Remember how it was when you first moved in to your college dorm with your new roommate? And slowly but surely, over the first few weeks, you got a sense of this person’s habits, personality, and maybe even became friends? It’s nothing like that. There is very little slowly-but-surely-get-to-know-one-another happening in hostels. You learn who is cool, normal, and who you’d want to keep in touch with almost immediately, and who the oddballs or a-holes are just as fast.
It was our third night in London and we chose to stay in a Wombat’s City Hostel, where we had a beautiful 6-bed dorm with a shared/attached bathroom. We met 2 of our roommates early on, John and Stacy, who were both from Australia and incredibly friendly and outgoing. We added each other on Facebook and talked about what we had seen so far, our future plans for traveling, you name it. It was easy to talk to them and had it not been as early on in our trip as it was, we probably would have spent more time together (but we were still figuring out our travel ways and adjusting). It’s been almost 9 months since we met John and Stacy and we still like each other’s social media posts and maybe one day will see each other again! These are — the majority of — the types of people you will encounter in hostels.
But our other two roommates were a different story. One- I’ll refer to him as Joe- entered and didn’t give as much as a wave when he came in. Which is FINE. Not everyone wants to meet people when staying in a hostel. However, it may have also been out of embarrassment since Joe spent the majority of his time in London blowing up our common bathroom. His 48 hours in our dorm consisted of shitting, showering, and then snoring in his hostel bed. The other roommate- I’ll refer to as Fred– entered the room later on, and his bizarre (and somewhat concerning) nature was recognized by the group instantly. It did not help that shortly after opening the door, he removed his shoes in the middle of the room to reveal a blood-filled sock and proceeded to walk around in said blood-filled sock while dumping his belongings from his backpack all over the floor. He introduced himself in broken English during this display, gave me his Wombat’s complimentary drink voucher and then disappeared. We thought maybe this was his way of saying “Please don’t think I’m going to kill you in your sleep. I’m just strange and had a long day.” I wanted to believe he was a nice guy – I really did– but still had my doubts. Fred returned around midnight with a grocery bag full of snacks, only to climb into his top bunk, turn on the reading light (which illuminated the entire room), and eat the crunchiest substance known to man while reading until 2:00 AM. “Joe” and “Fred” are also the type of people you will encounter in hostels– but definitely the minority.
On the second night of Fred crunching and reading until 2:00 AM, the shitter/snorer, Joe, began singing the song of his people (freight trains) as soon as Fred turned his light off. At this point we were in a state of “Are we joking?” and “This can’t be happening.” Ryan, Stacy, John, and myself, all actually turned to one another and laughed uncontrollably. There are certain things you simply cannot NOT laugh about, and this was one of them. “Do you think I can politely ask him to shut the f*ck up?” Stacy said in her perfect Australian accent. “What if I throw my shoe at him?” We urged her not to– “What if he’s crazy?”
John then, sleeping in the bunk above Joe, jolted his body up and down trying to wake him by shaking the bedframe. Nothing worked. It was our final night in London and our train was leaving for Paris in 3 hours. Needless to say, we got no sleep and again, dozed off during a once in a lifetime train ride, this time through the English Channel.
At the end of the day, even with all the Joes and Freds in the world, hostels were the one and only way we were able to make our trip last as long as it did. We booked private rooms wherever we could afford it, but more than half of the places we stayed were shared dorms of 4-8 beds. I sincerely wish hostels were as prevalent in the US as they are in other areas of the world. They are consistent, affordable, and guarantee you a clean bed to sleep in and unbelievably friendly and helpful staff. (They are also a great way to meet the Johns and Stacys of the world!)
Most of those who work in hostels are fellow travelers; sometimes people who in the middle of traveling, decided to stay put where they were. Working in a hostel is the best of both worlds for someone who takes this path, providing a place to sleep and income and/or food, in exchange for honest work. Therefore, these workers know what it’s like to be in your shoes and treat you (the hostel goers) as they would like to be treated. They are wonderful.
When Ryan and I first arrived in our Dublin hostel, we were so jet lagged that we fell asleep until 10 PM. The staff understood and let us use the kitchen after hours to heat up our Cup of Noodles, and then offered their office computer so we could book a last-minute bus trip to the Cliffs of Moher (and even use their printer in case the tour operators wouldn’t accept our email confirmation). It was unreal how accommodating and genuinely willing to help they were. In many cases, these hostel workers made our stay, in each and every city, what it was.
Many hostels also offer an included breakfast, or sometimes even a free dinner (if you are so inclined to socialize). Many are located in neighborhoods with close proximity to public transportation and/or easy access to things like grocery stores, public spaces with free wifi, and other travel conveniences. Some have washers and dryers and even a hostel dog (best amenity I can think of), and nearly all had bars, restaurants, and facilities that were so extremely convenient it made more sense to stay there — in a hostel — than a hotel or Airbnb of equal cost.
Have any particular questions about hostels? Post it below and I’ll make sure to include it in Part 2!