Part 25: Budapest (Days 73, 74, 75, 76, 77)

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After a few weeks in relatively small places, the familiar sounds of a big city railway station greeted us as we staggered irritably off the train from Ljubljana. Namely shady-looking characters in jeans and leather jacket combinations whispering "taxi" and "change money" to anyone with a rucksack. With not a wink of sleep between us on the overnight ride from Slovenia, and knowing that humouring these individuals would leave us considerably light on forints, we made sure they knew exactly what they could do with their services. There was even a man with a chessboard challenging people for money.

Budapest is a city dissected into two halves, Buda (east) and Pest (west), by the Danube river. Keleti station is in Pest, a couple of metro stops from the sights, and in an area littered with down-at-heel bars, grubby money exchanges, and takeaways that may as well put e-coli on the menu and have done with it. In short, as we say in England, it's a right shithole. Happily our hotel wasn't far and after a few minutes getting our bearings with assistance from an Australian woman, we soon arrived at the Dominik Panzio, a two-star no-frills offering next to a large church. The place had seen better days and the toilets and showers were at the other end of the corridor to our room, but for £15 per night we were fairly satisfied.

Budapest was to occupy us for five days so the first day was spent refuelling and later, ambling to a restaurant that would be showing Premiership football. On my way there, I passed by Heroes Square and noticed numerous people dressed in uniforms and wielding Hungarian flags. Later, I discovered that it was likely to be the anniversary celebration linked to 23rd October 1956, when young people in several cities around the country were killed protesting against the communist regime - more on that later.

Budapest's once fiery football scene has sadly been on the wane in recent years, with crowds dropping at most top division grounds to below 5,000. There is plenty of choice for locals, with five top flight clubs as well as arguably the country's most famous and well-supported institutions, Ferencvaros, who have fallen on hard times and dropped into the second division in 2007. On Sunday, we took the metro to one of Pest's northernmost suburbs, Ujpest, to watch the team of the same name take on Paks, based about 100km south.

The reason for choosing Ujpest for our pilgrimage was linked very close to home. Last summer, Southend signed a young Hungarian defender by the name of Zoltan Liptak. He had arrived on trial for a pre-season friendly with a team about four leagues below us, and proceeded to play with such dizzying incompetence that our manager took the only sensible option - paying £50,000 to sign him permanently. Built like a beanpole and unable to speak English, he never played a first team game but became a cult hero for the fans, unused to seeing players from such relatively exotic climes plying their trade in the English lower leagues. Sadly, he was offloaded in the summer, and now lines up for - you guessed it - Ujpest. At least he gets a game here.

The walk from the metro station to the Szusza Ferenc Stadion took about 20 minutes and led us through a nondescript neighbourhood with car showrooms and out-of-town food stores lining the main road. The clocks had gone back, and there were so few people around in the gloom that we wondered if there was a game on at all. As we approached the stadium though a few hardy souls wearing scarves milled about and we visited the club shop where I bought some shorts and Si a black away shirt. It was fairly modern, but cash was the only method of payment (although the friendly chap behind the till promised us a card facility would be available in December).

The stadium itself is the most luxurious in the city and is a rarity in Eastern Europe in that it does not feature a running track around the pitch. This means what crowd there is is far closer to the action. As it happened, 2,729 people had turned out with 23 (we counted) wearing the green of Paks in a very lonely stand behind the goal to our left. The Ujpest ultras to our right made plenty of noise and colour, letting off occasional purple smoke flares. As we walked in, the crowd was on its feet for the national anthem. Sure enough, towering high above his team mates was Zoltan, wearing number four.

In truth our hero had a pretty quiet game. The home side were dominant but wasteful (even firing a spot kick wide), so it was a shock when Paks broke away and scored shortly after half time. The finishing from Ujpest didn't get any better, and the heavy-set bloke sitting next to me was going so apoplectic with rage I felt he could spontaneously combust at any moment. Sunflower seeds were everywhere as he shook his fists and bellowed what I assume was Magyar for "disgrace". When it finally came, the equaliser had a degree of absurdity about it, the ball eventually being rammed home from a yard after two attempts to walk the ball in had ended in shameful failure. There was much rejoicing when, with eight minutes left, Mr Liptak's defensive partner headed a second, and there was still time for the Paks goalkeeper to comically punch the ball into his own net for an injury time third.

Back in the city centre we ate at a small but decent Indian restaurant where we got 20 per cent off as we had purchased a Budapest card, which gives free transport and discounts on just about everything in the city.

We were already aware that our hotel was not in the most salubrious of areas, but on our return we discovered that the road running past was also a popular hang out for ladies of the night. One of them addressed me, saying something in the native tongue. I pretended I didn't know what she was on about, even though I imagine the language of "business" is pretty universal. Later that night while using the hotel internet point, I noticed one prostitute, wearing a sheer skirt with knee-high boots, come in to get a coffee from the machine in reception. Perhaps they have an arrangement with the hotel, special offers on rooms maybe.

One of the most unusual museums in the whole of Europe can be found in Budapest. When the communist regime collapsed in the late 1980s, statues of prominent socialist figures were removed from the streets of the city. While other nations, ashamed of the symbols of their oppressive governments, melted theirs down, the new regime in Hungary decided to place them in parkland on the outskirts of the city to remind both natives and foreigners what life had been like. Called Szobor (statue) Park, it was our first port of call on Monday morning.

The outdoor park was reached by a specially organised tourist bus from Deak Ter in the centre of Pest, which was, as you would expect, packed full of foreigners. Many of them were taking the "Hammer and Sickle Tour", which aims to showcase what communist life was like for ordinary people here. The park consists of 42 statues, all of which at one time looked over streets and squares in Budapest. They were designed to show the strength and righteousness of socialism, so soldiers with huge muscles and chiselled jawlines were the order of the day. Some were replicas but most were the real thing. My favourite was a statue of a Hungarian shaking hands with a Russian. It was designed as a symbol of peace and freedom, but the superior size and strength of the Russian man gives away the irony of that message. Hungarians were miserable and oppressed under Soviet autonomy and nothing summed it up better than that statue.

In addition to the park there was an exhibition with a series of fascinating ten minute films about the methods used by the secret police in weeding out suspected enemies of the state.

In the afternoon we had lunch at an overpriced Irish bar near Deak Ter, before taking a metro ride out to the Sport Arena to get tickets to see Queen and Paul Rodgers play there the following night. The arena is within walking distance of the Dominik Panzio, and on the way back we strolled past the Nepstadion, where the Hungarian national team plays its football. The gates were locked up, but parts of the vast bowl-like stadium were visible from the street.

Also within a 15 minute walk of our base was Heroes Square, on the edge of the city park. Here, a giant memorial to the Magyar conquest of the Carpathian Basin stands proudly. It was built in 1896 and features a tall obelisk in front of two wide stone structures with statues of fierce-looking heroes and chariots standing in line. We joined the smattering of tourists also taking in the impressive sight, before hopping on a metro to the House of Terror, a museum that tells the grim tale of 20th century Hungary under Nazi and Soviet occupation, all within the creepy building of the former secret police.

The museum shows footage of pictures from the time, and interviews with people who survived life in the Gulag, the Russian labour camps. Information sheets were available to take away, and the exhibitions were spread over three floors. In the basement were cells used to imprison and torture prisoners.

Like most of the region, Hungary was a communist country for more than 40 years following World War II. Life under Soviet autonomy was difficult and it didn't take long for the people to show their dissent. In October 1956, mass protests were organised in cities around the country demanding the withdrawal of Russian soldiers. On November 4th, Moscow sent in tanks to end the demonstrations by force. In a week, 25,000 people were killed and another 20,000 were arrested. Prime Minister Imre Nagy was one of about 2,000 to be executed. During the fighting, a statue of Stalin, who had died earlier that year, was torn down leaving only his boots. The resistance was one of the first examples of the people showing their dissatisfaction with life under Soviet autonomy, but the Russians did not take kindly to the demonstrations, and life for Hungarians became even worse.

The feared secret police would, after a hard day of interrogation and espionage, head next door to Cafe Lukacs to unwind. We did the same, and sat down to a minimalist but expensive chicken burger. Sat on the table next to us was ex-Corrie actress Joanne Froggatt, picking at a salad and chatting on her mobile, presumably to her agent.

Budapest's most famous sight is its castle, seated high on a hill in Buda on the other side of the river. We hiked up the steep steps and took in the views of the spectacular Westminster-esque Parliament building and the chain bridge lit up by the late afternoon sun.

Not content with seeing one celebrity, on our way back to the hotel we walked straight past the man himself, Zoltan Liptak. Unfortunately, by the time we had realised who it was, he had already got into a car and driven off, leaving us obviously rueing a missed opportunity. One chance to congratulate him on his winning goal in the Essex Senior Cup final, and we had spurned it.

We didn't run into any of the members of Queen, but we did rock along with several thousand others at the Sport Arena that night. All the classics were belted out, and Paul Rodgers even managed to squeeze in a rendition of Alright Now, the biggest hit for his band Free. It was a memorable night. Queen are one of my favourite bands and I really didn't expect to get the chance to see them, let alone a thousand miles from home.

After 75 days on the road, we were both by now suffering a little from travel fatigue. We were noticeably becoming lazier and spending less time exploring cities and more time in hotel rooms. Wednesday was an example, with both of us going our seperate ways but me in particular not achieving very much aside from a stroll along the main shopping street followed by a visit to the home of Budapest's most famous football club, Ferencvaros. The stadium, situated in the south east of the city, can hold 18,000 people, making it the biggest ground in Budapest. I strolled around the perimeter but could find no way in, so had to make do with the sight of the outside.

That night we met up with Florian, a German student we had befriended in Belgrade, and had some goulash before moving onto a pub near the station which provided us with the cheapest bar beer of the whole trip - 195 ft, or 55p.

Mercifully, the trip to Bratislava was only two and a half hours long, so after checking out of the hotel we made our way to grotty Keleti station where we hung around for an hour before leaving Hungary behind.

Despite our increasing laziness we had achieved a lot in our five days in Budapest, which is becoming a very popular destination in the region judging by the number of sightseeing tours being offered and English-speaking voices around the place. There's no shortage of things to occupy your time here, even if you don't have a Hungarian central defender or ageing rock gods to worship.

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Photos

Ferencvaros graffiti
Ferencvaros Ultras have made their mark on the back of their stand.

More Ferencvaros graffiti
Green Monsters!

Ferencvaros
The home of Hungary's most famous side, Ferencvaros.

Statue Park
Communist statues removed from the streets of Budapest, rounded up, and put in an outdoor museum.

Ujpest ultras
The Ujpest ultras behind the goal try and create an atmosphere in a small crowd.