Oh Neil, you bitter bastard.
So two nights ago, we stroll into Nice, in the dark because our train's late due to the fantastic train strike going on with the frenchies right now. So we're looking for our hostel which is of course in a nice and sketchy part of town. We get into the hostel and check in and get shown to our room, and a couple of things just kept running through my mind and wouldn't stop. All I could hear was Ed Norton's voice saying "What a shithole. Ya give the condo life, to go live in a dilapidated house [hostel] in a toxic waste part of town, and you have to come home to this..." And 'this' in this case is a very old man, already asleep in this room that is the size of mine with 4 sets of bunkbeds in it.
Now I didn't put this in my why?! blog but I should've...Why is there always somebody sleeping in our room? It doesn't matter if it's 9 oclock like it was this night, or if it's noon, or 4 in the afternoon, there's always somebody sleeping.
So with someone sleeping in your room, the last place you wanna be is there (Dad I seem to think it's you that particularily likes the word wanna and gonna), we get right the hell outta there. Off to the main strip we go which is......completely under construction. However much construction your picturing in your heads right now, multiply that by a thousand and your still nowhere near it (Trainspotting anyone).
But I have to say, my anger seemed to dissipate a little the next day, when I saw the beach, which was huge and the beach was all rounded rocks which was cool, and weird. All the girls here seem to hate that fact though. They keep asking where the real sand is. And I feel sorry for the girls whose trips are all about the beaches, because there's always something wrong...the beaches aren't sand, it wasn't sunny enough yada yada yada. And yes, I am aware that I just bashed others for complaining so much...And yes I think it's funny too.
You'll also be glad to know that I have come to quite enjoy all the hostel antics over the last little while. No matter how painful they seem at the time, they always make for great stories later...I mean what would I have to rant about if there wasn't construction going on the past three nights at 1am to 4am in the morning...And what kinda stories would I have if I didn't have a roommate like the one who cam in last night: a quebec'er who now lives in belgium who never, ever stops talking, in what I can safely call one of my least favourite accents ever, and that's including the civil squad, the El hachas, the wans, the de barroses, the incomprehensible TAs.
How could I justify being angry all the time, which you all know I love to be if I didn't people in my life like a quebec'er from brussels with and accent that makes me want to...in the words of John Webb "Van Gogh my ears," or in my words "Mr. Blonde myself,"
I feel like scum never having pictures in mine but my camera hates computers and John's is in use right now. Just look at the pics John puts up, I'll try to put up a bunch next time.
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2 comments:
Hi Neil,
It looks like you need a quest to keep your mind off things: I think you and John should find and use a pissoir in every French town or city you visit (pictures would be a plus). A pissoir is exactly what you think it is. You are shielded from the ground up to the mid-chest (navel for John) and sometimes there is a roof. There was one across the street from the hotel I used to frequent in Bordeaux. "Progress" is erasing them but I am sure you can still find them in the smaller towns. A quest is a holy thing and I expect you to follow through!
I think one of the wierdest bathrooms I used was in a resaurant in Belgium. I didn't really look too carefully as I entered, but I did find it very disconcerting when standing, facing a wall doing your thing and you hear/see/become aware of a couple of girls walking behind you to use the washroom on the other side of the men's bathroom. Most odd. And you thought it was hard to pee when someone's watching!??
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