Hostel or Hostile?

Backpacking sounds like such an exciting experience when you ponder the possibilities of what can happen. A new city, a new country, perhaps a whole new culture. Regardless of the extent of your travels it´s always exciting, and what better way to experience this than in a backpacker hostel with fellow travellers.

Before you embark on your wild adventure you imagine the life you are about to lead – living and shopping day by day, no curfews, no responsibilities, no lease and best of all, you´re constantly meeting other travellers. You consider the giggles you will share, the friends you will make and the stories you will hear.

This was my expectation upon arriving in my first eighteen-bed dorm. I burst into the dorm full of optimism and “hello, how are you´s, all of which were met with stoney silences and angry glares, oblivious to the obvious murderous intent in their eyes, I mistook their silence as bad hearing or perhaps bad English and I repeated my jolly reverie louder, slower and more pronounced, Subsequently, my forehead met with a flying boot…hostel or hostile?

I also soon discovered the apparent cleanliness handicap that most hostels suffer from. When you are in your own home and you step in a puddle in the bathroom you are fairly comfortable in the knowledge that it is probably water, however in a hostel on such an occasion, that little puddle could be anything. So you try your best to disinfect  your foot with the luke warm water from the hot tap, The kitchen is also another maze of bacteria with yesterday’s breakfast dishes still unwashed and sitting on the ant infested floor so room can be made for the filthy tea towels soaking in the murky sink …lovely!

The best thing about dorm life is being able to share a room with total strangers the first night you meet them without having to feel guilty about it. The worst thing about dorm life though is finding the aforementioned stranger’s used underwear in your backpack. There are no boundaries. Privacy becomes a thing of the past and so does being woken up by an alarm clock.

More often than not I am now woken up by inebriated “roomies” after a night of socialising, mistakenly climbing up onto my bed. I then cling to my pillow for the night and lie awake frozen in fear that my sacred haven may once again be trespassed. I have, however, encountered some lovely people along the way and it is these friendships that make the hostel experience worthwhile. After all it can only be what you make it.