Hostels!

Tuesday morning was my first day staying in the town centre and in a hostel. Hostel Condesa sounded good from the reviews, and in reality it was ok. However a big drawback was that no-one spoke English. Whilst I feel a bit bad for not having a good enough knowledge of Spanish to be able to chat to the people I encountered, it was quite limiting. Also, the people I met weren`t exactly friendly... I was wondering if this was to be expected... I decided to go to the Zoo during the day on my own. It took me a while to get there, because, perhaps in a typical British fashion, I hate getting a map out on the street and looking like a tourist. Instead I prefer just to sort of... `guess the way`. This can end up being a little bit stressful but I got there in the end. The Zoo was great, a bit like London Zoo although a bigger range of animals. The Orang-Utans, Rhinos and Giraffes were particular highlights, but the Jaguar was the best.

I got back to the hostel and was feeling pretty tired. I was even in a room on my own, but in the end that worked out quite well as I was able to get a good amount of sleep. In the morning I determined to walk about 20 minutes North to another Hostel I had read about called Hostel 333. Upon arrival, I was met by Veronica who was instantly more friendly than those at Hostal Condesa. After a couple of minutes of chat, James popped round the corner and introduced himself. This place also had a cool roof terrace and better sleeping accommodation. And it's cheaper.... so, bit of a no-brainer really. I marched back towards Hostal Condesa, heaved my big rucksack onto my back and set off for my new destination. This is the third trip I had to make between the two Hostels this morning, but as well as being more excited about Hostel 333, I also imagine I am an American Football player and walking with this huge bag on my back is my training for playing in pads. I'm pretty sure everyone I passed felt this vibe and thought I was incredibly cool.

When I arrive at the Hostel, James isn't in but I meet Beatriz, a Colombian girl who speaks almost perfect English. We get some lunch, but I have stupidly not brought enough money with me from Makocha's house, so I need to use the ATM. There is a service charge which I begrudgingly accept, then there is an additional charge of 5 Pesos (about 30p) which I also agree to after the initial charge. Beatriz tells me afterwards that this second charge was an optional donation. Convenient that they didn't translate this part into English for me... With this in mind, I probably won't bother with any volunteering activities later in my trip, as I feel that, albeit unsuspectingly, I have now done my bit.

Back at the hostel, I'm feeling a bit cold and a bit tired, so a nice warm shower will help sort things out. I thought Beatriz might call me, so decided to take the phone to the shower. In hindsight, this was a silly idea, since I was hardly going to answer it whilst lathering my naked body under a tap. It was especially annoying as there was nowhere convenient to put the phone. Yes, I know the simple solution would be to return the phone to my bedroom, a mere 10 metres away, but I'm stubborn. So, the phone goes onto the second shelf of the shower rack, alongside and underneath some soap and shampoo bottles. Unfortunately, neither tap seems to 'equal hot' but this hasn't stopped me plastering myself in shower gel in a bid to save some time.

Now, I am cowering in the corner of the cubicle, but there is no escaping the icy clutches of the shower water, which sprays in all directions quite unapologetically. It is quite evident there will be no warm shower today. As I struggle to control my shivering frantic body, I inexplicably manage to knock the shower rack off the nail it hangs on, and can only watch as it crashes to floor. Bottles, bars of soap, soggy boxes, random pubic hairs and miscellaneous wrappers fill the floor, and there alongside them, is my phone, lying face down in the water like the first victim of a Midsomer Murders 'Lakeside Tragedy'. And I hadn't even begun to think about how I was going to un-soap myself.

So my first bathing experience was not great, but overall the hostel is a vast improvement on the previous one. That evening I chatted to a couple of French guys and went for a few drinks with James, who it transpires also went to Oxford. He was telling me how he often lies about where he went to University because he is wary of the reaction. I said it would've been funny if we had both applied the same tactics to each other and never discovered the common link that explained why we were both snobs. We ended up at a bar where loads of people were salsa dancing. I quite liked the idea of having a go (and dancing with some hot mexican girls) but the only time I have ever attempted salsa, I was truly pathetic. So we just drank instead, cursing our poor fortune of being both uncoordinated and cowardly.