My overseas adventure led me to Poland, where I stayed in a cute little hostel called Mosquito, on the fringes of the Old Town in Krakow.
I have been living it up the last few years, staying in motels and hotels on my adventures, but I had forgotten about the unique characters you meet in hostels.
Our Mosquito Hostel host Tomic was a darling, pointing out every essential place to visit in Krakow, booking us into tours and gave us all the VIP treatment by taking us out on the first night we arrived. This is just one of the unbelievable services the Mosquito Hostel offer to guest free of charge.
We met in the kitchen to share some drinks with the randoms we were sharing our lives with for the next few days. Here was the low down on our companions:
- Clinical research man – he’d been travelling for 13 years and funded his trips by farming himself out to clinical research trials. Sadly I think the tests replaced all his native New Zealand blood with some type of subtle superior pompous traveller gene.
- Alice – a beautiful care free New Zealander, working in London, travelling solo and gracing us with her knowledge of the world. She was a gem.
- Sydney – I don’t’ know his real name, but he came from Sydney,; thus his name. He bought shots all night for the group to impress the girl from Switzerland, twenty years his junior. His Asian appearance made it difficult for people to tell that he was in his 40’s he told me.
- Donald McDonald – I won’t write his real name, as he seemed to want keep his real identity under wraps. An extremely intriguing guy from a tiny island not even listed on Google, who was the first from his school to be accepted to Oxford University. He even featured on a documentary about his island and his education. Donald is now a PhD student studying the brain. After testing his knowledge on Tamagotchi’s, gymnastic Barbie and the Furby, I was sure he was in his late 20’s. But, alas, the brain child had only just turned 21. Bless as the British would say! My conversations with Donald keep me entertained for hours.
- The Eastern Europeans (who were actually Finnish) – I skimmed over their appearance, both fair skinned, one with a shaved head, plain coloured shirt and jeans, the other tall, sandy coloured hair and Lacoste shoes. Eastern European? Russian? I was very wrong. They were Finnish guys, sports fanatics, here to watch their country’s soccer team play three hours away from Krakow. They were dedicated.
- Mr Mullet and language lady – they were both Americans studying languages in Germany. German, French, English, Latin, Japanese – the list went on. They weren’t a couple but knew of each other through mutual friends. Both extreme brains, who both couldn’t define what they would use their skills for post university. But of all their unusualness, it was the guy’s hair that most intrigued me the most. A full length long brown oily mane that reached his torso. No hair band, no product, just length, a fringe and short cut sides. A brushes dream.
We joined the Skittles bag of colourful people and headed out on the town with T-Dog, as we re named him.
A few shots and some hopeless attempts at shaking a proper cocktail at some tiny bar that was the cheapest in town, T Dog took us to Prozac – the most happening nightclub in Krakow.
It was happening – two floors of happening actually. Between the overpowering smoke machine on the dancefloor to the overpowering nicotine smoke consuming me in the next room, I followed the white swan to the bathrooms for a break. It was fun to dance to random music with extremely camp, and extremely fun T Dog, but by 3pm, my lungs were done and I dragged Sam home to the hostel.
Just a night in the life of a hostel guest.