Right. And maybe you just don't want to talk about it.
Sometimes there was sun, but mostly there was fog, cloaking the decadence in socialist gray. Feudal coffee houses, all gilt and sugar, all for Westerners with black market money. Sterile hotels and gypsy restaurants, reserved for tourists with foreign currency. Markets with strings of garlic and Hungarian salami.
And above the city the Halaszbastya, with its towers and promenades and its fabulous view of Pest.
It almost makes you want to turn back the clock.