I pretty much crashed as soon as I got to the hostel. I’ve stayed in hostels before but I’ve always opted for a private room. On this trip I’m going for the dorm option wherever I can. Speaking to other travellers there are some pretty gnarly stories that come out of bunkrooms. The best I’ve heard was from an Irish guy I met in Portland. He roomed with a schizophrenic Nigerian guy in Toronto who slept with a machete. One night the Irish guy woke to find the Nigerian at the foot of his bed. The Irish guy asked what was going on. After a long pause the Nigerian started to cry and asked, “is it wrong to love someone”.

I’m glad I heard that story after my dorm-room debut, however it was a weird experience checking in at five in the morning. I couldn’t see anything as I entered the room. All I could hear was the sound of more than one person breathing. As I felt for my bunk in the pitch black, the lucky dip nature of the scenario dawned on me.

I woke to the soft giggles and chatter of female voices. German female voices. Hearing that in a state of half sleep it may as well have been a choir of angels in serenade above my top bunk. Well, that’s a scenario that my best mate Tom and I would have dreamt up (I miss those sessions man!). I was a little excited but I just smiled to myself and drifted off to sleep again.

When I did wake again it was lunch time and I was alone in the room. Including my own, only three of the six beds were occupied. (Turns out my roomies were German. Really nice girls. One was taking a week off from her job as an au pair in Delaware. Her friend had come from Germany to spend the week with her.)

I walked over to a huge window (pictured) looked out and got that arrival buzz again only this time I could express it a bit more freely. I spotted the first port of call for my big walk, “Café Pizza” (you can see it next to the deli in the pic). They advertised espresso. I was sold.