My Final Spring Break.

That title is incorrect, because 'final' infers that there has been more than one. There has not. I am a slave to the restaurant industry, and I have worked a full-time job the entire time I have been in school. Every spring break I have worked, and as this is my senior year, I say Enough!. So I'm stopping in Charlotte for a night, then trekking to Atlanta to run the ING Georgia Half-Marathon and then traveling down to Fort Lauderdale for a real, live vacation. Fortunately I will be able to fly back since a friend just moved there and I am simply taking him his car!



Now, technically, I did visit Minnesota last March. But does an adventure to the coldest, most winter-abused state in the country really count as a "Spring Break"?

Day One in the Pacific Northwest.

Last night we here at the hostel had a community dinner together. I sat with a friendly couple from Long Beach, Brenda and Alee, and we had a great discussion about traveling, Alee's home in Iran, Seattle, religion, politics in America...very unexpected way to spend my evening.

But then it got even better. The hostel had a group field trip to a place called the Comet Tavern, which was a grunge/punk/ska music venue featuring four different bands. The first band--I think their name was The Super Cutes, but not positive--was one of the best. I initially saw a man playing the tambourine and I had to laugh--until I watched him. Then I quickly learned he was kind of amazing. (I never knew the tambourine could be that difficult. I was wrong though.)

I met some lovely ladies from England who have been traveling across the United States for almost three months! They have been absolutely everywhere--Boston, New York, Nashville, Austin, Las Vegas, LA, Chicago...these ladies were so inspiring! I can say they have been to more American cities than a large majority of Americans (which is frankly pathetic, if you really consider the statement).

After the concert a group of us (Jasper from Australia, Matthew from Chicago, myself and the Brits) went to a downstairs Mexican bar that was solidly red throughout. It was seriously the only lighting in the bar. We each had a beer, decided we were tired, and then on our way out a fight broke out. Which was more amusing than intimidating, to be honest.

Although that was my evening, my day was spent schlepping all over Seattle. I went to the Space Needle. Saw the city from Queen Anne. Checked out downtown. Went shopping (seemed necessary). Walked along the pier. Went to the SAM (Seattle Art Museum). It was a fantastic day and if my big adventure continues to be like yesterday, I am surely in for the time of my life.

Call me a freak, but from here on out I'm hooked on hostels. It's the absolute best way to travel.

The Journey Thus Far.

Well, I can finally check something off my bucket list--staying in a hostel. Besides walking into my room and being welcomed to the sounds of a man masturbating (there is simply no way that a man could sound that happy when he was taking a nap), the trip has been just lovely. I've met and made friends from Germany, Alaska, Oregon and Illinois, and almost every person surrounding me has some story--running away from home, backpacking across the coast, just getting by, going on an epic journey...I can certainly say this is a very, very unique place.

You sleep in a room with 5 other people. There are three sets of bunk beds, and beneath the bottom bunk is a locked case for you to store your belongings. Surrounding your bed are curtains so that you can sleep with a little privacy (although in terms of my jerking off bunk buddy, it simply does not provide complete privacy). There are private showers on each floor which are first come, first serve. So far no trouble.

As I write this I am staring out the window at the iconic Public Market Center. This hostel is right in the center of it all. They provide breakfast, which was a welcome surprise, but there is a catch--you have to cook it. They provide the bread, the eggs, the pancake mix...but from there you are on your own.

Some of the renters work here to live here. They cannot afford to pay the cost of the stay, so instead they help out with odds and ends in order to make the rent. They cleanup the bathrooms, prepare the breakfast area, clean the different dorms...it was a very peculiar addition to this hostel experience I had not expected. Essentially, because of the ample amounts of free food they provide, you could theoretically continue to work here just to sleep here for one more day. It's like a modern day form of indentured slavery, or at worst high-end, glorified poverty.

They provide daily activities--today is a tour of all the famous dead musicians graves--and they do everything they can to create a fun and friendly atmosphere. The spin is that you can embrace this and make new friends from all over the world, or you can stay to your lonesome self and not say a word. It is entirely up to you.

I'm reminded that I am in a global city because of the computer I am on. They are courteous enough to provide free internet and even free computers, but even here there is a catch--it's a French keypad. If you go through this blog update, every single apostrophe (') has been cut and pasted into this document. I have no idea how to locate it on this keyboard, and frankly I just gave up looking!

The journey thus far has been fun, exciting, challenging and filled with the unexpected. I'll be sure to continue with the updates as the myriad stories find their way to filter in.