Teyma is a devout Belieber. Almost 20 of her last Facebook cover photos are collages and close-ups of the Canadian pop idol Justin Bieber. Lil’ Wayne, Rihanna, Nicki Minaj and One Direction are also staples. As her Instagram proudly pronounces: “HIP HOP IS LIFE.”

Music, carried on an electric pink iPhone, has been a constant on her journey from the Syrian capital, Damascus, across seven countries, “by sea, by boat, by train, by bus, by taxi and on foot,” to the train station in Presheva, in southern Serbia, near the Macedonia and Kosovo borders. It is just one more stop on the way to Western Europe.

“Maybe Germany, maybe Norway,” she says. “I don’t speak German, but if I end up there that’s where I want to go to university.”

Teyma has been traveling with her uncle and her father for more than a month. They are among the 9 million people estimated to have fled their homes in Syria since the civil war began in 2011 – some 40 per cent of the population.

Across the whitewashed walls of Presheva station, maybe a dozen other Syrian migrants have scribbled down their names. On the bench outside are a group of grumpy Afghans, and sitting on the floor further along is a family of Palestinians from Syria, eating a vast picnic. The station master passes them some salt.

In the first quarter of 2015, Germany granted 13,775 Syrians refugee status, far higher per capita than any other country.

But Teyma’s family still have to get through Hungary and Austria to get there. Rumors that Hungary plans to erect a border fence are causing panic amongst some migrants. Teyma appears confident, however, as many of her friends have made it. But she is decidedly annoyed that many other refugees are claiming to be Syrians. “I don’t like this,” she says.

Turks, Afghans, Ghanaians, Kurds, Nigerians “all want a place in Germany, Denmark and Norway. ‘I’m Syrian, I’m Syrian,’ they say,” she adds.

She has a long-term plan to study and become an architect, “maybe an interior designer! And I want to go to London. I love London, and New York, and Los Angeles”.

Teyma’s older brother has set the bar high. He is about to start his master’s in architecture in the UK. He has been studying in Damascus. He’s got competition from his sister, though. Her Facebook profile says she has completed two University of Oxford study courses. Her eldest brother, meanwhile, is completing a master’s in civil engineering, following in their father’s footsteps. He hopes to join them in Germany when he finishes. “He loves Germany. He’s wanted to go there since he was a child.” Her mother used to sell jewelry.

She and her uncle have been sitting on the inside bench at Presheva station for hours. According to estimates, 600 Syrians pass through there every day. The town is fit to bursting, the unlikely migrant crossroads of the entire region. The little room is bare and sweaty but no one is complaining; they have it to themselves. Her uncle chuckles conspiratorially and she peals with laughter. He is cracking a string of outrageous jokes, and although he says he doesn’t speak English, he speaks enough to poke fun at our conversation. Teyma’s judgement? “He’s an idiot!”

“I play guitar. I draw. I sing. I read Arabic books: Nizar Qabbani and Khalil Gibran especially. My favorite movies are ‘The Grudge’, ‘House of Wax’ and ‘Lord of the Rings.’”

She is even very enthusiastic about what she eats: “Snickers! Twix! Coca-Cola, oh, and Ultra energy drinks. Apples and bananas, sometimes.”

When our conversation turns to Syria, and the war she escaped, her enthusiasm quickly disappears, however.

“Syria now is very dangerous. Muslims, they don’t like Syrians. We don’t have the money to live there. In Syria, there’s no life, no smiles. If we stay in Syria: Daesh!”

Her uncle and I jump. This is the Arabic word for ISIS, which persecutes Syrian Christians like her. Christians in areas seized by the militant group have been forced to pay a religious levy, convert or be killed.

“Now in Syria, the war is very difficult, very dangerous. More dangerous than before. If we’d stayed in Syria, we’d have died,” she says.

Still, she has mixed feelings about leaving.

“I like Syria. I want to go back. In the past month, and the past year, I’ve been saying ‘I don’t want to go to Germany or any other country’. But I’ve been told I must go, to live a safe life, to complete my studies.”

“Syria is very beautiful. Up until four years ago, it was a big beautiful life. The memory of my friends and family make me miss it even more. I hope to see my home again- my bedroom,” she says.