...And Then I Found 5 Euro

Let me preface this entry by recalling that one of the only rules you had to abide by while staying at the Flying Pig was that you could not smoke weed in the main entrance room. That pretty much dictated how my stay at the hostel was going to be: imposed with very few limits. Hence, it was not the cleanest, most efficient, or most normal place I have ever stayed, but that is what you expect and enjoy in a place like this. Filled with trustafarians, backpackers, and random European kids I suspected were too young to be there, it was organized chaos.

The first night, someone had decided they would rather sleep in my bed, and upon contacting the "management", they told me just to pick another bed. I had a relatively difficult time sleeping because others in my dorm-style room were doing some sort of drugs I decided not to partake in. The breakfast was like any other hostel I had been to: bread, butter, jam, orange juice, milk, cold cereal, etc., with one exception: a glorious hard-boiled egg. It was culinary bliss to me at that point.

And of course, the company was entertaining, to say the least. Another peculiarity of the hostel was that the showers were in a high-traffic hallway. This does not bode well for most residents, as they are tripping out of their minds and get confused easily anyway. I remember sporting my towel and walking past a few langouring on a couch next to the showers--which, I might add, had no adjoining changing room. That was fun. There were a lot of good parts to the place, though. The happy room always afforded an opportunity to gawk at people, the drinks were relatively cheap, and it was in a great location in the city. Overall, it was a very fun and eye-opening experience.

This was not something we splurged on by any means. The place was painted a shade of pink that was reminiscent of something I would find in a gregarious Latino neighborhood and the interior elicited slight melancholy thoughts when surrounded by cheap paintings and itchy comforters that tried to spruce up the austere setting. In a phrase, it was just like any kind you would find in America. Despite all this, it actually worked out perfectly because it was located in the Campo de' Fiori, which was, in my opinion, the best location to be staying at in Rome.

Every morning, except Sunday, there would be a fresh food and flower market, so that took care of breakfast and snacks. As if that couldn't be topped, it was by this amazing panini shop in one of the corners of the plaza. I honestly had the best sandwich of my life there. Actually, not one, as I had too many to count, and at times, I was not entirely sober when I ate, so obviously a definite number would be impossible to list. At any rate, you could put whatever you wanted onto these sandwiches. I think what made this even better was the fact that all of the ingredients were in Italian, so that just made it all the more adventurous for me. You could get sun-dried tomatoes, eggplant, ham, and other really random ingredients. It was amazing and decently priced.

Other places of interest in the Campo were the bars. Sloppy Sam's and The Drunken Ship were great, great if you like running into other Americans (which, at that point, I was) and getting embarrassingly wasted and giving other Americans even more reason to call themselves Canadian when abroad. The restaurants there were okay, the gelatto stands were amazing as always, and the plaza is just minutes from lots of the major attractions. It is a noteworthy place by all accounts. The hotel, not so much, but hey, it sufficed.

Funny Farm is about one of the best hostels you'll ever encounter. The beds were clean and linens were provided gratis. We had a private bathroom in our 10-person room along with a spectacular view of the Swiss Alps from our balcony. Breakfast included delicious jams and freshly-made loaves of bread that were actually edible - unlike most grains I encountered at other hostels. It is about a 10- to 15-minute walk from either train station. The large entertaining room near the main entrance had a huge fireplace in this large wooden, cabin-like room, which was especially wonderful in the late fall when I was there. They also had a full bar in the room where you could order food and drinks. The food was great - and I even had a hamburger with all the fixings - and the drinks were cheap. It was like staying in a hotel - but it was only $15 a night. Perhaps the employees, of anything, made the experience. My friends and I were there on Halloween of all days and we ended up chatting up with most of the staff. They also have a St. Bernard named Spliff - if that tells you anything else - that was so much fun to play with. And not to mention even the best part: through the hostel you can go skydiving from a helicopter (the only place you can do this in the world), canyoning, rock-climbing, and paragliding - and basically any extreme sport you can think of. How can you top all that?

Located near the central train station (and by near, I mean walk out the main entrance, go left, and you'll be there after 100 yards), it's right next to a bakery, which is very handy.

The accommodations were clean, and, overall, I was impressed. Bathrooms were communal, and the breakfast consisted of the normal bread and spread fare. The staff was friendly and helpful, credit cards were accepted, and linens were included.

I wandered into Chamonix as a tourist gaping at the mountains and not having a single clue about where I should stay. The tourist center suggested I go to the Vagabond, as it was the only hostel truly within the city, and all the others were a good walk or bus ride away. I found it very easily and was relieved when the proprietor spoke in an Irish accent, knowing I wouldn't have to attempt to use my lousy French for another day. Apparently it is 130 years old and has beautiful oak floors and ceiling beams. They have rooms of four, six, and eight and facilities including hot showers, a fully equipped kitchen, washing and drying machines, heated ski/climbing equipment room, Internet access, a fax and post, and a bar and restaurant. There's a garden in the back with a climbing wall. I'll never forget the morning I woke up, walked down the hall way, and entered through French doors to find myself staring at Mont Blanc in all its splendor. The sinks were in the rooms, so that helped a lot. Overall, I loved it!

As soon as you walk in this place, you know you are home. And I must say, it is the epitome of Spanish decor. The walls are lime-green and multicolored fabrics hang from the tall ceiling. The place is ordered chaos. You walk in through an automatic sliding door and immediately encounter a bevy of staff and guests all speaking different languages. At first I was hesitant when they wanted to take my passport, but after one of my friends had gotten her purse stolen later that night, I was relieved they did so.

They had couches, soda machines, and a TV in the main room. They also had laundry facilities and a room with a few computers hooked up to the Internet.

I think the most fun part was the rooms we stayed in. We opted for the more communal and cheaper setting, where you walk in and on both sides are these lofts. Sixteen in total, they were these private spaces that had a bed, cubbyhole, and a fabric partition. One was stacked on top of another. It was sparse but sufficient, and I had to climb up a ladder to get to mine since mine was one of the ones on top, but I didn't mind too much. I like the hostel a lot, and you couldn't beat the location.

Although narrow and discreet, this street is an up-and-coming area where young, wealthy singles come for nightly happy hours. It's filled with bars, restaurants, and trendy boutiques. I remember drunkenly perusing through the beautiful fashions of a boutique one night after eating a whole baked potato from a vendor nearby. It is located right in the heart of the Bastille area--just take rue St Sabin and turn right. It used to be known for its dance halls and free-flowing absinthe before the war. My favorite bars there were Le Bar Sans Nom, Cafe 66, a hookah bar that was also a Mediterranean restaraunt, and especially Ma Famille. It is very inconspicuous from the outside, with just a glass door with a wood frame but inside is just a cozy pub atmosphere with the best bartender in the world, Slim. Yes, that is his real name (actually Slimon), and he runs the bar and works every night. Stop by if you find it!

I had perused countless travel guides and Internet sites on shopping and boutiques, so you could not fault me for doing my homework on one of the favorite pastimes in Paris. After my extensive research, I determined the Holy Grail of my pilgrimage would be these stores in the Les Halles shopping mall in Paris. Yeah, it gets a bad rap, the design is fairly ostentatious, and for the most part, the stores are ones you find in any mall back in the States, with one gleaming exception.

The Espace Createurs features creations from up-and-coming Parisian designers. The clothing is eccentric, inventive, original, and expensive: everything it should be. Nowhere else will you find this stuff, and everything is way ahead of the current trends. And it's not just one store, but individual designers have their own space, and these stores practically fill the fourth floor (I believe, but don't quote me on it.) At the very least, pick up a belt or hat from them. It's all tre blanche.