We walked around Budapest like tourists, and apart from the metal clicking of our SPD touring shoes, nobody would have known that we had slept in a field the previous night, or that the last shower we had had was the first we had taken in a week. We indulged in this a bit; yes, you are in Budapest, but we CYCLED here! That sort of thing.
Having spent a relaxing 3 days walking Hungary’s capital city, drinking its beer, soaking in its famous baths, we hit the road again on route to the Serbian border. We realised quickly that the beautifully sign posted cycle path of the Danube trail had disintegrated into chaos, and were we to attempt to follow it, we would probably still be there now, as I write this (lying in my sleeping bag in Bulgaria). So we hit the roads once more, the bumpy dog ridden ex-soviet roads that are still, even now, determined to prevent me from having children (if I do ever decide to come home and do anything normal again after all this, that is).
