A couple years ago I stayed at a hostel in Granada called The Bearded Monkey. My most distinct memory was of its collective library of books left by generations of bohemian travelers like myself. I would swing in one of the many hammocks strewn around the tropical courtyard and read my book.

At the time I was reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintanence and I wanted to finish it in time to leave it before I had to move on. I liked the romance of leaving this object for somebody else to find. But I didn't finish it in time and I brought it with me across the border, back to Costa Rica and onto America.

I still have that book. I should read it again. Maybe next time I'm traveling in Nicaragua.