The first time I ever stayed in a hotel by myself was in the quaint, lakeside town of Panajachel in Guatemala.

The walls were so thin that I could hear the tell-tale sounds of a Telenovela being watched from the room to the right of me, seeping into my sleep and dreams as Carlos, in Spanish of course, confessed his love to Maria, who scorned the thought of him….oh and this happened all-night-long. Of course there was the occasional sounds of dogs barking and someone throwing up…but you know, daily life, I guess.

I remember getting up early that morning, after giving up on the idea of trying to sleep some more, and tried to get a view out of my third-story, little bathroom window onto the streets below me, seeing if the world outside had yet woken up.

With no luck, I decided to head out for myself and see. So…