Over the course of my travel for the Walls book, I slept in a snore-rattled dorm room in Tucson, a dank Belfast hostel, a tent in a desert refugee camp, a Moroccan hotel surrounded by solvent-huffing teens, and a police station in northeast India.
That's the place on the right, the Fairmont Dubai. Looks rough.
I remember a time, when I first started traveling in the 1990s, when I would've been appalled at the idea of staying in such a ostentatious place. No more. At least not if I don't have to pay for it.
Dust off the speedo Marchy!