owlrigh

It's funny to be in a hostel. I never really see quite so many tanned, slim, unclad younglings anywhere; a hostel is a haven of golden-haired women parading around in the tiniest of clothing available to them, and to buff men showing every buffed muscle, and then the only clad people: the Asians, although the Asian guys are often enough without shirts as well. I wonder if there's a shirt shortage around here.

One of the most fantastic people is an Asian guy. No idea just where he's from; not asked. But he's got the most amount of hair I've seen on any guy except for those drawn in manga. If he's Japanese I'll just say no wonder manga has so many proliferating guys with hair! I keep taking looks at him, for he looks like a samurai, down to the trousers. Except for a sword.

Somehow I can't really join in on the antics. Most of the girls flirt, sort of, with the guys; most of the guys flirt right on back. And I don't feel comfortable doing any of this, so I just watch and listen and occasionally pipe in with completely unrelated topics. I feel so old, although not old enough not to enjoy the Backstreet Boys one of the Asian girls is playing. She always plays it, a strange counterpoint to what feels like a huge orgefest atmosphere, although I suppose all the bare flesh is drawing my mind in that direction.

I feel so boring.

( From whence do you hail? )

Did you know that there is a small grub, a caterpillar or a worm or some such, which is a translucent white and which feeds upon the skin of cucumbers? That they turn an ever darkening green depending upon how much skin they've consumed? No? I didn't, either, until this morning.

My mother came back to Australia last week, and it only took me five days to pack my bags and check into a local hostel. I remembered very fast why I decided not to travel with the family -- in addition to which, a bored brother is a horrible thing to be cooped up with, for he does not know how to entertain himself and so joins the legions of annoying people who press for my attention when I am reading -- merely so that I can entertain them. And so I moved out.

For a moment I thought of camping under the nearest bridge, but decided against this for the weather has been uncertain of late, with bludgeoning rains one day and heatwaves the next. No thanks. To a hostel it was, and they asked me as I checked in whether I would like to work. Would I like to indeed! Put me on the roster, said I, after filling in taxation forms in triplicate and waiting expectantly for 8pm to roll around to see if my name was on the work sheet for the next day.

I checked late last night and did not see my name. I went to bed, tossing and turning throughout the night because I stupidly forgot to bring the two most important things for hostel staying: earplugs and eyemask. Six am rolled around and I was eating breakfast and eyeing a harried man searching for someone.

( Guess who he was searching for? )