The train from Poland to Hungary was perfectly pleasant, once I moved out of the car with the busted A/C. I ate a lunch I’d packed wrote in my journal. Judging by these empties found in the bathroom sink onboard, other passengers were passing the time differently.
Then I got to Budapest and saw an elderly woman holding up a “rooms for rent” sign negotiating price with a mohawked man, and a woman in a spangly shirt sweeping out the train, presumably before going clubbing. I liked it right away.