Hostel blues

Lounge at Lisbon Home Hostel

I am no stranger to hostels. The first time was 10 years ago when I visited Europe with my B-school roommate. We were dirt poor students and a cheap bed was all we were looking for. I didn't remember much about it, but just how scared I was when my roommate had to leave early, and I ended up spending one night in a room with 3 guys. Being from China and never having spent a night with a guy in the same room besides my father and my brother, I was paranoid. I didn’t know of what, fearing they were going to steal my belongings, kidnap me and sell me as a sex slave or just rape me right there? Anyway, in my mind, it was highly dangerous for me in that room. As you might have guessed, those 3 guys couldn't have cared less about the fact I was a girl. They all passed out before I even finished wrapping myself up in those sheets. Don't laugh, the whole night, I kept a mug handy near my bed, ready to leap up at any moment to break someone's head. Fortunately, nobody got hurt that night. “I can stay in hostels by myself! It is no big deal!" I said to myself when I woke up the next morning. 

I didn't get to test my new found confidence until 6 years later when I went to Spain and The Netherlands by myself. By that time, I had been working for a while and could afford to stay in hotels if I wanted to, but I decided to stay in hostels, so I could meet other travelers and potentially even travel buddies. I did meet a lot of people at hostels, but the traveling together part never worked out for me. 

Fast forward to June 2010. I was planning a 2-month trip to Europe, I didn't think twice about staying at hostels. A, staying in hotels for 2 months is going to make a serious dent in my bank account; B, I will be myself and I want to be around people, so I don't come back a mute; C, I wanted to wander in Europe, and which wanderer would stay in a hotel? The decision was made and I hooked myself up for hostels.

As I hopped from one hostel to another, one thing became super clear to me, I am too OLD for hostels! When I was sitting in a hostel lobby using the wifi, I overheard the summer camp leader giving instruction for a group of 16-year-old on home stay etiquette. I felt like a dinosaur among puppies! However, I have to say staying at hostels added so much color to my trip and provided great stories.  

The good

As I had hoped, I met some very cool and fun people in different hostels I stayed at. I became good friends with some, and shared fun moments with others. 

Vicky is a cool girl from Argentina. She was in Spain for business and then decided to go to Italy for vacation. I met her on a wine tour organized by my hostel in Florence. We became friends instantaneously. We discovered our mutual love for food and then the rest was easy. We shared the most gorgeous meal together at Il Latini which was hands down my favorite meal on the trip and I was so glad to have shared it with a lovely friend. 

Sharing a meal at Il Latini with Vicky

I roomed with Micah in Venice. He is from Australia and like a good Australian traveler, he was traveling by himself in Europe for 8 weeks. He is full of enthusiasm and energy, I guess when you are young, that is the only way to be. Speaking of being young, I actually got to celebrate his birthday with him in Venice. Guess how old he is? OK, not 17, he is not that young. He turned 23! He is practically a baby! 

Simone and Helen are an Aussie duo that I shared room with in Lisbon. They were my party connection, because they refused to let me rest at night and insisted on dragging me with them to the hopping night life of Lisbon. They would have many tequila shots and then set the streets on fire with their flirty smiles. When guys started to make advances, they would then push them away saying “Hey, take it easy, Portuguesy!” 

The bad

The reason hostels are so cheap is because they are for young people. Well, most people refer to hostels as "youth hostels". While I think I still have the appearance of youth, um, mature youth, :-), I am definitely not 20 something any more. I have mentioned that I am too old for hostels and it is not because I am uncomfortable being around young people, quite to the contrary, I like hanging out with them. However, sharing living space with them is quite a different matter. 

I have very low tolerance to alcohol, so I have never enjoyed drinking that much. Those 20 something make a total career out of drinking, as if the whole point of traveling a long way to Europe is to drink! A lot of hostels have bars and discos onsite to facilitate the drinking. Budget travelers can usually find cheap booze in abundance here, and they don't have to worry about getting drunk and not being able to find their way back. And there is no language barrier and they can hit on the boy/girl they have been eying the whole time. Though hostels usually do a good job keeping the clubs away from the bedroom area, you can hear people walking, talking, and flirting in the hallway all night long. Just as you are about to finally fall asleep despite all the noises, your roommates come back and the piercing florescent light can burn your eyes even when they are closed! 

The very hippie Budapest Loft Hostel

I am not a clean freak and am pretty flexible, but sharing rooms at hostels have seriously pushed my limits and introduced me to some new standards. 

When I was in Budapest, I stayed at this very cozy hostel that was converted from a loft unit on top of a residential building. It is very small with only 3 rooms that sleep 18. As soon as I walked into my room, I noticed the bed by the door. There was no sheet on the bed but instead a pile of clothes. These clothes were oddly in ball shape, as if they were all dirty clothes that used to be jammed in a backpack and now they were finally free, but the dirty still held them in shape. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Midnight came, the bed was still empty, “It must be an empty bed.” I thought and rolled over to sleep. The next morning, I woke up and was surprised to find a person plugged himself in that bed, with all the clothes around him and plus one. There was a pair of jeans half standing by the bed. He must have walked out of this pair and jumped right into his pile of clothes. And… and there is the smell. It was strong, pungent and reminiscent of a mixture of cumin and other kinds of exotic spices. OH…NO… where do I know this smell from? It didn’t take me long to recognize the smell. It was on Seattle buses that I sometimes encounter such smell which always accompanies the arrival of a homeless person! Later I found out that he is from Australia and has been traveling for two years! So have his clothes! Let’s just say for the rest of the time there, I looked forward to him not being in the room. 

The ugly

Just when I thought I have seen it all, then there was the last straw. 

I stayed in a 5-person room in a hostel in Florence. The last night I was there, 4 Brazilian college kids moved in together. When I got back from dinner around 10:30, they were just waking up from their nap. 

“So, looks like it is going to be a late night for you guys? Ready to head out?” I said to one of the guys.

“Yeah, we are all ready! Look...” He pointed to the table. OK, these boys are ready, several 6 packs, 3 bottles of wine, and two bottles of vodka. “You should join us!” He extended the invitation. 

“Oh, no, no, no, thanks! You guys go and have fun.” Are you kidding, drinking cheap alcohol with college kids? I am not going to start that trend. 

They filed out around midnight and as soon as they were out of the room, their voices filled the hall way and then spilled into the street and faded… or maybe I was fast asleep to hear anything.

Noises, commotions, oh, they were back. I didn’t bother to open my eye. I could hear them talking but it seemed only two people were back. My bed moved and I could feel someone climbed into the bed above me. Yeah, don’t be surprised, these are bunk beds! Then the door closed and one person left.  

The room returned to silence again. I rolled over and tried to resume my sleep. Two minutes later, the silence was broken by a few coughs and then some strange sound, the sound of vomiting! What? Wait, what? This kid was throwing up on the bed above me! I opened my eyes and sat up. Even in the darkness I could see liquid gushing down the wall beside the bed reaching all the way on my sheets. I was disgusted, angry, but more than anything else, shocked beyond belief. I didn’t know what to do at that moment, but sitting in the darkness and staring at the wall. Luckily, his friend came back and got clean sheets for his friend and me. I moved to a different bed and ran out of the hostel first thing in the morning. 

Too old for hostel? 

OK, I said the Florence incident was the last straw, but the trip was only half done and I still needed to move on. It was quite uneventful until I got to Lisbon. 

I came back to my hostel room of 4 at 11:00, ready to call it a night after a long day of walking around and nice dinner at Barrio Alto. My other two roommates, Simone and Helen, AKA Aussie party girls were just getting ready to start their night. We chatted about our days and they opened their backpacks to show me all the gifts they bought that day. Just as they were savoring the bargain they had got, the door opened and in came a skinny short guy about my height in his 60’s. He walked directly to the 4th bed in the room. All 3 girls stopped the conversation mid-sentence and watched this guy as he walk across the room. 

“So are you our roommate?” Helen, the trouble maker asked, as Simone and I tried not to laugh.

“Yes, yes, I stay in this bed.” The guy answered in English with a heavy accent.

“What is your name?” Helen went on.

“Rafael.”

“So where are you from, Rafael?” 

“Italy, from Milan” 

“Rafael from Italy, we have a custom here, when we have a new roommate, we all take a photo together.” Helen pulled out her camera and motioned the poor guy to come over.
At this point, us girls couldn't hold it anymore and all broke out laughing. Rafael looked puzzled at first but then joined us laughing. Thanks to Helen, we had this precious moment documented on film!

Simone, I and Rafael! Roommates!

“Rafael, are you traveling by yourself?” I asked him, since we are practically friends by now. 

“No, I travel with my wife.” His answer was much to our surprise. 

“Where is your wife? How come she is not with you?” Now I am really curious.

“She is in next room.” More surprises. OK, first of all, if you are traveling with your wife, why don’t you get a room in a cheap hotel? The cost is probably the same as buying two beds in a hostel. Secondly, how can you not request to stay in the same room with your wife, even though you have to share the room with two other strangers? I guess I don’t live in Europe and will never understand their way of thinking. 

Ok, now we know his is married and traveling with his wife. All of a sudden, he seems less creepy. However, that still doesn’t change the fact that he is old. Maybe he just looks old?
“Rafael, do you have bambinos?” Instead of directly asking how old he was, Simone was tactful and started asking about kids. 

“Yes, bambinos, two.” He answered with a smile. 

“Do you bambinos have bambinos?” I followed up.

“Yes!” Ah, great, we are sharing a room with a Grandpa! I thought I was too old for hostel, but obviously, by European standard that is not the case at all! So maybe 60 is the new 20!