The Hostel Blues, Again

Yesterday I left the hotel with a full stomach and a healthy dose of optimism. Breakfast was included with the room, served buffet-style in the restaurant downstairs; it was delicious, filling and had a full variety of goodies. I read a complimentary copy of the Sunday edition of The Daily Telegraph with my meal, and as I left, I didn’t feel a great deal of disappointment for having to stay at the hostel again, mainly because I knew things would be much better in a week. For most of the remainder of the day, I was at the British Library, and in the evening I saw Burn After Reading with Nicole at a theater in Islington (INSANELY good, by the way; it was the kind of movie that left my mouth hanging open, aghast, for most of the time, and laughing during the rest of it).

Right now, however, I wish I were at the hotel. It’s almost 4 PM and the most I’ve accomplished is buy some groceries at Tesco* and eat a grilled cheese sandwich. I don’t know whether it’s because I haven’t showered, or because I might be on the verge of catching a flu or something, but I feel really down right now. Things are nicer now, since last night I didn’t have to sleep under that French jerk raining spit from the top bunk; my new roommates are more sociable, and even the nearest bathroom is a bit larger than the other one (which certainly makes dressing better). But, it’s still a hostel. The air smells vaguely of cigarettes and body odor, most of the inhabitants speak a foreign language, I’m constantly trying to make sure my things don’t get stolen, I’m afraid to use the shower (it’s filthy and not in any way private – it’s completely co-ed), and the internet’s not free to use (it costs £2 per hour). I’m unwashed, uncomfortable, and feeling generally pessimistic about finding a job (truthfully, I haven’t even looked since last week; moving around has taken its toll time-wise, and the search has gotten so monotonous… I really can’t wait to move into my new flat, when the comforts return and I’ve finally got my own address).

I can barely imagine doing anything tonight. I texted both Nicole & Katie last night about the movie, and Katie wasn’t able to come but offered to go somewhere tonight. I have no idea where or what I’ll be doing… maybe another movie? None of the other movies were too appealing. Maybe I’ll see Wall-E again? I’m not in the mood to go to a pub, and it’s really the only thing I can think of at this point. Oh, how nice would it be if the hostel had a spa… Or even just a private bathtub. I feel so grubby right now.

You know what? Forget it. I’m paying the 15/week unlimited fee and getting some internet usage…

*I completely forgot about the hostel’s “no outside alcohol” policy… I bought some California (yay!) red wine to make some Italian food with; there’s a £50 penalty fee if it’s found. Guess it’s staying at the bottom of the bag until I can move it to my new flat. Oops.

Just Thinking of Disneyland...

I’ve been listening to nothing but Disneyland music today… Listening to Main Street marching band music in Charing Cross Station, the submarine ride soundtrack in the British Library, Main Street Electrical Parade on Farringdon Road in Islington, the Country Bears show on the train to Harpenden… ironically enough, the Haunted Mansion soundtrack came on when I was walking by the St. Pancras church on Euston St. and I spotted a HUGE banner advertising that the crypts are open to the public (and from what I saw, it was a very creepy church indeed… large, grey and with enormous gothic-looking women sort of holding up the building as columns; I’m actually quite anxious to check it out, now!).

It was sort of like living in a twin reality; having been to Disneyland so many times, merely hearing the sounds can make me feel like I’m almost there. Though the weather was cold and grey, I was transported into the warm, morning sunshine of Main Street Disneyland with nothing on my mind but how many times I would be going on Space Mountain* that day and what ride I’d be going on once I’d collected my first fast pass… (Probably Pirates of the Caribbean.) And yet it’s equally strange to take in all the iconic features of London and realize I’m really there. I had a strange feeling today, when walking through Soho, that it was much too much like a Universal Studios back lot set that never ends. (I suppose that means they’re doing their jobs well at Universal.) Possibly because the multitudes of tourists, or because of the sheer force of character the place possesses… Maybe both. It was sort of funny (to me, at least) to know that I could keep walking on for a very, very long time and still not run into the next themed area. I’d have to go for a swim in the Channel before it starts to look like a French back lot.

*Try listening to the Space Mountain soundtrack while going down one of the longer escalators in the tube stations… it’s sort of farcical when you replace the beginning incline of the ride, with all the flashy lights and anticipation, with a long (and sometimes shiny – but the only flashy lights you’ll get come from the dozens of video advertisements along the escalator at Charing Cross) corridor of people waiting to get on an underground train. But you do get the effect of riding inside a very large, fast worm once you’ve arrived, and that can be exciting, too. You just couldn’t tell based on the miasma cast over every tube traveler’s face.

[Sorry for not having much to say today… I went to a job interview at Foyle’s bookshop today, and I met with Katie to discuss sharing a flat. That’s about it.]

First BUNAC Pub Meet

It’s been a long time waiting to get to this exact spot – on a bed, in my pyjamas, having just finished a cup of tea and a couple chocolate chip shortbread biscuits. Most of the day was pretty monotonous – I went to BUNAC for little more than 40 minutes, and then went to the British Library for about four or five hours to use its wireless connection, during which I had a berry tea with lemon cake (which was delicious, by the way – very moist and filled with a layer of lemon crème). Many, many emails were sent. I’d left my headphones at home (oops), so the time passed very boringly. I had hoped to make time to visit a flat in Bow, but it got late quicker than I’d realized, so it’s been rescheduled for tomorrow.

By the time I left the library, it was after 6:30. I knew that Gill was busy, so even if I’d left then, she wouldn’t have been able to meet me at the station. Kevin wouldn’t have been able to meet with me, either, since he was to be working later than usual. Obviously, it was too late for the buses, too, so whether I left then or not I’d have still needed to get a taxi home. Tonight there was a monthly BUNAC pub-meet at the Cantaloupe pub in Shoreditch. Normally, I’d just skip out on social events (fear of awkward moments, or something like that), but I gave Nicole a call, and she was planning on going, so I’d at least know one person there.

I hopped on the Northern Line, which took me to Old Street, and from there I figured out the directions to Charlotte St. in my A-Z book. I was a little bit early… So I walked a block or two up the street and back. Not much time was killed. I went inside, had a look around, and didn’t spot anyone familiar. I stood around the bar, trying to occupy myself with my cell phone, sending texts and reading old ones. At that moment, I would have preferred a nice quiet café with a cup of tea and a peaceful corner to read in, and I considered what a wallflower I must seem. Maybe it was just paranoia, but I felt some eyes were on me. (Pathetic!) I went downstairs – a lot of them, actually – to the bathroom. I tried to kill some more time, but it just wouldn’t roll over and die. I found myself upstairs and feeling awkward again… I gave Nicole a call. Fortunately, she was just out of the tube and on her way. (There is a god!) I bought myself a pint of Guinness and got a booth in the restaurant area.

The rest of the evening went very sociably; everything seemed to fall into place. I can thank Nicole for that – she got me started in talking to a couple people, which led me to speak to more people, etc. etc., until a sort of circle-of-friends was created. I talked to some people more often than others – notably Katie (from Texas; moved to Portland, OR) the two Andrews (both Canadians), Stephan (a German photographer), Chris (another Canadian!), and Andrea (from Chicago – a fellow journalism grad). Katie’s living with her boyfriend’s family, but seems quite keen to move out – she and I may even look into sharing a flat. One of the Andrews (the one not from Vancouver), Katie and I made an agreement to go to a concert together. Oh, and Katie wants to go for tea at the Orangery this week, and Nicole wants to go, too. All sorts of plans have been made. The time passed so well. We discussed travelling (Vancouver Andrew is the most well-traveled of the group – he’s spent months all over Europe; Katie spent three months in Italy last year), US elections (I had my voter information with me – it made a marvellous conversation piece), Briticisms (e.g., How does one answer to “cheers”? It’s not exactly “thank you”, so “you’re welcome” isn’t exactly correct… The consensus seemed to be that one must mumble awkwardly in response.), Canada, hostel life (Nicole’s at war with some noisy Croatians in her room), and so on. As slowly as the minutes seemed to drag at the beginning, the time had passed so smoothly and enjoyably afterward. It got late – it was after 11 PM by the time we’d noticed most of the room had cleared and we were on our way. A number of us took the tube to King’s Cross together; we didn’t split till I headed for St. Pancras to catch the 1st Capital Connect to St. Albans.

In a way, tonight reminded me of an evening in Cambridge a few years ago. The one night I didn’t meet up with Laura, I went with some fellow Gonville & Caius students to The Anchor, on Silver Street by the Cam. I don’t even remember how it was any of us got talking… only that during dinner previously, I was talking to Takeshi and someone else (I can’t forget that conversation – I retold Laura most of it afterwards; he was so anxious to ask me questions about Los Angeles and all the glitzy stuff of Hollywood; his friend – also Japanese – had to remind him that Universal Studios existed in Japan, too), and later someone mentioned going to the pub… I hadn’t arranged to meet Laura anywhere that time, so I just went along. We had cranberry spritzers on the lawn outside the pub (we took pictures of each other then, but I have no idea what became of them), and went inside when it got dark. Most of the time we chatted about cross-culture differences… there were a number of backgrounds sitting around that table in the corner; among these I remember Scottish, German, and possibly French. It was the first time I’d ever had a truly international conversation, with such variety. It’s one thing to come from a sort of “melting pot” city like Los Angeles, but it’s another entirely to be in a far-off country, making conversation about other countries. I don’t very well remember all the topics that passed over that table (I do remember once disagreeing with a German girl that some German words are easy to figure out in English – well if “garten” doesn’t sound a lot like “garden”, what on Earth else could it be??), but I remember the atmosphere to be so warm, easygoing, and full of laughter. Not much unlike tonight.