Allow me to share with you the depth of my experiences, the wisdom of my years, the precision of my insurmountable intellectual prowess, in this unmitigated burst of rantastical glory, from a cranky old man far past his (admittedly mediocre) prime.
Back in my day, hostels had no Xboxes
I was greeted with shock and awe upon setting foot in Cusco, wherein I found myself plunged into the depths of all-day, all-night Bacchanalian festivities that characterize the modern-day backpacker establishment. Restaurants served up hot meals at all hours of the day; flatscreen TVs brought international sporting events to the unblinking eyes of thoroughly enrapt viewers; onsite bars delighted patrons with endless varieties of mixed drinks served against the aural backdrop of the hip and trendy top 40. Maids cleaned our rooms.
Where were the creaky dorm beds, accented with mattresses whose springs had long since burst forth from their housing? Where was I to find the draconian closing schedule, whereafter the nightlife-loving clientele would be stuck on the streets of a foreign land, shivering and exhausted? Where was the midday-kickout time, whereafter no one could get a decent day’s sleep after arriving via 6 different night buses in the frozen wastes of winter wonderland? What had become of the hostels I so thoroughly hated?!?!
…and we had to walk uphill both ways in the snow
It’s been a long time since I first embarked on my first solo backpacking experience, so intrepid and plucky at 19 years of age, with a twinkle of possibility in my eye, and a spring in my step. Needless to say my world came crashing down on me as I soon found myself repeatedly stranded in the middle of nowhere or locked inside an Italian train station in the middle of a horrifically cold winter night with inadequate clothing and awkwardly inquisitive police officers. Oh, such stories have I!
But you know what? After my very first hostel stay, it was straight back to sleeping in train station waiting rooms for me. Yes, it was that bad. Or rather, it was pointless.
Oh, I had a bed, sure. But the services provided at this establishment were so thoroughly problematic that the quality of sleep I achieved was comparable to that of the evening spent sleeping on the concrete floor of the Verona luggage storage room. Oh how I yearn for thee, Verona concrete! Please take me back! I’ll never leave you again!
Let me tell you a thing or two about how hostels used to operate, and how atrociously embarrassing they usually were. Hostels weren’t places to have fun. They were places to sleep. And they weren’t even all that good at offering that to their customers.
Allow me to share a few of the rules at this establishment:
- Evening lockout time: 10pm. If you want to enjoy the nightlife, it’s either a quick and early drink or two, or an all-night rager.
- Midday lockout time: 10am. Yes, they’d lock you out for the whole day. If you showed up at 10am after multiple night buses, you were kicked out all over again as soon as you showed up. And if you showed up after 10am, you were stuck with luggage, too.
Sound awful? It was. And it’s not like they were pushing these rules because they had a spectacular place with awesome rooms. Nope, just cheap and simple bunk beds and no other amenities whatsoever. It also happened to be rather far from the town center. But it was busy, since it was the only hostel in town.
That’s right. Wherever I went, there was one hostel. And it usually sucked.
They weren’t all bad (and none of them were this bad). But even the best were simply a place to stay for the night. The entertainment came from swapping stories with fellow backpackers, buying a bottle of wine or two, and heading out to explore the city, day and night. I loved it. The ones that didn’t have silly lockout times, anyway. They were exactly what I wanted.
But they are now few and far between.
The hostels, they are a changin’
It’s a weird thing to see how rapidly the culture has changed, and how competition has evolved to such ferocious levels that hostels will practically bribe their prospective guests with digital entertainment and alcoholically-infused evening activities the likes of which would put the average American frat house to shame. It’s almost as debaucherous as the typical middle school summer camp.
But I recall that bygone era, when the word “hostel” was not a synonym for party mansion. Not fondly, mind you, but I do find the newfangled contraptions you kids are so fond of to be somewhat…problematic. At many of the larger hostels, services were so comprehensive that some people literally never left. They could eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner right there in the hostel, play Halo on the Xbox all day long, watch a million movies from the massive DVD library, and order as many drinks as their livers could handle, right from the in-hostel bar. Party nights were indistinguishable from the scene at the local Irish pub down the street, except that the hostels had no local customers whatsoever.
Um, you flew here to see Peru, didn’t you?
It’s not you, party hostel, it’s me
I don’t hate the party mansions. They have their place. In fact, they probably do more to keep their clientele off the streets than anything else could, since they’re so entertaining and comforting to people who want entertainment and comfort. It meant I found myself in the center of town in the midst of a massive fireworks display with nothing but local Peruvian crowds as far as the eye could see, while the backpackers were back at the hostels getting drunk and watching TV.
But now that I know better, I avoid them like the plague. I don’t want a massive party place with blaring music and packs of wild dogs intoxicated backpackers hitting on whatever female happens to be in their eyeline. I’d rather be in a tiny place with just a few rooms, and just a single table in the common room where everyone gathers every morning for breakfast, and everyone can meet everyone else. And hear them talking. Drinks are fun, sure, but I’d rather drink with 6 interesting people than drown in a sea of 60 drunken backpackers who haven’t left the hostel in 72 hours. In other words, I want my hostels to resemble the Ravenclaw common room. Shush, don’t judge.
Yes, I want civilized entertainment. Because I fancy myself a civilized man. If I want to make noise and cause a ruckus, I can do so out of doors.
Who’s in?
I have to admit, after I saw the movie Hostel, I was like: “Nope. No way. not evah. I will never stay in a hostel.”
Until I actually stayed in a couple of hostels and I was like: “oh, they’re not bad. they’re actually really nice!”
Mansion-y. maybe not, but about as good as a hotel, for sure.
I, uh, I like it that way. Especially when they throw in free breakfast. SOLD.
I love a good free breakfast as well. Comfort, I’ll take. Luxury…meh.
I ended up visiting places in Europe where I had friends because I had a few bad experiences. I like smaller places and I always book in the dorm with the least amount of people anyway. I think next go around I’ll try some couchsurfing as well.
Asia it’s not bad. Crazy clean and not big enough to be a party place or you get your own room for the same price. I haven’t been to South America but I heard a lot of similar stories. People who just go there but don’t even explore or do anything. They just um…party and play video games.
Haha, Alex (hubby) and I met in a hostel… over a decade ago (ouch!) that was dirty and cheap.
Alex asked me where the showers were… I explained he had two choices, he could go down stairs and use the one that flooded and stand in a pool of nasty water or he could use the other around the corner from our dorm, but you had to continuously keep your hand on the button to keep the water flowing. He chose option 2 and I knew he was a keeper ;)
A couple years we went back to where we met, and had drinks at the hostel bar, we were amazed at how dressed up people were and how attached they were to fb :S
Why do people love bringing up the movie “Hostel” as a warning that you are going to get killed? I have gotten that quite a few times and I have never even stayed in a hostel. Well I have, but in private rooms. People just love being ridiculous.
The whole dorm room thing intimidates me. Not because of a movie I have never seen, but because PEOPLE GAH NO NOT PEOPLE. I need to be able to close a door between me and people.
I actually wrote about how Hostel is the stupidest travel movie of all time, and to this day cringe when I hear people mention it as an example of travel safety predicaments. I might go for the smaller rooms next time. I’m getting old and cranky.
I am old and cranky, which is why I have yet to stay in a dorm type room. Hell, I can’t even stand sharing a room with a close friend on vacation.
Jenny I have the same problem with people! I am hoping to travel next year but I don’t think I can manage it on my budget without stopping in dorms – which is putting me off!
Ack, the name “Jenny” makes me cringe. Its Jennifer. Please.
You can stay in single rooms in Eastern Europe for really cheap. REALLY cheap. Everything in Eastern Europe is way cheaper than Western. You should look into it and take a trip!
Yeah, I spent a lot of time there, and it was great. For the most part they were relatively small, which I prefer. I ran into a few larger hostels with bars inside, but they were pretty rare.
Louise – I realized after I posted that you were talking to Jenny, not calling ME Jenny. I owe you an apology!
Aha, OC Demon, I begin to think that perhaps you and I are closer in age than I originally assessed. The last time I stayed in a party hostel (the Pink Palace in Corfu) the XBox had yet to be invented. I find it very useful to look at websites and guidebooks that rate hostels for “fun” and avoid the high ranking places at all costs. I’ve even avoided whole towns when I heard how much partying was going on there.
That was my thinking too. I’d basically look for hostels whose common room consisted of a single table, and had basic perks like tea and coffee, and not so many rooms. It worked out.