Alas, I think it might be too long ago for me to regale you with hilarious stories. (Or that's my excuse, since my darling sister told me my recent posts weren't funny...) So hopefully the good stories will come up in context, like this one.
So we only got to stay in that sweet hotel for one night, and the next day we were forced to face the reality that we're poor college kids and that we belong in hostels. We had no idea what was in store for us as we approached "Ethic etapes-Residence Int. de Paris". Carolyn had booked it on hostel world, it had great ratings, said it was close to the metro and everything. Except as we approached it, from the GHETTO outskirts of Paris, we noticed a) the playground/sport complex outside and b) the odd size and structure of t
he building. As we entered the lobby it became immediately evident that this was not a normal hostel. In fact, it felt more like a hospital. Okay, that's pretty creepy. We all stood with our bags in hand as Carolyn checked in, inspecting the place and our fellow guests in silence--just staring at each other. It wasn't until we got to the room, noticed that there were two (handicap accessible) bathrooms that Katie finally started the conversation. "Are we staying in a mental hospital?" It was the same question on everyone's mind.. The other guests had also aroused some suspicion, as we noticed in the lobby that some of them were accompanied by nurses. I don't think we would have been QUITE so uncomfortable if we hadn't noticed signs getting off the elevator that read "Refuge (insert handicap symbol)" and the unmistakable smell of a hospital. At this point we were aware of a bit of false advertising on the hostelworld page that had led us to believe that we were staying in a vibrant youth hostel... We decided that we might be better off staying somewhere else the following night...When Megan and I went down to the lobby to ask the staff about a refund for the following night, we noticed some pamphlets displayed on the counter advertising "Handisport"http://www.handisport.org/index.php. Confirmation.So, we enjoyed our night in Paris, spent MINIMAL time in the hostel. Unfortunately missed the complimen
tary breakfast, which I'm sure would have been an absolute riot, and rushed out the next morning.I didn't even notice until the next evening that someone had been left behind. Yes, Mookie, my beloved teddy bear, remained on my sterile bunkbed amidst the hustle of departing from Hostel Handisport. The poor little guy. I tried to call them and ask about him, but the guy at the desk was a jerk and told me that he couldn't check lost and found. I'm just a 20-year-old girl who's seriously missing her teddy bear, sir. What's wrong with that? Also, I had a helluva time explaining what a teddy bear was to a man who spoke VERY little English. "Toy. Doll. Animal doll. Bear doll." Something along those lines. So, I hope Mookie has found a new owner who appreciates his perfect teddybear size and smell the way I did. In the mean time, I'll be breaking in Napoleon, the Winnie the Pooh bear I bought this afternoon.
I dragged my friends to the Disney store today after class because I'm fed up of being without a snuggle partner, and we found a good sized Pooh bear that I was read to buy until I noticed that he cost 25 EUROS! Alright, that's like a 40 dollar teddy bear. Not happening. Luckily, on our way out I noticed a display of Christmas stuffed animals that were 70% off. Guess who I found, clad in a stupid Santa hat and scarf?! You guessed it.
After I got home, and carefully removed his silly outfit, I no longer have to wad up a sweatshirt to sleep with. However, Quirky pointed out to me that Winnie the Pooh looks sort of scandalous without his little red t-shirt. So, here he is, Winnie the Pooh: Spring Break 2011 edition.
(And some of the sweet decor of my Italian bedroom. Just a picture of Leonardo when he's a baby. Not weird or anything.)
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