Situated above the downstairs bathroom, and overlooking a stunning area of the neighbour’s roof, my bed – room is a real cultural melting pot. Between the lonely student that inhabits it for far too many hours a day and the bacteria developing in my two-week old cup of tea, it is a vibrant, happening, and very upbeat tourist hub.
To be found within the limits of this destination is cosy accommodation, exciting activities, and wonderful opportunities for rest and relaxation. Indeed, the humble bedroom is a gem often overlooked by travel writers looking to document the world outside of the dormitory but, to me, this place is everything. It has all of the amenities that a well-travelled tourist savant would be looking for: sights (my impressive pile of laundry rivals the Eiffel Tower in height), sounds (I spend many hours playing the same three songs on my guitar), and, of course, smells. (Please refer to the aforementioned cup of tea).
And so, dear reader, I present you with my magnum opus: thirty six hours in my room, a travel guide like no other. Day one, the evening: arriving at 8pm after a particularly challenging day of watching Futurama in the library, I set about unpacking. For a trip like this minimalism is key. Accordingly, for the entirety of my stay I only wore my dressing gown ― and I didn’t even brush my teeth! Already feeling the call of sleep, but wanting to make the most of my trip, I thought I would enjoy some local entertainment before bed. I watched more Futurama before falling asleep in my clothes with the lights on.
Day two, the morning: I started off the only full day of my trip with some light breakfast, sampling the local delicacies as I finished off my packet of digestive biscuits while researching adult nappies. (You can never be too careful!) After this I set about my first activity, one that has become an old favourite of mine whenever I visit this particular tourist trap: crying for two hours over a picture of a girl who will never love me back. After this I told myself I would get some work done – holidays can’t be all fun after all – but instead I played Minecraft. I’ll do it tomorrow.
Day two, the afternoon: I spent the entirety of the afternoon hunched over a sick bucket, I should not have dipped my digestives in that tea.
Day two, the evening: As it was the evening, I wanted to make the most of the social scene and so I hopped on to Facebook looking to engage in a “group chat”, a communal hub that constitutes the entirety of my social life nowadays. After a long argument about the comparative quality of Aldi deodorants, I began to worry that I was losing friends. Hoping to lighten the tone, and since I was on holiday, I decided to enrol on a meme making course. After half an hour on a WikiHow article and another hour on Photoshop I sent my meme to the group chat to make amends for the fact that my opinion was too correct for some people. No one responded or reacted to it. After this I realised that I missed a class and I spent a few minutes writing an apology email to my tutor while desperately hoping that I did not miss anything important. I cried myself to sleep and had a dream about married life with someone I barely know.
Day three, the morning: I woke up feeling awkward about my dream and wondering whether I should apologise to the object of my fictional nuptials, but I decided that would only make things worse. I just managed to get out of bed for 8am, leaving my room at last to get ready for my 9am tutorial. I forgot to have breakfast and my stomach rumbling made a stranger laugh. And thus concludes my exciting foray into the mysterious holiday destination that is my bedroom!
Overall, I felt that this was a fulfilling experience and I would recommend it to anyone on a budget, both in terms of money and social life. Indeed, no one knew I was going on this exciting excursion, and to my surprise no one checked up on me while I was away. This really says a lot about the society in which we live. I will see you next time for another one of my exciting journeys into the unknown!