The first hostel I worked in (Art City) was not a real hostel. By that, I mean it was low season, we had no guests other than several long-termers who were there for several weeks/months. Art City was basically our house, and we were a family -- everyone was expected to be home for dinner.
Of course, being transient hostel people, everyone ultimately heads their separate ways, but Sara was still here when I came back to Barcelona, living in a flat on the beach, and ready to resume where we had left off.
She left to go teach English in Vietnam last week. This is the worst part of this lifestyle... grieving loss constantly.
"Saraveza": You've been a rock for me in a foreign place, and one of the reasons this city now feels like a home base. Thanks for allowing me to let out my crazy.
Till we meet again. <3