Sunseed Desert Technology - The beginning of something special.

Ok so let's start at 2am at Benidorm shall we. And as usual there's me waiting, just waiting, no information and all for my bus. I was actually quite impressed with the facilities at the station. I was able to sit comfortably and buy a coffee and not feel unsafe which is important as a single traveller. Outside I ventured nearer the time of supposed bus arrival and what should I spot but a fellow native English speaker. I could tell because he had a water bottle carrier in touristic South American style. I asked where he was going to and to my surprise he replied the same town I was destined for. I asked why and lo and behold – he was only going to Sunseeds too.

On bus, sleeping bag out, miffed that it was fuller than I expected at that time of night I was all settled in to a good old rest. But to my horror I noticed not one, not two but what seemed to be a whole colonization of cockroaches crawling all over the place. The first stop we came to I marched to the driver to complain. I had tried in vain to ignore them and get some sleep but they insisted on crawling into my personal space and I wasn't having that. Driver of course being from the south and Spanish wasn't that bothered. He told me he'd give me a piece of paper to complain or something but of course he never did.

The traveler I'd met at Benidorm was an Irish guy and we arrived in Sorbas, Almeria half an hour before we were scheduled to. This was annoying because we already had a good few hours before being picked up by some members of the Sunseeds team. Luckily for us the restaurant that was the proposed meeting point of collection was open at 6.30am so the two of us went in for a wake up coffee. We chatted then as we made our way around the shut up town. We had tried to pawn off our rucksacks at the bar but owner wouldn't let us so we were malling these big things round at first light. We found a nice vantage point of the town overlooking the steep cliff edges of the valley. It was very dramatic. Unfortunately it was all rather lost on me as I was more focused on trying to wake up and get over feeling of disgusting-ness from bus.

Back to cafe we went to wait for pick up. We were approached by a guy and his baby who asked whether I was in fact Kika but seemed unaware of the arrival of my companion. However there was plenty of room in the van that arrived white of course with a hand painted Sunseeds logo on the side. Love it. After chucking our sacks in the back and a few last town errands to help with, we were off and rolling to the site of Sunseeds.

Sunseeds, as the guy with the baby explained, originally started out as a project in the late 80's to re-plant desert land with trees named 'Green Deserts'. He noted that it was dubious thinking that all deserts were once forests and of course, he's a tree expert himself, the planting failed. The project then evolved into technology export hoping to change/help third world countries with a permaculture way of living. This also did not work all though there is still a sister project in Tanzania. Today Sunseeds focusses on Technology exchange based on Permaculture ethics where three simple concepts provail. These are 'Earth Care - Provision for all life systems to continue and multiply; People Care – Provision for people to access those resources necessary for their existence and; Fair Share – By governing our own needs, we can set resources aside to further the above principles.

Hmmmm. I contemplated what I would be arriving at, how I'd cope with compost loos, limited showers and a strict vegan diet. The scenery helped. Amazing ravines and views across a scorched pre-historic landscape. We turned off the main road out of Sorbas not long after we left, in near midday sun. Just in time for lunch. Exhausted and bewildered at what I would be facing for a month I looked forward to communal eating and getting to know my surroundings and companions.

Barcelona - Part 2

So on Wednesday morning I was planning a nice early start. Unfortunately I overslept so that wasn't what I got. Obviously recovering from the horrendous night's sleep before. A quick breakfast later, I was up and about walking in the fresh morning air of Barcelona on my way to Casa Milà, Gaudi's last apartment block he designed. At the till to get in, which I was surprised to find not many people in line for at 11am, I flashed my Bus Tour coupon and my ISIC card and the lady pointed to which one I could use. Inside audio guides were included in the price and thank god too. What I've noticed about Spanish sites of interest is they're not overly keen on giving you info as you walk around. There is never usually anything labeled or something to read up on in the particular place you're in. So if offered an audio guide and it's not included, I'd recommend you'd go for it to get the best out of your visit.

At the Casa Milà I found more out about Gaudi himself and other things he designed such as furniture. This information mostly given in the loft of the building. Then you are guided down to a typical recreated apartment of the period in which it was completed. And this is the overall sense of the museum I got – not something completely on Gaudi but more about life and arts of the period. This is heaven for me as I love anything Art Nuevo and turn of the century. In the gift shop (a must of course in Capitalist Tourism) I found a print book of Alonso Mucha's work which I've been looking for. That was purchased along with a book of Chanel turn of the Century designs.

That museum took up until lunchtime and I had planned on taking a bike to the next one to save time as I knew I wanted to do a lot that day. I had noticed, from the bus tour, that along with a fantastic looking tram system, Barcelona offered another unique form of public transport. As you explore the city you come across several handily situated Bicycle Stations. Here you swipe some sort of a card at a post which then unlocks a bike from a bar at the side of the street where many bikes are docked. However I was told at the hostel that I would not be able to use the system as I was not a local resident. Barcelona has many bike lanes making getting around the city this way incredibly easy and safe. When the system was first introduced a few years ago, local bike tour companies wanted tourists to be banned from using it for fear of competition. Personally I feel it a bit of a swizz but one sees the point.


So I walked to my next destination as I didn't want to spend money on metro tickets. I hadn't invested in the 10ride ticket as I thought being overland I'd see a lot more. Singles are more expensive than Madrid costing 1€35c. Though, I probably should have taken them Metro to the Joan Miro foundation Museum because it was up in Montjuic hill overlooking the city. By the time I got up there after lunch I only had a little over an hour to smooch round. Worth it though if you are into Modern Art. Though the guy at the hostel thought going to Barcelona's official Modern Art Museum, MACBA, was a better option. It was centrally located also. But it was a good walk round for me, no audio guide I'm afraid. But there were the odd info boards in English. The museum is situated just down the road from the City's overhead Cable Car system that gives good views of the city and park. Here I decided to splash out on the metro back. Bit of a treat down to the city – the metro carriages are on a slope and I think cable operated.


That evening I crashed out in front of Barcelona vs Athletic in the Spanish Football Cup final in the common room with other guests. Barcelona won and the city didn't sleep that night. I did however and the next day rose, on time, and dashed out for breakie on the run. I was on my way to Pueblo Espanyol. This is a faux Spanish village that was built for the 1929 International Exhibition. It's aim was to show visits examples of architecture from across Spain's different regions. Now it plays host to many artisans workshops where they sell their wares and numerous places to eat. I had breakfast here in a café overlooking it's Plaza Mayor. Again, with audio guide in hand, I spent near on 4 hours ambling around, taking in the various info about Spanish building styles and checking out all the things being made in the little shops. By the time I had finished I hadn't much time left before I had to catch my bus back to Madrid. I caught metro back to the Gothic quarter of the city which is the oldest part and very atmospheric. I walked from here back up to the hostel, of course it was then that it decided to start raining, how terribly British.

I checked out, managed to leave my towel there in the process and took the metro back to Estacion Nord. Barcelona's bus station isn't bad, if a bit tatty. Bus was practically empty back and the journey passed fairly quietly except for a few outbursts from a rather uptight bus driver. And this is when 'The Bus Story' comes in. Pulling into some random town, a woman wanted to be droped off somewhere quickly. So bus stopped she got off and then we headed back to open road. A good few minutes in an old man crawled his way up to the bus driver. A few Si, claro hombre's and stressed por favor's later we turned round as the driver didn't announce the stop and people had missed it. Yes I know it well.

I had remembered to bring the earphones from bus tour to plug in as Alsa busses have personal earphone things that I wanted to check out. Unfortunately, out of 8 channels, only 3 worked and when the film did eventually pop up on screen, none of these channels offered the soundtrack. This annoyed me a lot as it was Something About Mary being shown and I'd never seen that. Mind you probably would have been dubbed anyway. I could lip read well enough.

Barcelona: Great for Architecture, playing volleyball on the beach and remember your Audio Guides.

Barcelona - Part 1

Let's start at Avenida America Bus Station in Madrid. I arrived at 10am on a Monday and the place was practically a ghost station. First of all, amazingly tiny screens making finding right platform number where the bus is extremely difficult. Secondly, venturing out to platform – not a soul to be found anywhere. Hanging around, 5 mins before departure, found someone who resembled a driver who told me to go to a couple of platforms down, different to one on screen that hadn't changed. There, a small group of travelers waited in mild confusion only to be collected by another driver person who took us to a completely different platform at the other end of the station. Result – not impressed, Estacion del Sur at Mendez Alvaro still the best bus station in Madrid for ease and facilities.

7 hours and two motorway stops later, I had arrived in Barcelona's Estacion Nord. First task – find hostel. I had booked into Sant Jordi Hostel off Paseo de Gracia via hostelworld.com. Very good website, trusting traveler reviews who have actually stayed there so no nasty surprises. Instructions from hostel were detailed about which metro to catch and what exit to take and other than a short debate with a metro employee who didn't agree with the instructions, I found the hostel relatively quickly. I was tired from the journey and wanted to settle in as soon as possible and find something to eat.

Sant Jordi hostel is small and friendly. It is freshly decorated with a well kitted out kitchen and common room. They are so accommodating here that they organize socials each night. That evening was named 'Nasty Mondays' on the walls of the common spaces. The international set of Australians, Canadians and Americans gathered in the kitchen for drinks before heading out to a club one of the hostel workers knew which did great Mojitos. Once back at the hostel at something O'Clock in the morning I was ready to crash out. Unfortunately the room I was put in was a) at the front overlooking a busy main street, b) right next to the kitchen and topping it off c) my bed was pushed up to a set of connecting doors into the kitchen where at 5am I was awoken by a couple of Germans. It all amounted to a very bad night's sleep.

In the morning I was delighted to find at only 2€, an amazing spread for Breakfast. Just what I needed to start my day's exploring. I decided to do the traditionally touristic thing of taking an official Bus Tour round the city. Bus Tour views vary from a waste of time and money to an informative way to orientate yourself. I took the later view and spent nearly the whole day on three different tours. Of course it was hop on, hop off type but at 21€ day ticket (27€ for 2 days) I was going to make the most of it. I had a fantastic lunch by the harbor and gained some great ideas of what to see in Barca. However because there really is no point sitting on the bottom deck due to the amount of wonderful buildings the city has to offer and constantly looking up, I was on the top, in the sun for near on a day. This amounts to one thing as a girl of Celtic roots – amazing sunburn even in May when it wasn't especially hot there.

With a little time in evening before I ate, I visited the Casa Batlló which was just on the corner of the street from the hostel. This house was designed by Gaudi for a Textile Factory owner and oh my god – completely in love with Gaudi architecture now. You either love him or hate him but you can't visit Barcelona without exposing yourself to at least one of his works. One comment was that the house is a bit expensive to visit but with the bus tour, I got discount slips on nearly all the places of interest. Also if you have the ISIC card, which I really recommend, discounts are abound on all these types of places. At the sites I visited, I asked which discount would be best as the amount discounted varied.

That evening I asked to change rooms as I was not up for another night of light dozing. The lady behind the hostel desk was very nice and jiggled a few things so I could spend my last two nights in a quiet room at the back. That evening's activities were Sangria drinking with the guests at the other Sant Jordi Hostels. Or 'Crazy Tuesdays' as it was labeled. After crammed socializing in the kitchen everyone was invited to a club with free entry and a free drink. I wasn't up for it as I wanted an early start the next day and also the club played House and Hip Hop music and that's not my thing.

The Bus Story - the ultimate tale!

Before I give you my account of my time in Barcelona I must give you the Bus Story that I've been promising for so long. On my way back from Barca to Madrid we stopped off at a random town where something happened (I won't say what as it will ruin the story) to remind me of my own first Bus trip.

What follows is an account that I first impressed my theatre comrades in the belly of what was 'Fuel' quiz night in Plymouth. Now re-named 'Mouse Trap' by the unscrupulous Cuba/Air/Mouse Trap Bar group (unscrupulous because of it's gratifying women's toplessness in Cuba - another campaign for another time). What I tell you probably isn't really about what happened and how I developed a slight fear of travelling alone on busses but how I manage to turn a mundane 2 minute tale into a near novel.

Let me take you back to a time much nearer the turn of the millenium when I was a hapless school girl in Cambridge. One Weekend my parents decided to go celeb spotting near St Tropez with a friend of mine's parents who had a chalet down there. The plan was for me to go to this girl's house for the weekend where we would be looked after by her older brother and his then girlfriend (now wife). But how to get from Cambs to Dunmow where she lived? I was instructed to take the bus from the centre of town.

Off I trundled down Cambs picturesque streets - suitcase behind me (I weekly boarded at the time), School uniform on. First problem - finding the ticket office and purchasing right ticket. 5 mins was spent trying to find this, tucked away behind where all the busses stand. Finally found and ticket bought, checked to right destination. Next task - waiting at right stand for bus. Hmmmmmmmmm, waiting, waiting, waiting. OK - it's definitely late now. Am I at the right stand? Ok I am, it's all ok. Oh thank god - as the bus rolls up. A few people climb aboard. To the driver I present my ticket and double check "This does stop at Dunmow?" To which the driver says yes and then asks me this "Are you one of those Stansted Airport hostesses?"

This is more than slightly concerning as let me describe to you my school uniform I was wearing; My blue V-neck jumper might have had the green school crest on the left corner, might not have but looked very schooly anyhow. My skirt which was regulatory knee-length balckwatch pleated tartan. I think it was summer so I probably would have had horrid blue socks on completing the look with boring black flats. Also this was pre-eyeliner era so I probably looked about three years younger than I actually was anyway. Now the only thing I can think of that might have made him say that was the fact that I was wielding a wheelie suitcase - but it was bright purple for God sake! This worried me together with the glazed look in his eyes that made me decide he was definitely on drugs.

Journey begins. As I didn't really know what stop Dunmow was after I checked and it was the one after the Airport. Trouble is with busses is that you don't know what your stop looks like if you haven't stopped there before. Of course with long distance they announce it or are supposed to. But I knew what the airport looked like so was resolved in just getting off at the stop after that. So the airport we pass. Ah yes mine's the next then. Time passes. I notice a sign to Dunmow pointing one way - bus goes opposite direction. Try not to panic. Maybe low bridges or something I think. More time passes. Friend rings me on my Nokia 5110 asking where I am. I say should be there any moment now. More time passes. Friend rings me again and tells me to go up to driver and ask him - I reply that I do not trust his multitasking skills to do such a thing. More time and then - we stop.

Bus driver announces "Last Stop Chelmsford. Everyone off!" WHAT! OMG. I have it out with the driver asking him why he didn't stop. He says he did and that someone got off. And I'm like 'well no, obviously not coz that would have been me wouldn't it?' You nummbskull. Obviously I didn't say that to him but I did start crying. I was in deepest darkest Essex and no idea how to get to where I needed to be. Back on the changeable cover Nokia phone and friend had solution. Luckily big bro's girlfreind's mum lived in Chelmsford and so it was arranged for her to pick me up. So I wait in a desolate bus station nearing dark not surprised at yet another stranger coming to collect me from somewhere.

A woman turns up and introduces herself and takes me back to her house. Not too long later my friend, her brother and the girlfriend arrive also. I apologise for causing such havoc but all's well that ends well as we settled down to a nice tea together. Apparently the girlfriend hadn't seen her mum for a while so it was a nice excuse to get together. Which was good. Ah but what a journey it was that formed much of my inexplicable fears of travelling to scary places on my own.

So, ehum, around the world without a plane completely on my toddle should be fine then shouldn't it. Tune in next time when you'll get to hear about Barcelona.

Granada - the Final day

Sunday I woke up after a delightful sleep, still in Mochi Guesthouse thankgod. Breakfast was lovely, talking with different travellers - a plus. My American friend decided to go on a hike with some other girls around the countryside close by. Buses are available to take you into the hills which supposedly have the best views of the city. Unfortunately they missed their bus so never got there. Buses were only once an hour I think.

I was too worn out from the day before to go trekking. Have I mentioned Granada is hilly? So I took a turn about the town in the morning, taking a rest at Paseo de Los Tristes. Despite the name (Walkway of the Sad, literally translated) it has a delightful view of the River Valley and the Alhambra above. I stopped there to write and eat a little before meeting my friend and another we had bumped into who we knew from Madrid in a Moroccan Tea House near the Albacin.

One of my lasting memories of Granada is that it is more like a little taste of Morocco than one of Spain. I was always planning on visiting Morocco before I left southern Europe but I have never been able to do so. Now I'm a little less sad about never making it over to the African continent because of my visit to Granada. The place we were sitting in was tiny, crammed with tiny stools around Metalic round plates set as tables. The menu listed or course many blends of teas and a Crepe selection. I ruddy love crepes! So a Rose Tea and Bannana, Cream and Chocolate Crepe later I was settled. And on leaving, we all spotted a little sheesha action too.

After the Moroccan place we set off once again into the Sacremento to check out the cave museum. After a slight camp out on their steps (it was closed for siesta) we looked around some ancient caves set in the hills. People have been living in these caves since prehistoric times and lately have enjoyed a revival with hippies reinhabiting some abandonned ones. Another beautiful trait of Granada was it's free and artistic atmosphere. As soon as you hit the Albacin, there's street trade, random little shops. Admittedly some sell the same kind of thing but it's all interesting stuff. It's Uni has a rep. for being best at Drama so that's where all that lot go. And that really comes out when you walk around the town.

I have to go back one day to do some more exploration. Apparently there are some Turkish Baths somewhere.

Granada Part 2

Ok so it's been a long time now since Granada but here's the rest of my experience in the fair city.

Granada is geographicaly a hard city to get around on foot. It's hilly, it get's hot easily. Even in Feb - by the middle of the day we were pretty hot. However there are plenty of bus routes you can take that makes visiting the various different places of interest easier. Our first stop in Granada was the the main square where we were told at the hostel that an American guy runs walking tours of the city starting at the fountain at 11.00am. We got there a few minutes before and the fountain wasn't running. Soon there was a young looking guy standing around with a leaflet held up in the air. We walked over and gradually a few others joined. We waited and talked a little - there were 3 other Americans and an Australian. The tour guide had been one of those never ending travellers who had come to Granada to study a little and decided he liked it so much he stayed. He'd discovered there were no walking tours offered to tourists so had decided to start one himself. The fountain was turned on and he takes this as his sign that no one else is going to show so we the small band of tourists set off.

Luckily for us our guide was not an average Joe. He had majored in Theatre and had literary and artistic tendencies. This, I'm pleased to say, was all incoorated in our tour. Whilst relaying certain interesting historical facts about Granada we were all invited to 'step back in time' in a certain impro, drama type way. As in we were invited to make funny noises and wave our arms around. If you're into something a little bit different (as I am) then this walking tour is definitely reccomended. We spent about 2 hours walking all over Granada, entertained and informed whilst also orientating ourselves.

The guy worked for tips and he took us to the best place with a view to get us to give. Believe me - no problem paying the guy. Completely reasonable rates and an excellent tour. Afterwards he invited everyone to go and have lunch together at some places he knew. Unfortunately, my American friend and I had a date with the Alhambra.

The Palace and grounds are weirdly marketed. They are separate areas to visit with different prices from free to expensive. Inside is what you have to book tickets for to gurantee your visit. On these tickets they give you specific times to go. Either a morning time or afternoon. However when we arrived at our aloted time, the wardens kept on asking for another time that was supposed to be our appointment. To this day I do not know what they were on about. It didn't seem to matter anyway. There was a long line to get into the Palace and once inside I was actually quite disapointed. The rooms we were directed through were fabulously old but there was no information anywhere about the rooms. All these questions kept on popping into my head like 'when was this built?' 'What was this room used for?' 'What King used this?' After a while I got so annoyed that I just started making up the answers myself.

I suggest you spend the extra money on an audio guide. As a British tourist I expect information on the place I'm visiting included in the price of visiting. And whilst the architecutre was fabulous and the gardens amazing to walk round, I just felt disapointed at not actually learning anything about what I had just been seeing. My American friend didn't seem to mind though.

We had also been tipped off at the hostel of a fabulous Flamenco and Dinner show up in the Sacremento hills. Apparently the stage had a backdrop of a window that looked out onto the Alhambra lit up at night. After a freshen up and quick nap, a group of us from the hostel decided to trek up there to it. However we were advised to arrive at a certain time to get tickets, we didn't. We got slightly lost and once we had arived after a long and arduous walk up a never ending hill, we were told that it had allready started and there were no tickets left. Well, eventually were told that by an unfriendly hilltop barman. There were alot of small groups of people hanging around, attempting to open slightly invisible locked doors. No one really knew what was going on and all seemed a bit lost even at the supposed destination.

We slunk back down to Granada central in two different taxis and miraculously met up again in a famed tapas bar just off the highstreet. There we had lots of lovely wine from a generous selection and of course, tapas. The place was packed with fabulously looking people. I was, in my backpacking I don't give **** how I look gear, slightly underdressed. But I didn't care. The high density of people just proved the brilliant atmosphere in the place and I was lapping it up. After the tapas, a girl in group decided that her boyfriend was at a much better place so dragged us all off there. Only she didn't know exactly where it was and again, we all got a bit lost. We eventually settled on a retro looking bar to sit down at. But by this time all the walking had taken it's toll and I was titbit tired.

I headed off to Hostel (proud of myself for finding it all by myself in the dark) and fell into bed to slumber well. The beds at the hostel were extremely comfortable even though the matresses were from Ikea.

Sunday coming up in Part 3

Granada Part 1

On a temporate Friday evening, after a sing song at Spanish University choir, my American friend and I set off for Madrid's Estacion del Sur to catch an overnight bus to Granada. The journey took 5 hours and my thrifty travel companion came up with the ingenious idea of travelling in darkness to arrive at our destination at 6:30am to give us more time visiting and less money spent on accomodation. We are both EFL Teachers and had commitments Friday and classes early Monday morning. Now, for reasons only 'The Bus Story' can explain (check for later blog entitiled thus and it will give relevant background) I am not overly fond of bus travel. It's almost always too cold, chairs are either unable to recline or refuse to keep position, passengers encorach on personal space and it's boring. But in the exploratative mode I am in here in Spain I was excited of seeing somewhere new and also was accompanied by a freind to make the boring bits pass more easily.


Estacion del Sur is a large, fairly sterile building in the south of Madrid. Reached by Metro, Cercanias or local bus it is fairly accessable, with informative big arrivals and departures screens. There are places to get cash out without being charged (if you have a Spanish account) which is important as the two places to eat do not accept cards. We arrived in good time at a little before 12am and after checking bus details with Alsa (the Spanish equivalent to the British bus company National Express) we headed straight for the only Cafe open and grabbed a stool, for it was unsually busy, to enjoy food before sleepy time on bus.


Once installed on bus we noted how awake we felt for eventual napping but really it was a good time to climb aboard. I don't think it would have worked in England because of the different attitude to night life the country has compared to Spain. 12am Friday night is about the time the youngens think about going to a club in this country. 12am London, let's say, is about the time Karl and Chantelle are feeling the effects of their Carling and Vodka/Redbull hits before getting kicked out of Chicago's in 2hrs time. So the night's pretty much over at 12am back home, but here, you feel comfortably normal; you could go out, you've just eaten, you could stay on a bus and think about sleeping in a couple of hours.


I have no problem sleeping in moving vehicles. I think this is due to my parents using the car as a moving cot when I was first born because we travelled up and down the country every weekend until I was 3. I've learnt to prepare myself for the cold of the bus by always bringing more layers than you think you need. However this particular journey was quite irregular. The heaters were on so high, and I was sitting right next to them on the window side, that I kept on waking up out of thirst! Luckily I have also learn't never to travel without a handy bottle of water.


We pulled into Granada at dawn, a little sleepy but suitably pumped for the long day ahead. We nicked a tourist map from behind a closed information booth (one has to be nifty in these situations) as we had no idea how to get to our first point of call - the youth hostel. The one we had booked was our third choice. The first was one I had got information of from my Official International Youth Hostels Guide 2007 (www.hihostelss.com is the offical global website). Unfortunately this was not avialble for our weekend. The next was one highly reccomended on www.hostelworld.com, Oasis Backpackers Hostel. With an attractive write-up on the site left by backpackers who have stayed there we were dis-heartened when they had no rooms available either. Third time lucky?- we managed to book a little known hostel named Mochi Guesthouse from the same site with just as good recommendations. However we were both had no idea what to expect.


And how greatful I was of no expectations when we finally reached the hostel. As the ancient front door creaked open, and my friend and I stepped up over the historical threshold, tired from being lost for 20 mins in the interesting but narrow lanes of the Albaicin in first light - what a delight it was to be welcomed by a traditional courtyard layout. There were two sunloungers seemingly waiting for summer in the middle, looked down upon by moorish slatted wooden window shutters and timber roofed walkways. In the common room where we were lead by the mother of the lady who owned the hostel, there were traditional foot cushions strewn about the place, a battered guitar propped up against the plain and unpainted walls. The absence of decoration in this ancient room only seemed to add to the purity of the environment and add to our pleasent surprise. A makeshift bar at one end of the room was being prepared for breakfast. Next door to this was a tiny loo. Now bathroom facilities in hostels are always a canctancourous point - but this loo, and I do have to point this out, was cleanly decorated, well fitted and neat. Always a bonus on your travels.

After a short doze on the sofa, and the formalities of booking in, we settled down to a breakfast of fresh fruit, bread and marmalade, teas and coffee. Although the coffee was only filter and went cold really easily - there was a microwave to warm it up. And I was in a lovely new city so I didn't care - I just needed some sort of caffeine hit after being on a bus for 5 hrs, walking for over 1 and about to walk a whole day more.