Let me tell you a story.
In a resplendent little hostel nestled amidst the cobblestoned slopes of Albayzin, Granada, worked a man from Boston by the name of Nick. I met this friendly young man during my travels this summer when I stayed at the Makoto Backpacker’s Hostel. He showed me around – “here’s our little kitchen. Breakfast is free, from 8 to 11 each morning”, “these are our hammocks, we only request that you take your shoes off when you use them”, “here’s your bed for the next three nights” – and then proceeded to pour me an awful version of Tinto de Verano at the ramshackle bar. Continue reading “A Backpacking Story”