Beds lined the corridors and spilled into tiny rooms in the century-old hostel. "Take any empty bed you can find", the proprietor told Clara.

The bed she chose was on the 5th floor, under a window that looked out on narrow street, lined with shops whose windows advertised unfamiliar things to eat: tacos, pizza, falafel, Chinese noodle lunches, Indian buffets. At the end of the street, a large sign flashed on and off continuously -- spelling the words "USED TRANSISTORS" in blinking red letters.