Wednesday, 13 August 2014

Wee Little Spanish Man.

So from France I went to Ireland! I started in Dublin, at Issac's Hostel. This was an interesting one... let me tell you. It's a meat market. They have the Internet in the lobby only, and pump the music super loud so it's like an all day party! So because people are forced to be out in the open when they are checking emails and the facebooks it's the perfect opportunity for all the creepy men to skeeze on the girls.

I was downstairs for maybe 10 minutes, loathing the pop music and I noticed a guy. He started off on the other side of the room, and he slowly worked his way over to my table. Picture this: a teeny tiny Spanish guy with a Mohawk and soulful black eyes wearing a white wife beater. It gets better. He was drumming on the table with drumsticks. I think he was trying to impress me with his tapping skills, but he probably just wanted to tap the new girl.

Because I've been trained in Intercultural Studies... and with my job I have a "friendly" switch, I turned it on low and made some conversation. He said that he was in Dublin looking for a job and learning English. From what I understand the Irish men can't even find jobs in Ireland, so I think he's on the wrong island. After a while I got tired of the broken English (sue me) and the whole staring down my shirt thing and trying to grab my leg and I was like "Hey dude.. I'm just leaving now but where should I go in Dublin? Any good sights to see?" I don't know if that's considered a pick up line because I was trying to drop him... but his response was "Ok, tonight WE could go to this bridge at midnight, it's very beautiful. But not as beautiful as you."

Hold up. That's not what I asked. I think I made a face at him and said "I'm allergic to bridges" and he was like, "Ok, well I'm sure we can find something to do, I will call you tonight." Except that I didn't arrange an international phone for this backpacking trip. So I let him add me on Facebook so that the conversation could end... I could leave... and I didn't seem too rude.

So I went out by myself, because I like being by myself... and I hit up a Starbucks for the wifi and clicked on this guy's FB page. HOLY HELL HE WAS 22 YEARS OLD. For two minutes I was like, "Ok, great... the 40 year old guys haven't zoned in yet and guys in their 20's are still interested." Then I did the math. And wanted to throw up. I deleted that baby face and prayed I'd never run into him at the hostel! ACK!!! SICK.

I mean... sick. It's meant to be half your age plus 7. He didn't quite make it.

I soon realised that the Spanish guys in Ireland can't go more than 3 hours without having sex otherwise they might DIE as the legend goes. I did end up running into babyface in the hostel. He was shaving in the hallway at 11pm at night. So, I guess that's courteous to that nights S.T.D fest. He was like, "Hey you still owe me a date blondie!" My reply... (my favourite) "The only thing I owe you is a spanking, because I'm almost old enough to be your mother." He just stared at me. Didn't move. And then he backed away into his room.

After a week in Dublin I saw absolutely everything that exists... and went onto Kilkenny where my hostel had black mold in the bathroom, the floor was mushy, hairs in the bathtub and dirty towels hung up. The sheets had blood on the bottom, as well as on the pillow and wall. The room was generally grimy... and it was deserted. I was the only guest, and I slept with the lights on and the skeleton key in the lock so I would know if someone tried to break in.. (my key would have fallen out on the floor) and in the morning I was actually locked into the creepy hostel and I had to kick the door down to get out.

And THAT was still more preferable to skeezy Spanish guys trying to get in my pants.