Years ago, Jason and I stayed in a tiny, dingy motel in Tijuana on our way back to L.A. from Baja California. Even though the place was so dodgy, there was something romantic about the whole experience. It was California! It was Summertime! We were barely 25! We sat in the room (too scared of getting mugged by a couple of bandidos to go out) and watched Bird Cage for the first time, and laughed harder than I’ve ever laughed in a film. By evening of the next day, we had checked into a quaint country inn in San Bernardino where we found clean running water and apple pie à la mode. Looking back, most of our trips have been a mix of simple guesthouses and huts on beaches combined with beautiful hotels with Frette robes and five star service. Being able to experience both ends of the spectrum is a privileged way to travel. Our tiny room at a backpackers hostel in San Francisco was as good a place to stay as the Fairmont on Nob Hill . It’s all about variety –– and attitude.