zip crinkle

Oct 26 - Derry, Northern Ireland

Let me share for a moment about living in a dormatory-style room. Zippers and crinkly bags. Every other moment someone is zipping open a bag or zipping it closed. Zip zip. And then there is the ominous sound of a crinkle. At first they are timid, perhaps even embarrassed about the crinkle, but then they get bold. Zip, zip, crinkle, Crinkle. They have apparently packed everything in individual paper bags and must search through each crinkly bag to find the desired item.

And then they find it, as always, at the very bottom of thier bag and must now reload all thier crinkly belongings into a bag the size of a small car. And then they forget something, naturally, and have to dig around to find this must-have item. All this time they are talking. It starts out in whispers, but then gradually comes to full voice, with jokes and laughs. I assume these are jokes from the laughter, but I can only assume because they certainly aren't speaking English. It could be Spanish or Danish or Russian or French or the dreaded Polish. The only constant is that it is loud. I believe that whispering in other cultures is just not acceptable. It's either loud or nothing. And they certainly won't walk around being culturally quiet.

By this time I am fully awake and trying to time my way for a clear path to the showers, which is another dicey experiment in group living.

But at 11£ a night, cheaper options are not readily available. Plus they included breakfast, which may not make it into a food magazine for its culinary mastery, but it does slacken the pangs of hunger.