We arrive in the early morning into Krakow from a night train experience and a half. It was vinyl red seats (termed couchettes) for nine and a half hours. Eight people to a small cabin. It was four of us with three other men; one who appeared to dislocate his bones during sleep, and another who watched us with shadowy eyes and scratched his eczema for nine of the nine and a half hours. The train rattled throughout the journey. Its doors and windows and wheels showing their distress. It stopped at deserted stations halfway between Prague and Krakow and you could hear lively conversations from the cabins down the hall. I’ll tell you that it’s hard to sleep when you legs are suctioned to the seat and your head is a centimeter from a stranger’s head and you’re breathing in and out the same tight air. So two hours of ‘sleep’ is a fair effort and I arrived in Krakow looking as though I’d been punched in the face with bags that were hanging low from my eyes.