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Picture the scene, you're on a train and it's cruising through the Eastern European countryside. People are working in the fields, children are playing in gardens that pass in a blur, farm animals graze. It's all very delightful. Ah, wait, I forgot to add that there's no air conditioning, the window doesn't open, you're sweating buckets and you're stuck to the old leather seats. Literally, skin and seats. Fused. There's no telling where one ends and the other begins. I was thinking of changing my name to leather-legs...
So when you get chatting with a fellow passenger and they suggest getting off the train and heading in the opposite direction to the beach town of Varna, is it any wonder that you immediately leap from the carriage at the sight of the next platform? Here's what we found:
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