Everyone seemed to deal in kif on the side, although I hesitate to make it sound too appealing, because buying anything from an unknown hotel owner could well result in being thrown into a pit and having your passport confiscated. We refused politely and were shown to our room, which was at the end of a dark, gloomy corridor. The room was simple, with a sink and two unremarkable beds, although Simon was convinced there were pubes on his pillow, and insisted on the use of his sleeping-bag.

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