Notes of a backpacker: The people

You've got the good, the bad, the ugly. I'll start with the bad...

I cant blame London entirely, but I think living there plays a large part in the severe decrease of my tolerance of the human race. I'd never lived in a city before, hence not putting the full blame on the place, but look at it this way: The land size of the United Kingdom fits into Australia 17 times or something. Population of Australia was nearing 23 million last I heard. Greater London has 8.2 million people and the metropolitan area is estimated between 12 and 14 million. I come from a place with a population of just under 300,000... where its easy enough to walk down the street without having to stop constantly for human traffic.
 
Venturing to the European cities is no better a lot of the time. Paris, Rome and Barcelona stand out in particular. Full of lost tourists (granted I'm one of these tourists) and people not looking where they are going. And my favourite - the people who walk obscenely slow in front of you and seem to have some sort of magnetic pull toward the new path you are creating to get past their slow asses. Just walk in a straight line for f*cksake!!
 
I've found myself whizzing through big cities and get them done quickly, not just to keep the budget happy, but to also get the hell out of the rat race. I've also found that if you become one of those tourists and walk slowly with your head in the clouds, ignoring those around you, that you're less likely to want to hit someone over the head with the nearest blunt object.
 
Oh! And whats with the staring?! Anyone would think that wearing a large backpack makes you look like an escaped circus monkey!! However from time to time you get the occasional glarer even without the bag. In which case you just need to stare back and ask if they'd like a photo... Or there is that one time I yelled "WHAT???!!" back at one of them.
 
You've also got the people who insist on talking for hours on end on public transport at the top of their lungs. But I'll delve into that more when I write about "travelling".
 
You've got the ugly...
 
I witnessed an argument on a bus between two Italian men in Rome. I was getting on the bus as Man 1 was violently pushing Man 2 out. Had it been two buff dudes I probably would have worried about getting a bicep to the chest in the process - but these were two grown men in their 60's at least so I just squished into the corner as Man 2 was pushed out. Man 1 then goes to return to his seat and slaps an old woman on his way there. I dont speak Italian but I can only assume that the woman was telling him what a prick he was.
 
Tanya had the good fortune to be wandering around Vatican City, looking up at whatever she was looking at, only to have some sort of disgusting waft bring her nose down. She then followed a trail of yellow fluid back to the culprit who was passed out and had also shat themselves, just to top it off.
 
But not everyone you come across is an annoying woman slapping, incontinent weirdo.
I have never come across as many kind hearted people as I did in Portugal. Security guards and strangers coming up to you and asking you if you need help and friendly chats with bar / restaurant / gift shop owners. One of the hostel staff even took us down to a local restaurant while she was working, just to translate the menu and order for us.
 
Then there's "V", the guy running the hostel in Barcelona. While waiting for Tanya to shower, V asked me if I wanted a smoke. I politely declined but then he noted what type of "smoke" and I saw the spliff he was rolling. At first I turned it down and then he twisted my rubber arm within all of 30 seconds. We stood on the balcony and chatted and by the time Tanya got out of the shower... well, I was craving dinner, put it that way.

It was also in the Barcelona hostel when Tanya and I woke up after a night on the sauce, we were gearing up to go get a filthy McDonalds breakfast, when a kiwi guy came into our room and asked if we wanted breakfast and we were then presented with a table full of bacon, eggs, grilled tomatoes and toast. And then an invitation to join them down at the beach while we all recovered - but Tanya and I still had things to see since it decided to piss down rain the day before.
 
I'll leave that tangent for the next chapter though... The people you meet in hostels and the shit you can be made to put up with... And hostels in general.