A little over a month ago I took a trip
back to BC. I was going stir crazy in Winnipeg and just needed a
break. I quit my job, cashed my check, and bought a Greyhound ticket.
The ride was stressful enough having to deal with Fish Lips. When I
got to Vancouver not a single hostel had any space. Turns out the
last week of August is one of the busiest for travel in the area. I
skipped over to Vancouver Island for a few days knowing that even if
the hostels were full camping in the city parks is free and legal
from sun down to sun up.
After a few days on the Island, I
headed back to Vancouver hoping my luck would be better. It wasn't. I
walked from hostel to hostel. All were full. All recommended other
hostels. Other hostels except one I will not name, the one that I wound up at. Every single desk
clerk I talked to said not to go there. But it was that or sleep on
the beach. Looking back I would have honestly been better off on the
beach. I didn't take their advice and instead headed to said hostel
desperate for a bed.
I walked in to the overwhelming smell
of smokes and weed. Someone walked by wearing nothing but a towel,
winked, and said “Welcome to the Hostel”. Charming. Check in was
supposed to be at 11am but the desk clerk was nearly a half hour
late. I got my keys, a grungy set of mismatched sheets, and headed up
to my room. A double bed for only $35 per night plus a $10 deposit. Toilet paper was an extra dollar. By far the lowest
hostel price in Van.
The room seemed actually kind of
adorable at first. It was furnished with a four post bamboo bed, a
dresser, an old wood table and a small counter with sink and mirror.
As I threw down my bag and sat at the table I could hear opera music
coming in through the window. I was nice. I sat for a while to catch
my breath and enjoy the music and then wandered through Van to meet
up with an old friend.
When I came back I decided I would hang
out in the kitchen to see if I could meet some people. The kitchen
has a lot of art that I assume was made by patrons and a little
shrine to Jimmi Hendricks. One corner had instruments like djembes
and didgeridoos for guest use. I walked in to a man spinning a large
kitchen knife in his fingers and chanting “Rooobeeeerrtooo”.
Creepy. I sat down at the dining room table and chatted with a few hostellers. Nearby on the computer, a guy with a massive
tray of dope sat rolling giant joints. He and the other fellow got
into an argument and I decided it wasn't really my scene.
I mostly stuck to my room after that
but even wandering through the halls I noticed odd things. One
hallway with a fire escape had been blocked off by planters and there
was bedding on the floor. They were renting it out as a room! The top
of the staircase was also blocked off as a room. Even a patio had
been covered by a tarp and made into a room. They tucked people
anywhere and everywhere.
Sleeping that night was not peaceful.
There was a party right outside my door but that wasn't really a big
deal. It was the creepy crawlies that got me. The place obviously had
bedbugs and some other type of beetle was escaping from the wall
behind the mirror. That's what I could see. I don't want to think
about what I couldn't.
The next day proved to be just as odd
as the last. As I sat in my room drinking coffee and listening to the
french chansons playing over the PA system, a window in the same courtyard as
mine opened. Someone yelled something and then jumped out the window
onto the tarp covered patio where someone else was staying. The jumper was
obviously on something. He just said he was “High on life” and
then ran out of the hostel. The place definitely had some characters.
Needless to say I was glad when I
finally checked out. Next time I'll sleep on the beach.
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