An excerpt from my travel journal:
"I never want to eat moussaka again. The train to Budapest wasn't confusing at all. We arrived around 7am, our car was full of 18 year old Brits and it felt like a Skins episode. Julia, who we're staying with, is super nice and the ceilings in her apartment are ridiculously high. I am in love with the apartment. She told us an incredible story of going to find her great grandfather's grave outside Berlin- he was in a camp during the holocaust and died two days after the liberation on the train home. He was buried in a mass grave in a town the train was passing through."