Gourmet sandwiches packed and ready? Check!
Camera, phone, ipod, and ebook readers charged? Check!
Socks and nightshirt….forgotten.
Taylor and I made our way to Budapest in class, taking a taxi from our apartment to the train station and then lounging on the IC train that brought us straight to Budapest-Keleti station where we quickly boarded an all night train from Budapest, Hungary, to Belgrade, Serbia.
Of all the moderately full train compartments to choose from, we settled on a compartment with one passenger, an ancient Hungarian woman who spoke no English and little Hungarian. The toothless woman wore five shirts of differing lengths, a skirt, tights, and a coat. Two bags and a cane against her knees, and food in her multitude of pockets, she was the picture of the quintessential bag lady. Seemingly nice, the woman settled into slumber across from Taylor. Taylor tossed and turned, unable to let sleep carry her away due to the waft of ode du dead cat e a bit of rotting fish.
Sniff Sniff. Sniiif. Taylor tipped her nose into the air with a snarl. “What is that smell?”
“It’s not me!” I exclaimed, as I cuddled deeper towards the left side of the compartment, my eyes glued to the video on my ipod screen.
It took three and a half hours for the woman’s stop to come, yet I was unaffected by her unpleasant aroma until she passed me by on her way out. Thrilled that she’d abdicated her throne, I hopped onto her seat, hoping to get some much needed zzzs. Unfortunately, Taylor’s frequent comments about her smell gave me the heebeegeebees as I stretched out upon our bag lady’s seat. A few hours of much-interrupted sleep later, we arrived in Belgrade, excited to see the city, but a bit worried about the major storm clouds approaching.
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