It was like one of those Charles Dickens gloomy scenes which foreshadowed a bleak plot twist; for the first – and only – time during my two-week trip through Europe, the weather was exceptionally cold coupled with heavy showers. Even though I’d woken up at 4 am, I still managed to miss my 6 am Budapest-Prague bus. Running in the dark early hours of the day, falsely hoping to catch the bus I was certain had already moved, I was caught in a panic attack of sobbing and heavy breathing. But little did I know that I probably was meant to miss the bus to be another helping hand along his journey back home. By the time I reached the bus station, I’d calmed down, and figured that the solution was as simple as buying another bus ticket. Realizing I still had another eight hours to kill until my ride hits the road, I started to weigh my options between reading, watching movies or striking conversation with strangers who seemed to also be stranded at the bus station. Shortly into my conversation with two Mexican backpackers, a man who roughly…
The Plight of a Syrian Refugee Stranded Between a Safe Haven and a War-Torn Home
December 7, 2015
