Not so long ago I was listening to George Ezra whilst strolling in Budapest. It was sunny, it was grand, it had the aura of imperial glory. When in Budapest it's almost a shame not to indulge, be it in photos of beautifully lit up buildings or deserts, as is the case.
What England lacks and Budapest abounds in is cafe culture - places ranging from established to hip, from budget to luxury, from traditional to experimental. You name it, Budapest has it.
Me, I am by default drawn to the expensive and preferably rococo places, it's in my genes, I really can't help it. Which is how, long story short, I sampled the deserts at Cafè Gerbeaud.