As my taxi driver weaves in and out of traffic and winks at me in the rear view mirror I catch fleeting glances of Budapest. Communism mixed with classics mixed with cool Europeans. For every soviet-style tram there's a Smart car.
I am here to find out more about missing student, Daniel Gliksten, who is studying medicine in the city for a year.
His family is from Suffolk and they're here looking for him. My first port of call is the bar where he was last seen in the early hours of New Years Day.
Chalkboards outside pubs and clubs in the street advertise football matches and cheap cocktails. But it seems a fairly respectable place. It is, however, the middle of the afternoon and we all know how a place can change at nightfall.
As I film outside the Orkert bar on Zrinyi street the manager comes out to talk. No, he won't speak on camera but we chat about how busy it was on New Year's Eve and how the police were quick to look at their CCTV cameras as soon as Daniel was reported missing.
I get some shots alongside the nearby Danube river and an elderly lady pauses to throw a single white rose into the water. She stands for a while and then walks off. I wonder who she is thinking about and hope it is not a portent for the purpose of my visit.
Within two hours of arriving in Budapest I have had my passport taken away by a policeman with a moustache that would not look out of place on a walrus.
To be fair, standing outside the British embassy in a foreign country with a TV camera is asking for trouble.
Twenty minutes, some wild hand gesticulations and my only five words of an eastern European language (Polish) later and he hands it back with a wry smile.
Budapest seems like a smart, clean, cultured and beautiful city. But I am here for all the wrong reasons.