We boarded the Balkan Express in Sofia full of excitement. We had heard stories of the beautiful route through the Balkans and were looking forward to a classic old-fashioned train adventure.

The train was clearly decades old — worn seats, creaky floors, and a general air of faded glory. As it slowly pulled out of the station we settled in, still charmed by the idea of the journey ahead. That charm didn’t last long.

It was a brutally hot summer day and the train had no air conditioning. The windows barely opened, so the compartments quickly turned into saunas. Passengers fanned themselves with newspapers, maps, anything they could find, while the air grew thick and oppressive.

About two hours in, the train made an unscheduled stop. What started as a short pause at the Bulgaria-Serbia border turned into hours of excruciating delay. Border guards checked every passport with painful slowness while the train sat motionless in the blazing sun.

The toilets became a nightmare early on — dark, filthy, barely functional, and the smell soon spread through the carriages. We tried to avoid them as much as possible, but with the extreme heat and long delays, it was impossible.

As daylight faded, we were still nowhere near Belgrade. The train crawled along, making frequent unexplained stops. The once-chatty passengers fell quiet, replaced by sighs, grumbles, and weary resignation.

After twelve long, gruelling hours — double the scheduled time — the lights of Belgrade finally appeared. We stepped off the train exhausted, sweaty, and overwhelmingly relieved.