Retour à La Cigarra Casa de Huespedes
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When dawn breaks,the roosters’ songknocks gently on my window.The buzzing of the nightflows into the crowing of the morning,and together they become my day. Just in case, I slept fully dressed,yet by morning I foundseven bites on my neck,three on my face,and five on my hands—badges of honor, perhaps.After searching online,it seems they may not be from mosquitoesbut from fleas or bedbugs.Still, even this becomespart of my travel memories.