Backpacker's Ritz, we hardly knew ye...

The crowded room where the original symphony of snoring took place


Raising arms in triumph after the decision to run away was made


The hideous taco bed. At least the sombrero was moved off the floor...


In spite of the fact that I previously promised details of actual events we went to, something far more pressing has arisen. On Tuesday, our itinerary called for us to leave our incredibly hospitable host Howard's house and spend our remaining five nights in Joburg at the Backpacker's Ritz, a traditional youth hostel. Though we enjoyed fantastic accommodations at Howard's that we hated to leave, based on reviews and our own prior research we assumed that the step down in quality would be manageable. We were wrong.
On Sunday night on our way back from dinner, we popped our heads into the Ritz just to see the lay of the land and get an idea of what we were in store for. The place was quiet enough, clean, and seemed like it would be a suitable place to crash at the end of a long day. Our assessment about the cleanliness did turn out to be correct, but that is the only area in which our expectations were met.
As he dropped us off on Monday night, Howard repeated his offer for us to continue to stay with him, but our desire not to wear out our welcome and our already made, non-refundable full payment forced us onward. As we walked into the gate, Howard called after us that even if we had to call him at 3 AM to come get us, he's be happy to do it. We laughed a foolish laugh, not knowing that in a few hours one of us would be lying in agony, wishing we still had the means to take him up on that offer.
After check-in, the harried man at the front desk told us we were in room 3. We grabbed our bags and headed in, and opened the door to find not the small 4-5 beds we had anticipated, but instead a 20 bunk-bed mess that quickly shot down any hopes of privacy or personal safety we may have harbored. Following our assigned numbers, we were thrilled to discover that we would both be on the top bunks of two separate beds in mattress that were so worn and inverted in the middle that they looked more like tacos than a place to sleep. We dropped our bags off and fled the premises, hoping that a night out would somehow make this supposed "Ritz" more palatable.
We returned after watching the night game at the Melrose Arch fan park, and realized once we got back that we actually had to face sleeping in this 20-person human petrie dish. We opened the door, creeping to our bags so we could brush our teeth and go to bed, but our paths were obstructed by something big and straw-like. We soon discovered that our neighbors had placed their enormous sombreros directly in the way of our bags, and we would be unable to practice even the most basic hygene.
We both climbed into bed, and before either of us could even settle in, the 40-50 year old Mexican fellow sleeping below me began to snore. This was not typical snoring, either; it sounded like he was in bed next to me, pressing his gaping mouth directly against my ear in an attempt to prevent me from getting even a moment's sleep. He was soon joined in his nocturnal noise-making by the Danish student across the room, whose amazing volume likely would make him the pride of all Scandinavian nations. By the time the 60-70 year old Mexican under Dan chimed in, we both had resigned ourselves to our fate of little-to-no sleep that night. On the bright side, I turned out to be wrong in this assessment; on the downside, I know this because I awoke when a drunk British kid in short-shorts stumbled into the room at 5:30, leaving the door open and letting the cold air blow inside in the process.
By the time my alarm went off at 8 the next morning, Dan had already gotten out of bed and demanded a partial refund.
Some details have been omitted, but hopefully you now understand why, at approximately 3 PM the following day, we called Howard and asked to be rescued. Fortunately for us, he found our situation to be both pitiable and hilarious, and welcomed us back. We are now back in our posh location in Melrose, happy and no longer afraid.
I promise next will come details of soccer+other events, such as the game park, constitutional court, and apartheid museum. Also included will be the first celebrity encounter of the trip, so stay tuned.