Sleepless in Seattle

There was an inevitability about the title of today's post. As I got into my bunk bed at ther hostel here in Seattle last night, I smugly thought to myself that with a seemingly comfortable bed and an undeniable appetite for a good night's kip, I would be able to laugh in the face of Hanks or Ryan should I see them at any point in my lifetime. Sleepless? Pah. Wrong. A combination of factors shattered my smug delusion:
1. The pillow which had appeared so comfortable was way too fat for my liking.
2. Late arrivals into the dorm room with no ability to see in the dark (they did not have a head torch)
3. Early rising guy (5am) who had to go "find some work"
4. Inability to breath through one or both nostrils, caused by cold acquired more than likely from Niko (I'm not bitter)
5. Brain inexplicably trying to write poetry when shut really have been shutting down for the night

Yes thats right - poetry. This is not something that happens very often to me. I remember it happening once in 1st year at York, when I was so overwhelmed by the poetic flow that I got up in the middle of the night and wrote it all down. Surprisingly it was quite good, unfortunately I gave the only copy of it to Emma Elengorn and it was never seen again. "A wasted talent!" I hear you cry. "What might have been??" But no. You see my talent was fulfilled at an early age and I am in fact a published poet. Oh yes. If you ever visit my parents house, I'm sure they'll proudly pull out the poetry anthology that contains my infamous heart-rending love poem (penned at the highly mature age of 14). Quite how I managed to express such solemn verses on a subject that still leaves me mystified is indeed a connundrum.

So back to Seattle. Last night was my first taste of what some might call 'real travelling'. That is roughing it in hostels with loads of others who are on the road, instead of crashing at the palatial pads of your buddies. Well its certainly different, but I don't know about 'real'. I'm staying at the Green Tortoise Hostel in Downtown Seattle. First impression was that it was stuck in some kind of 90s grunge/goth timewarp. There were far too many piercings, tattoos and black clothing for my liking (and that was just the staff). Despite this it soon endeared itself to me with the free dinner they put on every other night - quite a bonus in my book, and also a good chance to meet some fellow travellers. Should be fun. Dinner was great, although the lasagne subsequently revealed itself to be packed with enough garlic to make Transylvania into a ghost town. Meeting people was difficult. I strategically positioned myself onto a table where two cool lookin dudes were sat, thinking I'll have a go with these guys, and more people will sit at my table. I'd seen another guy use this tactic to great effect and his table was now burning with conversation. Mistake 1 was picking 2 eastern european guys who had no interest in speaking English. Luckily 2 other friendly looking types joined the table. I thought I'd give em time to enjoy their tucker, then took a bold leap with some smalltalk..."D'you get the lasagne? Its really good." I said. Mild surprise, followed by nods and murmurs. No good. After all the training I'd had from E&Y in extracting information from people, I'd gone and asked a very closed question, then answered it myself. Schoolboy. That was it until the food had gone, when I resorted to the somewhat clichéd, but more open "Where you guys from?" Success! I was dining with Derek from Boston Massachusets (they always say the city and the state - why??) and a Dutch guy named Eco (as in system - although my suggestion of this to clarify his name left him superbly baffled. Derek got it).

Flush with confidence from this success, I ventured out onto the veranda to meet more fellow explorers. I was now armed with a pack of gummy bears (clever eh?) so there was no chance of failure. I quickly got chatting to a Glaswegian lass, and we chinwagged for a good while, though somehow never exchanged names. A few brief forrays into pleasantry exchange with some older dudes occupying the veranda were followed by an amiable chat with a fella called Sepdan (?? - didn't try to clarify this one). Turns out he was a poet and there was gonna be an open mic night at the hostel tonight. Perfect I thought, I'll stop here watch the action and get an early night. Well this open mic night turned out to be rather interesting and probably deserves a blog entry all of its own, but I'm running low on battery, so I'll save that one for a rainy day (which judging by the weather here now will be every day. I want california sun :(

Thats all from me, but I'm determined to get you idle buggers using my comments facility. So far its only Niko who is using it and thats only to big up his own blog. So 2 tactics...
1. Following a great discussion I overheard on a bus between a crazy guy and a slightly scared young lady, "Were the recent hurricanes in the US caused by God or Mother Nature?" Answers on a postcard
2. I'm compiling th all time list of world's greatest holes. All contributions welcome.

See ya....