There are some things you cannot get used to. 

I slept on the roof my first night in Jerusalem at the Heritage House. There was a fellow camper in the bed adjacent to me whose snores were cartoonishly loud and sleep was futile next to him. I grabbed a blanket and a pillow and found a mattress on the roof balcony. It was already 3:30 in the morning. At quarter to four, the Muslim prayer rang from the east side of Jerusalem. It was spectral otherworldly ephemeral ancient primordial. I couldn't sleep and watched the sunrise over the Arabic end of Jerusalem...