My experiences in hosteling

My friend Misty asked me how I even knew where to go to find decent hostels, what to do when I was there, and basically, how this was even an option. There are a lot of answers to those questions, so I thought I'd just go through my process to give you an idea of how I figured things out.

Let me start by saying that my experiences overall in staying in hostels in Barcelona, Naples, and Rome were very positive. It helps that I'm a good sleeper who doesn't struggle with new rooms, noises at night, and sharing a room with strangers. Basically, when I'm tired, I sleep. Very little prevents that. But it also helps that the hostels were, by and large, well-run and clean. 

I've heard of hostels for years, but believed that they were intended for young people to stay in, and folks my age weren't really encouraged to stay there. I went into this vacation with this fear, even though I planned to stay in hostels the first half of the trip. Nothing could be further from the truth. Yes, overall, most of the people that I met at my hostels were young - early 20s - but not all. There were several older people - 40s plus - at each hostel that I stayed in. So, if you also had that impression, let it go. Hostels accept anyone, happily.

How to find the right place

My first stop in looking for hostels was HostelWorld.com*. I was able to put in my criteria, the city I was going to be staying in, the dates that I needed, and then click "Search". It gave me a list of hostels in the city that I then scrolled through, reading the reviews diligently, and looking at a map to see how near or far from the things that mattered to me were. I was able to book the hostels from the US at a nominal cost, and received a full refund if I had to change my reservations for any reason with at least 24 hours notice. 

The average cost of my bed was ~$20/night. This included bedding, a locker, laundry facilities, and kitchen privileges in an all-women dorm. (Those were my criteria.) The more popular the city, the more it cost. The closer to the holidays the more it cost, as well. In Barcelona, I booked space in a 4-bed all-women room for six nights. I had a roommate only my last night there. The hostel had a capacity of over 120 beds, but had fewer than 25 people staying there until that last weekend. That was unusual, but was also very much the "off-season", too. I didn't have my own room again the rest of my trip.

You can, however, book your own room. That's an option. Still less expensive than a hotel, but not nearly so cheap as $20/night. So if you need your own space, it's still worth looking at hostels for less expensive options. (Plus, you'll still have access to the kitchen, so that'll save you, too.)

Okay, so I spent time looking things up based on my preferred criteria. Which still gave me a long list of options. That's where reading the reviews became imperative. I filtered the reviews by the newest ones posted, and then by those in the 40+ category. That gave me a good idea of what to expect from that particular hostel for folks my age. Plus, people my age who are looking to stay in a hostel often have similar expectations to me. We're not looking for spotless, five-star accommodations with a concierge and laundry service. We know better. But we are looking for a safe, relatively quiet, comfortable place with receptive owners/operators. 

Had I paid attention to those reviews - and the responses from the owners/operators - I wouldn't have ended up at the one hostel that I had issues in. Someone had complained about how difficult it had been to find the place (they weren't wrong) and how unsafe they felt while looking (again, they weren't wrong). The owner's response? "Don't come back." Why that didn't set my Spidey senses off, I don't know. I booked it anyway, and found that the reviewer wasn't wrong, and the owner/operator was very unhelpful with the issue (lack of hot water) that came up. So yeah, pay attention and listen to those who have gone before you.

What to expect once you're there

When you're staying in a dorm, you're sharing space with anywhere from three to 15 other people. I opted for the smallest dorms I could find that were in my budget that also were women-only. The dorms that I stayed in had four beds, five beds, and six beds. At no time were all of the beds full, though the six-bed place in Rome had up to five people on various nights. But you should go in expecting them all to be full. So, if you can't sleep with five strangers around you, don't book a dorm with that many beds. 

The showers are shared, so bring shower shoes and a shower caddy. Two of the hostels that I stayed in had communal showers. The one in Naples had two bathrooms on the same floor as our room but didn't have hot water while I was there. I ended up having to go up to the next floor to take a hot shower. Given how important those showers are to me after a really long walk, where the showers were located ended up mattering to me a lot. 

Bring a microfiber towel and washcloth. I know, they're not nearly as luxurious or wonderful as your fluffy towels at home, but they do a great job of drying you while drying themselves very quickly. It wasn't uncommon for me to take two showers a day when I overdid it, and the towel and washcloth were always bone dry each time I needed them. They're relatively cheap, too. At least, cheaper than paying the 2 or 3 Euros a day for a rental towel, and those are also nothing like your towels at home, I promise. 

Don't bring a robe. I'm glad I didn't waste the space on one. I'd have felt very uncomfortable walking from the shower to my room in a robe. Instead, I undressed and dressed in the shower room. Your mileage may vary, but it just felt odd to be undressed walking around the halls, even in a robe. 

Because I was spending so long traveling around with only one backpackful of stuff, laundry was incredibly important to me. It didn't occur to me to check to see if the laundry facilities cost money, so I was surprised in Rome when I had to pay 8 euros per load to wash and dry, plus the cost of the laundry soap. In Barcelona, I just paid for the soap, which I got from the front desk. (In Rome, there was a vending machine for everything from paddle locks to our breakfast tickets, including laundry soap.) I didn't even try to use the laundry in Naples as it wasn't worth trying to ask any of the hostel staff for help.

The lockers usually require a small lock. I brought one I had from home, only to realize that while it worked in one place, it didn't in another. I had to buy a smaller lock from one of the Rome hostel vending machines to use in their lockers. The hostel in Naples didn't have lockers in the room itself. Rather, the lockers were down in reception, which was a pain for me to keep my Chromebook in. I ended up hiding the Chromebook in the room instead of locking it up, but that was a risk I wouldn't suggest. It helped that the room was mostly empty. I don't remember the hostel's description mentioning this.

Party place or restful roost

Hostels are geared toward younger people, so there are plenty of places that have bars on site, lots of party buses, and any number of other ways to get drunk and stupid. If that's your jam, they're not hard to find. They're also pretty easy to identify via the reviews and options on HostelWorld. 

That being said, while I really wanted somewhere quiet to sleep once I was done climbing mountains or walking for miles, I also really enjoyed having somewhere to visit with other people during down time. It helped me feel connected to humanity while traveling alone.

The Barcelona hostel had a bar on the ground floor with inexpensive beer and sangria and a dedicated bartender. I ended up spending nearly every evening sitting at the bar, nursing a drink or two, and writing on my blog. It was a lovely way to meet folks, and still have down time.

There wasn't really that option at the hostel in Naples, nor was there really any place to sort of relax outside of the dorm itself. The congregation spot was really the kitchen, but while the workers/volunteers gathered there, they never really seemed open to my joining them. I don't know if it was an age thing or what, but no one else in the dorm joined them either. Not having that dedicated space to gather, I think, was a major factor for my feelings of loneliness while I was there.

In Rome, there was a bar, but it didn't have the same comfortable feeling as the one in Barcelona. The bartender was a delight but it seemed like more of a place for groups to gather rather than for individuals to meet. That being said, I did end up meeting a couple of very nice people there over the course of my stay.

Your hosts and hostesses at the hostels

The bartenders and breakfast staff in Barcelona, Sy and Estephania, were volunteers from California and Illinois, respectively, who came to spend eight weeks at the hostel. In exchange for their room, breakfast, and all they chose to drink at the bar, they worked somewhere between 20-30 hours a week either in the bar or setting up breakfast. I found that volunteering at hostels is actually a great way for younger people to spend time in another country at a minimal cost to themselves.

Not everyone are volunteers, however. Most are paid staff. Nearly everyone speaks English. They come from all over the world. But please, don't make the assumption that someone of another race isn't from the country you're in. There were Spanish employees in Barcelona who were black. In Rome, the bartender, a paid employee, looked decidedly south Asian and was born and raised in Rome. Be just as respectful in those countries as you would be in the US. 

At no time did I ever encounter the actual owner of any of the hostels. These are company-owned, for the most part. The employees are your only recourse when problems come up, so be kind to them from the beginning. I mean, you should be kind anyway, let's be real. But these people are mostly young, mostly from elsewhere, and mostly unsure on a few of the things that can come up. Be gentle in your requests, critiques, and comments.

What I'd do differently next time

There are a few things that I will do differently next time I book a hostel. 

• Verify that laundry facilities don't have additional costs
• Look for spaces with a bar but the reviews aren't all about how much fun partying the reviewers had
• Pay attention to the reviewers' comments
• Spring for the smaller dorms or get a single room whenever possible
• Use the kitchen more often to make meals rather than wasting money on eating out

But in general, I really enjoyed the whole hostel experience. For a cost-reducing option on long trips like the one I was on, it's worth every penny. You'll have to be open to unusual experiences, and be willing and able adapt to different personalities. I met some great people on my trip because I could and would do those things. It made traveling alone a lot less lonely.

*I get nothing by mentioning HostelWorld to you all. It was incredibly useful to me, so I'm sharing that with all of you. I promise, no quid pro quo here. *grins*

I'm annoyed with my current hostel

There's a part of me that keeps wondering if things feel so wrong here because Barcelona felt so  comfortable. The hostel was a delight, the employees/volunteers were friendly, and the city truly did feel like it was happy to have you there. I don't know how else to explain it. Several of the hostel volunteers, mostly American, and I were talking one night at the hostel bar about how comfortable everything in Barcelona felt. In unison, we all breathed out, "If feels like... home." And it did. Before my plane took off for Italy, I was looking at apartments and houses on the outskirts of Barcelona to see if it were at all possible to buy a place. (It is.)

My stuff all packed up and ready to leave HelloBCN. :(

Then I get to Naples and, well, it's not home. It's not even your worst aunt's house. It feels angry that I'm here, and when I walk down the street, even in the early morning hours, it's as if sandpaper rubs against my skin. I've seen two school girls laugh, while all others keep carefully neutral faces at best, scowl at worst. Even the woman at the coffee shop where I picked up my croissant and cafe leche this morning seemed annoyed that I spoke to her (which I'd made every effort to do in Italian). It all feels ... wrong.

Add to it the hostel that I'm at. First, it's nearly impossible to find the door as it's unmarked. (Okay, this isn't entirely true. I saw the sign this evening when I came back from Pompei. It's impossible to read as it's completely covered in graffiti, but it's there.) It's in a back alley (probably a street, but to Americans, it will look and feel like a back alley) that has minimal lighting. The giant green-painted iron door pivots quietly and easily, though it looks like a prison door.

Once inside, it's actually fairly nice. It's clean(ish), with travertine flooring throughout. The entrance is on the ground floor, and the reception and lockers are up one flight of stairs (First Floor in Europe). The room that I'm staying in is up another flight of stairs (Second Floor in Europe, but my legs know it as Third Floor). One must unlock another large, iron door to enter the Second Floor area, then go down a winding hallway into a sad, drab little sitting area.

To the right is my room, a large, airy space with five beds. It's clean, has large cupboards (that don't lock) against one wall, and each bed has a small table and lamp.

There's also a tiny balcony outside the window, which absolutely terrifies me. I've gone out there twice: Once to take pictures, and once to hang out my towel and washcloth. I shook like a child both times.

To the left of the sitting area is the Second Floor kitchen. (There is another kitchen on the Third Floor, which is where breakfast is served.) Through the kitchen is another hallway that curves around to two bathrooms and the staff/volunteers' quarters.

It's an interesting set-up, and once I got inside last night, I felt fairly safe and comfortable with the place. Until this evening.

To say that I've been running around a lot is putting it mildly. As of today, I've averaged 22,000 steps a day, or around 10 miles. Today was over 27,000 steps. My body aches, and I'm exhausted. I just wanted a warm dinner, maybe some friendly conversation, and a hot shower. I had pizza leftovers from lunch, so once I could drag myself off my cot, I went to the kitchen to heat it up.

Three of the volunteers were in the kitchen making spaghetti for dinner. One showed me how to use the oven while the other two said nothing. I put my pizza in the oven, and sat down at the table to wait for it to heat up. The three volunteers - two young women and one young man - sat down at the other end of the table to eat. They chatted among themselves, but made zero effort to talk to me. Their conversation was such that it was kind of impossible to insert myself into it without being rude, so I sat quietly.

Once the pizza came out, I pulled it out, sat back down, and ate it, still being totally excluded by my tablemates. They weren't rude, but they weren't friendly, either. They just kept to themselves ... completely.

After, I put my things away, cleaned up my dishes, and went to get my things for a hot shower. I'd had hot food, had, um, listened to conversation, and now I needed the hot shower. I loaded up my arms with all that I needed, and headed to the bathroom, which is, as I mentioned, on the other side of the kitchen from my room. All three volunteers saw me walk past them obviously going to shower.

The bathroom isn't huge, but it isn't small, really. There just isn't a lot of space to set things down. So, I put most of my stuff on the floor, turned on the shower, and got my towel and washcloth out. I turned around and realized that the showerhead was pointed at the wall without the water tray in the bottom, so water was pouring onto the floor. I squeaked, turned the head, and then grabbed my clothing and dropped them into the (thankfully) dry sink. I cleaned up the water as best I could with the rug and handtowel, but as I did so, I realized that the water I was cleaning up was cold. Not even tepid. Cold. I had turned the showerhead quickly, but not paid attention. Now I checked to make sure that I'd turned the handle to the correct side, and felt the water again. Yes, definitely cold.

Maybe it just took a bit to warm up. I mean, it's an old building. I waited. And I waited. And finally, I gave up, turned off the water, put on my pajamas, and gathered up my things to leave. I was once again locked into the bathroom and it took me a few minutes fiddling with the ancient key and lock in the door before I was able to free myself. (This is a common theme here regarding door locks, by the way.)

I walked to the kitchen and asked if there was a problem with the hot water.

"Oh, there's no hot water on the second floor. You'll have to go up to the third floor if you want hot water. The boiler for this floor is broken and the guy didn't come today."

I just look at the young man. "I see."

"Sorry!" says one of the young women with a bright smile.

"So, go to the third floor? That's okay?"

"Oh, sure. Yes. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Mmhmm." I sigh deeply, go to my room to drop off my clothing, and head up the stairs to the third (fourth) floor for my (hopefully) hot shower. This bathroom was smaller yet, so I was really grateful that I'd dropped my clothing off prior to going up. I dumped my pajamas into the sink (still dry!) and turn the water on. It was, indeed, hot! *happy dance, albeit slowly and with considerable pain*

I showered, brushed my teeth, cleaned up the bathroom (the shower tray leaked so there was water on the floor again), and headed back downstairs. I put my shower stuff away, then headed out onto the terrifying balcony to hang up my towel and washcloth before crawling into my fairly comfortable cot.

Oh, and did I mention that the tap water in Naples isn't safe to drink? I asked one of the volunteers where I might be able to get a bottle of water, and she suggested the bar at the end of the alley. "I mean, they serve beer and wine, but I'm sure they'd sell you a bottle of water, too." There's no grocery store nearby? No convenience store? "No. Just go there." (Google says there's a grocery store a five-minute walk away that closed half an hour ago. *rolls eyes*)

So, while my room is comfortable and I feel safe here, I'm not thrilled with my accommodations. It's not HelloBCN by any stretch of the imagination, and Naples is most definitely not Barcelona.

I leave Wednesday morning. Not that I'm counting down or anything. (36 hours)