Desire thwarted, teeth rotted

I walked into a café in Györ wanting a salad and a glass of white wine.

This is what I wound up with: Hungary’s answer to the strawberry shortcake and a cappuccino mysteriously garnished with whipped cream. I’m not really sure how this happened. About fifteen of these were lined up in a display case out the front of the café, from which I deduced that they were the speciality of the house. The waiter approached, and before I knew it, I was nodding away when he said ‘mini torte of strawberry, miss?’ (which sounds like a guilty plea to a civil offence in fairyland). To be honest, this wasn’t the best cake i’ve ever eaten – the sponge was a bit dry and the strawberries weren’t up to Corsican standard – but I felt like I got off lightly when I saw the other cakes being carried past. As big as my head, they were, terrifying chocolate confections spiked with bottles of kirsch, cowsful of cream, treesful of almonds.

There might be something more sinister at play in Györ. I thought it was just an incredibly scenic Hungarian town where three rivers meet and wild birds frolic. In the foyer of my hotel (which used to be a Carmelite monastery!) I found a pamphlet advertising…dentistry travel. You can have a tooth pulled in Györ for a fraction of what it would cost in London. I thought hell might be defined by the hostel bus but I think the tooth extraction holiday - Yippee! Pack your togs! - definitely warrants a mention in the annals of earthly infernos.

So this is how it’s looking to me at the moment. They lure you here with promises of views and aspects and prospects and all of that baloney AND THEN they feed you cakes that will rot your teeth AND THEN…? Hello, emergency dental care.

I’m having garlic soup for dinner just in case I’m dragged into a dental chair against my will. Ha!