Working in a hostel is pretty much the greatest job ever. It's a built-in social life that I don't even really need a cell phone for. I get to meet people all the time and usually we make plans to hang out during the day too, since they're on vacation and pretty much so I am I. Everyone has been really cool and extremely generous and it makes me feel so great to have people here. A run-down -
The Brazilians - The Brazilians are professors who were taking a class in Montevideo and stayed with us for an entire month. They actually arrived the very first day I started working and I thought they were terrifying because they came in Portuguese a-blazing asking for discounts and all this other stuff that I was not equipped to provide. But after a week or so, they became fixtures in the hostel, always sitting around and working during the afternoon, then by night trading their computers for cerveza that was never cold enough for them no matter how long it had been in the freezer. (They called Uruguay the country of warm beer.)
Then they started having their friends over once a week that were staying in other places and cooking massive pots of amazing food and feeding the entire hostel. Friday nights became this huge social event with the entire Brazilian population converging at El Viajero. By the end, I was literally beginning to understand Portuguese to the point where I thought I'd master it before Spanish. On Friday, their very last night, they called me into their room with promises of a gift which I thought was going to be some contraband Brazilian beer that they kept in a cooler in their room. This time, on top of the beer and the delicious chicken and rice that they cooked especially for me, they had also bought me clothes! A tank top and a pair of shorts the colors of the Brazilian flag that I love. I was overwhelmed with their kindness. After that, we sat down and had dinner together and everyone gave me their contact information for when, in their words, I go back to Brazil I will have places to stay, food, free Portuguese lessons and a husband should I wish to marry. They were by far my favorite guests and already, it's not the same without them...
Jamie - Jamie is a hippie with a big bushy beard who bears a striking resemblance in both appearance and personality to my friend Matty. He's from California, but has been working on South American cruise-ships as a musician for the past 3 years and as he will be the first to tell you, it sounds way more glamourous than it actually is. Still, I'm fascinated.
Besides my roommates, I haven't met many people from the United States here, so it's oddly familiar to talk about stuff from home and have someone know exactly what I'm referring to. Yesterday, after meeting some of Jamie's friends who were in Montevideo for the 4 short hours their boat was docked, we went to Plaza Independencia with intentions of napping. Instead, we laid on our backs, staring at the clouds and reminisced about food from home.
I started with something like, "You know what would be great right now? An iced coffee."
"They don't have that here?"
"If they do it has ice cream in it and it costs $7 and it's definitely not available for take-out."
"I could go for some Chinese food."
"Yeah, or Mexican food. Or anything spicy, goddamn Uruguayans and their intolerance for for anything hotter than table pepper."
"Meatball sub."
"Italian hoagie."
"Real pizza."
"Can I please just dip my entire hand into a jar of peanut butter?"
I really don't get homesick here too often, but this was bad. And sorry family and friends, but yesterday was all about Distrito, the hand-drawn noodle house and Wawa.
My co-workers - Obviously, you already know about Cristina, my langauge exchange partner. There's also Georgina who is young and adorable and dramatic. She laughs at me all the time for my Spanish and her favorite joke is that I no matter what someone says to me, my response is always, "Sí, gracias!!"
Fati is the maintenance guy who works like 10-hour days so he's always around. We drink mate together every day and on Saturdays, he cooks asado for the hostel and makes me extra chorizo.
Martin, pronounced Mar-teen, has been mentioned before in previous posts. He's cute and I think that's all you need to know.
Tincho is my boss and he calls me Fran which I hate and he knows it. When we have meetings about the bar, he speaks to me in Spanish and I speak to him in English because we're both lazy.
Martin & Georgina
There's many others like Guido, an adorable, mild-mannered Argentinian who stayed for a week-and-a-half for a summer class. At first, I ordered him to speak to me in Spanish. Later on, though, I heard him use the word "dispute" and I realized how good his English was. From then on, it was English all the way. There was Oliver, a Canadian who's living in Buenos Aires for the time being but has also lived in Korea and is going home to the Cayman Islands in a few weeks. And Carlos, a Uruguyan who lived in Wisconsin, was with me when I got robbed and bought me a rose when I was in tears on the sidewalk.
The list could go on and on and the grand majority of the people are absolutely fantastic. Even the ones that aren't so great can be pretty funny to get to know, like Jim, a Scot who had lived in Australia for 27 years. He liked to stand up and lecture, essentially holding court in the middle of the patio for anyone who would listen. He interrupted people and hung out behind my bar giving Martin glass after glass of wine, while standing directly in my way and never offering me a drop.
Sometimes I'm tired, sometimes it's hard to leave the beach, but always I am happy to get to my low-stress, highly entertaining job. It's "buena onda," good vibes. There's music, beer, food and a constant flow of interesting people. And as all of you know, I may not be making any cash, but am sure am having a hell of a time.
The entrance. Tori is the knight. 
When you first go in, there are plaster sculptures of stories from the bible. This is Adam & Eve and the precise point where I lost it. 
The light show. Everyone is very serious and quiet. I peed my pants. 
A good over-all view of what the place looks like, plastic palm trees and all. 
This is me. With black hands. 
These women asked us to take a photo of them with their camera. Luckily, Tori got one with hers as well. The one in the pink reminds me of my grandma. 
