living with 20 house mates

somewhere in the middle is my yogurt, on the top shelf hides my quart of milk, and in the freezer i squeezed in a bag of green peas -- all identified by a label reading "stine 12/23". yes, for the next two and a half months i´ll be living with labels and the people who attached them: markus, antoine, bogdan, kakha, nicole, bill, nicole, leslie, aditya, and a bunch of others.

some names change but the fridge is always full. because in the hostel where i´m staying around 15 to 20 people share common frozen space, cupboards, spices, graters...you get the idea, any given time.

living with 20 house mates definitely keeps your memory in check. just alone remembering how many food items i have stored where exactly is a daily brain-twister.


















not alone for the fridge. there´s an extra place for bread. a bin for all the fruit, another for all veggies. a shelf for all cereals. yet another for spaghetti sauces, canned, and other random items.


















left-overs are free to grab. always to have are condiments such as ketchup, mustard, oil, mayonnaise, vinegar, tea, spaghetti, rice. that´s in addition to the occasional item abandoned by a recent move out such as markus´cookies, bogdan´s strawberry ice cream, or berry vinaigrette from the lovely fruit cake of an international dinner party.


















roughly ten people are staying for a couple of months, most of them interning at a museum or organization. the other half is passing through as tourists or apartment seekers. after over a week of global speed dating with an austrian chap, a swiss guy, three german girls, two italian gals, one and a half israelis, a georgian half-doctor, a black lady in her fifties, the occasional asian face, a lakota ogalala indian, and an argentinian, i stopped asking about where from and where to everytime the door bell rings and another backpack with legs and arms tumbles inside. i can hardly keep track of the names and projects of the more familiar faces i repeatedly meet every evening in the battlefield for pots & pants.














cleaning up works remarkably well. better than with some smaller groups that i´ve lived with. dishes are washed immediately after use -- on pain of paying $5 if failing to do so once and being kicked out after a third offense. a nice cleaning lady from guatemala takes turns with another latin american young man to mob, dust, detrash, and generally straighten the place for five hours each day. we take turns in teaching her english in exchange for getting the chance to speak spanish, which is, by the way, not a rare opportunity in this city. the felt language frequency for espanol peaks every few hours. that´s not only in the hostel but also at work, where another nice lady from el salvador frees the fridge of rotting lunch remainders and men with dark-colored eyes and hair deliver big boxes in the lobby.














sharing doesn´t stop with cooking and eating. girls share floor no. one of the town house, boys another the second floor. each floor has two showers, another one is in the basement. i never had to wait for sprinkling some water on myself or more urgent business. the bunk bed in the rooms -- with inviting jolly warm colored european style bedding -- are only a trouble for bumping my head. the most disturbing part, after getting used to the noise level produced by over a dozen well-behaved young adults, is the incidental snoring of even the loveliest looking girls.

why, as a newly jointed hostel guest asked yesterday, would you permanently live with twenty others? everyone with an imagination who has ever bought a beer or a sandwich in washington dc can deduct the price of rent. hint: the one and only beer in a bar i bought so far cost $7.50 or €5. it was not even a special one (a sam adams if you want to know).

plus, you spare the deposit, which from my previous disastrous experience, is a great boon. the free emergency food to help out after a day too exhausting to even make it to the supermarket five minutes from interim home is a nice thought. not carrying towels, linens, or sleeping bag in the luggage is relieving. not to mention the social component of refreshing your language repertoire, challenging your stereotypes, or simply hanging out with others.

as the washington post phrased it in an article on the hostel called lofstel: best place to stay in a pinch.