Took to my room yesterday, but in the community room/kitchen the Brits were celebrating. Five guys, rambunctious to say the least.
No they are not celebrating the Queens Jubilee, but something akin to that, I suppose. Anyway, they took turns walking back and forth to and from the showers, in just their skivvies. One had hot pink briefs. I felt as though I shouldn’t be sharing in their joy, but when hot pink flashes before your eyes, what can you do?
They got all dressed up, including the gentleman who will be a groom in September, dressed as the bride. See the photo of that to believe it. Woe to the wedding party if these guys are the groomsmen. They left about 10:30 p.m. for a night on the town, and came back in the wee hours of the morning. I woke up to the sounds of singing, and a women’s voice shouting, “Don’t you have any manners?” I’ll answer that…no they don’t.
Late last night a couple from the States came into my room to sleep on the extra bunk bed. This is my first experience staying in a coed hostel, and it’s quite strange to be so intimate with strangers.
This morning I walked all the way to the mall to replenish my supplies, and who should I meet there but the Hungarian, Gergo. He’s the first guy I met when I arrived over two months ago; and who helped me carry my groceries back to the guesthouse. We had been emailing this morning and I told him I would be going to the mall and he surprised me. It’s fun to see him again. We compared notes about our current sleeping arrangements, and it seems he’s got a challenge where he is as well. What makes someone want to sing at the top of their lungs before day break? Even birds don’t do that.
When I got back to my room, after a Taxing ride; taxing because the driver didn’t understand where I wanted to go; but he stopped the meter until he understood, in typical Icelandic friendliness.
Anyway, now there’s a gentleman from Seattle asleep in my room with jet lag. Life isn’t a bit boring for me.
At the mall I find it similar to American malls; loud music and lots of people. I went to the grocery store and heard the sounds of the 50s.
Prices here are about the same as in America, with some items a little bit higher. Don’t know what it’s like for the Brits, and don’t think they know themselves.