It's been a soap opera round here the last few weeks. Like a budget version of Neighbours.
So here's an update split into handy themed paragraphs.
I've had to move rooms. The Pink House has decided that my room, Room 2, was to be turned back into a common room. I am now one door closer to reception in Room 1.
This pleased me because it pissed off a German porn star. Well, she's not a porn star, but she dresses like one, and has as much elegance and social grace.
She is the single most annoying woman I've met in the hostel so far. Rumours were already abound when she was living in room 17 about her habit of turning on the big light in the night and playing her iPod through her portable speakers at 3am in the morning.
Then a rumour uglier than her hideous beaked nose emerged - that she was to move to my room, Room 2.
A Chat With Claire
Spoke to Claire, her previous room mate, or rather room enemy. She'd had several slanging matches and sleepless nights with the German. "You'll get no sleep" said Claire, shaking her head in a resigned fashion.
Went to see Aidan at reception. "Mate, I don't want that woman in my room" I said. "Don't worry" he said in his broad Belfaaaahst accent, before winking conspiratorially "I'll sort something out"
Except the problem was that he wasn't on in the morning. Sonya was. And Sonya knew nothing knew of mine and Aidan's arrangement. So imagine my surprise when I awoke to see a bleach blonde tattooed troll with Double-F knockers dragging her suitcase through my doorway.
And true enough. By 3am that morning she had already turned the big light on and started to play her iPod through her speakers.
"Turn that off" I said
"It's OK" she said
What's that supposed to mean? No, it's not OK.
"Turn it off" I said "Matty's got to be up in the morning for college"
Chuntering, she gave in.
And, so next morning, when the news that everyone had to leave Room 2 reached us, it was full on Blitzkrieg. She was one Sour Kraut.
"I haff just moved down here" she railed "Zey have sent me back to Room 17. I not like Room 17. Zere iz zis woman who is always tellink me to turn ze light off and turn my music off". She was, of course, referring to Claire.
I had the pleasure of telling Claire.
Me: Guess who's moving back into your room
Claire (more serious): But....no!
Claire: Aidan....tell me that's not true
Claire: Aidan! No!
Aidan (looks at the ground and sheepishly nods)
Meanwhile, The German was giving Miranda, the manager of The Pink House, a full on Teutonic Tantrum. But I was glad she'd moved out. And I glad she was pissed off.
I don't know much German, but I do know one word. Schadenfrauder - the act of taking pleasure in another's misfortune.
20 minutes later the German was down at reception claiming she had been bitten by bed bugs. At first, reception suspected her of concocting the story in order to get moved again. But, would you believe it, she was actually telling the truth.
There followed a fractured conversation about which rooms she had stayed in, which hostels she had visited and where in Australia she had been.
As a rule, you should not take sleeping bags to hostels as they transport bed bugs easily. Usually, you should use the hostel linen as it is cleaned industrially.
Of course The German had had bed bugs at her last hostel. Of course, she had a sleeping bag. Of course the German had not washed her sleeping bag. Of course the German had stayed in my room.
10 minutes later I found myself absentmindedly scratching my back when I realised I had found a reddened lump. Could be a mozzie bite, I thought. I asked Claire to look at it. "No thanks" she said when she realised it was so low on my lower back that technically constituted my arse.
"Go on" I said. Reluctantly, she had a prod. Within seconds, Miranda, the manager had steamed in. She was on bed bug watch and wasted no time in diving to her knees to firk about. At one point Claire pulled my shorts down so far I was perilously close to exposing my arsecrack.
A verdict was reached. They were bed bugs. "Everything in the tumble drier. Now!" was the instruction from Miranda. Everyone in the new room was very sympathetic. They expressed this via a barrage of questions:
Have I touched you at any stage?
Is it like Alien, where it bursts out of your chest?
Can they get into your brain?
I am now in recovery and am hopefully parasite free.
Try not to worry. I still have a decent quality of life