I Was Born A Rambling Man...

THIS year my life seems to revolve around hostels; ironic really when you consider that at the start of the year I was staying in a town (Cooma) that no longer had hostels (or if they do I've no idea where).
During the course of my travels since May I've stayed in hostels or dirt-cheap hotels in London, Paris, Brugge, Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague (although that was a cheap add-on to an otherwise expensive hotel), Vienna, Budapest, Munich, Nice, Barcelona, Madrid, Lisbon, Bordeaux, Edinburgh, Inverness, Dublin, Galway, Kilkenny and Port Douglas.
There were also camping grounds (much like caravan parks here in Australia) in Venice, Rome and Florence, and apartments in Cinque Terre and Lagos.
Some of these were brilliant, although given they are cheap accommodation, you can generally find fault anywhere you stay. For example, Berlin's City Stay hostel was brilliant: except that the lights in the showers went off if you didn't keep moving around, and you had to hold the tap in to keep the water going. Those of us who enjoy standing under a hot shower often had to jump around waving our arms while trying to keep the stupid button pressed in, which is no mean feat when you're hungover.
The really, really good hostels will have some kind of entertainment with cheap drinks available. The Generator in London was good for this: 1 pound pints for three hours, by which time you'd got a taste and forgotten you were trying not to spend so much money. You could also win booze for doing silly things, including singing karaoke, pole-dancing, and on one memorable occasion, dancing in a g-string (think tall, strange man).
Rome was alright, although their efforts to make money from the bar were thwarted by a combination of high prices and the fact people were allowed to bring in their own opened beer bottles, which were available across the road at 1 euro a piece.
But by far the greatest "entertainment" in a dorm comes when a young couple begins coupling.
You'll be lying in bed, trying to mind your own business, when all of a sudden you hear what sounds like a cow chewing on gum.
Then the bed might start to shake or squeak, followed by the inevitable short, sharp breaths. If the couple is drunk, these may be loud enough to wake the whole dorm up and allow them to share the experience.
Of course, if you really need to sleep there are a few options. The one I used best was to turn on the iPod and listen to music, while others try the pillow-over-the-head trick.
If these don't work (ie the bed/floor is shaking), then all you can do is grin and bear it, and give the offending couple a knowing look first thing in the morning.
That or throw a cold cup of water over them mid-stroke.

What's your best travel story? Post them below; be warned they may be taken off if too rude/crude/prude. It can be about anything you like, although I'd prefer it if you didn't mention that one time, on band camp...

That's An Interesting Question...

AS A journalist I get to ask some really insightful questions.
Unfortunately, most of the questions I ask veer between "how do you feel about the win/loss/court case against you for fradulent cheques written on the sides of cows" to "so, what now?"
On one memorable occasion I couldn't even think of a question at all. I had to speak to a local school principal about some new funding or whatever, and took so long trying to get the quesion out that he eventually just said to put down quotes along the lines of that they were very happy to get the money and it would go to a good purpose.
I'd like to be able to say that the published article contained quotes from that particular principal saying how the money would go towards his retirement fund, but I can't. When it came to controversial quotes, all I could think about was a judge telling me no to do that ever again and awarding 100% of my earnings for the next 30 years to the soul I defamed.
Of course the Fourth Estate doesn't have exclusive rights to stupid questions. I've applied for jobs where they ask some of the most inane questions.
One job I applied for asked about last book read and favourite movie. Again, much as I'd like to say that I wrote Dr Suess' Green Eggs And Ham as last book and A Very Brady Christmas as my favourite movie, but I wanted the job and put down The Blues Brothers and Steve Waugh's autobiography.
Mind you, I can see what they're getting at: after all who wants someone working for them when their favourite movie is Dude, Where's My Car?
Come to think of it, who hasn't asked a stupid question? Here's something to remember though next time you hear sniggers or smartarse comments after asking a question: at uni, we were taught that the only stupid question is the one you don't ask.
I still reserve the right to snigger or be a smartarse though.

Random thought of the week:
When putting in a contact lens, no matter how good you are at it, make sure there's something stopping said lens from dropping straight down the drain. Good thing I still have glasses.