My trip to Douala, Cameroon, when I was just 19, was a blend of leisure and work - well, work for my father, at least. I was there for the ride, soaking up the experience. The city was a whirlwind of sights and sounds, but what sticks out most in my memory is a night spent singing karaoke in a Chinese restaurant at the stroke of midnight. The restaurant was empty, the food delicious, and the only company the owner.
During the day, the hotel was our oasis, complete with a swimming pool that provided a welcome respite from the bustling city outside. The locale itself is lost to the years in my memory, but the hotel stands out as a haven of relaxation.
It was nothing at all like this, but there was singing.