Silly Little Hostel

The "New Garden Hostel" is one of a group of hostels built into the 12th and 13th stories of the "Mirador Mansion", a building on Nathan Street, Hong Kong. Mirador Mansion is a coagulation of fake-goods shops, internet cafes, tailors, and hostels, all rolled into one single not-so-clean package. On top of that, the elevator is easily the world's slowest, and the stairs wreak of urine.

However, the hostel, small and unclean as it was, did have a certain charm to it. The room, which was perhaps the smallest room I have ever stayed in, came complete with not one, but two semi-religious paintings, as well as a "Book of Mormon" written in Spanish. Strange, but at least it was more than just a blank canvas.

Anyway, here is an example of one night at the hostel:


After going out to a nearby bar called "The Hair of the Dog", where I heartily consumed a cool pint of Guinness, we returned to the hostel to get some shut eye. I was hungry as all get out, so on the way back we stopped into a noodle-shop where I picked up what turned out to be the spiciest meal that I've eaten in months. I took the noodles to go, and after signing in with the sketchy guards at the base of the building and avoiding a crowd of crazy vagrants filling the first floor, we rode the single functioning elevator to the 13th floor to get back to the New Garden Hostel.

We were given two keys, one for the room, which, as I've said, was perhaps the world's smallest living quarters, and one for the front door of the hostel, which leads into a narrow hallway connecting the hostel's five or six rooms to the outside world.

As expected, the front door was closed, so I fished about in my pocket for a moment before pulling out the key to unlock it. I put the key in the lock, turned it, pushed, and nothing happened. I pushed again, harder the second time, and the door moved a few inches forward. There was a noticeable weight on the other end that I did not recall dealing when opening the door during the daytime. Delirious from a combination of lack of sleep the few nights before, hunger, and the drinks I had just consumed, I then pushed the door a third time, quite forcefully.

It popped open a foot or so, the weight shifting suddenly from the other side of the door, and someone screamed at me in a language I don't understand, seemingly expressing both surprise and pain.

As it turns out, a random Indian man, presumably an employee (or at least a friend) of the hostel, was sleeping on a thin blanket spread out directly in front of the front door, nearly blocking the entire width of the hallway. Every time I pushed on the door, I was banging him in the head until he finally got fed up with it, yelled at me, and moved out of the way.

Hey, I was as surprised as he was.

I felt bad about hitting the guy with the door, but honestly that is a really dumb place to sleep.