Picture of the Day

Picture of the Day

How to Find Work in a Hostel

Ohh! I have a treat for you!


I have insights from Brin. Last year, he found a job in a hostel on an Adriatic island. His ex-girlfriend, Nema, currently works with me, and is translating and sharing excerpts of his diary. This way you get a sense of life working in a hostel.

Me?

I’m still in Croatia, about to begin working in a hostel. Since many of you would question this and say,

“Hey! Isn’t this that old thing where you go to the doctor and say, ‘uh. I’ve got this friend who is having trouble peeing…’”

Just so you know that this is legitimate, imagine me in a hostel: have you heard about when a bear breaks into the village convenience store?

I will be saturating the brain with esoteric, homebrewed walnut and rosemary liqueurs.
I have attached an oxygen mask to the shisha, so that I might feel the lungs flapping like a gleaming trout, gasping in the muddy water at the bottom of the aluminum fishing boat, before being tossed harshly into the stern by some sadistic off-duty cop named Arlen, out fishing with his dad who smokes through a stoma while tremblingly clutching a limp rod with no bait.





Again, a big thank you to my friend Nema- (ti si lijepa! velika gemist za vas, mala sova!). Well, you read it here. My parenthetical note to Nema is the last of my month long study of Croatian. Those fragile, budding flowers of linguistic knowledge will be the first ones to die in the coming sunless days.


Hygiene will be reduced to an occasional swim in the sea.


All grammar will be monosyllabic grunts, barely intelligible in written form.

Hopefully I can sit up from my drooling, decaying state in order that I may faithfully transcribe at least something for you.

Hopefully I can work through my self-imposed incapacitation, Nema’s thick Croatian accent, and the translated, masturbatory musings of a guy named Brin, probably a douche-bag, I don't know. I hope I can find something of value in all of this for you. In any case, I won’t remember. We’ll all find out what happened when it’s done.

Do ja ja then!

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My best friend had her birthday on the 27th, and maybe she will be a pilot soon.

Happy birthday, JK!

I always thought of her as one of those large flightless birds. She walks bird-like with an oversized big-toe. She is a balanced avian beauty, combining the fearsome demeanor of the cassowary with the femininity of the ostrich.


The femininity of the ostrich, I get from cartoons where the feathers of the ostrich become the skirt of the French maid. Also, my friend does love to clean! The fearsomeness of the cassowary I get because they disembowel people in the forested areas of Australia, and she has a real strength to her (editor’s note: if I were writing this, I would have mentioned the probability that before a victim is disemboweled, the bird has probably employed the visual tactic of scaring the literal shit out of the victim by exposing them to the unbearable sight of an unnaturally-blue fin protruding from the black-feathered skull. What I imagine, is some bogan in knee-high socks catatonic and trembling with fright, lowering slightly into a defecatory stance while the bird waits patiently for the emptying of the bowels, therefore enjoying the disemboweling process as a surprisingly hygienic affair, as far as the cassowary is concerned). Well, I hope her birthday goes well, she really is a dear friend of mine.

This is the beginning of a new adventure for me, dear diary. I am headed to an island called, Brac (pronounced, “Bratch”) off the coast of Split, Croatia. I will record some of my notes here so that it may be of some use to future (editor’s note: this guy's writing bores me to fucking death, this guy Brin, and Nema thinks I am writing what she is translating, but I am smiling and nodding and instead writing this. I have the oxygen mask connected to the shisha, and am wearing this and surviving only on whatever oxygen manages to pass through the dense smoke of the strawberry-flavored tobacco "blend." How presumptuous is she, anyway, to read to me from some thick-headed naïf’s diary that she is still clearly in love with. Look, I’ll save you the boring translation: go stay at a hostel, and treat every employee as your new best friend, and soon you will find out about opportunities because all of these people know each other. If it is meant to be, soon you will find a hostel job. Also, try to travel during off-seasons, or slow-seasons, and you can find easier work. Make contacts. Build a list of potential places to stay. You see? Hostels are full of a wealth of information if you find a good one. If you are in a bad one, it is like spending the night in a cafeteria. Oh- hey, look up the name Nema- her parents were quite funny).

Picture of the Day

Picture of the Day

Picture of the Day

Picture of the Day