15 hours and 20 minutes, 2 flights, countless gin tonic and here I am, arriving in Mexico City! I’m thrilled and terrified to be traveling on my own here for a full month. After a quick 5-minute wait, I grab my 40 L backpack from the conveyor belt and locate the nearest exit. Outside the building, I light a cigarette while waiting for my Uber. I can’t believe I’m here! The land of my dreams; the land of tequila, Frida Kahlo, and tacos. Hi, yes, in case you don’t know me, those are my top three passions; alcohol, art, and food. After almost an hour’s ride, I finally made it to my hostel. The entrance looked almost like a design hotel and I had to double-check before I pushed the glass door open. Inside the hostel, a guy is waving his hands, signaling for me to come on in. “Hey, hey, welcome! It’s Daisy, right?” the guy behind the desk offered me a warm greeting. Wow. He’s cute, friendly, and he knows my name. For sure I’m not in Berlin anymore. I place my backpack on the floor and smile, “Yes! Hi! I hope it’s not too late to check-in?” The hostel receptionist offers a kind smile, “actually, you’re right on time.” He extends his hand and introduces himself. His name is José. He then turns to a guy to his left, “hey man, so this is her. This is the girl. You’ve got to move your stuff.” Focusing his gaze at the computer screen, José continues, “I can put you in, let me check- room number 8?” I quickly notice the presence of the other guy next to José. Oh, great, another cute guy. Checkered shirt, well-trimmed beard, nose piercing. “Shit. All right. I’m on it,” mutters the beautiful man as he leaves us and climbs up the stairs. Fabulous, he’s got an Aussie accent. Fuck me. “Who was that?” I can’t seem to hide my thirsty ass. “That? Oh, that was Ben.” José filled me in that they were, in fact, waiting if I would show up. Ben would like to extend his stay, but I had booked his bed. Ha, that’s a funny coincidence. I mean I wouldn’t complain about sharing the bed with that gorgeous guy. Alas, José told me not to worry as Ben is moving to another room. He also offers to change the bedsheets for me, seeing that as at this point I look knackered from my long flight. Following José’s steps, I finally made it to my room. He is taking off Ben’s sheet while I sit down, offering him a short introduction of who I am. Where I’m from, what I’m doing, and all that jazz. In exchange, he tells me his story. He used to live in Budapest and recently moved back home to Mexico City. While listening to him, I can’t help but notice his defined biceps wrestling with the white bed linen. Get a grip, woman. The first…