Dorm Life
There are certain elements about staying in dorm rooms that make them unique, wierd and wonderful.
I always thought it would be the snoring that would keep me awake at night but no, it has been the sound of people falling out of the top bunk, Mr O’Riordan waking me up at 6am after a night out on the town chatting away like a madman or the constant packing and unpacking of bags at all hours of the day and night.
Privacy does not exist, nor does personal space as all belongings kind of mingle together ensuring a constant if distant feeling of paranoia regarding ones personal items. I always wake up when the early risers do and check my wallet, phone and dirty socks have not be taken, either deliberately or by mistake.
Recently the standard of dorms has declined. One place in Christchurch was awful, 3 tier bunks, you had to pay for your linen and duvet and therefore make your own bed (I know, such a hardship!). They had one sink in the male toilets which had the ceiling missing, 2 toilets, one with no lock on the door and the other sort of tilted when you sat on it. The kitchen was the size of a small family car and the atmosphere was akin to what you would find in a depressing version of the stepford wifes.
Don’t get me wrong, there are some pluses, I just haven’t figured out what they are yet! I am kidding. The people are generally friendly, the majority being German it seems, or scandinavian, a few Americans, some Brits and a smattering of Asians.
The highlight of dorm living so far has to be the time that a German guy fell out of his top bunk and was unable to find the door to “go for a pee” as he put it. That and the fact that Neil was shining his torch at the guys bunk shouting “How many of you are up there, come on, how many!!!” which freaked me out a bit, but apparently the guy had been moaning and hitting the wall and shouting so Neil thought there must be more than one person contributing to this noisy event.
Actually the real highlight was Neil waking up all and sundry one morning in my room, including an American he named “The Rock” due to his look and desire to exercise in our room at all hours so he could “look good for the girls in Oz” and a huge Dutch guy who was amazed to find himself being grabbed by a drunken Irishman at 6am. I have not laughed so much in a long time.
I do feel the need to treat myself to a hotel room. Perhaps on my birthday I will book a nice double room in a hotel for the night. I bet I will still sleep with one eye open……just in case…..
Tags: New Zealand
