I had checked into my hostel and decided to go for a walk and explore the vicinity.
Walking out into the courtyard, I noticed a large group of cyclists had converged on the hostel and had parked their parks in the middle of the courtyard making it impossible to pass.
The urge to urinate overcame me, so I decided to return to the hostel to use the toilet.
Back inside, I noticed the place overrun by cyclists in full regalia, the sound of clip-in shoes clacking on the hostel's wood floor.
Deciding to return to my room rather than battle the lines of cyclists waiting to use the public toilet downstairs, I removed the room key from my pocket only to observe there were two separate key fobs attached to each other with different numbers on them.
Confused, I walked back over to the reception desk and was greeted my the manager, who had checked me in only an hour or so before.
The manager looked as confused as I did and said that the second key fob---for room 204---did not belong to his hostel and must have been the room key to the previous hotel I stayed at.
I insisted that I hadn't stayed in any other hotel and thought it was stranger still that the two key fobs were attached by a common key ring.
The manager told me I could use whichever key I wanted, but the other key would be the one to open my door at his hostel.
I went back upstairs to my room and encountered a bizarre array of older Russian women crowded into the common area. The women, who were all smoking and wearing typical peasant dresses and Babushka headscarves, were huddled around the television watching a bicycle racing event.
Afterwards, I went back outside and walked through the courtyard where some tall cranes had been installed and were lifting rally-style cars out of shipping containers and placing them about the courtyard.
One car was set down precariously near the edge of a hill, which I though would fall over into the gorge below.
Next, I decided to call my eldest daughter in Spain to ask her if she would post something on her social media page to help me promote the new musical I had written. I thought since she had a large following of young people, this would be a great way to promote the event.
I called her via video chat on my smartphone and she was about to have dinner in the terrace garden of a local restaurant.
She was dining with friends who had moved all the tables and chairs off to the side so they could dance while waiting for their food to be served.
As there was a lot of noise and my daughter was distracted by all of the hullabaloo, I told her I would call her back at a more convenient time.
Then I woke up.
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