Nearing the end of a highly enjoyable first year at university, with only the dim prospect of revision for my end of year exams to light my evening, and the prospect of a long dull summer ahead, I decided to ring an old school friend. Talk soon switched to how we would be spending our summers and inevitably holidays. After a year at university, fuelled by cheap alcohol, the prospect of a week in Ibiza did not fill me with joy. While I had travelled around Europe the previous summer, soaking up the equally as cheap and exiting, but undeniably more cultured party scenes of some of Europe’s greatest cities, he had decided to join the RAF. I decided to show him what he had been missing.
After discussing time scales and budgets, we decided that we would first travel to Budapest, one of my favourite destinations of the previous summers trip; to show him the exiting mix of culture, scenery and nightlife which had so encapsulated me on my first visit. We would then hop on the relaxing RailJet to travel on to Vienna, a city I neither of us had properly visited. Having only seen a fleeting glimpse of its majestic architecture through a misty train window, on a drizzly morning the previous summer.