Pauliina FlamFirst Steps and Dead Neighbors
This was years ago, during my first-ever mountain hike — and my first time staying in Zakopane. My hostel was right next to a cemetery, but that wasn’t noticeable: the dead weren’t walking, the crows weren’t flying, and no funeral bells were ringing (that was in Hungary). Another thing nearby was a bus station, so there was no need to drag my things through the exhaust — me likey.
The hostel looked… well, like someone had really tried to make it cozy: they’d painted the walls yellow, written on them with a marker, and hung up a few cute posters. Understandable — I do something similar at Christmas, when my desire to decorate exceeds my budget.
Meet the Roommates
So, with whom did I stay in this wannabe-cozy place? All in all, there were nine roommates, all seemingly passionate hikers. The notable ones were the Whisperer, the Talker, and the Lovers. The latter had sex in the bathroom. Everyone snorted at them, but I honestly don’t understand why. Their sex didn’t last long — about four minutes — and at the same time, they saved time and water by showering together. If you ask me, now that’s efficiency.
About the Whisperer — this won’t surprise you much, but he was whispering. I have no idea what, since he was whispering in Polish. I think he was narrating everything that happened around him, quietly reporting it aloud.
And then there was the Talker. He was the first person I met when I entered the dorm. That guy talked on the phone the whole time. The. Whole. Time. While I made my bed, he talked in his. He talked by the table as I unpacked my things, in the kitchen while I brought some food, along the corridor on his way back to the dorm — and he even talked in the toilet. If you ask me, that last part wasn’t exactly time-efficient.
Now that I think about it, I didn’t see him once without a phone pressed to his ear while awake. By the second day, I started wondering what he was even talking about. Maybe he was solving one of Gilbert’s problems? Or complaining to his therapist about how hard it is to find a comfortable place to talk on the phone? Oh well — who knows.
Midnight Mischief
You know how, when you stay in a dorm after a mountain hike, everyone goes to sleep early — but there’s always that one irritating person who comes in late at night and wakes everyone up? And you start breathing heavily so they can feel how much you despise them in that moment? I hate that person.
This time, though, I was that person.
And yes, I could feel the hate in the air.
What happened was that after I missed my bus, I returned from the mountains at midnight. Everyone was already asleep. My bed was the bottom bunk on the far left; the Whisperer was on the opposite side, the bottom bunk on the far right.
To reach my bed in total darkness — without stepping on any sleeping people — I had to use a flashlight, which, of course, woke up the Whisperer. The only thing thicker in the air than everyone’s hatred was my own sweat, so my goal was a shower.
That meant spending the next several minutes searching for my toiletries. Oh well, you never really know the full sound palette of your backpack until you start rummaging through it in pitch darkness and absolute silence.
After about five minutes, the atmosphere shifted from feeling hatred to hearing it, as dissatisfied sighs began to fill the room. Totally understandable, though — I’d blinded everyone with the flashlight, swished around endlessly, and woke up the Whisperer (again).
Realizing that, I decided to wash myself without soap and chew some xylitol gum instead of brushing my teeth.
When I came back from the bathroom, the room was calm and silent, as if I had never bothered anyone. You could hear the cozy, slow breaths of sleeping bodies. I imagined nine chests rising and falling in peaceful sleep and really wanted to join the sleeping club… tiptoeing in like a ninja, careful not to disturb even a single whisker.
I deliberately didn’t turn on the flashlight. The last bed on the left — I could manage there. No shit, that was a bad idea.
Rustle, Swish, and Sorry
I walked carefully halfway across the room, but then tripped over my neighbor’s backpack, leaning on the edge of the bed to avoid falling on anyone. The edge of the bed turned out to be my neighbor’s knee.
“Sorry,” I whispered into the darkness. The darkness didn’t answer, but the Whisperer repeated after me: “Sorry, sorry, sorry..” Oh great — I’d woken up the poor guy again.
The first thing I thought, as I finally made it to my bed without major injuries, was that I had to charge all my devices, which, after hiking in the rain, were all packed in small plastic bags. And those rustle wildly! Well, what could I do besides rustle and swish? Nothing, I needed my devices.
So I rustled and swished, and the Whisperer kept whispering. As soon as the chargers were plugged in and the bags put away, I could finally stop bothering people. No shit — that was a bad idea.
Coins and Boots: A Metallic Avalanche
Realizing that this uncomfortable situation was finally over, I threw the camera bag under the bed with all my might and joy.
Suddenly, an overwhelming, sonorous sound filled the room. Coins rolled out of a side pocket in slow-motion chaos, clinking and tumbling like a tiny metallic avalanche. In the dead silence, it felt like a train had just passed through the room. In all my embarrassment, that deafening moment seemed to last a damn eternity. Freaking coins.
The worst part? These weren’t just any coins — they were the last zloty I had for the morning before leaving the country. My breakfast and my lunch.
And that’s how a new mission was born: find the coins. I decided not to use the flashlight, so as not to see the dissatisfied faces. After all, if I crawled on the floor, I would definitely stumble upon the coins and just gather them. No shit — that was a bad idea.
Shoes, Coins, and Negotiations
And so I started crawling in the narrow space between the beds, tapping my palms on the floor, trying to get a hold of the coins. As I crawled, I stumbled upon one coin, then another, then a few more… and then a boot. Wait — a boot?
What the hell is wrong with me? I thought. Apparently, besides making all the mess, I had also scattered boots along the aisle! Well, good thing I found my boots before anyone else tripped over them.
I put the boot under my bed, then found what I believed to be the last coin. Mission complete. But now I had to find the second shoe. Otherwise, someone would definitely trip over it — not only hating me but also my shoes. And those were good shoes; they’d taken me through waterfalls, rocks, and mud. Which reminded me: I’d better clean them tomorrow.
On this considerate thought, I reached for the laces of the second shoe. Suddenly, a dazzling light blinded me for a moment.
It was someone’s Samsung, shining the brightest light straight in my face. Caught by surprise, I dropped a coin right into the shoe I was holding. I looked down, and as the light illuminated the boot in my hand, I saw that it was green and size 42. Mine is blue and size 39.
As I realized what was happening and started worrying about how it looked, I heard loud disapproving words addressed to me. Let’s just say I slept better that night — because I don’t speak Polish.
When I face something I don’t know how to handle, I usually go with humor. So instinctively, I smiled as sweetly as I could and said in English, “I’m stealing your shoes here, but since you noticed…” and put the stolen shoes back in place.
I started moving back to my bunk bed, desperately trying to disappear on the way. Didn’t work out. Apparently, I don’t have that power. I heard a grin and wondered about the probability of it being a smile.
The Last Zloty and Mountain Goodbye
I climb into bed, bumping into toiletries that I carefully folded on the pillow so I wouldn’t have to look for them later. Oh well, good girl, but with my fish memory, foresight is of little use.
I counted the coins I managed to keep in the end, and damn it — it turned out I’d dropped the biggest one in that guy’s shoe. I had been planning to buy myself some food for the long journey the next day. I don’t agree with traveling eight hours without food, and I only had a few zloty left. That’s how mission number two was born: retrieve the coin.
I was tired of embarrassment, so I shamelessly turned on the flashlight and moved toward the shoe’s owner. It turned out he was fiddling with his shoes, tying the laces together — probably figuring out where to put them so they wouldn’t get stolen. I honestly didn’t know how to handle this, so I just came near, put my hand into his shoe, and pulled out my coin. What can I say? My food for tomorrow was in there.
Things weren’t exactly obvious to him, either — you could tell by his bewildered expression. He said in a cute accent, “These are my shoes!” and I replied, in my own cute accent, “Your shoes are stealing my coins!” He looked at me, perplexed. For greater authenticity, I shone the flashlight suspiciously into the second shoe, saying, “I’m watching you,” and smiled with all my might.
At this point, I was just hoping humor wasn’t only my coping mechanism. He looked at me. I looked at him. He raised his eyebrows and began to laugh. I shone the flashlight closer — he was handsome and had a pleasant smile.
I said, “Good night. And teach your shoes good manners.” He apologized, laughing, then said he’d put them in the corner so they could think about their behavior. He was smiling so brightly at this point that one could see it without a flashlight. Lucky me — minus one hateful roommate for the night.
The last zloty I had left was just enough to buy some snacks for my eight-hour bus journey. I watched the mountains all the way from the back window until the horizon swallowed their shapes.
