I’ve checked out today in search of pastures new, but not talking to anyone in a hostel for five days has taken it out of me. I contemplate starting the hitchhike, but I feel I’m not really done with Berlin and it certainly isn’t done with me. I search for and locate one of the biggest party hostels I can find and march straight into everything I hate about traveling; the complete polar opposite of the last few quiet days. It’s a 900 bed monstrosity, a resort hostel with no character and hundreds of stupid people. The only reason I can think of that I’ve dragged myself to this place is that I’ve been lonely the past few days. That and I want to meet a girl under the age of 55. Considerably under the age of 55. But not 18. So what the hell am I doing here? Honestly these people could be my kids.
It’s not long before I’ve made new hostel buddies sitting in the roasting sun in the beer garden. We’re then accosted by a smelly man speaking absolute nonsense while trying to steal my just about empty bottle of beer. I suppose I should explain that this is a normal practice in this city. If Berliners return bottles to recycling outlets, they receive 8 cents for their trouble. Please don’t be shocked (as I was) when I saw a young, well dressed man shining his smart phone in a bin to find glass bottles. Back home you’d expect an unwashed crack addict doing the same to find a used cigarrette butt. Only without the smart phone obviously. Unless it was stolen. Or bought from Cash Converters. Anyway for the vast majority of residents, it’s possible to make a fair amount of extra income on the side by recycling bottles. I’ve actually heard of one woman who has begun a small operation whereby she earns over a grand a month just scavenging for glass. Fair play to her.
I’ve ended up not capable of going out as I started drinking far too early. I need to adjust my body clock to these European countries. Nobody is in a club until 2 and 3am. I’m in bed by 11.
900 beds
I’ve checked out today in search of pastures new, but not talking to anyone in a hostel for five days has taken it out of me. I contemplate starting the hitchhike, but I feel I’m not really done with Berlin and it certainly isn’t done with me. I search for and locate one of the biggest party hostels I can find and march straight into everything I hate about traveling; the complete polar opposite of the last few quiet days. It’s a 900 bed monstrosity, a resort hostel with no character and hundreds of stupid people. The only reason I can think of that I’ve dragged myself to this place is that I’ve been lonely the past few days. That and I want to meet a girl under the age of 55. Considerably under the age of 55. But not 18. So what the hell am I doing here? Honestly these people could be my kids.
It’s not long before I’ve made new hostel buddies sitting in the roasting sun in the beer garden. We’re then accosted by a smelly man speaking absolute nonsense while trying to steal my just about empty bottle of beer. I suppose I should explain that this is a normal practice in this city. If Berliners return bottles to recycling outlets, they receive 8 cents for their trouble. Please don’t be shocked (as I was) when I saw a young, well dressed man shining his smart phone in a bin to find glass bottles. Back home you’d expect an unwashed crack addict doing the same to find a used cigarrette butt. Only without the smart phone obviously. Unless it was stolen. Or bought from Cash Converters. Anyway for the vast majority of residents, it’s possible to make a fair amount of extra income on the side by recycling bottles. I’ve actually heard of one woman who has begun a small operation whereby she earns over a grand a month just scavenging for glass. Fair play to her.
I’ve ended up not capable of going out as I started drinking far too early. I need to adjust my body clock to these European countries. Nobody is in a club until 2 and 3am. I’m in bed by 11.