Trip Start Nov 07, 2006
54Trip End Apr 26, 2007
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I"ve slept in some odd places, on stations, in parks, in posh hotels, poor hotels, in doorways and even in police cells; the night in Carmelo was different indeed.
Entering the hotel you break an electronic beam causing the repeated "ching chang" of an alarm. The owner appears and starts to gush and gesture, taken aback you follow her non-stop chatter to your room where she points out the TV, fan, en suite, wardrobe and curtained window then she departs hurriedly to the "ching chang, ching chang" of the next potential customer.
The room is full of bed, a small double bed that must have been built in situe, it practically touches both side walls. You crawl onto the bed to reach the pretty pretty curtains covering a tiny shuttered window; the bed covers were nylon and slip and slide, but they are pretty, pretty as well as tiny, tiny.
´"Ching, chang, ching chang" as someone breaks the beam. Never mind you´re very, very tired and tired bodies sleep well. It´s 11 pm and you fall asleep on a hot night. You sweat, you move to avoid the cool draft from the fan on the damp sheets, soon they will gather in chilled knots that insist on cuddling you closely.
Getting out of bed for the call of nature you squeeze down the eight inch gap and smack into the open bathroom door that touches the end of the bed; alternatively you could have exited on the other side and squeezed past the six inch down drain pipe. At 4.30am a tropical storm rages and you realise why there is the down pipe next to the bed as rain water rattles through it. The rain also seeps through the small window at the head of the bed, the only place you could find for the rucksack. Night passes.
You´re ready for breakfast by 7.30 and go into the pretty, pretty dining room; it has a tin roof that produces many decibels as the rain thunders down. Never mind you didn´t really feel like conversing anyway.
The small tables are sweetly dressed in red and white cloths with a vase containing a single plastic flower; oh so pretty, pretty, it is covered with a plastic protective sheet. Your breakfast arrives, dry toast and bread sticks that you cover with spread from the pretty, pretty wooden construction that holds both pots and dainty knives. You proceed to eat your breakfast off the plastic sheet but it is pretty, pretty and the noise is pretty deafening and you are pretty worn out.
You sign out "ching chang, ching chang" and sigh hoping that the three hour bus journey you face will enable you to catch up with your mind.
This is travelling!