Prologue

Birth is quickly followed by a flurry of celebrations: first birthday, second birthday, third birthday. In these early years every birthday is worth celebrating. But by eighteen the novelty is wearing off and the celebrations begin to slow. You might get to celebrate a twenty-first birthday, a wedding, a house-warming but the celebrations get spaced out further and further.

Turning fifty, the big five-0, is an arbitrary line in the sand. It doesn’t mean anything much it itself but as the distances between occasions to celebrate become greater it takes on new meaning. After fifty there's a risk that the next noteworthy moment in life may be The End so we may as well make the most of celebrating this one. 

As friends of a similar age planned their half century celebrations, I pondered how I might mark my fiftieth. I toyed with a variety of ideas, rolling them around in my mind like pebbles, and eventually, over time, percolated down to the idea of cycling through Hungary. 

The idea was not fully formed yet but cycling through Hungary would fit the bill in many ways. It would provide a once-in-a-lifetime sort of event that I could chalk up on the proverbial bucket list, a line item to tally up on my ‘What I Did With My Life’ list. It would also allow me to combine two of my passions - cycling and history. Specifically it allowed me to indulge my interest in Hungarian history which had for the past two or three years become my dirty little secret.

A plan slowly began to take shape. My friend Richard was also searching to mark his fiftieth with a challenge and had already declared his ambition to cycle across Europe. As we were both contemplating long-distance bike rides across Europe the idea of sharing the experience sounded like a good idea. Plus this plan had the additional benefit of a responsible adult cycling alongside me and therefore a reduced risk of getting lost, or having to fix a puncture on my own.

As attractive as this plan sounded it had a fatal flaw. Richard was planning his odyssey to coincide with the school summer holidays and in the middle of summer temperatures in Central Europe soared above 30C. A balmy English summer is one thing; cycling under a sapping sun-baked sky is another thing entirely. 

Privately I also had to concede that it was just possible that Richard might not share my passion for Hungarian history. Maybe Richard might not want to stop every five minutes to admire a medieval castle from afar or inspect the inscription on a public square monument?

There was another obstacle. I may not have mentioned the plan to Karen, my wife yet. 

Choosing my moment carefully I gingerly broached the subject and braced myself for a barrage of questions and objections. I was pleasantly surprised to get a thumbs up. And not just a nod of acceptance but an enthusiastic endorsement. 

Before long Karen and the kids were joining me for the trip. I would cycle. They would travel in parallel by bus, train and boat. I would get to do my thang but we could still make it a family holiday and spend the evenings together. Flights were booked. Accommodation reserved. 

But then the world came to a crashing halt. 

Suddenly in the space of a week the whole world was turned upside down. All travel plans were put on hold. For a few days there was still a glimmer of hope that normal service would be quickly resumed and life would return to normal by the end of May, when we had planned our expedition. But it soon became apparent that it was going to take much longer before life returned to normal. Much, much longer. If it wasn’t possible to travel down the road for anything but “essential” travel then travelling across three countries was definitely off the cards. My holiday plans were going to be put on ice for a while. My dreams were going to be put on hold. That particular bucket-list item was going to have to wait until I’d clocked up my fiftieth and entered my sixth decade.

The lockdown continued through April and into May. My dream of cycling from Vienna to Budapest remained parked on the driveway, up on bricks.

But then it occurred to me. Maybe all was not lost. Lockdown might mean that I couldn’t carry out my expedition as planned. But maybe I could still experience it. 

The week was still booked off from work. I hadn’t made any alternative plans and a quick glance at my social diary revealed an empty schedule, completely free of engagements. I decided there and then that I wouldn’t waste the opportunity. If it was impossible to travel to Budapest then why not try to recreate the experience? The internet is a gateway to the outside world. You can shop online, learn online, socialise online. For months I had been researching my trip. Maps, photos, blogs, restaurant reviews; it was all there. What if I could piece it all together and combine it into one experience. A virtual holiday if you will.