I have to preface this by stating how weird it is to be sleeping with so many people in one room. Particularly when not all of those people are neat, or quiet, or smell particularly good…
It’s an adjustment, that’s for sure.
I woke up this morning to the sound of some guy shuffling around our room. I checked the time. It was 3.
I woke up again this morning at 7:30 and decided that was more the way to do it. I stared at the ceiling, like one does, and, realizing it wasn’t the usual ceiling, or any ceiling I’d seen before, I got out of bed.
You have to understand, I’m sharing this room with 9 other people, none of them old, and at 7:30 in the morning, you could have set off a firecracker and no one would’ve moved so much as a muscle.
Even still, I crept to my suitcase, unzipped it, got dressed, zipped it back up, as quietly as one can unzip and zip a suitcase, and then I brushed my teeth and I was ready.
Order of business No. 1: Coffee.
This hasn’t changed so far, no matter where I am in the world, and I can’t imagine a time or a place or a world where it would.
Order of business No. 2: Breakfast, find a German phone plan, get it set up, plan my day, see Munich things, write an article, and generally take care of business.
I paid the 5.9 euros for breakfast and coffee here and stuffed myself as best I could with their all-you-can-eat-buffet. I got a couple espressos, I sat down, and I did some planning. (not really, but I tried).
I talked to some other people staying at the hostel, and the woman working at the reception desk, and the name that kept coming up was Aldi. The Aldi phone plan. So, like anyone, I downed the espressos, grabbed my coat, and headed for the nearest Aldi.
Fast forward a couple minutes, and I’m at Aldi. But as I stroll around this Aldi (which is laid out the exact same way as every other Aldi), I can’t seem to find a phone plan section.
Using impeccable German, I ask the cashier if she speaks English. She doesn’t so I just sort of mutter Aldi talk and wave my hands, and she seems to understand perfectly because she rings something up, and hands me a little package, and gets me right on my way.
I exit the Aldi (sadly of course, a little droop to my ears), and realize I have no idea what to do next.
I head back to the hostel, and after much reading and translating (about an hour’s worth), I get my card in and activated. I select English, hop on the mandatory identity verification video call, and, after a few tries, get all set up.
Yay! A data plan in Europe!
Now what?
I grab my coat, my nifty new data-equipped phone, and I head for Marienplatz. Tourist ground zero.
There are some amazing churches in this area, with some great stone work (I’m particularly fond of the engravings of those little gremlins), and the cobbled streets are so atmospheric. I listened to a bell-tower display, browsed Munich’s open air food market, and then headed back to the hostel.
I decided it was time to get some work done (I had an article due today), so I grabbed my backpack, took a walk to the third-nearest Starbucks, and ordered a coffee.
Mind you, I ordered plain black coffee, and I ordered in German, yet somehow when the transaction was over I said danken and she said you’re welcome. I think she had an extra sense.
I feel the need for a quick interlude here. It’s around midnight in Munich, where I am currently writing this in the top bunk of this bed, and I’m not even trying to go to sleep.
See, there’s a man in the bunk across from me, I can see him, and, oh yeah, I can hear him too. Nice guy, he gave me some of his noodles earlier, but boy oh boy does that man snore. Wow.
I sent Elliot a video, so if anyone wants to hear it, or needs a royalty free motorboat engine soundtrack, give him (Elliot) a ring. (Or I guess you could ring this guy too?)
Anyways, I got my coffee and I sat down (it was a lovely Starbucks by the way), and I booked my hostel in Paris, and I booked my bus to Paris, and I wrote my article, and did a little people watching, and a few hours later, I emerged into the fading daylight feeling renewed and caffeinated, and productive.
I walked back to the hostel, and decided it was time for a shower. My nose told me it was, at least. So nosy.
Showers can be lovely, or they can be hellish. I’m not sure why, but sometimes the shower gods see fit to strike you down.
Anyways, showering in a hostel – not so terribly fun. This bathroom is clean, it’s a single, private shower, which is all well and good, but you have to go digging through your suitcase for clothes, you have to go digging for soap, shampoo, a razor…
And all this just to be clean. I tell you I’m this close to becoming perpetually smelly and naked.
So I shower, I shave, I even get dressed. And then I go on downstairs and I do some chatting and a little more work, and eight thirty rolls around and I realize that I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Not great.
I hop up, grab my coat, and run to the nearest grocery store (because we’re on a budget here!). No luck. It’s closed.
I go back to the hostel, a little less pep in my step, and I’m considering McDonalds. Cheap, reliable, and I can get 5 cheeseburgers for 6 euros. Now that’s a deal.
Right when I’m about to go, it hits me. The kitchens! The hostel has kitchens! Free food!
Let me explain that free food part. The hostel kitchens have refrigerators, and after people check out, they can leave food behind for other hostel guests to use. It’s a great system.
I go to those hostel kitchens, and make myself some free pasta, with some free butter, and some free bolognese sauce, and I eat my pasta in the kitchens.
I met some really cool people too, a girl from Belgium, and a girl from Turkey, and a guy from Illinois (not me, another dude), and a girl from Australia, and a guy from India, and we sat there and ate and talked for a couple of hours.
Then I decided it was late, and, after calling my mother, I went up to my hostel room and got ready for bed.
I’m sort of surprised at the number of people already asleep. It’s everyone. Everyone’s asleep.
I don’t understand how they could be. It isn’t just the noise. I’m worried the walls will come down.
Anyways, I’ll take this time to talk about last night. It was fine, my flight landed late because we were delayed in Copenhagen, and then I got my bags, bought an S-bahn ticket, and followed the signs to the S-bahn.
But then I got to the S-bahns, plural, and realized I had no idea which one to take. I had no data, so, like a 1400’s explorer, I consulted a map.
I got on the S-bahn, and about 25 minutes in, realized I didn’t have a mask on, or with me. I realized because there was an announcement, in English, about how it was legally required to wear a mask.
Suffice to say, the rest of the ride passed in a sweaty haze.
I got off, relieved, luggage in tow, and realized I didn’t know how to get to my hostel. It was 8 at night, and dark, and the area was pretty train-station-y.
I saw an escalator that I thought I should take, and got on it, except one of my bags wasn’t on right, and I went slipping and sliding, and the man behind me almost dropped the blunt he was rolling to catch my bag. I caught myself, and he finished rolling the blunt, and handed back my luggage, and everything was fine.
But anyways, I got out of the train station, and then I realized I had no clue where I was going. I had screenshotted a map of the area, and marked the hostel on it, but it was dark, and the streetsigns were hard to see, and I had no clue what I was even looking for.
After much wandering, I arrived weary and travel-worn, and ready to hop in the shower.
I checked in, and I did just that.
One of the first people I talked to at the hostel was a guy from Paris. He told me about some of his travels, and about how, a few different times, he couldn’t find a hostel and had to sleep in a hammock pitched between two trees. Hope that isn’t a Paris thing.
I guess we’ll see.