a bad night

So, I had decided I was too poor to invest in a Let´s Go! of my very own, but had the good sense to copy out the details of the most likely looking cheap accommodation in Granada. What I hadn´t rekoned with, however, was that the bus might arrive at about 3am. Nor had I yet learnt that the bus station in european cities is always in the dodgiest part of town.

Naturally then, when a complete stranger offered to take me to his "hostel," I chose to ignore that he was a rather shifty-looking and dirty old man and went home with him. I´ve since found out that those who tout accommodation around bus and train stations are usually doing so illegally and are not properly registered or whatever; to be honest, though, I´m not really likely to be tempted again anyway - I think I learnt my lesson! Memory suggests, in a rather non-specific way, that both the stranger and his establishment were somewhat unpleasant and frightening. The six dirty bunk beds crammed into the tiny room, the heat and the noise - dogs barking, glass breaking and couples copulating - well, it was all just a bit much after three days on a bus.

Granada

Looking back, I was terribly innocent and overburdened. I had persuaded myself that I would look for work and stay indefinitely, not considering that Granada already had a student population of about 50,000 and certainly didn't need any more seasonal unskilled labour. Oh, and I don't really like working that much anyway, so when an opportunity didn't just fall into my lap, I kinda gave up on the work idea.

I busked a bit, without much success. So carrying the guitar all that way was a bit of a waste of time then...