4th rv a traveler's memoirs- hostel stay 1

      Hostel stay

          

            1.

Hostels may be common to young travelers, However, at first it was 

unfamiliar to this traveler in his 50s. When he was going to check in

a hostel, he said to himself before the entrance of it,

" It is said that hostels  are much cheaper than hotels,

 What hotel is it on earth?"What is the rate of it per night?

From the first experience, he came to love the refreshing and cheap

hostel life as much as the aroma of coffee, 

May 24th, 2000

to Min !
...........
............
This is father in Seattle, writing this letter to you thinking of you
and your mother. I put a part, below, of my today's diary in it,
to show you a sketch of two men I made at the quay of this city.
 
'below'
There are on the pier two men  who are strangers to each other.
One sits on the wooden bench, the other stands leaning his back
on the wooden fence. on the right side of them  is the sea opening
far and wide. They stay there for over one hour: one is playing
on the clarinet and  the other sending his gaze toward the sea ,
with his ears turned on the rhythm on the clarinet. After a while 
on the forehead of the player are there seen beads of sweat and
the standing man gets nearer to him with a bottle of water taken out
of his pocket. The player stops playing and welcomes him.
: To practice for a performance?
: No. just to enjoy by myself.
: You often come here?
: whenever I want to blow it.
: The music suits this quayside well.
: Really? Thanks.
 
Frankly speaking, I put in this letter the sound of jazz he played,
and his smile In order not to fly them away. He shared with me
such a few words of greeting, with his face turned bright.
 
Daughter!
I remember  the short essay,  titled' my space, my aperture',
you wrote long ago. The essay said that in your childhood you
loved the window side seat on the Seoul-bound  running train, 
On the train you slept at a aperture at the end of the aisle and
your mother was surprised  and at her wit's end
at your disappearance,
the essay said. 
 
 
May 28th,
 
Hi, friend !
How are you doing?
Yes, I am Okay. Your letter dated May 1st has been received in Portland
with thanks. Now I am in Seattle 4 hours north from Portland by Greyhound, 
lodging at a Hostel named Turtles. Getting accustomed to sleeping together
with 10 young men or so in a room having several two-story bedsteads.
It is surprising that I can sleep well. What's better, the hostel charge is just 
usd12.00 each per night. Try to Compare it with a hotel at the lowest grade
which charges at least  usd35.00 per night, and you can see how cheap it is!
Last year when I took a visit to San Jose, I paid one hundred dollars or more 
for a room per night at a small hotel.  
​I am free and light-hearted, mixing with others while staying indoors.
A Spanish youth sits rustling, over my head, on the upper bed wants a job 
in Seattle and Tom in his 40s from LA on the lower bed by me has been
lodging here for more than a month. Another new comer, a Mexican youth is
on the upper bed over Tom, He said in poor English that tomorrow
he will go up to Alaska by Greyhound to become a sailor working for
the deep-sea fishing vessel. He is very kind and his eyes look good.
Now I like this hostel as my resting place. In the morning I have free
breakfast and at weekend enjoy participating in the beer party
together with several hostellers at the lounge in the basement.
​
At day time I walk alone toward Fish Market smelling of the sea, 
which is very familiar to me.Now over eight in the evening  are there
in the lounge a dozen of young men and women including Tom ,
the Spanish youth, a Japanese women student and myself.
We are sharing pleasant chats together over beer and coffee.
​
At first I was at a loss what to do in front of the door.
At the moment when I opened the door, I was afraid of going
into the room where are several strangers in the beds, upper and lower, 
looking at me.Then I would not go out of the hostel
because I already prepaid  the charges for 5 nights. As a backpacker traveler
I couldn't but step inside and take off my bag in the fixed bed for me. 
Of course on that night a feeling of uneasiness made me fail to get to sleep
in it with a hand put inside the pocket where my purse was.
Such was the beginning of my hostel life.
Moon
in Seattle

A traveler accustomed to hostel stay  at Seattle unexpectedly enjoyed

a fine dining in the 57th Street pier! 
Well, this evening the meal was special. I was invited 
to dinner as a special guest by a young man. He is Tyler
from Minnesota, who was a room mate of the hostel,
Turtles just a week ago. He is on intimate terms with Enrai
from Taiwan.The two hosteller shared the same bunk:
Tyler's bed was the upper part of it, Enrai the lower bed.
He left hostel Turtles two days after I checked in. Then yesterday
unexpectedly he turned up at the hostel where Moon stayed, 

smiling a big smile. He said  to Moon and Enrai that he worked for

a restaurant  as a waiter not far from the hostel and wanted to invite

both for dinner.

 A night before he left Turtles, three of us had  had a good evening 

at Gibson Café near the pier, drinking and talking loudly. 
That night He said to them that he had left home to come to this North West

where he had attended university.

He had a dream to become a writer like Jack Kerouac,

quoting a phrase,below,in the novel, 'on the road' by the writer:
Dean spent a third of his life for gambling, another third
in prison and the rest one third in the library.
And he said  to me," I want you to read it. If you read it,
you will come to love Jack Kerouac", adding another
phrase from the book:
The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley
so great, that I thought I was in a dream.
Today Enrai bought me the book' on the road',
saying he will check out tomorrow. He is going to 
leave Seattle for his next destination : San Francisco.
He wants to visit Silicon Valley located near the city.
Then I also will leave this hostel the day after tomorrow.
I am going down to Portland again
In the Gibson Café
Moon

In the diary,
June 16th
At the pier of Seattle
"Anybody who is indulged in something actually gets sick.
Sickness means a kind of separation. If you are to be driven out
from where you are in a warm life of clamorousness
to a cold side area in winter, that will be a case in point.
However, It is not until you are placed in such a situation
that every moment you can feel the beating of your heart and 
the air of weight you breathe in. Only the passion and pain
resulted from it will be the source of your sharp sense of
seeing through"
This is a part of article titled ' What sickness is good for?'
carried in Strange, a free magazine of Seattle, published
in the last weekend.
On reflection, It looks like that I have read literary works
by Camus or Van Gogh, with the meaning  similar
to the point of it.
" Oh, without anxiety and illness to me, I would have been 
like a boat with no direction indicator", said Munc to this effect
Then how strange it is that a word the painter said let my heart beat!
Anyway, what does it mean by 'Freedom from something
of humanities' ? Once I had read the phrase from a book written by
T. E. Laurence of Arabia.