Each room in this hostel has a continent theme, I say theme but it doesn’t really extend beyond the door having a continent name and then the bunks each having a name related to that particular continent.
My room is Africa. The 2 bunks opposite me are ‘Two-Humped Camel’ and ‘Safari’, the 2 at my left ‘The Pyramids’ and I don’t know what (as the quilt is masking it) and directly above me is ‘Kilimanjaro’ (not going to be bottom bunk is it). All quite mild and tame. Mine is Mugabe.
Just had a shower and there was a scales in the bathroom. I’ve not weighed myself in getting on 3 months so I was curious. I’ve lost well over half a stone, blimey. I thought that warranted a chocolate brownie blizzard, indeed it did.
I was going to watch the England vs Andorra game but the only place showing it wanted a $10 cover charge. I’m not sure I’d pay that to watch ’em at Wembley.
So I did actually get out and see some proper stuff after lazing around the hostel for most of the day. I went down to the Canadian Parliament (pretty nice), the ByWard Market (unremarkable so I won’t bother remarking) and the tomb of the unknown soldier (erm, I’ve boxed myself in with a pattern here, erm, it was good for a tomb).
I also walked down the Ottawa River and crossed a bridge which had me cross province with it, apparently there is an invisible line down the river which splits Quebec and Ontario.
In other news today I have discovered that Honeynut Shredded Wheat are bloody lovely. Yum.
Tomorrow I reckon I’ll go down to the Canadian War Museum in the morn and I might even go crazy and hire a bike for the aft. Mental.
Okay, I’m in a very strange situation now that I would like to get out of shortly if I can. I just sat out on the front porch for a beer and now there is a guy who looks like Iggy Pop playing guitar (competently) and singing (pretty badly) with another younger girl who has just come out and is also singing (in a shockingly bad and cringe worthy fashion).
The music has stopped but I wish it would start again because now she is talking to an older Belgian guy next to me. This girl is seriously the most pretentious and weird person I’ve ever been in the company of. “All my family are artists, I consider myself a literary artist and to me politics is also a dramatic art form”.
Oh sweet Jesus, she has just brought a massive drum out. Iggy is actually alright but I swear she must have purchased the drum today, it’s not remotely in tune with what he is playing. She’s just bashing the poor thing at completely random intervals.
I’m not sure which is more annoying, her musical performances or her intellectual conjectures. She is kind of doing both now. Iggy has given up, completey demoralised.
“I feel the pain of everyone who experiences injustice” she just said. I’m not involved in the conversation and I don’t intend to be but I couldn’t help but pipe up with “You’re like Batman”. I don’t think she appreciated it.
The Belgian guy is a not so covert racist, this is the most ridiculous debate I’ve ever heard. I won’t even bother repeating the miserable details. Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out in a minute surely?
I can’t take it any more. I’ve never hit a girl before and I don’t intend to now so at 23:15 I’m off to make my tea, home heated ravioli.
PS My bed is actually named Mandela. Not as much fun that though is it.
Send The Bugger Back 