Sydney - A Hostel Situation

You probably gather that I am as rich as a robber baron (I don't know what a robber baron really is but the metaphor made me sound cultured). This is untrue. And to prove it, I am going to slum may way through the next few months in cheap digs. My plan is to rough it for as long as possible, then check into somewhere with superior plumbing. This should prove hilarious, mostly because I have become a spoiled brat.

I check into Sydney's Central YHA on new year's day. It is a battlefield of zombies who have all overindulged for the past 24 hours. It is also icredibly located, surprisingly clean and fucking huge.

I have not had a roomate in over ten years, so dorm accomodations still shocks my system. Hostel roomies are always diverse, and this is no exception. There is the man in his 50's who farts in his sleep and discusses the boy in Billy Elliott with an excitement that makes me shudder. There are the Germans who whisper constantly, which is disconcerting, given that hushed German plans have some historical precident for terror. There is the French couple who share a bunk and wake me with their overnight orgasms. And there is Jason From Leeds, whose body is so perfect that it forces me to leer when he jumps down from the bunk in his boxers.

I need a shower. Until I see the huge splat of cum on the stall floor.
As a longtime traveller, let me tell you not to be alarmed. I am not foreign to the evidence of a freshly tossed shower-salad. It is no slight on the YHA staff, as it must be impossible to keep up with the round-the-clock spanking that goes on. There's a reason why men sometimes take REALLY long showers, as any backpacker who has spent four nights in a dorm without wanking will tell you. It doesn't have anything to do with shower pressure.

So I step over the spunk and use another bathroom.

My two days in sydney were largely uneventful, despite how busy I kept myself laying in Hyde Park. I made one stab at culture by visiting the Australian Museum. I was struck giddy when ipod picked Spinal Tap's "Stonehenge", smack dab in the middle of my Rocks and Minerals wandering. There's a little of everything here and I should have antiicipated stuffed snakes, but didn't and jumped straight into the arms of a schoolgirl when I encountered them. They happen to display my favorite-named snake, the Death Adder. I admire the simple honesty with which it is named. Having never seen one before, I am amazed at how short and stout it is in comparison to the rest. It's kind of the Kirstie Allie of the snake world - always destined to be best-complimented as "looking rather svelt".

I am shortly off to cairns. But not without first taking a REALLY long shower. .

Now playing: Modest Mouse "Trailer Trash".