There is a certain weariness about hostels that comes with age. By 30 you outgrow dorms. By 35 you outgrow dirt-cheap accommodation, By 40 you want a bit of comfort. By 50 you want a quiet room overlooking the golf course. And by 60 you aspire to stay at the Ritz, though you may not be able to afford it.
But recently I stayed in a hostel again. In a dorm. Mixed. With six other people. And I enjoyed it.
It was in Brazil, in Salvador during Salvador Carnival. Firstly, I wasn’t the oldest resident there by a mile; there were silver haired semi-retired couples with plenty of energy. Then, I surprised myself that I was able to sleep (it was actually the others who stayed awake while I snored). I didn’t mind the hustle and the bustle because it was all considerate and well-meaning; today’s adventurers and green Gappers aren’t the lager louts of yesteryear. I loved the fact that large parties of enthusiastic backpackers went out dancing every night and included me in their company. And I never got tired of the common room with its free, fast wi-fi. I stayed in other ‘proper’ hotels in Brazil during that trip and couldn’t get any reception.
So I am considering roughing it again. For short periods I mean. And I want a selection. In hostels where I could also go gaming as well – thinking Italian hostel this time.
See you there.