Well...I made it more than halfway through my 23rd year without ever going on a pub crawl, which honestly...considering the number of party cities I've traveled to, I think is pretty alright. But that's changed now...I was right in my assumption, ladies and gentlemen...partying is literally part of the job description here at Whole Wide World Hostel.
Working in a hostel is the opposite of everything I have spent the majority of my trip doing. After mostly refraining from drinking for the past 10 weeks (with few exceptions, such as my escapades in Rome), I suddenly find myself pulled into a game of beer pong (in which we actually pulled gin instead of beer with each cup lost) on my first night in the hostel, and going on a 50 person pub crawl by my third. On which, the cops showed up because one of our group decided it was a good idea to climb the giant statue of Ban Jelacic in the town square...and then was unable to get down. He'll be internet famous by the morning, I'm sure.
A collection of signs that make me laugh/I liked from different hostels...
I think it will be possible for me to live quietly here, but only once I've established myself within the ninja team. Yes, they call us Ninjas. It's in the handbook.
The nice thing about jumping into work at a hostel is it's like I literally have built in friends who come with the job, and we're immediately going out on excursions after shifts and helping each other out like old friends. It's nice.
"I'm going to a puppet show tonight after work. It's supposed to be a big thing here. Do you want to go?"
I'm definitely in! So are three of our customers.
This is how two Aussies, two Americans, and one Brit from a party hostel end up in a theatre filled exclusively with families and children. When we hand our tickets to the girl at the door she literally laughs (not condescending, just amused) before handing them back and letting us in.
But I shit you not...best 3 euros I've spent while traveling thus far.
Little Red Riding Hood...in Croatian...with puppets...and trippy ass black light reflective mushrooms in the set...I'm pretty sure the five of us had the best time out of everyone present.
People in Croatia seem to be very calm and kind...I have spent the majority of my time so far in the hostel or with other foreigners, but each time I have met a local it has been a positive experience. From the woman in the shoe store telling me about how her daughter wants to go to college in the states, to the guys who randomly sit down at our table in the bar to talk to our group, and end up clicking so well that they join our pub crawl. People seem amused by our loud and rowdy group rather than annoyed, which surprises me. They are quick to smile when our eyes meet, and the few times I have tried to apologize for some obnoxious behaviour being carried out in the group, they have brushed it off with a shake of their head and a laugh. It's a very pleasant alternative to the annoyance I often feel emanating from locals in tourist towns (obviously I mean overall feeling and not individual experiences, because I have met amazing locals everywhere I have gone).
I think I find myself so surprised by this relaxed and friendly demeanor mostly due to the fact that they were stuck in a brutal and bloody war for independence until just 22 years ago. I stand in a plaza looking at Banski dvori - the official residence of the president of Croatia during the war for independence - which was destroyed by bombs just 26 years ago in an attempt on the presidents head, and talk to a local who remembers being a child and hearing sirens and hiding in bomb shelters. This is recent history, right where I am standing. Yet here are the locals...smiling and welcoming and friendly, despite what they have been through recently. It's quite inspiring.
We wander back to the staff room one by one, laying in our beds at 4 in the morning, covered in stale sweat, and sharing the odd tale of travel with one another as our eyes get heavy.
Sherwyn pipes up as I'm drifting off, ''Did you see Maia getting down on that dance floor?"
"No, all I saw was an energizer bunny buffing a groove into the floor! Do you ever stop?"
A low chuckle issues from me, but I'm too far gone into the land of sleep to respond. Kind of them to say, I think, passing out with a smile stuck in place.
The next day I'm on the morning shift, and despite my lack of sleep and sore muscles, I drag myself out of bed in time for breakfast and start on my duties of flipping the dorms. By the time I make it to the first floor, it's one in the afternoon and I assume the rooms are empty. I start sweeping up and am startled by a movement from the corner of my eye and a low grumble, "Seriously, how the fuck are you doing things?"
It's Aud, the boy who got stuck on the statue. Ouch, guess he's feeling pretty rough.
"I'm listening to gangster rap," I respond, sounding ridiculous even to myself. "Just drink some coffee, put on some gangster rap, and handle shit. That's my secret to adulthood."
This forces a laugh from him, reassuring me he'll be fine, and I finish up my work feeling pretty lucky to not be on that level. Not a fate I want to tempt while here. I'm so over hangovers.
We stand on the terrace overlooking the city as the twinkling lights begin to bring the night to life. I let the beauty dry out the fresh tears on my face. I have underestimated the Museum of Broken Relationships. Expecting something light and funny, I now feel heavy from all the stories shared and hearts betrayed. Love of all kinds, beautiful and then painful.
Tomas, one of the hostel guests also interested in the museum, stands next to me, equally sullen.
"Do you miss your home?" He asks me after a time, and I wonder if I should lie to him with the expected response, because the real answer makes me feel like a bad person somehow. But the point of this is to be honest with everyone around me. Especially myself.
"No," I finally respond. "I miss individuals from time to time. The people that I love. But I don't miss that place. I wasn't in a good space there."
The truth is, home is where the heart is, and I'm glad to finally have a heart that lives inside me and beats strong, because for a while, I wondered where in the world it had gone.
I sit down in the stairwell to check my phone, assuming my roommates are asleep already, and not wanting to disturb them.
"Hey, you!" I turn to find another of the ninjas behind me.
"Hey, girl. What're you still doing up?"
She plops down next to me, together taking up the width of the steps, "I'm on XTC," she announces, "And I was hanging out with another girl, but she left and now I was sitting in the bathroom by myself and I just really needed to find some female energy. I know I don't know you, really, but can I hug you?"
I chuckle, "Yeah, that's fine."
She wraps her arms around me and a contented sigh, the kind that comes from finally attaining the thing you've been searching for, issues from her.
I hold her arms as she tells me about her night, leading up to now, and all I can think, admittedly with relief, is that the idea of coming up on ecstasy at 3am sounds like my version of hell and, having experienced what she is experiencing, I have no desire to ever be there again.
And if this were a video game, I think in this moment, I just leveled up. Because it wasn't so long ago I would have been tempted to ask her where she got it. I am relieved that I don't even have to invoke my will power on this one. I simply don't want it. The call of my bed far more appealing than the call of fictitious emotions and unnatural bursts of serotonin. I must finally be back on the right track. Or A track, at the least. Not floating around aimlessly.
I've worked six consecutive days in the hostel, scrubbing showers, cleaning toilets, changing beds, sweeping floors, serving drinks. Today, my first day off, and mark of my first week in Zagreb, I booked it out of town.
I was told of a castle, about two hours walking from the hostel, and though it's closed today that just adds to the appeal. I know the forests around it will be empty with the closing of this tourist attraction, so I set out in search of solitude.
Up, up, up I walked, out of the city and deep into the hills to the north.
Eventually I reach the castle, but with the gates closed, there is nowhere to see the view I was looking forward to. The one I know waits just beyond the tree line. The forest is too thick to spot it without gaining height, and after about 20 minutes of circling the castle, hoping for a vantage point, I give up, bull nettles stinging my legs in the unused paths, and head back down the hill a bit until I find a nice spot to eat my snacks.
The view may not be soaring, but there are trees in all directions, and the birds talk to each other seamlessly, and I'm relieved to be away from the hustle and noise of the city streets.
I find it impossible to write in the hostel. Or really, to focus on much of anything. There is constantly music playing (it's literally a rule) and people about looking for someone to chat with. In some ways, it's nice. You're never alone, and there are always friends to be made. In other ways, I find it a little claustrophobic. For example, you're never alone, and everyone is looking for a friend. Ha. I guess the difference in interpretation just depends on my mood. Certainly one day a week will be reserved for me. It might be nice if that one day could happen in my own space, but as the staff room is too small to hang out (and of course, shared with others) and the common room is always full, that leaves me with the forest. Ah, well. I've always felt most at home here, anyway.
Adaptation is the name of the game, and I think I'm getting better at playing. Excited to see where each day takes me. Have a great week, everyone!
Working in a hostel is the opposite of everything I have spent the majority of my trip doing. After mostly refraining from drinking for the past 10 weeks (with few exceptions, such as my escapades in Rome), I suddenly find myself pulled into a game of beer pong (in which we actually pulled gin instead of beer with each cup lost) on my first night in the hostel, and going on a 50 person pub crawl by my third. On which, the cops showed up because one of our group decided it was a good idea to climb the giant statue of Ban Jelacic in the town square...and then was unable to get down. He'll be internet famous by the morning, I'm sure.
A collection of signs that make me laugh/I liked from different hostels...
I think it will be possible for me to live quietly here, but only once I've established myself within the ninja team. Yes, they call us Ninjas. It's in the handbook.
The nice thing about jumping into work at a hostel is it's like I literally have built in friends who come with the job, and we're immediately going out on excursions after shifts and helping each other out like old friends. It's nice.
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| Pancake night! |
"I'm going to a puppet show tonight after work. It's supposed to be a big thing here. Do you want to go?"
I'm definitely in! So are three of our customers.
This is how two Aussies, two Americans, and one Brit from a party hostel end up in a theatre filled exclusively with families and children. When we hand our tickets to the girl at the door she literally laughs (not condescending, just amused) before handing them back and letting us in.
But I shit you not...best 3 euros I've spent while traveling thus far.
Little Red Riding Hood...in Croatian...with puppets...and trippy ass black light reflective mushrooms in the set...I'm pretty sure the five of us had the best time out of everyone present.
People in Croatia seem to be very calm and kind...I have spent the majority of my time so far in the hostel or with other foreigners, but each time I have met a local it has been a positive experience. From the woman in the shoe store telling me about how her daughter wants to go to college in the states, to the guys who randomly sit down at our table in the bar to talk to our group, and end up clicking so well that they join our pub crawl. People seem amused by our loud and rowdy group rather than annoyed, which surprises me. They are quick to smile when our eyes meet, and the few times I have tried to apologize for some obnoxious behaviour being carried out in the group, they have brushed it off with a shake of their head and a laugh. It's a very pleasant alternative to the annoyance I often feel emanating from locals in tourist towns (obviously I mean overall feeling and not individual experiences, because I have met amazing locals everywhere I have gone).
I think I find myself so surprised by this relaxed and friendly demeanor mostly due to the fact that they were stuck in a brutal and bloody war for independence until just 22 years ago. I stand in a plaza looking at Banski dvori - the official residence of the president of Croatia during the war for independence - which was destroyed by bombs just 26 years ago in an attempt on the presidents head, and talk to a local who remembers being a child and hearing sirens and hiding in bomb shelters. This is recent history, right where I am standing. Yet here are the locals...smiling and welcoming and friendly, despite what they have been through recently. It's quite inspiring.
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| "Thank you" tiles to the virgin, etched after prayers have been fulfilled. |
We wander back to the staff room one by one, laying in our beds at 4 in the morning, covered in stale sweat, and sharing the odd tale of travel with one another as our eyes get heavy.
Sherwyn pipes up as I'm drifting off, ''Did you see Maia getting down on that dance floor?"
"No, all I saw was an energizer bunny buffing a groove into the floor! Do you ever stop?"
A low chuckle issues from me, but I'm too far gone into the land of sleep to respond. Kind of them to say, I think, passing out with a smile stuck in place.
The next day I'm on the morning shift, and despite my lack of sleep and sore muscles, I drag myself out of bed in time for breakfast and start on my duties of flipping the dorms. By the time I make it to the first floor, it's one in the afternoon and I assume the rooms are empty. I start sweeping up and am startled by a movement from the corner of my eye and a low grumble, "Seriously, how the fuck are you doing things?"
It's Aud, the boy who got stuck on the statue. Ouch, guess he's feeling pretty rough.
"I'm listening to gangster rap," I respond, sounding ridiculous even to myself. "Just drink some coffee, put on some gangster rap, and handle shit. That's my secret to adulthood."
This forces a laugh from him, reassuring me he'll be fine, and I finish up my work feeling pretty lucky to not be on that level. Not a fate I want to tempt while here. I'm so over hangovers.
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| He won an hour of free drinks from our bar in a game...this was 10 minutes in. |
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| Don't pass out at the bar when your friends have no mercy. (He was fine, don't freak out.) |
We stand on the terrace overlooking the city as the twinkling lights begin to bring the night to life. I let the beauty dry out the fresh tears on my face. I have underestimated the Museum of Broken Relationships. Expecting something light and funny, I now feel heavy from all the stories shared and hearts betrayed. Love of all kinds, beautiful and then painful.
Tomas, one of the hostel guests also interested in the museum, stands next to me, equally sullen.
"Do you miss your home?" He asks me after a time, and I wonder if I should lie to him with the expected response, because the real answer makes me feel like a bad person somehow. But the point of this is to be honest with everyone around me. Especially myself.
"No," I finally respond. "I miss individuals from time to time. The people that I love. But I don't miss that place. I wasn't in a good space there."
The truth is, home is where the heart is, and I'm glad to finally have a heart that lives inside me and beats strong, because for a while, I wondered where in the world it had gone.
 |
| View of downtown from upper town. Second hand market directly below. |
I sit down in the stairwell to check my phone, assuming my roommates are asleep already, and not wanting to disturb them.
"Hey, you!" I turn to find another of the ninjas behind me.
"Hey, girl. What're you still doing up?"
She plops down next to me, together taking up the width of the steps, "I'm on XTC," she announces, "And I was hanging out with another girl, but she left and now I was sitting in the bathroom by myself and I just really needed to find some female energy. I know I don't know you, really, but can I hug you?"
I chuckle, "Yeah, that's fine."
She wraps her arms around me and a contented sigh, the kind that comes from finally attaining the thing you've been searching for, issues from her.
I hold her arms as she tells me about her night, leading up to now, and all I can think, admittedly with relief, is that the idea of coming up on ecstasy at 3am sounds like my version of hell and, having experienced what she is experiencing, I have no desire to ever be there again.
And if this were a video game, I think in this moment, I just leveled up. Because it wasn't so long ago I would have been tempted to ask her where she got it. I am relieved that I don't even have to invoke my will power on this one. I simply don't want it. The call of my bed far more appealing than the call of fictitious emotions and unnatural bursts of serotonin. I must finally be back on the right track. Or A track, at the least. Not floating around aimlessly.
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| Walked to that dot on the hill. Also known as Medvedgrad. Castle in Zagreb. |
I've worked six consecutive days in the hostel, scrubbing showers, cleaning toilets, changing beds, sweeping floors, serving drinks. Today, my first day off, and mark of my first week in Zagreb, I booked it out of town.
I was told of a castle, about two hours walking from the hostel, and though it's closed today that just adds to the appeal. I know the forests around it will be empty with the closing of this tourist attraction, so I set out in search of solitude.
Up, up, up I walked, out of the city and deep into the hills to the north.
Eventually I reach the castle, but with the gates closed, there is nowhere to see the view I was looking forward to. The one I know waits just beyond the tree line. The forest is too thick to spot it without gaining height, and after about 20 minutes of circling the castle, hoping for a vantage point, I give up, bull nettles stinging my legs in the unused paths, and head back down the hill a bit until I find a nice spot to eat my snacks.
The view may not be soaring, but there are trees in all directions, and the birds talk to each other seamlessly, and I'm relieved to be away from the hustle and noise of the city streets.
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| Old castle road. |
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| The Aussies got to me... |
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| The trees have eyes... |
Adaptation is the name of the game, and I think I'm getting better at playing. Excited to see where each day takes me. Have a great week, everyone!
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