There’s no doubt about it, Budapest has lots of statues. On day one I was capturing virtually every statue that presented itself. Day two and I was being rather more selective. Day three emerged and my interest level dipped. There’s a shade under two million people living in the city. Every single person has their own statue. Fact.

This is my hotel room view. What you can see is the national gallery, once home to Hungarian royalty. It probably would have celebrated the reign of Archduke Franz Ferdinand if he hadn’t been assassinated triggering a string of complex historical odds and bobs that led to the first World War. I learned that at school. My own children will no doubt only know Franz as a musician, who by the time they’re time able to buy their own toons, will be a golden oldie and as uncool as Dad’s McCartney collection.

I love art. I love galleries. I prefer a photographic experience, but I’m just as happy observing brush strokes, albeit slightly more contemporary ones. The Tate Modern remains one of my favourite places in the World. The sport of proclaiming “My Son could do better and he’s only two” is par for the course when you view modern art. This one is for my favourite carpenter, ‘Soccer Stu’ who would LOL at the bad dovetailing of this priceless piece above titled ‘Great Prism.’

Not far from the gallery is the Matthias Church and nestling in the grounds is this. I quite like it, hence the shots.

January is seasonably chilly in Budapest, so the concept of capturing lovers canoodling by the Danube, street entertainers strumming their Hungarian chords and general busy-ness was somewhat lost during my visit. I did capture these two musicians, but my hunt for further locals in pursuit of their profession was pretty fruitless. In this temperature, people simply buckle up and walk on by.

A Beetle for no other reason than I love Beetles. I had one, once. Favourite car. In the snow it suffered heating failures, bellowing exhaust and smoke fumes in to the cabin. Maybe that’s why this one clearly hasn’t been used for weeks. And so I come to the end of my mini tour. It’s been fun, and I return with many images to show for my stay. Budapest is full of history, full of places of worship, full of statues. And full of Burger Kings. As a place to live, it ranks third out of sixty five European cities in the quality of life index. You’d think with that statistic the locals would be positively radiating a smugness. But, it’s not so humorous Pestside. It may be the cold, but natives don’t seem that friendly on the street. Passing nods and smiles seem to be greeted with mute indifference. I’ve never thought of myself as a travel togger, though it would be fun, artistically. Sadly, I’m not a huge fan of air travel it has to be said. I rank it fairly low in pastime pleasures, somewhere between root canal surgery and half marathons. Paradoxically I hold a private pilot’s licence of the rotary variety; machines that defy all known laws of gravity to lift off, when really they should in fact screw themselves into the ground. So, as I sit here composing this post enduring a bout of clear air turbulance which the BA First Officer has profusely apologised for (they don’t do that on Malev) I look forward to composing my next travel blog in April when we take our family holiday to somewhat sunnier climes. Next post, back to weddings.

It’s a truism that the aircraft icon on any in-flight cabin display map showing your route and time to destination is approximately the size of Luxembourg. It’s not an aviation coincidence either, as I passed through the place once on a road trip; it was like crossing your front room. And so here I am half an hour into my Malev flight to Budapest for a spot of unadulterated Leica M8 street photography. Just post Christmas I splashed out on this digital fancy in classic clothing with the aim of using it more freely on the street and so this, is it’s first test drive. To be fair it’s equally a kick up the proverbial from Sam, my wife, who bought me this trip as a Christmas gift, a little easier to wrap tickets than an E-Type; there’s always next year. I’m not a great one for using my chunky Canon gear in cities, and though my somewhat less than svelte frame makes it tricky to completely fade into an urban backdrop, it’s fair to say that something that protrudes from my fleece no further than a wallet stuffed with store cards (slight disparity) doesn’t attract quite so much unwelcome attention. So, one M8, a 50mm lens, handful of SD cards, a city guide I’ve not even read yet and I’m good to go.

One of the first things that struck me about the place is just how much graffiti there is. Banksy would be at home in a city like this, as it appears nobody seems interested to curtail the artform. It’s everywhere. People’s apartment blocks, the underground, the overground, government buildings. Maybe they don’t do community service out here?

If you’re not daubing the walls with pictures and tags, you could join the elite set of craftspeople that fashion all manner of statues.

And… another tram.

Courtyard shops are common. I’m armed with a 50mm so the focal length doesn’t allow me to easily show you how these shops squeeze into the tiniest backstreet corners in-between apartments. I did spot one or two impressive ornate arcades too. Budapest appears to be in a transition commercially, where the arcades are emptying, traders favouring the shopping centres. This is one such arcade above; a solitary shop illuminates a small segment of what looked like a hub of commerce once.

Five degrees under and falling, I was heading back to the hotel when I came across a ‘table water musician.’ I asked if he did requests. My joke was lost in translation.

Enough with the trams now.

What no customers?

And our tip to you Jack (hasn’t he grown?!) – don’t eat yellow snow.

The shoot was to build musician Tasoulla’s pictorial portfolio. Her voice is rightly described as ‘youthful Bassey’ with the range and pitch Mariah boasts. She’s got incredible presence on camera and to be fair, did not need too much direction. As a photographer, I work in a somewhat more subtle way than some of my peers. There’s no right or wrong way, there’s just ‘my way’ when I photograph. It works for some snappers to bark orders at their subjects. I prefer mature reassurance, where between capturing each frame you’ll look up and comment on how good the images are turning out, or how well the subject is ‘performing,’ without the requirement for me as a photographer to dance across the set like a Whirling Dervish, shouting “BELLISSIMO BELLISSIMO!!!”

Incidentally, Tasoulla was that close to being the voice behind the Bond theme for Casino Royale. A little birdie tells me that we should watch this space for the next time!