Hot Lava
Three Nights in Camden Town, London
Did you ever play the game “Hot Lava” as a child? Tim and I recently played that game while staying in our last hostel for three nights in London.
But first, let’s catch you up - We have been traveling by train since we decided to pivot off the Gudbrandsdalsleden Pilgrimage trail. We locked in a few pet sits in the UK, mostly because they were available and the ones we wanted on mainland Europe fell through. So off we went with our newly purchased Eurail Global Travel Pass on a train adventure to England.
We started on June 6 from our Airbnb in Kongsberg, Norway with a trip to Gothenburg, Sweden where we stayed two nights at a really nice hostel. I love the feel and sense of welcome of the smaller towns in Sweden and the Netherlands. I am aware it is a cultural difference but it has a feeling of a friend reaching out giving us a big welcome hug.
The next day was many hours by train to Hamburg, Germany. We only had a quick overnight stay in a hostel near the train station. For the first time since we’ve been here I was acutely aware of eavesdropping on two ladies sitting across from us. (I could eavesdrop because they were speaking English.)
On June 9, we arrived in Antwerp, Belgium. This happened because we had spun the empty bottle on the floor and said to each other “Where shall we go next?” We found a sweet flat to rent for five days and even though the kitchen was the size of a throw pillow, (or was it a postage stamp?) we made it work - pasta and oatmeal only need water and a burner.
This studio was a “Rare Find” or a perfect gem (pun intended) in the heart of the historic district of Antwerp (home to the Shane Co.) We entered through a charming coffee cafe to access the door to the stairs, and after climbing to the 3rd floor we accessed our cute studio apartment with a skeleton key. (I know, Right? So very gothic.) Super charming and reasonably priced. We loved it.
We were unaware of the fate about to land in our laps when we arrived in London and the hostel I found near St Pancras Station. We arrived by train from Brussels and had only a short 20 minute walk to the place.
Thank goodness for the explicit instructions on how to access our room. Ever been to an “Escape Room”? Surrounding the compound was wrought iron fencing and gates with keyed locks. After many locks, keys and codes we accessed our sleeping quarters for the next three nights. If I thought the pillow sized kitchen in Antwerp was small, I was utterly surprised at what we experienced next.
Now, I think I have a pretty high tolerance for discomfort. I am up for adventure even when some comforts are lacking. Like getting lost in the woods in the rain and trying to build a fire with wet wood, and trying to dry out my soaked cigarettes, while it’s still raining (yes that really happened, I was 20 years old).
How about the time we roasted in an eco-cabin, middle of summer near Mount St. Helens. The room was 102 degrees inside at night as we were trying to go to sleep, and outside were clouds of mosquitos waiting for dinner. And how about that ever fateful kayak trip in New Zealand’s Fjordlands National Park where we were covered in sand fly bites. We actually signed a waiver excusing the company from our “mental duress”. We were unable to get away from the little pests even in our tent and then, I broke down and cried in the morning putting on my ice cold wet suit - cold and wet because we neglected to tuck it securely out of the rain overnight.
But back to London - Close your eyes and imagine a broom closet with two twin beds, each, neatly packed into the corners of the room, leaving a 12 inch space between them to walk. There was absolutely nowhere to put our backpacks, no chairs, no shelves (there was no room for any of those things - and truly there no room for us either). We had just stepped into a box. We had a slim stand up fan and a few windows that opened to the outside hallway.
The floor was dark brown carpet, stained (I didn’t stare at it too long lest I identify the cause of the stains) and it was crawling. I’m sure it was home to a substantial population of fleas although I didn’t actually meet any of them. (Miracles come in all shapes and sizes, just FYI) I did however meet their cousin as he welcomed us to our new home - he died shortly after we met.
Hence, the floor became Hot Lava. We would NOT touch the hot lava without our special hot lava shoes. We’d remind each other if we were setting anything of value on the hot lava: “Wait! Hot Lava!”
We were only there a few minutes before I reviewed what we actually paid for this dump. Whoa, and it’s Non-refundable. Damn! I searched for anything other than where we were. Negative. Zip. Zilch. Not unless we wanted to pay 500 to 2000 pounds a night. Yikes!
So I reached out to the management of the hostel and said “I want you to know I’m not having a 5 star experience (haha) and this doesn’t match your advertised description”. (A tea kettle in a hall cupboard is not kitchen facilities.) But I was ghosted.
So Rude. It was a very long three nights. Luckily it was easy to visit each other over the foot long lava bed between us.
But we win some and we lose some. And we have proven that we are resilient and can survive quite a bit. One day at a time. Helping each other, reminding each other, “Don’t touch that - Hot Lava!”. In spite of all this, we survived together had a lovely time exploring London, outside, away from Hot Lava.
And now we are in paradise. Our first pet sit in England is on a little Island with only 23 homes inhabiting it and accessed by a skiff. The River Thames is just outside our front steps and it comes with the sweetest kitty named Misha.
Hot lava is but a memory.