| The Move! |
| Written by Brendon Green |
| Sunday, 11 October 2009 02:07 |
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Oh, sweet freedom. I am out of the hostel and into a fully furnished studio apartment. 10 people in a room? No thanks, I think I’ll take living by myself for change. 6 showers shared between 80 people, how about 1 shower for 1 person? Always having someone to talk to? Ha! Oh wait, that was quite nice. I have been staying in a hostel for the last month, and it has been… fine. Although on my last night, I was reminded why it’s a godsend to be getting my own place. At around 1.30AM, 3 Americans (2 guys + 1 girl) enter the room. Obviously they have just arrived, as they roll their suitcases into the room whose light they have just turned on. Now, maybe they will realise that there are 7 people in there trying to sleep, so will quickly put their stuff aside and deal with it in the morning. Or not. They survey the brightly lit room and start talking. Not even whispering: actual American-sized talking. And then they proceed to unzip their suitcases and noisily organise all of their belongings, whilst continuing with their conversation. For 30 freaking minutes. I mean honestly, a little decency please. And like a good New Zealander - I lie there, awake, absolutely fuming but bottling my anger up, and deciding firmly that I will not say ‘Good Morning’ to them if I see them in the morning . Yeah, that will show them, a bit of diplomatic cold shouldering. I should point out that over the month, I have had quite a lot of American roommates, and they have all been lovely and respectful, but these 3 were almost enough to make a case for the withdrawal of Obama’s Nobel Peace Prize. That’s how bad they were, they nearly made me dislike Obama. But now! All is good in the world. I have moved into the apartment, and have even gone grocery shopping (how domestic!). I now have my own space to put my stuff and can live by my own schedule. A nice quiet few days to recover from my head cold and I will be on top of my game. So for now; microwave pizzas for dinner, and DVD’s for entertainment. Oh how I love being able to watch DVD’s. That, my friends, is the definition of freedom (and if it’s not, then it should be). |
