Body & Mind : My Last Week in Sri Lanka

So I'm still at the same beach house in Ambalangoda but this last week is all about relaxation and introspection. Two other girls are participating in this week's activities as well; one from Austria and one from Germany. The only things officially on the agenda are a daily morning massage, a short yoga class in the afternoon and then maybe meditation on Friday with a monk at a local temple. I supplemented the mind part on my own by devouring several books during my abundant free time. (I also still helped out with the turtles, too.) 

Full/Blue Moon

BODY // MASSAGE

My morning ayervedic massages were performed by a small, smiley Sri Lankan lady name Udena. First there is the topless head, scalp and shoulder massage. (Beth, you would slip into a blissful coma and possibly die of complete, tactile nirvana.) I sit in a chair and she pours some herbal, ayervedic oil on my head then works it into my hair and scalp with a sequence of scratches and strokes. Then she braids my oily and slightly thicker hair. For some reason, I find head/scalp massage the most relaxing - it affects the entire rest of my body. After that, I lay down on the padded table for the foot massage. It's very thorough and relaxing with a bit of reflexology-ish pressure point stimulation. (Dad, you would fall asleep and instantly have dreams of walking weightlessly on cotton candy clouds.)

The first time, I thought she was only going to do my head and feet, but she transitioned on to rub down all the parts in between. Arms, hands, thighs, legs and then stomach and chest. It was a bit awkward for me because I've never had a boob-and-tummy massage before but its not bad. Then I flip over and she does the back of my arms & legs, my glutes and finally my back. My muscles are temporarily the consistency of banana pudding and it takes all of my willpower to convince my coarse motor skills to start functioning again. 

At this point I'm covered head to toe in ayervedic massage oil. I looked at the bottle but it's all in Singhale so I can't read a word of it. I asked Udena what was in it and she said simply "herbs." So my last resort was to try to identify it by smell, which is my third failed attempt at deciphering what the oil is made from or what's in it. I can say it smells rich, savory, herb-y and earthy, almost like a mossy forest floor after the rain mixed with wood, mushrooms and maybe some nuts. It honestly smells and feels like I'm being tenderized and marinated in preparation for a large Thanksgiving-style feast. It's not a bad smell but I don't love it either. 

If I could, I would fold her up and put her in my pocket so I can continue to experience her magical massage powers throughout my travels and share them with others. But, I just don't think the rest of the world is ready for the massage equivalent of self-actualization. 

MIND // BOOK CLUB

Walden | Henry David Thoreau, 1854

I finally finished Walden after starting it months ago. This is because 1) I read it very sporadically, and only during my travels, 2) its 373 pages of tiny type and 3) I frequently had to make note of and look up definitions to tons of antiquated and/or SAT-level vocabulary words. 

Basically, it's his adventure in self-reliance and self-reflection while living at a house he built on Walden Pond. There's a ton of satire, great poetic descriptions and narration, philosophy, advice, observations and even some rather prophetic predictions. I'll read it again or possible several more times and more quickly now that I have several words defined in the margins. 

Paper Towns | John Green, 2008

 A roommate of mine left this book so I picked it up and decided to give it a try. I finished it in under 48 hours, not because I found it particularly enthralling but because it's an easy read and I have a lot of free time. 

I was expecting it to be your typical vapid YA novel describing the same old tired high school stereotypes but I was surprised to find I could actually relate to it. Girl is fed up with conventional life (in Florida of all places) and decides to leave everything behind in search of something more substantial. 

A good part of the plot is built around poetry by Walt Whitman: Song of Myself and Leaves of Grass. I coincidentally just finished reading Walden by Henry David Thoreau. Both men were writers and part of the Transcendentalist movement in America during the nineteenth century. So, a lot of the underlying philosophy overlaps between those two books, despite them being written over 150 years apart. 

I also like the message of trying to see people for who they really are, not what you expect them to be. The irony is, in high school when I would have been the ideal target for this book, I was definitely more of a Q but now several years later, I've definitely transitioned to being more of a Margo. 

TRAVEL TIP #3: BOARDING PASSES MAKE GREAT BOOKMARKS!

The Fault in our Stars | John Green, 2012

There was a small, makeshift library of left-behind books in the corner of the common area. Since I had just finished Paper Towns, a friend suggested I read another book by John Greene called The Fault in our Stars. It's about a couple of star-crossed teenagers with various forms and stages of cancer. Kind of a modern, more maladies version of Romeo and Juiet, sans suicide.

It's a great insight into what it feels like to have a terminal illness and makes you appreciate your own health for sure. I wasn't a fan of the ending, but I think it's referencing the inceptional, fictional book-within-a-book An Imperial Affliction which just ends leaving several questions unanswered. I plan on watching the movie at some point next week in Malaysia when I have more reliable internet. 

I Wonder Why | Thubten Chodron, 1999

Curious to learn more about Buddhism and meditation in anticipation of visiting the temple later that week, I read I Wonder Why, a free publication that I picked up earlier at a temple in Singapore. It concisely and simply answers the questions asked most often about these aforementioned topics. It was written by a Californian turned Buddhist nun who started meditation and visited Nepal in 1975 and was fully ordained in 1986 in Taiwan. Very interesting and makes it easier to comprehend some of the more complex topics, especially since she has the Western perspective and wasn't just born into the culture. 

BODY // YOGA

After the peak heat and humidity of the day had waned slightly, our Yoga teacher Sasantha would arrive around 5 PM via motorbike. He wore white Kundalini-style yoga clothes was trained in and teaches Hatha style.

Along with Om chanting, he would open and close our practice with Ayubowen (Wishing you a long life; Singhale) instead of Namaste. I tried to go in with an open mind, but I felt like this class was way too basic, maybe on par for toddlers or geriatric clients. There were a handful of poses that I recognized but there was also a lot of filler like glorified stretching of feet, hands and fingers and laying down in savasana for several minutes in the middle of the practice, which I have never done before, and really felt like it interrupted the whole flow. But he did mix in a noticeable amount of meditation, which I liked. 

The worst part was the insects. I put on citronella oil but the mosquitos and flies still buzzed around us. I can't think of a worse hell than trying to meditate amongst mosquitos. I'm still grateful for his time and effort and was a nice, relaxing, not-too-sweaty way to end the day. 

I still continued to do my own Vinyasa practice almost every morning alone in the common area of the beach house. Last week, a few German girls took notice and asked if I could teach them. I ended up teaching two short classes (with simple moves that I was confident I could describe and direct) on two different mornings with up to four girls attending each class. 

MIND // TRIP TO THE TEMPLE

On Friday afternoon, I and the two other girls participating in B&MW piled into a tuk tuk to make the journey to the nearby Shailathalaramaya Temple in Karandeniya, built on a hillside about two centuries ago. It's claim to fame is a 35 meter long reclining Buddha statue, the longest of its kind in Southeast Asia.

The temple was particularly packed with people due to it being a holiday related to the full moon called Uposatha Observance Day or Poya Day. (This would explain why both the Post Office and our favorite Ice Cream place were closed on Friday.) So, we were lucky to get an hour, or any time at all really, with a monk there named Somissara. He was an amiable, 24-year old monk that just radiated happiness. The only space left for our meditation was in their narrow little alms room, where lay persons brought all kinds of food offerings for the monks. 

He had great English and gave us his life story in a nutshell, including coming to live at the temple at age 7, how he started meditation and his more recent travels across Europe to teach meditation. He recommended starting with Metta (or Loving Kindness) meditation. The goal of this practice is to cultivate a strong wish for the happiness of all other people and animals. We were instructed to close our eyes for 10 minutes and repeat the mantra I wish for all to be well and happy. I edited this a bit to I wish for _______ to be healthy and happy and made it into a med-lib™ (meditation + mad-lib, get it?!), in which I would fill in the following blank with things like: my parents, my sister, my friends, all beings, etc. (Is it coincidence that when I grabbed my phone to take pictures of the temple directly after the meditation, I noticed a rather happy WhatsApp message from my mom?) 

The time went by pretty quickly and even though my eyes were closed, the darkness faintly seemed like I was moving backwards through a tunnel, passing under sporadic overhead lights. However, I couldn't hold the traditional cross-legged position for the entire time. One of my legs started to go numb so I shifted a few times. I raised this concern to Somissara afterwards, and he said it's normal and totally acceptable to shift your physical position when meditating.

Then he gave us a brief tour of the statue, the temple and the grounds. I really enjoyed and appreciated the time he spent with us and approached to shake his hand, but just as quickly recoiled because I suddenly remembered that we're not supposed to touch or take pictures of the monks out of respect for their holiness. 

Reminds me of my grandma's quilted creations

The Moonstone Mine and My Shiny Souvenir

Unrelated to Body & Mind week, my last excursion was to a Moonstone Mine in Meetiyayoda. It was a typical tour-then-try-to-sell-something experience, but while white moonstones are found all over the world, blue moonstones are so rare that they (supposedly) are only found in this single village in Sri Lanka.

Traditionally, the moonstone is known as the Traveler's Stone and is supposed to be especially protective when one travels by night or upon the water when the moon is shining. The blue, or cat's eye, variety is believed to promote clarity, focus, awareness and balances energy. 

Upon hearing this, I decided I needed one immediately so even though I'm not typically a "ring person," I purchased a sterling silver ring set with a small blue moonstone for 10,000 rupee ($75 USD). I'm sure I probably overpaid a bit but it came with a certificate of authenticity and I'm directly supporting the Sri Lankan economy. 

Sifting for stones

My blue moonstone

The Cat Savior & Spectacular Sunsets

My last and completely unanticipated experience that I need to mention happened Friday night when a group of us were walking towards town for ice cream after dinner at the beach house. We are regularly escorted by Milo and some other street dogs, as we were on this trip, but they suddenly and uncharacteristically broke into a full sprint. I saw why as a small cat scrambled up a tree limb. The cat fell and in what seemed like a nanosecond, it was then in Milo's mouth, being shaken violently. 

What happened next was kind of a blur. I didn't really think - I just reacted and kicked the dog, not hard enough to really hurt it, just enough to startle her. She dropped the cat and I reflexively tried to grab the cat and move it away from the dog but instead felt claws puncturing my flesh. I flinched and spun around to see the cat safely behind me. I stood between Milo and the cat, yelling at Milo to go away, until the cat disappeared to safety. Thankfully the other dogs were gone and Milo eventually retreated as well. (I'm choosing to believe that the cat is totally fine now and eternally grateful for me saving it's life.) 

Only then did I stop to evaluate the damage done to my finger. I had a long, jagged scratch almost the entire length of the inside of my right ring finger - the one with my new moonstone ring on it - that was trickling blood and I was super thankful for another girl in my group that had a first aid kit with her and handed me an alcohol wipe and a band aid. I used them immediately then cleaned the wound more thoroughly and applied Neosporin when I got back to the house. 

Last but not least, I need to share pictures of some spectacular sunsets we got to admire this week! 

A Walk in the Woods

I've really been enjoying reading Walden lately, so here's my attempt at letting nature inspire my thoughts and writing, Thoreau-style. (Intentionally posting no pictures since there are none in my novel and I'm practicing being descriptive. But you can see some in my previous post about a weekend in Cape Tribulation.) 

At first I was striding along annoyed that humans are so helpless that we can't even walk through the woods unaided by a wooden Boardwalk. And then there's the irony of walking on a bunch of dead trees to admire the living ones. But then I slowed down and realized that without the crunching of leaves underfoot, I could walk as silently as a ninja. Of course everything hides when heaps of tourists are traipsing through, but once I became silent and still, the forest came alive around me. I saw birds both in the trees and on the ground. I admired small spiders in their elaborate webs and listened to an omnipresent symphony of insects. 

I heard leaves crunching and witnessed a pair of scrub fowls scratching at the leaf litter. I tried to get a closer look, but they must have sensed my presence and disappeared deeper into the undergrowth. I really liked the thick vines that contorted themselves into corkscrews and were intertwined amongst the mostly straight tree trunks. Tall trees, short trees, thick trunks, skinny trunks, young ferns frolicking around the legs of their parents. It's like I'm a tiny spectator and the trees are the legs of Giants, standing tall and socializing at some eternal and etherial social event, to which I am an uninvited guest. 

For the most part, I was alone. But whenever I did encounter other people, they would scurry past me as if trying to get the walk over with like it was their morning commute to the office and they were whizzing by in the carpool lane. "I have to get there before the coffee is all gone so I don't have to make the next pot." Hardly pausing to stop and admire the deep green magic around them that they have likely traveled hundreds or even thousands of miles to see. This is nature's job- to create and manage everything on earth. What's yours? To create a spreadsheet? Manage a budget? Sorry but you should feel a little insignificant from time to time. Nature never takes a holiday or even a day off.  

Gravity is the force against which everything in the forest must fight, but will succumb to sooner or later. This is evident from the felled trees and myriad fallen leaves and limbs that lie in so many layers along the forest floor. They'll eventually decompose into dirt and then help others defy gravity once again. Does a rotting tree trunk represent life or death? You might be inclined to say death since the life of the wood has come to an end. But in reality the decomposing log sustains more life than ever: moss, fungi, bacteria and a whole host of insects and maybe even small mammals and amphibians may use it for shelter. It's all a simple yet perfect cycle. 

I noticed small, red lily-trumpet shaped flowers strewn along one part of the path but could not find their origin. It was green as far as the eye could see in any direction. They must exist high up in the canopy as vibrant treats for birds and butterflies, beyond my humble visual range. 

The ancient forests faded onto an empty beach. The sand is fine and soft and the ocean was a gradient of green to turquoise to slate blue on the horizon with small yet constant white-capped waves rolling in to shore. The landscape was deserted as far as the eye could see in either direction due to the presence of saltwater crocodiles, which tourists should be well aware of due to the abundance of red and yellow warning signs. A small, mossy-looking mountain rose to the north while the forest continued to border the beach to the south. The sky was muffled with gray clouds which were fluffy mounds towards the horizon, but dissipated and blended into a smooth, gray blanket towards and over the trees. 

It felt strange and foreign to be walking along this beach in boots whereas at home I would be barefoot, feeling the sand beneath and between my toes. Walking towards the water, then turning around, you could see a sliver of mountains rising above the tree line into the gray, misty clouds. It's probably quite breathtaking on days when the sun and sky are friendlier. 

It took me 2 hours to meander down a 1.2 kilometer Boardwalk through a 100 million year old rainforest. I wondered how long it took people to build this long and winding bridge. However long it took, I'm certain it is a microscopic amount of time when compared to how long it has taken nature to build the forest around it. People are forever building barriers between themselves and nature. We build buildings and roads and buses and boats to aid in our own survival, often to the detriment of so many other species that rely on just water, sunlight and whatever makes up their meager diets. It's really pretty incredible when you stop to think about how helpless humanity has become and how that helplessness has compounded with each new technological marvel of the modern day. 

Athletes & Artists

So I seem to have developed a habit of automatically waking up at 5 AM. It happened again this morning so I headed down to the common area to use the free wifi. The night guy on duty asked if I had just woken up or just gotten back from partying, lol. I confirmed the former.

I ate a simple banana and granola bar breakfast in my room and left a little bit later to head to the Esplanade to watch the Ironman Cairns competition. The most ridiculous endurance athletes in the world compete in these races. I got to watch Sam Appleton cross the finish line in just under 4 hours to win the 70.3 race which consists of a 1.2 mile (1.9 km) swim, a 56 mile (90 km) ride, and a 13.1 mile (21.1 km) run. And that's just the half course!

A full Ironman is a whopping 2.4 mile (3.9 km) swim, 112 mile (180.25 km) cycle and a marathon distance 26.2 mile (42.4 km) run. I got a small taste of this when I took up sprint distance (.47 mile/750 m swim + 12 mile/20 km ride + 3.1 mile/5 km run) triathlons a few years ago in Miami. Of course my races would just be leisurely warm ups for most of the men and women I witnessed swimming, cycling and running today. 

The finish line was started to get crowded so I meandered off on a mission for lunch. The rain suddenly surged from sprinkling to soaking so I took shelter in the Cairns Regional Gallery of art which was only $5 ($3.40 USD) entry. The first floor held an eclectic collection of watercolor paintings. I looked at all of them but didn't love any of them. The second floor was more my style, titled Resolved: Journeys in Australian Design and displaying a collection of modern and minimalist design pieces. I particularly liked the colorful collection designed by Marc Harrison called Husque which incorporated crushed macadamia shells (which would otherwise just be discarded at harvest) into resin and shaped into beautiful bowls and dishes.

image source: husque.com

The third and final floor featured works by an emerging Artist named Nickeema Williams. She did beautiful charcoal portraits of several family members in addition to a few color photographs that honestly reminded me of instagram. When I exited the museum (through the gift shop of course) the rain was back to sporadic sprinkles. 

I found a food court on the way back to Calypso and got to break in my reusable bamboo chopsticks on some Thai food that was just a tad too oily. Back at home base, I caught up on some writing and uploaded some pictures. I also looked up the definitions of 101 words that I didn't know and had underlined while reading the last three chapters of Walden. I wish I had been more acquainted with my homeboy HD Thoreau in high school because he uses a ton of vocabulary that you're likely to see on the SAT. 

Anyways, that night the hostel hosted a BBQ where for $5 AUD you could eat barbecued crocodile and kangaroo. I had less than zero interest in this so I splurged and binged on Indian food at a nearby restaurant instead. I had naan, a mango lassi, basmati rice and Subzi Malai Balar; translation: mixed veggies in a creamy cashew sauce. I waddled back to my room and had to unbutton my pants to make room for the food baby I had just conceived. 

Earlier in the day I told myself that I was going to do some yoga before bed tonight but if I attempt anything that involves inversion right now, I'm quite certain I'll see my dinner again. I need to at least find the energy to pack as tonight is my last night in my single room of solitude and I'll need to check out tomorrow as soon as I return from my early morning excursion. 

Sidenote: I found this particularly amusing. In case you forget how to use a toilet, these helpful illustrations are posted throughout many of the public restrooms:

A few more pictures from around Cairns:

Food Makes Friends

Friday, June 12

This morning got off to a great start as I took part in a free (beginner) yoga class at 6:30 AM down near the waterfront Esplanade. The very pregnant teacher said we’d usually be on the dock down by the water but since the weather was not cooperating, the nearly 40 of us in attendance all had to squish underneath a police station awning. The class was only an hour and rather easy so I stayed longer and practiced some more of my own more advanced poses. 

Afterwards I headed to Rusty’s Market which was basically a big, (thankfully) covered Farmers Market. The smoothie and juice bar was still setting up when I arrived so I meandered around the many stalls which also sold jewelry, clothes and other knick knacks. Tucked back in a corner I saw a sign for Japanese Shiatsu & Reflexology so I decided to indulge in the 30 minute calf and foot package. The cute little Japanese girl did a great job hitting all the pressure points from my knees to my toes and I was incredibly relaxed afterwards. Then it was back to the bar where I enjoyed a Green Super Smoothie, a magical mix of Apple juice, Banana, Macca Powder, Spirulina, Chia Seed, Spinach & Cacao powder. Aaaaaamazing. 

Then I started on my quest for foreign fruits, which I am going to evolve into a tradition during visits to future destinations. I found lots of juicy treasures including red dragonfruit, custard apple, soursop, starfruit and a paw paw. I also bought some more mundane bananas for breakfast and avocados, tomato and onion to make guacamole later. As I was paying for my onion, I went into a state of panic as I realized I no longer had my phone in my hand. I retraced my steps to the past few vendors to no avail and eventually made my way to the manager’s office. He graciously let me use his computer to attempt to locate my phone. I first tried findmyiphone, but I guess since I have the cellular data turned off then the gps doesn’t work either. Next I Iogged into my gmail account and used google voice to call my phone. I heard it ring and then go through to voicemail. Also not a successful endeavor. So, I left all of my other contact info with the manager, who advised me to check with the stalls I had bought produce from one more time, before heading to the police station. I went to the onion vendor and the older gentleman that had sold me my onion earlier handed me back my phone, which he and his younger Asian lady partner had stashed behind the register. She said “We were worried... so worried.” “Me too!” I said and tried to give her my last $10 note out of gratitude but she refused so I settled for an awkward hug over some boxes of fruit. 

On my way out of the market, I stopped by a homemade dip vendor to ask where I could buy some chips, since I was planning to make guacamole the following night. They said there was a convenience store down the road and they were particularly chatty and well traveled so they kept me engaged in conversation for quite a while. They were friends from Hungary and one guy was a serial entrepreneur and the other cooked and ran the stand. I heard stories about how awful India is and how wonderful Bali and Thailand are. I was standing there so long that the owner asked me what I was doing for lunch and said “probably just getting a sandwich somewhere” and he shook his head and handed me a Hungarian version of an empanada filled with spinach and feta and topped it with slightly spicy sun-dried tomato sauce. I offered to pay for it but he insisted it was on the house. After I finished my little meal, I thanked them each again with a handshake and went on my way. 

I returned to Calypso and immediately assembled a plate of my new foreign fruit which would serve as the remainder of my lunch. (And help to subliminally support my secret, vegan/vegatarian agenda mwa ha ha ha.)  I got several envious stares and a few comments and I invited anyone to join me. One kid from Canada named Eric took me up on my offer and tried each of the fruits on my plate: starfruit, paw paw (which is similar to papaya), red dragonfruit and a soursop. Everything tasted pretty good except the soursop, which I renamed jizz fruit because of its appearance and consistency. But apparently if you can stomach it, it’s supposed to be great at fighting cancer cells. We nibbled on fruit and talked travel and about being the North American minority among the myriad European travelers, eh. 

Later that night, I went downtown for a pub crawl with stops at five different bars. I met a nice enough local girl but it all went downhill after that. We were waiting in line for our drink tickets when one girl at the front summoned about 30 other kids to the front of the line who jostled the rest of us out of the way, like they were all Aussie royalty or something. I found out later they were a big group of American college kids on semester abroad and they were pretty obnoxious and took over most of the bar. Then the free BBQ meal that was advertised and included in your $35 cost turned out to be slices of bread, hotdogs and a pile of produce refuse that they called a salad. And the first drink which was supposedly something mixed with vodka tasted like watered down Kool-aid. And although it was pouring rain, which is incredibly unseasonal during winter in Cairns, I felt awkward being the only one logically wearing a raincoat. In summation: bad crowd, bad food, bad drinks and bad weather. I had already wasted money on this thing but I didn’t want to waste any more of my time so I made an Irish exit down the stairs and out of the bar virtually unnoticed. I know I’m not 21 anymore, but I don’t think I would have enjoyed this anymore even if I was. By the time I got back to Calypso, it was close to 10 PM and they had just wrapped up a beer pong tournament. I was done for the evening so I went upstairs to bed. 

Saturday, June 13

I woke up about the same time as the previous morning and had to wait a while until 7 AM before I could go downstairs for my two dollar toast. I had four slices with jam and an apple and banana from Rusty’s Market. Then I caught up on some writing in my room for a bit while waiting for the rain to subside. By the time it was reasonably dry outside, it was close to lunchtime so I walked a mile or so back downtown to a Swedish cafe & shop that I had found the previous day. They didn’t have many vegetarian options but the owner was glad to make me a warm, pressed veggie and Jarlsburg cheese sandwich on sourdough, which I paired with a Swedish iced tea and later enjoyed a little almond tart for dessert all for about $15 AUD / $11.50 USD.

I continued exploring Cairns on foot and ended up down at the harbor which was packed with boats but also had some pretty nice views of the surrounding coastline. I followed the shore northward and stopped along the esplanade, draping myself over one of the thick wooden beams that served as crude benches and dived back into Walden. 

I draped myself over one of the thick slabs of wood beam bench lining the edge of the boardwalk. When I opened my book, it was low tide and the dark sand was exposed for several muddy meters. Three chapters later the tide had rippled itself back almost completely to shore. 

My bench overlooked a sandy patch of land between the boardwalk and a dock. I observed at least a dozen children leap onto it uninhibited and run around, some with shoes and some without, reveling in their sandy respite from the ubiquity of paved pathways. Adults, however remained on the well-trodden pavement. Only when a child pleaded for a while did one of his or her parents venture reluctantly into the sand. This makes me think that as we grow older, most of us also simultaneously grow apart from nature and the general fun of frolicking in it.

Big, empty beach

It was just starting to get dark when I returned to the hostel with the remaining ingredients needed to make my guacamole: chips (regular potato chips because I couldn’t find tortilla chips anywhere), a lime and some garlic salt for seasoning. It took me longer than usual and came out a lot chunkier because I had to use the dull, community hostel knives instead of my Shuns and my vidalia chop wizard. Still tasted ok though, so I plopped down at one of the picnic style tables where there was a handful of other hostel-goers. 

TRAVEL TIP #1: FOOD MAKES FRIENDS. 

I offered some chips and guac to my new friends, who I found out were from various parts of the UK and one guy from France. They munched on some chips with their beer and took a few adventurous scoops of guacamole every now and then. We all talked for a while before they made their own pasta dinner. FACT: Pasta is the number one homemade hostel food. (Now you know, if you ever happen to step into the Cash Cab in NYC and get asked this question.) Everyone was eating now and I smelled a couple’s freshly delivered pizza and correctly guessed the pepperoni topping from across the room, and my new friends marveled at this talent. 

Eventually, the guys of our group left to go buy more beer while the only other girl, Alyssa, and I enjoyed a few glasses of the best boxed wine $3 can buy. She was an adorable little Brit with some pretty cool tattoos,  including a rockinghorse fly on her shoulder and another one on her thigh that said Curiouser and Curiouser, both Alice in Wonderland references, so we got along just fine. We started spectating a nearby game of pool and those guys invited us to play next. Add two more Brits to my tally, who happened to be complete opposites of each other. The first was shorter and looked/acted kind of like a little frat boy and talked with a typical accent while the other was tall, bald and tatted up and talked like he had just stepped straight off of Green Street. He was impressed at our ability to communicate since “Yanks can never understand what I’m sayin’. You’re the first one!” 

I’d also like to amend my previous statement and say that Germans AND Brits are freaking everywhere. And I’m convinced they’re up to something. Like one day, they’re all going to get the same text message and simultaneously assemble into a series of flash mobs and start doing some sort of global, choreographed dance and set a new Guinness World Record. Obviously. 

But let’s back up for a second and talk about how weird this game was in every single way. Apparently in “proper English pool,” the billiards are about half the size, numberless and come in only four colors; the majority are ketchup red and mustard yellow and then you have the game-ending black ball and the white cue ball. The rules were pretty much the same but I had the hardest time adjusting to how different everything else was and made hardly any shots. And the guys found it amusing every time I got frustrated and complained aloud about how much “I hate these tiny balls” which would usually elicit a response from one of them something like “Oh you like big balls then. These balls aren’t big enough for you American girls, eh?” (Cue AC/DC.) Just another example about how ‘Merica has to go and make simple things more complicated, not unlike our arbitrary Fahrenheit temperature scale and units of measure. Metric makes so much more sense, and pretty much the entire rest of the world uses it!!! 

After a few more games and glasses of wine, and being pretty much the last people in the common area, Alyssa and I decided to call it a night and head to our respective rooms alone, which I’m sure left the shorter dude a bit disappointed because his intentions were painfully obvious, yet unfulfilled.