The Refugee Effect

By Glenys Hopkins

Set out on 30 September 2015 to go to Serbia, for the Mensa International AG. And because I hate airports, and hate having to leave in the small hours of the morning, I decided to go by rail. It started off fine, got the Pendolino to Euston, quick sprint to St Pancras for the Eurostar, arrived in Paris in time for a light lunch. Got the TGV to Munich, which is where it all started to go Horribly Wrong. It was about 9.00pm and the station was full of drunks in lederhosen (Oktoberfest), I was supposed to be travelling on the Overnight Sleeper to Budapest, which I was looking forward to; it seemed really exotic, I expected the train to be full of glamorous adventuresses and secret agents. Well it wasn't, it was cancelled. :-(. It was replaced by:

 1. An ordinary train which went almost to the German border.

 2. A bus which went over the German border and on to Salzburg, by which time it was about midnight.

 3. A 3-hour wait in Salzburg Station, which is very clean and modern, but everything was closed and it was Very Cold.

 4. An ordinary train which went almost to the Austrian border.

 5. A bus which went to the border, where we had to write our names on a list, then get out and be glared at by armed Austrian border guards who took our passports which was worrying. The young man who had sat next to me was not let back on the bus. His name was Hassan, which may have had something to do with it. The passports were returned, so that we could be glared at again as we crossed the border into Hungary.

 6. Some time later a rather scruffy train took us to Budapest. Instead of the Sleeper Compartment I had a bunk in a couchette, but I did have the compartment to myself. It was at this point that, in attempt to lock the door, I inadvertently pulled on the emergency brake. I noticed that the train was making funny noises, shrugged, found the bolt and setlled down. Just dropping off when the attendant come banging on the door, told me off, and fixed the brake. So I only got a couple of hours' sleep before we arrived in Budapest at 9.00am the next morning. This was the scheduled time, but it should have been one seamless train ride in comfort if not luxury.

I pottered round Budapest for a bit, the surroundings of the station are not the most appealing area. Then it occurred to me that the train taking me to my destination in Serbia, Novi Sad, was not actually going direct from Buda, but from a little town a couple of hours away. If I'd realised this when I arrived, I could have got an early train and made the connection. But I didn't, so I just got the next train that was going there, and arrived at teatime with 7 hours to wait for the next train to Novi Sad. I strolled up and down the main street, had coffee and a luscious cream cake at a cafe. That took up the first half hour. The station was deader than Salzburg had been. Fortunately there was an Australian woman, similarly stranded. She was going to Serbia to look up family members, and talking about her exploits passed quite a lot of time.

The train arrived at about midnight, and meandered gently across part of Hungary and then Serbia, arriving at Novi Sad at 6.00 am next morning. I was only 12 hours late and had missed the first evening's party and an excursion I had booked on. :-(. So I slept until lunch time and then started catching up on the programme.

First published in VISA 125 (February 2016)

Take the High Road

By Elizabeth Johnstone

During our summer holidays this year in the Tyrol, we booked a day trip along the Grossglockner Hochalpenstrasse.  The coach took us along one of the most famous panoramic roads in Europe, in the heart of the Hohe Tauern National Park, rising to over 2,500m above sea level. We approached from Zell am See, passed through the tollbooths and continued up and along the 48 kilometres of scenic driving with its 36 hairpin bends.

I am very glad that I was just a passenger! Fortunately, our coach driver was familiar with the road, which had a variety of users. As well as normal private cars and coaches, there were convoys of bikers – welcome visitors in these parts – heroic cyclists and many test cars. The downhill stretches effectively tested brakes and, in some cases, the cars towed other vehicles in order to monitor their engine capacity. The cars’ distinctive features were disguised by graffiti-like scribblings to minimise industrial espionage.

We climbed above the tree line and watched the pines fade away below us.

Our first stop was at the Fuscher Lacke (2,262m) where we were met by local celebrities innkeeper Herbert Haslinger and his tame marmot, Morfi. Our guide regaled us with information. Some of the snow had a pinkish tinge, caused by sand blown from the Sahara Desert by the Föhn wind. The Pasterzen Glacier beneath the Grossglockner Mountain (3,798m) is shrinking alarmingly and climate change is a likely suspect.

Stunning vista followed stunning vista until we arrived at the Kaiser-Franz-Josefs-Höhe (2,369m), a massive visitors’ centre with various restaurants, shops and attractions. All these facilities are essential for the huge numbers of tourists.

We did not have time to visit the Wilhelm Swarowski Observation Tower or Visitors’ Centre. Instead, we had a bite to eat then took photos of the glacier and the magnificent Grossglockner itself.

More marmots: these lucky animals must think that apples and bananas simply rain down on them from the skies. The master of the slopes, the ibex, is a more elusive creature, although we were lucky enough to spot one of the alpha males strutting through his domain.

A day of unrivalled scenery. In every sense – highly recommended!

First Published in VISA 111 (Oct 2013)

Slovenia and Croatia

by Tim Grimes

My wife and I, and our 11-year old and 12-year old children, flew into Zagreb earlier this year. We hired a car, and drove around coastal Croatia and Slovenia - and into Italy and Austria.

We had already seen Slovenia and wanted to return, to see more of the former Yugoslavia. We spent two or three weeks there, at the end of July, when the outside temperature varied between 18 degrees at mountain top, and 30 degrees  at the coast. The heat was a good excuse to try the consistently excellent ice-cream - most places sell 15 to 20 varieties at about 25p a shot.

Mt Triglav

We flew into Zagreb by Croatia Airlines. It is an older airport with a “Follow Me” car and a bus to immigration. We were greeted in English and speeded through to the adjacent baggage hall, where the bags were already circulating. As arranged much earlier in the year, we were met at the Airport by our taxi driver, who charged us the pre-arranged fare. So, it all worked efficiently and why shouldn't it? Because, actually, it doesn't always. But here, in Zagreb, we began to notice the unobtrusive efficiency which we saw everywhere else in the country. Most Croatians seem to speak English as a second language - those who don't speak German or Italian.

We spent the first few days at the Palace Hotel, Zagreb, which worked very well. The food reached the excellent standard which we came to expect throughout Croatia. Croatia works: the waiter brought a phone to the dinner table - it was the Budget's Airport franchise asking what time we wanted the car delivered. I left the car parked in a nearby street and collected a parking ticket. The hotel porter took the ticket away for cancellation.

Zagreb is a pleasant and attractive town, dominated by an ancient cathedral with a Nineteenth Century twin-spired facade. The place is 99% Roman Catholic, but we also saw Baptist and Orthodox churches. The old town, accessible by an 1898 funicular, also contains the Parliament in a cobbled square around St Mark's spectacular church. Our visit fell in with an international folk festival, which solved the question “Do the denizens of Zagreb really wander around dressed like this?” Zagreb is a young town seemingly populated largely by teenage boys on skateboards. The guide books say that, by 23, one is too old for the night clubs - and that is believable.

We drove to Porec on the coast, via Opatia, an imperial resort with its elegant villa hotels. The roads are excellent and far from crowded and the direction signs fairly good, despite the absence of road numbers even for the trans-European “E” roads. The route took us through spectacular wooded hills and across magnificent valleys on high viaducts.

Porec was a disappointment. Our research had identified it as a prime coastal resort, but it transpired to be the Croatian equivalent of Weymouth with a few ancient ruins. We had chosen a hotel which turned out to have the feel of an Airtours resort. We moved to the Melia Eden Hotel in neighbouring Rovinj - not a typing mistake, but an enchanting yachting and fishing harbour with labyrinthine stone passages between tall tenements, which radiated from the town square. The Venetian style St Euphemia's church tops the hill which dominates the little town. The newspapers were £3 a shot, but the internet cafe cost pocket change.

The Eden Hotel was renovated in 1999 and bears all the hallmarks of Croatian efficiency. A well-named four star resort with smiling staff, an outstanding restaurant and pool, and all the activities you would expect, is adjacent to a quiet stony beach in a holiday-brochure bay.

As in Rovinj itself, visitors came from Germany, Austria, Slovenia, Hungary, Poland and Italy - there were even a few cars from as far away as Estonia, Latvia and Sweden. We heard few English voices. As in the town, the charm of the place is enhanced by its cosmopolitan nature. We talked to staff and guests in pidgin Croat (recognisably similar to Polish and Czech, which we had picked up on previous trips), and in German, English, Italian and (despite the absence of anyone from France) French.

A short drive away is the hilltop village of Motovun. Just 1000 narrow twisting stone steps up from the car park, in the baking mid-day heat, found us the church, hotel, post office - and an ATM. And breathtaking views of the wooded hills and valleys and the sea some 15 mles distant. An unusual location for an antiquarian bookshop offering a wide range of Russian classical literature, the works of Thackeray, Winston Churchill's World War II and Boswell's Life of Johnson. Again we found St Mark's lion of Venice adorning the architecture.

The Croatian coast is full of small towns on promontories. Rovinj was the most attractive which we found, Porec is another and Umag is a small, quiet, town, which probably attracts the yachtie crowd in the evenings.

We had planned to spend a few days based in Trieste, and to see the Slovenian coast from there. We drove out of Croatia, along the spectacular coast of Slovenia and out the other side, into Italy, without formality and in about 40 minutes. We entered Trieste via the heavy industry end of town and through some really run down housing estates. Finding the centre was difficult, not helped by frenetic Italian driving. We spent the next day exploring the city, but only found the Piazza Unita d'Italia to be of any interest. It is a massive square bordered on three sides by romantic Nineteenth Century facades and on the fourth by the coast road. A blizzard of litter and dust swirled around, obscuring visibility. This may account for the Italian habit of trying to walk into a space already occupied by someone else. To be fair, our decision was also affected by the massive traffic jam of Italian cars approaching the Slovenian border at the coastal crossing, on its way south for Italian holidays. It is essential to get out of Croatia before the end of July, when Italians move in.

So we decided to call a halt to Trieste after a day, and moved on to the Lipica in Slovenia, the stud where the Lipizzaner horses of Spanish Riding School were originally bred. Following the “Slovenia” signs from Trieste, we were relieved to be returning to the developed world. We toured the stud and watched a presentation by the riding school (free to hotel guests), but we weren't allowed to ride - because we hadn't brought our riding boots! That's a rather important travel tip to note. We stayed at the Maestoso Hotel on campus; there is also the more reasonably priced Club Hotel, a casino, a golf course and plenty of cafes, bars and restaurants.

International treaties have left Slovenia with less than 20 miles of coast and one port - Koper - approached by an attractive coastal road bounded by trees and cycle lanes and, for a major deep-water container and oil port, a pleasant town centre. Portoroz, the popular resort, is a long, wide, coastal road with hotels overlooking the sea and shops and activities of the mini-golf kind along the shore. For such a resort, it is inoffensive.

Piran

Next door, Piran is a delightful fishing and yachting port. We paid a parking fee at the village checkpoint, which seemed a sensible arrangement The town is dominated by the hill-top Baroque St George's church, its fantastic religious paintings adorning the wooden ceiling and the walls in the closing stages of renovation. The Venetian influence is present again in St Mark's lion cast into the town hall at the circular marble-floored piazza in the centre of the town

On our way to Lake Bled - on even better and even less-used roads than in Croatia - we stopped at the Postojna caves, the largest cave complex in Europe. There are more than a dozen miles of underground passages resplendent with millions of stalactites and stalagmites in passages and huge halls big enough to accommodate the occasional orchestral concert. Entry is hourly by a small train, then by foot, on a 90 minute journey through parts of the caves.

Slovenia is only a small country. A non-stop journey from the Mediterranean coastal resorts to the Alpine lake resort of Bled, in the far north, would take a couple of hours, by well-surfaced and clear roads (mind the speed cameras enforced by police motorcycles!). The lake is surrounded by woods and the foothills of the Julian Alps. There is a small town at one shore, with hotels and campsites dotted around the lake. We stayed at the Kompas Hotel, comfortable with an excellent a la carte restaurant, but breakfast was less than exciting and hot water ran out at a time of day more often associated with Blackpool B&Bs than international hotels. In the middle of the lake is the island church, accessed only by 18-seater boats each rowed by one man. The legendary castle, dating from 1004 stands on a high rock overlooking the lake but, mercifully, can be accessed by road.

An alternative lakeside venue is Velden am Wörthersee, just 45 minutes, and an uneventful border crossing, away in Austria: a much more developed resort, offering all kinds of water sports on a massive lake. Numerous riding stables are nearby; we paid SIT3,000 per hour at the nearest  - the Hippodrome - for a hack though the woods and a canter across fields, and my son an introductory lesson. We spent an undemanding morning white water rafting on the Sava Dolinka  - more exhilarating courses are available from the same operator.

Nearby is the Triglav National Park - thickly wooded mountains and valleys full of crystal clear water, presided over by Mt Triglav 2,864 metres. We had lunch at a recommended pizza restaurant in Kranska Gora and drove up 30 numbered hairpin bends, ascending over 1,000 metres in half an hour - not for the faint-hearted, but fantastic views of the mountain system and its valleys.

Wiser counsel would have returned us to Bled by the less direct main roads. Instead, we took, what looked from the map, like a short cut. It took us up three mountains and down again, around countless hairpins, narrow made and unmade mountain tracks, scary gradients, and remote villages where only hermits, or Sherpa Tensing, might be found.

Ljubljana is Slovenia's tiny but stylish capital. Because the city was largely rebuilt (by nationalist Slovene architects) following an earthquake in 1895, much of the architecture is consistent and what they call the Austrian Secessionist style, reflecting nationalist aspirations - and (after 1918, by Josip Plecnik) nationalist testimony - to the Kingdom of the Slovenes, Croats and Serbs.

The classical tree-lined river Ljubljana contrasts today's “off-the-wall” sense of humour e.g. the skateboard shop where opening the door mechanically raised a brick above a prone Tellytubby. On closing the door, the brick descend with some force, onto the unfortunate creature which shrieked in pain. There is style here, including the roads full of boutiques selling the latest designer-label teenage fashions which, my children told me, are quite a lot cheaper than at home. And where else would the street cleaners dress in white shirts and black bow ties?

Ljubljana is a university town, as we saw from the age of its population and the general ambience of the place. There are so many bars and restaurants to eat and drink, along the riverside and the chic cobbled roads - but the restaurateurs would be better advised to remove “cutlet of foal” from English menu translations.

Why don't the British come to this part of the world? It is so easy - just pick up the phone to the London-based national tourist offices, nick the hotels from the brochures and a browse through WH Smith's travel guides. There's also so much information now on the net although, to negotiate prices, there's no substitute for a phone call. OK, we got a couple of venues wrong. So what - change it on arrival!

And it is so different in central and eastern Europe - each country is so different from the hackneyed and increasingly homogenising France and Spain - and so different than each other. It must be like our grandparents' travels in Western Europe - but easier. Prices in Croatia are a bit lower than at home. Slovenia is a little cheaper again.

It is worth actually buying the Lonely Planet Guides at Smiths. When you arrive (or by internet in advance) the In Your Pocket guides to central and eastern European capitals, written by locally based authors and updated quarterly, give a genuine insight and are cheap.

Hotels quoted us rates in euros, but charged in local currencies. At a push, restaurants etc will accept euros in payment if you are a bit short of local currency. Visa is not as widely accepted as Eurocard, Mastercard, and neither is quite as widely accepted as at home - if in doubt, ask first.

For the idle, a couple of tour operators specialising in this area but, of course, that loses the flexibility of private travel.

First published in VISA issue 48 (winter 2002)

Viennese Whirl

by Maxine Bates 

As part of an organised tour of Central Europe with Archers / Cosmos in October, fellow TravelSIG member Helen Bennett and I spent a day in Vienna. It’s amazing what you can fit into 24 hours if you try!

Arriving in the city at 12.30pm, we were dropped off in Schwedenplatz near the Donaukanal and made our way along Karntnerstrasse, the main shopping street. This led us to the Opera House where, as luck would have it, a guided tour in English was about to commence at 1.00 pm. For €5.00 we were taken into the auditorium by a very informative guide and also saw the elaborate adjoining rooms with busts of famous composers and artwork depicting their operas. The Opera House had partly been destroyed by fire many years ago and the areas unaffected were even more elaborate. We were amazed to discover the complexity of stage management - the practice sets are trucked in from the outskirts of the city each morning - and that the Opera House plan their performances up to seven years in advance!

Next stop was Stephansdom (St Stephen's Cathedral). The medieval spire has dominated Vienna since the 14th century. The cathedral has an unusual mix of Gothic towers, Baroque altar and Romanesque facade. We took the lift up the North Tower for fine views of the city and a closer inspection of the colourful roof. Outside there are 'human statues' performing for your coins. With half an hour to spare before our coach departed for the hotel, we just had time to visit the Figarohaus on Domgasse where Mozart and his family lived and where he composed The Marriage of Figaro. Rather than furniture, the rooms now contain displays about the composer's life and headphones to listen to his music. Bizarrely, there were many photos of his family and friends, but very few of Wolfgang Amadeus (1756-1791) himself! 

In the evening we made our own way by tram and metro, passing Schonbrunn Palace en route, to Prater Park to ride the famous Reisenrad (Prater Wheel). Some of you may recognise this attraction from the film The Third Man. Built in 1897 it is one of the oldest and largest ferris wheels in the world. Originally the wheel had 30 wooden carriages but, due to its age, it was felt to be unsafe so every other one has now been removed. Before riding you may visit the exhibition depicting the wheel over the last century. It was one of the first things to be rebuilt after being bombed during World War II as the locals felt it was their symbol. There are also fairground attractions in Prater Park.

We purchased a "Kombiticket" for just over €9.00 for both the Reisenrad and Donauturm (Danube Tower), which is a metro ride away over (or rather under!) the river. The tower is 252 metres high with a viewing terrace and revolving restaurant. The food was good with some typical Viennese dishes on the menu and not too expensive considering the location. For the daring (or foolish?) there is the opportunity to do a bungee jump from the top of the tower! The Donauturm is quite a walk from the nearest metro station, but well worth a visit. 

At 9.00 am the following morning we were buying another "Kombiticket" for €14.50, this time for the Lipizzaner Museum and morning training session at the Spanish Riding School. Show tickets are sold out months in advance (see the website www.spanische-reitschule.com for available dates), but tickets for the training session can only be purchased on the day. The training sessions take place Tuesday to Saturday except in January, February, July and August. Though not a 'horse person', I found the museum interesting as it told the story of how the graceful Lipizzaner horses are bred, how they were moved to safekeeping during the war and how the famous Spanish Riding School is now run. At 10.00 am we entered the baroque hall to watch the horses training to classical music. Some of the riders looked most uncomfortable! How strange to see ornate chandeliers overhead and sand on the floor!

We left before the finish at midday in order to visit the nearby Sacher Hotel to try the famous and delicious Sachertorte. There have been legal wranglings over who can call their chocolate cake “Sachertorte” with the Sacher Hotel winning. The recipe is said to have been created by an apprentice chef, Franz Sacher, in 1814 for the Congress of Vienna. So an unhealthy early lunch that day before we departed the city at 12.30pm for our next destination. Like I said, it's amazing how much you can do in 24 hours!

First published in VISA issue 49 (January 2003)

Around the Habsburg Domains

By David Gourley



Cathy and I took a 14-day rail trip to Central Europe, first class all the way, which took us, in all, to seven countries i.e. France, Belgium, Germany, Austria, Hungary and the Czech and Slovak Republics. This trip was especially interesting from two points of view.

Firstly, whilst I am not a train buff as such, I love rail travel and I had long hankered after doing a long rail journey in Europe. Secondly, since I took early retirement a couple of years ago, I have largely devoted my time - when not travelling - to studying for a Masters degree in History. One of my specialist subjects was the Habsburg Empire, from 1848 until its demise in 1918.

Another was the post-Communist transition in the various states in this region, the historical interest of this trip was twofold. (Czechs and Hungarians do not, by the way, like being regarded as East Europeans, a term which is considered by them a throwback to the Communist era, to be applied, nowadays, to Ukrainians, Moldovans and so on. As a result of the fall of the Iron Curtain, they have reclaimed their Central European heritage. Geographically, Vienna is actually further east than Prague!)

We started with a journey by Eurostar to Brussels for a brief city tour, before we boarded the sleeper train which was to take us to Vienna via Aachen, a long stop in Cologne, the border town of Passau and into Austria, following fairly closely the Danube through Linz to Vienna, where we had a three night stay.

Schonbrunn Palace

After a tour of the Schonbrunn Palace (which we had visited before), we had an included city tour. A curious aspect of Vienna is that, the melodies of Strauss notwithstanding, it seems to shy away from its own river. The Danube lies to the northeast of the city centre and one can roam around the latter, as we had done on our previous visit, and never set eyes on the river. The city is in this respect very different from Prague, Budapest, Paris or London.

On the following day, we saw some of the countryside around Vienna. We had an all-day tour which took us out through the scenic Vienna Woods. We had stops at the monastery at Heiligenkreuz and the huge Abbey at Melk, which here dominates the Danube.

Not as impressive as either of these, but historically very important, was another stop we made, at Mayerling, which was once used by the Habsburgs as a hunting lodge. It was here, in 1889, that Rudolf, the heir to the Habsburg throne, was found dead, along with his 17 year old lover. It is generally assumed that they committed suicide though there is no definitive proof. His personal life was in a mess, but he also had strong political differences with his father, the Emperor Franz Josef. With some prescience, he opposed the Empire's alliance with Germany and argued strongly that it should never fight Russia. It was as a result of this alliance that the Empire was dragged into the First World War, with Russia on the opposing side. As a result of the War, the House of Habsburg itself fell.

One is not supposed, as a historian, to indulge in "what if?" speculation. But let us do so anyway: if Rudolf had not died, he would still have been the heir, so Franz Ferdinand, who replaced him as heir, would have remained in relative obscurity. The assassination in Sarajevo of Franz Ferdinand would hardly, in those circumstances, have happened. There would therefore have been no First World War, so there would have been no Bolshevik revolution in Russia; nor the Hitlerite seizure of power in Germany. So the Second World War would not have happened either. All things told, the twentieth century might have been a rather more agreeable period in human history. That single events, such as the tragedy at Mayerling, can change the course of history, are indeed food for thought.

We took a different route back to Vienna, this time through the Danube Valley, pausing for a time in the picturesque town of Durnstein. The next day was our free day, and enjoyed rediscovering the city. We returned to the Hofburg, the Habsburgs' winter where we spent quite a bit of time. It so happened that there was an exhibition here about the life of Rudolf. We also went on the Ferris Wheel in the Prater, which was immortalised in the film The Third Man. The Prater is a huge fairground, not really our scene, but one can get to the Wheel without having to go anywhere else in the park. Fine sunny weather gave us a magnificent view over the entire city.

Lunch was taken in the Centrale, one of Vienna's historic coffee houses, whilst dinner was eaten al fresco in a Heurige in the hilly outskirts of the city. These atmospheric restaurants, in which vineyards are licensed to sell their own wines, are very much part of the Viennese scene.

The following day, we set off for Budapest on the Orient Express. Not, I fear, the luxury train which terminates at Venice. This was an ordinary train running on the original Orient Express which starts in Paris and once went all the way to Istanbul.

Budapest - and Hungary - were uncharted waters for us. To start with, we were not impressed. Nor did our city tour at first improve our view for initially it took us through a rather dreary area, where a burnt out sports stadium was pointed out to us. Architecturally magnificent Hero's Square was at first off-putting for, as our guide tried to talk to us, skate-boarders competed for our attention. I am at a loss to understand why their activities should be allowed to mar this historic area. Later during our stay, we returned to Hero's Square, travelling via Continental Europe's first ever underground line; there were no skateboarders this time and we enjoyed the visit rather more.

By the end of our tour, we were converted to the view that Budapest is one of the finest cities we have visited. There is a marked difference between the two halves of the city, Buda and Pest, which are located on opposite sides of the Danube. Pest, on the eastern side, is flat - one is already on the Hungarian Plains! Here is the main downtown area, as well as the Cathedral, which we visited, the Parliament building, and some elegant residential streets.

Buda, on the western side, is by contrast very hilly. For my money, this is the best part of the city. It contains the historic and picturesque Castle District and the Gellert Hill, which gives fine views over the city. We got a taxi here after dinner the following evening, so we could enjoy the view by night. Linking the two sides are a number of bridges, including the Chain Bridge. The bridge over the Thames at Marlow, Buckinghamshire, is a smaller replica.

Our stay in Budapest was for five nights, allowing time for two excursions into the countryside. The first of these was via steam train to Esztergom, the main religious centre, akin in some respects to Canterbury. "The Communists didn't much like this city," remarked our guide. Its basilica is the fifth largest church in the world. In the crypt is a moving memorial to Cardinal Mindszenty, the one-time Primate of Hungary and Archbishop of Esztergom, who is buried here. After the Hungarian Revolution in 1956, he sought refuge in the American Embassy in Budapest. He stayed there until 1971, when he was exiled from the country. He died in Austria four years later and his remains were brought back to Esztergom.

The basilica is strikingly situated on the Danube and from here one can see into Slovakia. The town on the other side looks dreary, full of communist-built workers' flats. But maybe the people on the Slovak side have the better deal - their view is of Esztergom! The bridge linking the two sides has been in ruins since being bombed in World War II, but work is due to start soon on rebuilding it, with the aid of EU funds.

On the next day, we travelled on the Children's Railway, which runs through the scenic Buda Hills. It is reached via an interesting variety of public transport: tram, metro and cog railway. Children do not actually drive the trains but otherwise they run this railway as a reward for hard work at school. I had feared it would be somewhat twee, but not so: this was a fascinating experience. The Communists can be thanked for this, if for little else, for it was built, soon after their takeover, under the auspices of their youth wing, the Pioneers. But it seems to have an assured future in post-Communist Hungary.

The next day was a highlight of this holiday, a full-day excursion to the Hungarian Plain. We drove to the city of Kecskemet, where we boarded a wonderfully archaic steam train, which looked like something straight out of Thomas the Tank Engine: the engine, one felt, really should have had a face and the carriages really should have been called Annie and Clarabel. This took us for miles out onto the Plain, which here has been designated a national park. I helped to "drive" the train for part of the way - in reality one just stands and watches the fireman and driver at work - and was rewarded with a certificate, which I don't understand as it is in Hungarian, one of Europe's most incomprehensible languages (akin to Finnish, which is not any easier!) At the end station, horses and buggies greeted us and took us a couple of miles or so to a horse show.

I was struck, here in Kecskemet as well as in Budapest, by the apparent air of prosperity. Perhaps, as a privileged tourist, I was seeing just a veneer - I am well aware that the transition from Communism has entailed pain for many ordinary people. Hopefully, this is short-term pain leading to long-term gain. But there really wasn't the "Eastern European" feel that might have been expected. We saw no more beggars than back home in London. We felt that Hungary, like the Czech Republic, really is rejoining the west. Whilst there are unfortunate aspects of this - Macdonald's, Benetton and so on (and, in the particular case of Kecskemet, a huge out-of town Tesco hypermarket, which, our guide said, was damaging local traders) - I for one feel great pleasure that these are now free countries.

On our final day in Budapest, we were up early for a visit to the famous baths in the Gellert Hotel, located by the Danube in Buda. Then we had an English-speaking tour of the splendid Houses of Parliament, the design of which was inspired by our own parliament building. The afternoon was set aside for a cruise on the Danube, including a visit to Margaret Island, a green lung in the heart of the city. There was just time before dinner to visit the covered market, a fascinating place, and, close to the Gellert Hotel, a remarkable church which is located in a cave. We tiptoed in as a service was in progress. This church had re-opened in 1989, having been shut down during the Communist era.

We transferred the next day by train to Prague, passing en route through Slovakia and its capital, Bratislava. Whereas the Hungarian and Czech customs officials who boarded our trains were reasonably affable, those from Slovakia seemed rather less friendly. One hapless couple from the Far East were thrown off as they did not have the requisite visa, even though they were in transit. This couple had made sure that their papers were in order for Hungary and the Czech Republic but had overlooked the country in between! Perhaps the officials feared that they would be so captivated by its beauty that they would be unable to resist getting off the train in their country! I fear that, from the train at any rate, Slovakia looked rather dreary. But I am sure it's unfair to judge a country on the basis of a couple of hours spent looking at it through a train window.

Once inside the Czech Republic, the journey, which took us through the country's second city, Brno, was far more scenic. Prague greeted us like an old friend. This, too, was once part of the Habsburg Domains. The Czech Lands - Bohemia and Moravia - were, until, 1918, in the Austrian half of the Empire. In that year, they united with Slovakia, formerly part of Hungary, to form the new state of Czechoslovakia. In the interwar period, this was a peaceful, prosperous and democratic state but it then fell victim, first to the Nazis and then to the Communists. Freedom was restored as a result of the Velvet Revolution in 1989 - one can do a "Velvet Revolution Walk", as we did during a previous visit.

But, in 1993, the Czech and Slovak Republics went their separate ways. This was thanks to the politicians: opinion polls at the time showed that, had there been a referendum, the people in both parts of Czechoslovakia would have voted, by a sizeable margin, against splitting their country.

We had a full day walking tour the next day and just about everything was familiar. The pleasure here was in seeing once more the numerous sights. Prague's beauty derives from the fact that is unspoilt, a medieval city frozen in time. It was not bombed during WW2 and the Communists, though they neglected it, did not ruin it. It is unlikely, in the post-Communist era, to change for the worse, for there is a lot of money to be made from tourism and tourists come to see the city as it is. Much of the historic centre has now been spruced up.

Our local guide spoke movingly of the Velvet Revolution, she herself having been among the crowds in Wenceslas Square who demonstrated against the regime. It is not always realized that Czechoslovakia was betrayed not just once, but twice, by the west. I guess all of us know about Munich. But, after the war, American troops entered the country, and liberated the city of Plzen, only sixty miles or so from Prague. There was no physical impediment to their moving on to the capital, which they could have reached well before the Russians. Churchill urged the Americans to do just that. But Roosevelt was not in listening mode; he still regarded Stalin as his trusted wartime ally and Prague had been promised to Uncle Joe. The history of post-war Czechoslovakia might have been very different if General Patton had been allowed to take Prague.

On one of our earlier visits, we had travelled out to the spa town of Karlovy Vary. There is now a memorial commemorating its liberation by American soldiers at the end of World War II. This, of course, was erected only after the Velvet Revolution. One of the lies which the Communists wished the people to believe was that the whole of Czechoslovakia had been liberated by the Red Army.

We had a full day in which to explore Prague on our own. Then, the day after, we began our journey back. We entered for the first time the territory of the former East Germany. The area just to the north of the Czech border is strikingly beautiful, this being the so-called "Saxon Switzerland". In Berlin, we changed to a high-speed ICE train (InterCity Express -I don't know why they use English terminology!). We'd have loved to have spent time in Berlin, a city we had not visited, but we got a glimpse of the new Reichstag building. We sped across the former East Germany, and back in 'the west'. One is not really meant to say this, as the Germans like to think that theirs is truly a united country. One suspects, though, that psychologically it will be a divided country for some years to come. At least what was once called the "Ugly Frontier", the German section of the Iron Curtain, with its watchtowers, barbed wire and minefields, has vanished.

We carried on, through Hanover, Bielefeld and Wuppertal to Cologne. We returned the next day the same way as we came, through Aachen and Liege to Brussels, and then by Eurostar to Waterloo.


A longer version of this article was published in VISA issue 38 (autumn 2000)