The Erasmus Hostel Chronicles

Not a lot but its weird that it's happened twice...

"You breathe through your mouth when you sleep. It could be a deviated septum Please consult with your doctor to address this issue."

The comment and his accent hits you and all the grogginess you felt a moment ago is all gone. Without missing a beat, he shifts to turn and is out the door.

I was aghast at the comment. My jaw agape, which I'm pretty sure, didn't help his notion that I really do have a deviated septum. So I purse my lips in an attempt to rebuff the accusation. I don't think I have anyone ever talk to me like this. Does he hate me for accidentally dropping this on his bed? I twist a thin purple band between my fingers.

It's just a cultural thing- I tell myself in consolation as I comb my hair neat. Or maybe he is upset that I ruined his solo room situation? My self-doubt gremlin appears to be working overtime today. Instead, I decided to play some music while I got ready for the day.

An hour later, I am surrounded by fellow hostelers in the communal kitchen. There I met a lovely couple, Francesca and Pierre, who joined me for a quick breakfast before they headed out for a walking tour of the city. I promised to meet up with them later today after I try to track down my missing luggage bag. Then, there was Brad and John, two guys from California, who are here for a couple days before they continue on their backpacking trip on their way to Amsterdam. Contact information and promises of social media follows where exchanged.

I quickly found myself alone mulling my thoughts over a cup of fat free yogurt, an almost too ripe banana, a couple pieces of toast, and a hot cup of coffee- breakfast my new friends were more than happy to share with me once they found out that I haven't had the chance to get groceries yet.

I spent the next two hours making calls and sending some emails in hopes of finding my pack. I also went to the nearby grocery store to grab a weeks worth of sustenance. As I walk past the hostel lobby, I see a beaming smile from the reception desk. It was Danny.

"Good morning, (Name)! I hope you got some R and R after the day you had. Were you able to locate your missing stuff?" He playfully bantered.

"Feeling a lot better than yesterday, thanks! I've done all I can do about my pack. Now, I'm just waiting for updates."

"Listen... What do you know about the guy I'm sharing a room with? He seems kind of... cold." I continued.

"Oh, Mr. F? Yeah, He's intimidating... mostly quiet and likes to keep to himself. Good guy and a bit of an acquired taste but everyone here seems to likes him. He is a Ph.D. candidate from the University of Lausanne. He is here for the summer doing research at the local university. He is not bothering you, is he?" Danny queried.

"No, no, not like that. I guess, he is a tad direct and it took me off guard. That's all." I tried to placate.

The Aussie nods his head in understanding. "He spends a lot of time conducting his experiments so he leaves early and is gone for most of the day. It should feel like you have the room to yourself most days."You thank him and head back to the room to put away your groceries.

On the elevator, you hold the door open for a guy who introduced himself as Paulo. This random meeting sparks an impassioned conversation that leads to him offering to show you around town for the afternoon.

It is hard not to feel giddy when you look at his side swept hair, sheer cotton shirt, and perfectly imperfect white teeth. It also doesn't hurt that as you walked past him, a waft of his scent hits your nose. This must be what little cherubs cuddling puppies smell like. You guys agree to meet in the lobby at 1 p.m.

With grin on your face, you walk into your room and smack right into a wall of flesh.

You almost drop your bag of of produce but years spent playing various sports have heightened your reflexes.

A sinewy hand also grabs the bag mid drop much like yours did. You realize your hands look dainty compared to his. You look up and see his bare torso. He must have opened the bathroom door right as you entered the room

"You need to be more aware of your surroundings. The spatial planning of this hostel is quite atrocious." That German accent again. It seems to tickle a previously unknown part in your brain.

"Mr. F?" The words escape you without a thought.

"Ah, so you have been talking to Mr. Ricciardo about me." He has figured you out in 2 seconds flat. He looks at you with an intensity painfully reminding you of the way your parents would incredulously indulge your little white lies.

You turn beet red as his hands run over yours carefully. It is rough and hard against your alabaster skin. His eyes intently scanning for injury.

"Good. You do not appear to be injured." He lets go of your hand and turns to grab a nearby shirt. The poor cotton polo is quickly and roughly tugged into place on his frame.

While flattening the creases on his shirt, he looks at you again. "Please refrain from calling me Mr. F. My name is Fritz Fischer. You may call me Fritz."

You smile and say, "My name is (Name)." His face is stoic. You could have sworn that for a moment you might have perceived a pained look on his angular face. He then looks at his vibrating phone and grumbles about something being very inconvenient. Once again you find yourself alone. You doubt he even heard you as you said your name. 

These were the only words your brain could formulate as you stare at the softly closing door.

"...It was nice to meet you, Mr. Fritz Fischer."