Like every one of the hundreds of hostels I've been to in my life, there's a mish mash of people in them, from all walks of life, doing all sorts of things.
That's what I love about hostels. It's like a huge centrifuge: You don't know what you're going to get.
Meet my new friend Saeed.He's from Iran.
He arrived in this gold-mining town of Kalgoorlie a day after I did. He's just earned his master's degree in mining engineering in Australia and intent on finding a good-paying, entry-level engineering job.
He lied to get to college here.
His parents are not rich. Hoping he'd get a scholarship once in Australia, he told them he had one and borrowed the money for the first semester.
He didn't get a scholarship.
He did get jobs to pay for most of his education, before he graduated.
Fresh in Kalgoorlie, I met him on day 2.
"Ah, I don't know anything good to do. I've been here 2 days. I will have a job by Thursday."
"That's 2 days," I said.
The next day I found him in the kitchen: "I have a trial as a chef."
He went to 35 shops that morning.
The next morning, he went to 15 more and got a job on the spot as a cook for a German lady running a cafe in the next town over. He walked 45 minutes to get there.
Day 2: He has 2 jobs.
He is taking notes as he's training as the chef: little notes and doodles on how the plates are arranged and what goes on them.
I call him "the Earnest Iranian."
"I will have a mining job in three weeks."
A girlfriend? In 5.
Go Saeed, go!