Life outside of the Hostel...

From time to time, when you work and live in the hostel, it's like being instutionalize -- to say the very least. Often times we, I, tend to forget there there is an outside world. Wandering the streets of Liverpool I feel like I'm out on parole or something. Here is a glimpse and bit of a journey to the great outdoors of Liverpool. Life outside of the hostel ... yes, it does in fact exist.



Below, the lonely corner were each traveller rings their families from -- I of course, am no different. If you've ever found yourself wondering where I'm calling from, just insert a photo me sitting there curled up embracing the phone and hoping not to get hit from the incoming and outgoing traffic of the Embassie hostel. This is the first step to getting out on the "outside".





Okay.. half the battle. This is the view from the other side of the great big red door. Not so bad huh? Walking outside to the palm trees in your front yard, the sunshining, and a beautiful park just across the way, and an open gate are enough to get anyone moving forward...





And before you know it, you're walking down Duke Street admiring the lush green lined streets -- wondering just when summer had snuck up. Away I go...





When I'm leaving the hostel I'm usually on my way to the library, work, or the gym. Now that I type this out, seems my life seems suddenly uneventful -- routine even. But there places are the foundation of my day and everything else happens in between, and each day usually brings something new.



Above... the bombed out church. It took me a while to figure out what they were talking about... on the surface this looks like an ordinary church. I just thought the clock was busted, which is why it always said 12 0'clock. Lost in translation, was that they were actually saying bombed out church, rather than bummed out church. I just saw a bunch of homeless people hanging around... and thought oh... this is where the homeless people hang out. Of course, the church has actually been bombed at one point or another (will have to stop and read the write up one of these days). Anyway... the entire church is hallow and it is only the shell that remains. It's really pretty at night -- which is the shot that I was going for above, but it didn't seem to turn out. So... this is one of the landmarks of Liverpool that I walk past each day...



Below is Bold Street... one of the main semi- pedestrian streets leading to down town Liverpool. Semi-pedestrian?? Yeah -- they have automatic pillar things that are sometimes hidden into the concrete or elevated -- making walking around here even more confusing. On that note though -- I'm getting quite accustomed to looking the proper way before I cross the road -- now I dread crossing the road in North America again.







This street is lined with shops, restaurants and everything else you can imagine. I of course have my favorite -- organic food stores, fair trade Indian goods, International food markets, and a coffee house that I can sit and stare out of the window from for hours from a comfy leather couch. It's no bridgehead -- but it's certainly a viable substitute for now.


Liverpool seems to take shopping rather seriously -- shops for everything, except clothes that I'd actually wear (but that's a different story altogether). The only other problem with all of that is that the entire city closes down by 6pm each day -- with the exception of Thursdays. They have dedicated this day for "late night shopping"... and how late is late? 8pm. Apart from the early closures of the stores -- the only thing that remains open are pubs, clubs, and kebab take aways. The culture here, seemingly, has some strong roots in having a drink or two... I wonder if they kept the shops open later if there would be less drinking. I kid you not, any night of the week this city is jam packed with the after club crowds. Its insane... shoulda came here when I was 21, would have fit right in!

This year is Liverpools 800th birthday and this small city has also been crowned the European Capital of Culture. European's Capital of Culture -- this isn't a title that Liverpool has taken ligthly... they are doing some major work on the water front and through out the city itself. This is the view from my most favorite cafe, the egg cafe -- a vegetarian restaurant that I frequent every day after the gym for soup. I'll write more about it in another blog... anyway... here is what you'll see when you arrive in Liverpool -- a sky full of cranes, it's almost tempting to hang around here until 2008 just to see what the end product looks like. The downtown area at the moment is slightly chaotic.

Ahh Eamonn... below a photo of my super stressed out boss who has gotten himself fully gray by the time he was 30 or so. This was what the pub looked like on the big night when Liverpool played Milan in the champions league final -- Liverpool lost, and I was happy. I thought I'd try to provide a glimpse of what my other job entails. This of course was not the norm... the pub was so back that night. The city was full, and a sea of red moved through the streets. The only analogy that I can provide is being in Ottawa on Canada day -- otherwise, I've seen nothing like this.

People were lined up outside of every pub that afternoon trying to get in to see the match... this was the line up outside of my work. I was hoping that the door man would make me line up to get into work, but no such luck. My luck didn't change as the night progressed -- I suppose it would depend on what way you looked at it. I didn't want to be there working that night because the crowds and I suppose I got what I wanted -- in a less than impressive manner.

Not two hours into my shift while I was stacking glasses from the dishwasher I'd fumbled, dropped one and for one reason or another tried to catch it.... it broke in mid air as it had bounced off of the stack I already had in my other hand and I caught it with or rather in my forearm. Ewww... I know. It wasn't really anything major I thought..... but with my bosses insistance, I went to a clinic.

So, due to the match, the streets were empty. It would have been a perfect time to do some looting... everyone and their dog were at the local pub and if they couldn't get inside they'd watch the game from the windows of the pub. The clinic -- as it happens, was next to a pub. The doors were locked and I had to buzz the door to get in. As I stood there looking for the buzzer the people who were standing outside of the pub next door said, " No... no love... the door is over here." My being niave, thought oh, okay. As it turned out, they thought I just wanted to go into the pub -- they actually seemed disappointed when I told them that I really wanted to just get into the clinic...

.. long story short, clinic, hospital, x-rays... what a process. I walked out in a sling and was instructed not to work for a week, nor go to the gym. What a long boring week -- lesson learned, careful what you wish for. What was interesting was that by the time I had walked out of the hospital the football match had been over and in coming were the bloody boys who had somehow gotten into a fight due to the overcrowding of the pubs and Liverpool losing. It was phenomenal... within minutes of the match being over the hospital was flooded with injuries... a strange place I'd say.

I've also been prone to injuries over here though.... not one week after being back at work I ended up busting a vein in the very same arm, and to top it all off -- the pain killers the hospital had given me for my arm had caused me to break out in a rash. I was one sad looking person. In fact, when I went to the clinic for my busted vein she asked me if I had been injecting drugs -- I told her "no... but I think I am going to start."

Those 2 weeks were by far the hardest, longest, most trying days of my time travelling abroad. The poor nurse had to endure my whining. I seriously thought that I was going to buy a ticket and call it quits. It was just that bad....it's all past now though. And it's easy to laugh about it, a month after the fact... not so funny then.

So, now that I don't look like I'm shooting smack and that I'm back to work and to the gym things are better again. I've just recently celebrated my 2 month anniversary here in Liverpool. Strange. It's like I've been here forever... minus the scouser accent.

Finally, I'll leave you all with some great people that I've met in my travels -- or I suppose that I met them in their travels. Two friends from Norway... on the left Per and Eirik.

Home Sweet Home... at least for now.

The big red door -- welcome to the Embassie Hostel. This is the front door to the place that I call home. It's a well hidden hostel that lies on the top of the hill in a place called Falkner Square....and it even has palm trees in the front yard! This place is often difficult to find, but worth while once you do -- they joked with me when I had first checked in. They sang hotel california to me and said I could check out but never leave. This has become to be the not only the reality of my life, but of so many others. Travellers come back to visit from time to time, sharing stories that reach back sometimes as far as 10 years ago.

Each morning when I walk down these stairs from my shared room upstairs, it isn't uncommon to find a new face working at the front desk. Past guests know how it is all too easy to offer your time at the reception in exchange for a free bed during their stay. Things are very laid back here, to say the least. It's like a time warp once you walk through the front door -- there are no computers, no reception -- just a big wooden kitchen table with benches and all the free tea, toast, & coffee that you can ingest. The bookings are kept in an oversized daily planner and as one of our long term guests would say, "daa-zit".

This is the "reception"...

-- and this is the view from my post when working over nights... sometimes it's blury... something like the photo, especially when my manager gets the better of me and puts me on the drink.

Othertimes, I can see clearly and just sit back and take it all in...as I was trying to do in the above photo. On the night that the photo below was taken we has a Noreweigan group spending a few nights while they were here doing a gig and they had taken it upon themselves to get some practice time in through the night -- it was fantastic. Coupled with the Norway crew were a large group of Spanish who were on a trip to Liverpool as part of their course in learning English. I had a kitchen full of entertainment that kept me awake until half 5 in the morning ... the energy in the room was just amazing, and it reminded me again just why I love to travel so much.

Me & one of the Spanish Dudes -- Maneul.

There are a few of us who live here in the hostel as "long termers." It's become somewhat of a little family away from home. There is Luke, who, admittedly, loves to flex his muscles and isn't the least bit camera shy. He's from Ireland and is a rapper, if he could say anything to you at the moment it would be, "Chou Tube" ... "search C4 and give us a listen." In a very heavy Dublin accent. Trying to hit Luke over the head with a bottle is Adrian... a very quiet Australian who is also around for a while.

Where there is one Aussie, you'll most likely find another. Below is fellow long termer Matt on the left and Kev Senior to the right of him. Kev Sr. is the manager here and Matt... well sometimes he likes to think he is. This is taken in the free tea, toast, and coffee area.

Kev Sr. is full of life. He loves the Beatles and boasts of how many times he'd seen them even before they were famous. He greets each guest with the same stories time and time again with the same amount of enthusiasm as the first time he's told it. His most famous for his terrible jokes, signing around the hostel, and talking about how his band out placed the Beatles in a battle of the bands contest back in the day.

... there is my roomie, Sally. She's been here for a little longer than me and had been a past guest. She's absolutley full of life, it's fantastic. She loves 60's dress and has amazing style....did I mention that she loves the colour pink?? She even drives a pink mini, fantastic. In this photo is Adrian the Aussie and Owen who also lives here. A little ways down, you'll find Owen telling me that I'm number one... after he and I did a pub crawl on our own which consisted shots of Jagermeister chased with Red Bull and topped off with a shot of Tequila. He was in quite a state... and to be fair, as was I. Being the experienced drinker though, was able to hide it more -- or at least so I thought. There I am, smiling obnoxiously with our new roomate from Ireland, Sara.

And of course, there is Andy, or Bo-J. He's Jamacian and he knows his stuff. One of the wisest people I've come across. The kind of guy where you just sit and listen and suddenly you're entire life comes into question and by the end of it you're slightly more confused than you were at the beginning of the conversation -- but eventually it all comes into place. I love listening to what he has to say. He tells it. And he tells it in such a slow manner than you find yourself glued to every word -- then his speech lowers to a whisper and you find yourself leaning in waiting for what words are about to come out of his mouth -- like he's telling you a secret. It's captivating. That's just the way it is. A self suffiecient man. Lately, I've found myself comparing people in my life that I've met to disney characters -- and for him, he's like the wise Rafiki in the Lion King.... he just knows.

There is a lot that goes on within' the walls of this hostel. More than I could ever write about. We all manage to co-exist and get along as a family, welcoming new people both in and out of our home. Like any other place, it is the people who make this place what it is -- Sometimes in the run of a busy day I forget that I really do love it here and that I am, in fact, living in Liverpool, England.... strange.