Kabul

Our hostel was right off Las Ramblas, right in the heart of town, advertised as the #1 hostel in Barcelona. I’m not sure how they settled on the name “Kabul,” which is the capital of Afghanistan, but the place ended up being pretty decent. $18 a night seemed a little steep, but we are now back in the West and it is a bit more spendy.

We all stayed in the same room, which had about 10 bunk beds. Every morning the room was completely sweat-boxed, with the windows fogged over and water running down the walls. It smelled pretty awful in there after a week. We shared the room with two guys from Australia, two guys from Romania, a girl from France, and two middle aged French men. These older guys were hair-dressers in Nice, and one of them struck me as very creepy.

My suspicions were proven true one day when one of the Romanians was taking a nap and the French guy decided to take a little peek under his sheets and check out the family jewels. The Romanian woke up while he was being violated and of course he flipped out. When I heard of this I inquired at the front desk. The guy working the desk confirmed the story, but assured me that the French guy would be kicked out after one more night. One more night, wonderful, that makes a lot of sense. I slept that night with my pants on and my belt cinched tightly.

The hostel had a cool lounge that served happy hour 4 pints of Heineken for 3 euro. Every evening we gathered and drank our beverages there before going out. There were two girls working at the bar from UCSB taking a semester in Spain. They had purchased a rabbit which they named Juan Carlos, who they took back to the states and is happily living in Isla Vista right now.