We strolled along the marzipan towers of the Fisherman's Bastion and the nougat clad Royal Palace; gasped at the darkly marvelous Hungarian paintings in the National Gallery; pondered the layered mysteries of Esterhazy cake; sailed the Danube river in search of Szentendre and then trundled back on the efficient HEV train. We wandered around Saint Stephen's Basilica and decided not to go to the opera; we were not too, too impressed by the Matthias Church but enjoyed the church carved out of rock on Gellert Hill. We thought cute Cafe Alibi trumped giant, multi-chandelier-ed Gerbeaud as a place to sit and do nothing; we sipped glasses of Palinka and Tokaji after deciding against Unicum; we agreed that Hungarian wine was spectacular and that Angelika was a nice place to eat dinner. No sign of Starbucks anywhere. We were engrossed by the Hungarian History Museum and pleasantly surprised that a short sightseeing cruise in a bubble boat from the Elizabeth Bridge up and around Margaret Island was well worth the money. Alas, every city has its souvenir stuffed Vaci Utcaand it was sad to see the famous Chain Bridge splattered with grafitti. But one night we walked through the busy Clark Adam traffic tunnel under Castle Hill to get to untouristy Cafe Deryne on the other side, and that was fabulous. We missed the Tomb of Baba Gul and the Museum of Terror because we simply ran out of time, but that is always the way with vacations.
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