you can find me in da pub

i came back to london a day earlier than my friend i was staying with to make an immunization appointment i had scheduled, so instead of staying at her place in streatham (and probably over OVER staying my welcome), i booked a hostel for my last week in london. since it wasn't the height of olympic activity, the prices were much more reasonable and it was kind of nice to have the opportunity to stay in the city so my schedule wasn't dictated by a train schedule. plus, like many of the hostels in london, mine was located above a pub, which sounded to me like just about the coolest most london-y (that's a word - i just made it) thing i could do for my last week in this fabulous city.

unfortunately, staying above a pub actually ended up being a bit more romanticized in my head than how it actually was. walking up the staircase in the back of the pub covered in old english printed carpets didn't help to immediately erase the notion that this was going to be a "cool" experience. my rose colored glasses were not smashed right away due to any lack of cleanliness or decor, and it took a few hours for them to adjust to the harsh light of reality. (oooooh! ahhhh! metaphors!)

it started to hit me when i walked into my room. i knew i was staying in a "mixed 15 person" room, to which i was no stranger. instead of the double bunk beds i had been accustomed to in previous hostels, however, here i was faced with a triple bunk - three people sleeping on top of each other. not so bad, until you realize the beds are made with support similar to that offered from a metal clothes hanger and that every time anyone moves the entire bed shakes enough to register on the richter scale. guess who had top bunk...

also, i'm not sure what "mixed" means in UK english, because i was the only female sleeping in my room. i know some of you are thinking about my awesome odds in this situation, but my company consisted of two old smelly men who snored, one hippie potentially american guy and his tiny sidekick who only spoke spanish, and four italian guys who didn't look a day over 14 and didn't talk to each other a decibel below screaming 24/7. so, no thanks. this made already complicated hostel behavior like changing your clothes quite difficult. i was watched even once when i was putting leggings on underneath a dress i was wearing. and trust me, with my balance i was in no way making this act sexy.

all in all, i've stayed in much worse before. like much worse only a couple of weeks prior in barcelona. so i really can't complain. i had good wifi, hot showers, and was near a park so i could go on morning runs.

apart from this blog entry, i'm still willing to blur some of the details to continue romanticizing the idea of staying above a pub in london. at least to anyone i talk to who hasn't read this, and if you have and i start telling you how "amaaaazing" it was, do me the favor of simply nodding and smiling.