After a routine, yet non-intrusive inspection from Polish customs aboard the train to Budapest, the Slovaks performed no passport control at the border. I was not particularly worried and the steward in charge of our wagon woke me at some unheard of hour to tell me it was time soon to get off. I woke none of the others in my compartment, all bound for Hungary. He made sure I traveled no further than my ticket indicated. In the morning mist of 4:30 am, Košice does very little to motivate you to get out of your sleeping compartment. The city, Slovakia’s second largest, is encircled by hills and bluffs, all poisoned with the same tired apartment tenements. I forced myself onto the platform, only to see more of Legoland gone terribly wrong. Faceless apartment buildings cut
... read more
