I’ve finally gotten around to documenting my French and Hungarian adventures. Well, I say adventures … looking back they probably aren’t that exciting for an uninvolved onlooker, but maybe – just maybe – what I show you now will inspire your next holiday and then you can experience, first hand, all the fun I had once upon a time.
So I first I call upon you, my beautiful internet friends, to read about my Hungarian exploits which took place in the quaint town of Egar. I travelled there for a training camp with a bunch of my GB teammates, and others who were completing a qualification called AASE (Advance Apprenticeship in Sporting Excellence).
Water polo is Hungary’s national sport which meant with the outdoor pool and the two sessions a day against the local team, we were well accommodated for. While most of our days revolved around training, we were given a little bit of freedom. And on the last night the ‘adults’ allowed the “children” to roam the stalls of a food and wine festival in the park behind our hotel.
The place was packed full of locals – as you would expect – and music, from the top 40 to the more traditional Hungarian songs, was playing all over. At each softly lit turn you were met with a different sound. It was dark and atmospheric and we got lost on more than one occasion.
But while we were trying to orientate ourselves in this maze of stalls and bars, we stumbled upon something great. Check out this traditional hungarian treat:
I think – but don’t hold me to it – that this is called a chimney cake. It’s basically some sweet dough that is rolled out and twisted along a long bar. This bar is placed in a rotary oven where it is baked. Once cooked to a golden perfection, it is pushed off the bar and rolled in some sugar and a flavour of your choice. We had a cinnamon one and guys, IT WAS SO GOOD. I want to go back. Take me back and feed me chimney cakes. Please.
So that was our last and most memorable night in Hungary, and the next day we were off to Budapest airport where me and E parted ways with our teammates and flew off to Geneva. That day we spend a total of 11 hours hanging around airports and sitting on the plane, and by the end of it we were in much need of an alcoholic drink and a hot meal. The drink took precedence.
That said, in the next couple of days we soon made up for that missed hot meal with kangaroo steaks and tartiflette:
Throughout the week we took part in various different activities. We were staying in Meribel village but often travelled out either for food or for whatever form of exercise we were taking part in that day. The day of the Kangaroo steaks, I nearly killed E by taking her mountain biking down dried out ski runs, and on other days we went white water rafting, hydrospeeding and hiking.
We did so much and ate much more, but my favourite meal of the trip has got to be the hot stone and it’s beautifully seasoned potatoes:
All this meal really is is a hot slate and some raw meat but it’s still the coolest thing you can find on a french menu – and I never ever pass up the opportunity to order it.
Hope you enjoyed reading this. However, I’d like to apologise for how disjointed it is. I tried to focus on all the amazing food we ate and I’ve also got lots of other posts lined up, so the combination of my childish impatience and poor memory lead to this slightly squiffy narrative – my bad.
George Ezra, Budapest
– Because Hungary, duh