I talk to the owner and upgrade to a separate room so that I can get my work done in peace.
The room has two single beds, a desk, a heater and a window.
The room is cozy, but the desk is not high enough for my lanky legs and the window looks out to an unsealed back street.
Reflecting on the past week, it starts to sink in that I just shelled out over $400 for a mere five day tour. This travel thing is a lot more expensive than I realised. Even not travelling is expensive. I really need to focus on this web contract, so that I can financially keep travelling. And I need to get it finished, so that I can physically keep travelling. I’m aiming for the end of the month, but it can’t come soon enough.
I sit in my room and try to force my head into the work space. OK, how does this web framework work exactly?
But it’s hard to get inspired here. The window frames a boring jumble of brick, wood and metal. A tired two-storey house, some low key construction and half a shipping container.
But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to concentrate. On the contrary, a mixtape of ambient emotion provides as much distraction as my inner procrastinator can handle. A barking dog. The sounds of vehicles and people trundling up and down the rough alleyway. Impatient honking and a demanding voice on a megaphone. Loud domestics in the hall. Screaming grandchildren in the same hall. My own intermittent yawning, sniffing, quiet expletives and lightbulb moments. And the temple tune.