Dorm Life

As my aunt only managed to give me one contact on the South Island (as opposed to five on the North Island-- the gall!), I've been staying in lots of Youth Hostels. This is my first experience living in a dorm, as I never went to camp, and in college I managed to have a single room three of four years, and an apartment with only four of us when I was in Vienna.

I have managed to get used to having other people rustle around (earplugs definitely help). I have been tolerant of the smell (a musty, damp, body odory kind of scent). I even accepted the fact that my bed shakes when the person in the other bunk gets in, gets out, or simply rolls over.

But I draw the line at the woman who tried to crawl into my bunk at 2:30 this morning (with me in it, of course). Startled awake when suddenly someone was touching my leg, I let out a resounding "Jesus!" which elicited many apologies from her, and then lots of whispered conversation and giggling in French with the person in the bottom bunk. I can only assume that she had spent the previous four hours (the time since I, like any reasonable person, had gone to bed) drinking herself into a stupor. I have no idea who she was, where she was supposed to be sleeping, or where she ended up going. Nor do I care. She and her friend had cleared out by the time I got up (hopefully full of embarrassment and a nasty hangover).

Then again, maybe she just read my post from yesterday and was trying to make up for it.