I got a ride from an Italian guy on speed vacation. He was a total contradiction of me, because he had planned out EVERYTHING: from the hotel he was going to stay in, to the restaurant where he was going to have lunch.

The man thought it was pretty funny for him to give a vegan a ride to Macedonia, which means fruit salad in Italian.

Besides this counterpart, we got along pretty well. The hours glided by as fast as the landscape.

Since there were 5 beds in his room, he politely offered me one, and we committed to try every single taste of Rakia. He left me in the room with a hangover, and out of laziness I decided to pay 15 euro and stay another night.

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Just when I’d chosen a movie, cooked the food I wanted to eat and closed the curtains for a cosy night of me-time, the owner of the hostel stormed inside and excused him for not having knocked. 
He thought I’d left, but clearly I didn’t.
I got kicked out of the room, since a group of five was going to take my place.
In addition, all hotels in the neighbourhood were booked out, and the owner looked at me with guilty eyes.

He could not believe his ears when I proposed to sleep at the kitchen table. He happily accepted my uncommon proposal and offered me dinner, but I kindly refused.

Sooo, squatting the hostel again.

This is where my ‘new thing’ with kitchens took form. Kitchens are mostly there, and have underestimated sleeping surfaces. With a little of imagination, you can settle yourself in a nice spot no one would ever think of.
I haven’t looked back ever since.

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When I came back to pick up my stuff at the hostel late at night - after an awesome day kayaking and local food - , the owner forbid me to go out this late and offered me a free room.

Beds are awesome, and this guy was golden.
It’s always after a couple of nights sleeping outside, or on the floor, that you appreciate a simple bed even more.

Sometimes, travelling is suffering to make the reward worth the while. But so many other times, it's so much more.

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