I grew up travelling. I used to go with my parents all over the place and we either stayed with friends or in a hotel. I had the impression that all hotels were nice, had indoor pools, room service, were immaculate and I never gave a thought to what they must cost. Until 2003, the only other times I'd stayed in hotels were when I was bumped from a flight and then they put me up in an airport Holiday Inn or something, still nice. I had not a clue.
When I was in Haifa, I went on a trip with some other people to the Galilee. I wanted to camp. They wanted a hostel. We went to a hostel. At the time I was appalled. I had never imagined sleeping somewhere so gross and grimy and hot and nasty, with a shared unisex bathroom and shower down the hall. It was a rude awakening. Since then I've found out that nice hostels exist, as do nice budget hotels. But they are a different category altogether from the idea of "hotel" that I grew up with. The Lonely Planet Guide books have been a godsend in terms of finding decent, but cheap hotels and hostels in unfamiliar cities. However, guidebooks are put together by a variety of travellers with a variety of standards, so I've found the best thing to do is leave your bags somewhere safe, get the Lonely Planet out, and comb the city for the budget hotels. Read between the lines on the entries, and find the best value. LOOK AT THE ROOMS!!! Don't trust the book! Don't say yes to the seedy reception guy who asks if you want the room until you've seen it. This is how I spent my day. The first place looked really good on paper. It mentioned that the reception was a little offputting so I expected the scary-looking hunchbacked man that greeted me in Greek. I did not expect the dark dingy room with sticky linoleum floor and toilet with gross stains in it... I think I left that place running. After a couple of similar experiences, I found The One. The hotel that no one knows about that somehow is a million times better than the rest but for the same price. I have a hunch that every city has that hotel. It's just a matter of finding it. I paid the money, had a cup of (complimentary) tea with the (handsome) receptionist guy, and headed off to explore the city and get my bag from the cloakroom of the other place.
The weather was beautiful, the city was gorgeous, and I had a great day. I found an Indian restaurant where I had lunch. It was absolutely delicious, though a bit too spicy. Now, about 10 hours later, large flakes of skin are peeling off the roof of my mouth... is that normal? It was good though!
I'm going back to the hotel to watch tv and read the books I brought with me. Trying not to think about the bird flu that awaits me in Istanbul.....
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