Utrecht is a college town filled with many young bike riding
university students. Keisha’s sister took us out for drinks with her friends in
downtown Utrecht our second night. Despite being several years older, they put
us to shame with their ability to rally. In Santa Barbara when you go out, a
standard night begins around 8 and lasts until 2. Maybe if you go downtown the
night shifts from 10 to 3. But in Utrecht, and apparently many other places in
Europe, the goal is to dance until the sunrise.
And we did.
Keisha’s sisters friends kept buying us drinks, asking us
‘biertje?’ Another drink? “No, bekeov.” I would reply. No, last round.
We started at a nice bar then progressed our way to several
dive clubs and danced the night away. We bike rode back, two to a bike. I fell
asleep at 9 in the morning. Needless to say, we spent day 2 in Utrecht
exacerbating our jetlag by sleeping all day.
My friend Matt studied abroad in Utrecht for a year and gave
me a long list of recommendations for restaurants, bars, and activities. Two of
his suggestions particularly appealed to me: kayaking in the canals and
visiting the Domtoren.
The Domtoren is what is left standing of an old Cathedral.
It can be seen from very distant parts of Utrecht. It’s like a very nice Storke
Tower. It’s very pretty, and I would have loved to see the view from the top.
Unfortunately, our multiple failed attempts to climb the tower became a running
joke and we were not able to climb the tower for various reasons.
We were however able to go kayaking, and that was my
favorite part of our stay in Utrecht. We found the kayaking place and asked for
two single kayaks.
“You pay when you get back,” the lady explained to us. We
sat in the kayaks and they pushed the boats into the canal. “Do you know how to
kayak?” the guy asked us, almost as an afterthought.
“Uh… kind of,” Keisha replied.
“Okay, have fun!” the guy said.
It was quite the difference between that and what I imagine
the equivalent American process would be: waiver signing, leaving credit cards
on file for collateral, mandatory life vests, instructions, etc. But in Utrecht
they just put us in a boat and sent us on our way. We had a canal map and we
picked one of three loops through the city. It was an hour and a half loop through
the center and back around the outskirts.
At canal intersections and along the sides there were signs
that were very similar to street signs, which I thought was interesting. We
took pictures by a “15 Minute Parking” sign for boats. We had to parallel park
our kayaks to get the picture, which tested our kayak skill level.
We kayaked by the restaurant we had eaten at earlier, past
residential homes, past Utrecht city buildings, and through a very pretty
residential park before looping back around to the kayak rental place. It was
very fun and was not very strenuous kayaking. It was very peaceful paddling
down the calm canals.
We tried going to the Domtoren again and it was sold out for
the day, so Keisha and I explored the church nearby.
For dinner we went to Winkel van Sinkel, a café that was
always packed. We managed to find a table outside and sat facing the street and
the canal. We got wine and soup before biking back to Keisha’s sister’s house.
There we planned out the next couple legs of our trip: Budapest and Rome.
It took a lot longer than I remembered because I used to
just sort the list from lowest price to highest
and just pick the cheapest
hostel. While I saved money, this cheap strategy only paid off sometimes. Now I
find that I’m significantly pickier. Does the hostel have wifi? Where is it
located? What do the reviews say? What do the bad reviews say? I’m a lot more
willing to spend a few more dollars to have a bed with sheets that are more
likely to be washed.
It was significantly cheaper to fly to Budapest from
Brussels. Keisha and I decided to spend a day in Brussels just checking out the
city because why not. Keisha’s sister drove us to Rotterdam where we caught the
train to Brussels. Small things like not having access to a printer to print
tickets make traveling a little more complicated, but we were able to make it
to Belgium with the help of a Dutch girl we met on the train who explained the
transfers to us.
We checked into our hostel, dropped off our stuff, and
headed out into the city. We started our day off with a cone of fries, or
patat. (Traditionally Belgian!) In line we met some Americans who had graduated
from the same high school as Keisha (different year). It’s a small world!
We wandered around Le Grand Place, Brussels's main square, exploring sights that struck
our fancy and picking random directions to walk. We tried to make the day as
Belgian as possible by eating Belgian chocolates and drinking Belgian beer.
We made sure to stop by Mannekin Pis. A statue that is quite
famous for some reason. I had heard of it only because there is a chip chain by
that name that Keisha and I frequented in Utrecht. The map the hostel gave us
had a description of Mannekin Pis that went something like, “When you see it, your
first reaction will be… that’s it? Mannekin Pis is small and absurd, much like
Belgium.” It is a very small statue of a boy peeing. No joke. They dress him up
in costume sometimes. We took a picture with Mannekin Pis and then proceeded to
other areas of the city.
By my request, we went to see the European Union buildings.
We did not get a chance to go inside, but we walked by the European Parliament
and the European Commission. They were very cool, very modern, very, very large
buildings. I am very interested in the European Union, so it was very cool to
see the buildings. I think in an increasingly globalized world supranational
organizations may become more important, and the EU is a very interesting
example of that in action. While not a perfect institution from what I’ve
heard, it does some very cool stuff, which we learned about at a small
information center that provided information on all facets of the EU in each of
the EU’s 24 official languages.
The buildings were all closing at 5, so we continued
exploring and walked toward an arch that looked cool before heading back to the
square.
One of my favorite parts of Brussels was when we got the waffles. We found the touristy waffle stand we could find and ordered waffles with the toppings of our choice. I got bananas and nutella. They only give you two tiny forks to eat it with. So I just went for it and got Nutella everywhere. But it was quite delicious.
The waffle was a little bit of a sugar overload. But it was quite lovely to just sit in the square, resting our feet, eating a waffle, and people watching in the late Brussels evening.
The square at night
We walked back to the hostel. The only other person in our four person dorm room was already asleep, so we quietly, using the light of our phones, packed up our bags. We had to leave the hostel at 5:30 to catch a tram to the central train station where we would catch a bus to the airport. We climbed into bed around 12:30, hoping to fall asleep quickly so we could maximize our sleep before our travels the next day. Still jet lagged, it had been taking us awhile for us to fall asleep. I was just drifting off when...
I've stayed at a lot of hostels. They ranged from don't touch the sheets dirty to pleasantly tidy, dilapidated to brand new, two person bedrooms to twenty person dorm rooms, utilitarian to full service, I even once stayed at a bar pretending to be a hostel.
You get all kinds of temporary roommates in these places. Those who seem to
sleep for twenty hours a day, those that want to strike up a conversation, those
that maybe could learn some basic hygiene.
But never, never have I had a night like this one.
It was Keisha's first stay in a hostel, so I wanted to ensure that it went
smoothly. I wanted to show her, "See, hostels are great! They're cheap,
you meet cool people, they're convenient." I was gloriously unsuccessful
in showing her the appeal at not only this hostel, but future hostels as
well.
It all began around one in the morning when we heard some fumbling around
outside of our room. It sounded like the person was struggling immensely with
the electronic key. Eventually the sound faded away.
"I was worried for a second that person outside was our last
roommate," I whispered to Keisha. As if on cue, the door slammed open and
in stumbled a bearded beer bellied boy. He sized up the room, determined that
the bed above the sleeping roommate was the only free one, and took a running
start to launch himself up on the top bunk.
Like a stampeding bull, he collided with the ladder to the bunk and shook
the whole bed violently as he attempted to make the treacherous four foot
climb. With each step up the ladder the bunk bed teetered back and forth
dangerously ca chunk a chunk a chunk.
He flopped with a victorious sigh on top of the sheetless bed and pulled out
his smartphone with the volume on full blast and started texting in a very
methodical fashion. “click…click… click…” the typing would have been bearable
had it not been for his absurd rattling breath.
Keisha sent me a message on Viber. “This person is breathing like a serial
killer.” He breathed with deep, rattling inhalations that reverberated around
the small hostel dorm room.
He took a short break from vacuuming oxygen to gargle then chug a whole
bottle of water. He then seemed to realize that his phone volume was on, so he
graciously turned down the volume
boop boop boop boop. With a sigh of relief,
I started to fall asleep despite the violent breathing, until he decided that
his phone was too quiet and for some reason decided to turn it back up so he
could hear himself playing a game on his phone boop boop boop boop he turned
the volume up.
Eventually though, he fell into an almost lullaby like rhythm *gasp* ding! *gasp* ding! *gasp*
So up until this point, the story is believable. Noisyboy Murderbreath had
already won the award for most obnoxious hostel mate and I was content to take
a couple hour loss on my sleep. However,
it did indeed get worse. I only wish to do this story justice. Keisha and I realized immediately
that this would be very hard to explain without sounding petty. “Oh, I’ve had hostelmates who
snored before.” People would tell us. Keisha and I would look at each other and smile
knowingly.
I was awoken around two in the morning by what sounded like someone starting
a diesel lawnmower leaf blower combination. My other hostelmates stirred,
trying through the sleepy confusion to place the noise. It was coming from
Snorlax McSnorepants, who had passed out fully clothed clutching his phone.
“Is this real life?” Keisha messaged me.
“Take a video, no one’s going to believe us,” I messaged her back.
To say Snorlax was snoring would be a great insult to his nasal cavity’s
impressive ability to expel air out violently.
It was the most absurdly earth-shaking, eardrum bursting snore I have ever
heard. It was so loud it rattled through your bones like the bass at a UCSB
Extravaganza concert. I couldn’t even be mad. I was just impressed that kind of
sound could come out of a human being.
Keisha and I started giggling.
“Are you kidding me?” she shouted. Snorlax did not stir.
The guy under Snorlax had finally had enough, he stood up and stared at
Snorlax. He shook the bunk a little. Snorlax rolled over, took a deep gasping
breath, and fell silent. We all sighed in relief.
The reprieve from listening to Snorlax drown in his own snot was short
lived, however. By the time his bunkmate had settled in his spot again, Snorlax
was back at it, snoring as if he was trying to awake those sleeping in Paris.
The snoring echoed around the walls of our tiny hostel room.
We started laughing. Even at that point it was funny. I wanted to sleep so
badly, but his snoring was just so unbelievable it was comical.
Snorlax’s bunkmate was trying to decide was his next move could be. He tried
pushing on the slats under the bed, but soon realized that the slats were too
thick to budge. He then desperately resorted to wedging his toes between the
slats to try to kick Snorlax from under the mattress. It was to no avail,
Snorlax would not stop snoring.
Snorlax was out cold.
Snorlax’s jackhammer snoring went on for the next two and a half hours.
We contemplated various options including teaming up to drag him out of the
room, leaving for the airport seven hours early, or just cutting our losses. We
ended up doing the latter. While still hopeful the snores would stop, we had
given up on quieting the snore beast. The snores did not cease. We were left to
lie awake listening to the raucous one man band all night until we finally
reached a reasonable time to leave for the airport.
I have never heard snoring like that in my entire life. Keisha and Nick both
snore, but in a very gentle, soothing kind of way. When Nick complained about
our hostelmate in Paris snoring loudly, Keisha and I looked at each other,
threw our heads back, and laughed. “Oh if only you knew.”
“At least it wasn’t bedbugs,” I told Keisha as we scrambled to get our stuff
the next morning and head to Brussels airport. “That’s the one thing I think I
couldn’t handle.”
