It was a hot Saturday morning when I set off from Bratislava's central bus station with Elena and Karol for a hike. Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia, is well connected by bus to outlying villages nestled in the Small Carpathian Mountains, the range that flows gently into the center of the city from its start several dozen kilometers to the north. After meeting up that morning in the station, these two new acquaintances in their mid twenties suggested a route whereby we would hop on a line to one village, hike up into the mountains, and come down either in another village or in a part of Bratislava and take a different bus back. By the time our bus had made several stops before the city limits, it was already full. The tightly packed interior radiated heat from every angle, despite the open windows. Elena, Karol, and I had been standing in the aisle since the station. Still more passengers boarded at the front, paying the driver. Those of us without seats increasingly resisted the driver's calls that we squeeze still closer together.

We swayed back and forth against one another's sticky bodies as the bus bounced up to the first village stop. Almost no passengers got off; instead, several more people waited outside to get on. The driver glanced up into his mirror and again barked several times for us to make room.