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Published: January 10th 2010
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As we prepare to catch the train to Budapest in the morning, Gabe says he can still feel the previous night’s absinthe. We drag our luggage along the village’s uneven sidewalks and buy our tickets at the Kengyel train station, which unsurprisingly also serves as a bar. The station is rundown, and once again I am in awe over relatively simple things that Hungarians do not invest in, such as s...
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