On Finding a Hostel

24.04.09: Split
I'm excited for Split. Change of place, change of scenery. It's the country's second-largest city and is the home of some magnificent palace ruins. I just need to dump my backpack at a hostel, and I'm off to explore.

But the hostel is full. So is the next one. Hostel three is closed. As is hostel four, but the cleaning lady helps me out. After she makes a phone call and she and I have a bit of a confused English/Croatian convo, I gather that I can go to hostel five, where Mario should meet me in a few minutes.

An hour and a half has passed since I first started on this hostel-seeking journey. My pack is feeling heavier. My bottom lip is feeling poutier. I am officially grumpy.

Some hostels are closed because it's off-season. Which is exactly why nothing should be full. Who are all these people sleeping in hostel beds that are rightfully mine?

Hostel five does have a bed for me. I check in with three girls wearing matching purple hoodies with BUMMITS plastered across their fronts. It must be these bummits who have infiltrated the Split hostels.

They have accents. British ones. Right now I really cannot stand to have a conversation with people who sound like they have gobs of Bubblicious jammed in their cheeks. Especially because these people (albeit unknowingly) caused me all this trouble. I throw my backpack next to my bed, lock up my wallet, and bolt from the hostel. I am sick of hostels and people and everything.

As soon as I'm back on the street, bummit and backpack free, I instantly feel better. This whole thing has been a huge hassle, but it's over now. I have a place to sleep tonight. I survived. Big sigh of relief.

Now I can do what I came here to do. I explore Split and mostly forget about the first two miserable hours I spent there.