Budapest is my favorite kind of eye candy: art nouveau ruins so caked in grime that everything is a shade of brown. Chipped paint reveals chipped plaster reveals chipped brick and finally exposed pipes. It's Paris meets the Bronx, without the corresponding pretentiousness and risk of assault, respectively. And it's topped off with beautiful Soviet-era orange trams that slither through the canyons of Buda and the ring roads of Pest.