Under the Arch

I wrote this on the bus a couple of days ago, I thought you might be interested in how the hostel worked.

Day two of my adventure dawned and the first thing I had to navigate is how to shower at the hostel. Each floor had 2 toilets and 2 showers in its own little room. Each shared, dorm style room had 2 sets of bunk beds, a sink, a mirror, and a set of 4 lockers. I bought a padlock at the front desk when I first got there and kept the camera and all my makeup and jewelry in there, the things I was most worried about getting up and walking away. I kept shoes and non-essentials under my bunk. (I was assigned a bottom and I'm 12, cause that made me laugh) The shower had plenty of hot water and water pressure, was easy to operate, and there were hooks on the wall for towels and clean clothes. The hostel provided a towel and clean bedding,(I'm pretty sure I recognized the duvet cover from IKEA), but I also brought a beach towel and I'm glad I did cause the one they gave me was on the small side. I've been camping before at a lake campground where you walk to the bathroom and shower building. This wasn't much different, though more private. That first morning, I brought clean clothes to change into, but it was so wet in there, I just brought clean underwear and wrapped myself in a towel for the walk down the hall. When in Rome and all that. Breakfast at the hostel was free. I was startled the 1st morning with this one. I'm not sure what I was expecting exactly, I guess more like a continental breakfast at a discount hotel, various things set out with disposable utensils and tableware, serve yourself and throw everything away. The hostel was more like making yourself breakfast at someone's house, with a ton of other people in the kitchen. When you finish eating here, you wash your own dishes. After a moment of panic, (Ah! What do I doooo!?) I grabbed a slice of bread, stuck it in the toaster, slathered it with butter and poured myself some juice in a disposable coffee cup I found. Then, I washed my knife, wrapped my toast in a napkin and set off. I forgot that San Francisco is famous for its sourdough bread until I took a bite of my toast and my mouth sent up a prayer of thanks. In other words, bread in San Francisco = GOOD! Munching my toast and sipping my juice, I walked to the Westin

and found the ballroom where the the opening ceremonies had already begun.