Monday, 12 December 2011

The reality of backpacking

Oh. My. Fucking. God. Am. Going. Out. Of. My. Mind. I NEVER want to backpack or stay anywhere with fucking double deckers for the rest of my life. If I listen to one more shout in a language I do not comprehend, am gonna fucking kill somebody. I do not want to ever sleep in a 20-bed room with no fans and abundant mozzies and bed bugs again. I do not want to ever share a room with 5 other people from the same country which common language is not English. I do not want to ever live in the same room with guys who stumble in pissed drunk at 4am then proceed to smoke in the room and drink my bottled water. I do not want to ever bunk in a cheap room above an effing club and have my bed thump along to the beats. If I don't have money for a livable room, I just won't go on holiday. After tonight I can go home. This is what I tell myself, over and over. And over.

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