It’s taken me years of traveling to finally get this lesson: where you stay can make or break your trip, and your overall experience. Now what makes a place ‘right’ for some people make it ulcerating to others.
I have realized I am a hostel kind of person. That is not to say that I am the party all night debaucherous backpacker, but rather that when traveling I find it relaxing and energizing to share accomadations with other young travelers and lear about their exciting travels and lives.
What I am not is a hotel person. I find hotels in general, whether domestically or internationally, devoid of character, and essentially depressive isolating boxes. It doesn’t matter how nice the paintings are on the wall or how soft the bed…I’d take neon walls and creaky springs of a hostel any day.
This lesson I’ve realized several times in traveling, but I think during this extended stint in Fortaleza it really was hit home. I arrived in early July and went straight to the hotel I had booked. It was a relatively decent, but expensive place. Your average hold-your-breath-when-you-turn-around kind of place. But as there was literally no-one else staying at thishotel, and that it would cost me $60 a night, it didn’t matter that the beach was a block away…I checked out the next morning, much to the surprise of the management who was anticipating me being there a month…
Where was it I went, and what drew me? Well, I searched on hostelbookersonline.com, a website I’ve recently come to frequent as it provides updated and more diverse listings than your average guidebook. What I found there was the Pousada Terra Da Luz. The website was great and it seemed much more my speed than the cinderblock dungeon I found myself in. I called to see if they had any space, and a guest answered the phone saying they would love to have me and I should come over first thing in the morning. This was my kind of place!
Well, it’s been a month now, and I have formed quite a connetion to Carita’s Pousada Terra do Luz, her family (who live in the back half of the hostel-it was their house before Caritas expropriated it-may that be a lesson to you parents). Sure, I might share a room with four other smelly people. Sure, I might have to occasionally endure some noise. But in addition to the material benefits of having a kitchen, and oh say, a blender, a place to wash my clothes, I am gaining the much more valuable experiences of making international friends.
As an example of my "lar doce lar" (home sweet home). I present the following exhibit:
I returned back to the hostel last week at 4 am after an overnight bus trip...I had written Caritas telling her of my early arrival time, and asking whether I should announce my arrival by playing the banjo.
When I arrived I range the door bell, was let in by Caritas, and found the hostel covered in the above sign, including above my bed.
Lar doce lar-home sweet home (
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