Roll On Out

The same loudmouthed, empty-headed twits are on the train to Ljubljana with us. It ain't undiscovered no more. These guys, and the giggling girls opposite them, speak nothing but English, have no idea where they're staying, and are getting pissed on the train.

I am beginning to hate the english accent.

It motivates me to go further afield. These destinations are too easy and that's why they can survive here. We met a much better class of traveller in south east asia. St Petersburg next? Laos? Poland?

This last happened to us in Melbourne. Campgrounds are a bad place to be, even worse than dorms, which tend to be accidentally rather than maliciously noisy. It's a pity, but it's the awful truth and we just have to deal with it.

But we're staying with a local this time, and we'll be off the track soon. The weather hits its cue perfectly as we roll towards the border with eastern europe, breaking from sticky heat into a spectacular thunderstorm. It's dark grey on one side of the train and eerily light on the other, and the lightning strikes so close that the thunder is almost simultaneous. A train shrieks as it suddenly passes us. It's cool.

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