And suddenly, the whole building is full of them, coach after muddy brown coach of young americans swarm in through the double doors. Piles of luggage clutter the hallway as they all lie in wait to infest the darker rooms and passageways of the old railway station. They can't help but be loud, obnoxious, arrogant. It's just the way they are built.
It's not really that bad, but it's very strange to come to the other side of the world and meet so many Americans. They really did come in coachloads and fill up the hallways, but the ones I've met are genial and polite, but most unintentionally loud and arrogant.
Finally met the two housemates I'll be living with for the next 3 months at least. Loh, the Malaysian hyper–active tennis ace addicted to ice cream, and Josh, the American (another one) workaholic addicted to fast food (naturally), Cuban cigars and community service (?). They are both really cool people and I'm glad they're both pretty down–to–earth and likeable guys. Loh's been here for a year and a half, and he's been sorting out the undescribable mess that I found in our communal fridge that his ex–flatmates left behind.
I'm still in a poverty situation, so I spent last night playing table–tennis for…hmm… four hours? with an Indian guy called Varzan. He beat the crap of me initially, but game by game I managed to pick it up. And after a few rounds at pool as a kind of mid–session interval (we came out evens – I blame the table) I beat him twice in a row. Then he stepped up a gear and thrashed me three times. Ahh well. Damn that competitive urge…
It's World Cup and Wimbledon final time now so I'll be up til' one for the Federer–Nadal battle and then at seven for the clash of the unexpected (for me, and probably most people) finalists France–Italy. Then I have to actually go into university for a change and meet some people…or something.
Man, I suck at creative writing.