The drawbacks of hostelsSaturday, 12 May 2012
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My boy best friend Gareth met his wife in a hostel in Dublin. It was eons ago, we were all young, and he pursued her with dogged determination for years. She finally relented, and now they live in Florida, where she hails from.
I've been thinking about this a lot over the last few hours. Mostly because I too am staying in a hostel in Dublin. So I inevitably keep looking around, wondering if my future husband is in the same room.
God, I really hope he isn't.
I think I've become too old for hostels. Or perhaps I just feel too old for everything today. An example - I'm sitting in the common area, facing the wall, and drinking a lemsip, wondering how long I have to wait before my dormmates have gone out for the night.
I usually prefer a single room if I'm staying in a hostel. The last time I was in Dublin, I stayed in Ashfield House, where a single room was a bargain €25. But unfortunately, that isn't the case at the weekend. Do you know how hard it is to find a decently priced single room on a Saturday night? No? Well, trust me. It's hard. Plus I wanted to be close to the station, because I'm heading to the airport early tomorrow morning.
So just as I was deciding to bite the bullet and pay out for an overpriced hotel, I changed my mind, and thought that one night in a dorm wouldn't hurt. After all, I stayed in a dorm room in San Francisco, and it was fabulous. But then, that was a damn good hostel, which has really thought about what makes a hostel so damn good.
This place is fine, but I'm not in the mood to share a room. I just want to come back to a bed, talk to no one, take my trousers off and watch 30 Rock. AKA, my normal life. Which I'm going to do soon enough regardless, but boy, when I'm feeling like such a grumpy guss it's much better not to have company.
Although there is one good thing about sharing a dorm room. Those perky little blondes that are ALWAYS in the room? They do love an afternoon nap. Which is what we all did this afternoon. I came back after my little fainting epsiode on Henry Street and got into bed, just as they were. Initially, they were listening to country music (country music) but that got switched off relatively quickly. Thank God. Then one of them drew the curtains and we all had a nice little snooze.
The main difference, of course, is that they were having a disco nap, to better help them hit the town. I was just having a post swooning lady sleep, to better prepare me for my 10pm bedtime. And don't look at me like that. I wanted to have a 9pm bedtime.
But tomorrow it's off to sunnier climes (I hope) as I set out for a press trip to Girona. I'll be reporting back on that in due course, hopefully before Wednesday when I head to Brussels. So it's all go this week! Which is why I desperately need to get to bed. It's 9.44pm, and I'm way behind schedule.
Pray that there is no country music in my bedroom.