We had just walked up Castle Hill in Budapest. I assumed that we would take a bus or perhaps a lovely old funicular but we walked (and panted) and walked some more, ending our four-hour walking tour of Budapest on a patch of grass between the Mary Magdalene Tower and the Fisherman’s Bastion where we promptly collapsed onto a wooden bench. The sweet girl in the pink hat was hard at work (and play) assembling an impressive stone collection. She sifted through the stones, plucked up the ones she liked and dropped them into her pockets where they went smack! against the other little stones she had laid claim to. Her older sister played along but, deep down, she already believed herself too old for stone collecting.