinating. Whereas that hot dusty Heroes’ Square that looked so interesting in the guide book with its statues and columns, suddenly seems a touch over-hyped - seen one statue…. and in any case, wouldn’t the view be better from that nice air conditioned bar up there. And later, I feel a little surge of joy when we go on a city tour and great drops of cooling rain begin to fall. As it becomes heavier our guide says “eef you have umbrella you are lucky, eef you don’t, you are unlucky, which makes me realise how funny language is – you think mastering it is all about the words but it’s also about capturing the sense of humour. That probably sounded funny in Hungarian, but said with slightly narrowed eyes, it has just a touch of menace in it. Something always on the list is trying out the public transport system, which is not that easy when the language has no similarities at all to your own and you have to get your tongue round four consecutive consonants before a vowel gets a look in, and with so many names looking so much like each other, a few u-turns on the metro are inevitable, but it’s fun - it still has an old world air of grandeur about it with lots of oak panelling at the stations. Another constant is my gullibility. My loved one always makes our destination seem a mere hop, skip and a jump away and I always believe him. So whilst we trek across scrubland then climb the 500 steps to Castle Hill, hugging walls and trees for the scant bit of shade available, I think “you’ve fallen for it again haven’t you” but we get to the top and he smiles and tells me it only took eleven and a half minutes and I think “ok just this once, but next time”! It’s also strange seeing a city in transition. Yes Budapest has a smart clean airport, and even a huge shopping mall (although it’s still the same few brands making all the money), but most of the streets have small shops and one, a few yards from our hotel, has me mesmerised every time we pass. It’s one of those old fashioned shops that sell everything and I mean everything. The window is crammed to bursting point with cleaning products, cosmetics, blank videos, toys, a fondue set and its centrepiece is a large flat basket containing coffee products and splayed out on either side of it two model legs display black fishnet stockings. Yes Budapest is definitely worth a return visit, but I’m thinking December, January time when it has sensible temperatures and we can take sensible clothes like overcoats, hats and gloves.