There’s a Youth Hostel on the other side of the road. It didn’t have a sign up until recently and I thought it was a block of private apartments. I was eating breakfast when I noticed a middle aged couple walking around naked on the third floor. After they showered they threw off their towels and jumped back into bed. The next afternoon, in the same room, I noticed a Rasta in a striped beanie and a beard rolling a cigarette as he watched the cars go by on the street below. A Korean girl hanging up her clothes to dry. A blonde man reading a book. A pretty, long haired girl who swung her legs dangerously over the balcony as her friend took her picture with a digital camera. I don’t mind anymore if they find me watching. I’m only troubled that, when they do, absent-mindedly, I’ll wave.