Our train.
Our compartment.
Our spread.
Reading the time away.
At the Bulgarian border town. This train station had seen better days.
Clear in any language. (and why is there a letter 3 in their alphabet?)
Into Serbia.
Did I mention I like windows that open?
Zora seemed strangely perturbed that the safety check consisted of hitting the wheels or brakes with a metal object. (The girls from Prague next to us were very cute)
...as a bug in a rug.
We went through Belgrad at 3AM on a Sunday night. I know you shouldn't judge a city by its train stain. But let me tell you, that place was hopping! Really. Music, young people heading home. It was a hapenning place. Maybe next time.
1 comment:
the hitting the wheels with the metal thing that goes clang clang happens here too.. india.
loved your pictures. very spontaneous and alive!
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