Staying at a Hostel for two weeks and living to tell about it.

There are obviously some bad things about hostels that don’t
need to be delved into. doesn’t mean bad hostels. He just mean the act of sharing a room with four people. It ain’t easy. Sometimes you just wish you
weren’t wearing pants. Other times it’s just a lot of working hiding your hideous toe that got all bloody walking 6 miles a day. knew what he was getting into. He
basically saved a $1000 in two weeks. He justified it that he will be able to afford a nicer place now when he gets to Venice for two weeks. That and he bought a watch.

The hostel was in Lausanne Switzerland and was run by an
outfit that had hostels all over the country. This wasn’t the kind of hostel where you come back talking about rats (Or tortured tourists. There. Are you happy? We got that out of the way.)

On the third night a pretty French girl used her keycard to
enter’s room.  He thought, “So it’s going to be this kind of trip to Europe.” She went to the front desk and got her room changed for gender reasons. They put a 60 year old Greek man in there.

There were no other girls in the room. grew introverted as the time went by.
There was the language barriers for one. Once, he asked a new guy if the new guy knew where his comforter would be. The new guy said only “yes.” They didn’t speak again in the guy’s two day stay.

Another guy traveled all the way from Canada and proceeded to
spend the next three days on his computer in the lobby.

Public restrooms are another hostel concern. It’s always
probably been weird, but my generation doesn’t handle nudity well. Thank goodness.

Well the showers had doors so that wouldn’t be a problem.
Only the cleaning lady apparently doesn’t mind cleaning in the company of men. About himself, learned that he would rather shower with a strange woman sticking a mop under his shower as he lathered up (3 of the
last 4 days) than, God forbid, wake up ten minutes earlier.

Sleep comes a bit early. When one person goes to bed
generally the rest follow suit. It gets dark near 10 pm in Lausanne. By 1030 most nights somebody was already asleep. You hold out in the common room for awhile, but it’s a futile and boring exercise.

Sharing a room with so many people also brings snorers. It
leads to thoughts like, after three days of different snorers, “Hey, this oneis not so bad. Consistent  and methodical. Almost relaxing.” Like a metronome.

It turns out two weeks was not so bad. And now has a watch.







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