What it’s like to stay in a (youth) hostel when you’re over 50

What it’s like to stay in a (youth) hostel when you’re over 50
Hostel example
bunk beds

 

Why Stay in a Hostel?

I’m a single woman over the age of 50, and traveled solo for the first time during my summer break from teaching. Most friends want to travel for two weeks–three at the most. But I had the summer off and wanted to make the most of it. To save money, I decided to stay in a hostel.

I arrived in Madrid, groggy from airplane sleep, and when the cab driver dropped me off in front of Safestay Hostel I had no idea what to expect.

The building was on a main street and in a great location. I could see a sign for the Prado Museum from the sidewalk. Throngs of people were out on the streets. Madrid was happening.

Check In

Similarly, the lobby was bustling and lively even though it was well after 10:00 p.m. Everyone seemed under the age of thirty. I worried they’d say something like ‘We do you want? We don’t allow old people here.’Happily, they welcomed me. The young guy at the front desk (they were all students I learned later) spoke in broken English for a minute then referred me to a friendly, smiling dark-haired young man named Yezan.

He went over the rules: the cost was $16 per night for my two-night stay and I would be sharing a room with 11 other women. My room key would get me through the front door and entrance to my room only, and there was a five euros deposit for the key. Wifi was free. If I wanted breakfast, it was five euros per day for all I could eat, but he gave me a token for the first meal, as a courtesy.

He deposited a stack of sheets in front of me. “You make your bed. Do you want a towel?”

I did.

“How about a lock?”

“What do I need that for?”

“To lock up your valuables.”

The lock was another five-euro deposit.

I had to show my passport and pay in advance. Yezan gave me a tour of the place after than and a bit of history. He took me to the dining room where they served breakfast, and the kitchen. I was able store groceries or cook a meal, if I wanted. He took me by the lounge where several people watched television and the “library” where I could exchange books. An gray-haired man of at least sixty was on a computer.

“After you check out,” Yezan said, “you bring the towel and sheets from your bed, along with your key, and you get your deposit back.”

The Room

The room was furnished with six bunk beds, a small table, and lockers. It looked like everything had come from IKEA (a common decor in the world of hostels). Various suitcases were stashed next to beds, but otherwise, it was clean. The bathroom was down a long hallway, also very clean, and equipped with about eight showers, sinks, and toilets. Since I was on the top bunk, I wasn’t looking forward to having to pee in the middle of the night.

A couple of my hostel mates were in the room when I got back. They were in their thirties (yay—I wasn’t the only non-student), and I was pleased with how friendly and welcoming they were, especially since I was traveling solo. They were on their way out for the evening and warned me that most of the other women would be coming back very late. “You might want to get some earplugs.”

That night remains the third noisiest of all my hostel stays. The damn door to the room clanged shut every time someone went in and out, and it felt as if someone came or went all night long.

Day 2

By morning, I wondered if the cheap price was worth it. During breakfast I met two lovely teachers—my age—from Toronto. They had a private room. I hadn’t realized this was an option. Maybe I ignored this fact since they were pricier. I was determined to stick it out and make the best of it. Everything else about the hostel was nice: friendly people friendly, the breakfast was well-worth five euros, fabulous location (hostels usually are). And you can’t beat the price. That night was Sunday, and either I fell into an exhausted slumber, or it really was much quieter because I slept like a baby.

Bottom Line

I love staying in hostels. I’m considered a globetrotter by Hostelworld.com. Here are some tips on having the best experience:

  • Use a site like hostelworld.com to book, and choose hostels with good ratings.
  • Check the location (how far from city centre) because you might not want to be way out in the boonies (happened to me in Pamplona) or right in the middle of the city. Also, how good are the directions? Some are a chore to find, especially if they are in the middle of an old city that doesn’t have proper signage and cars aren’t allowed. When you are tired and dragging a suitcase it can get frustrating.
  • Read reviews, but don’t get too freaked out by a couple of bad ones if the overall are comments are good. Some people will complain about anything.
  • Look at the images and remember that it is probably going to look a little worse than that.
  • Get to know your hostel mates. You learn so much! I have met some wonderful people of all ages. I am Facebook friends with at least twenty people I’ve met in hostels, including Yezan, the guy at the front desk.
  • Finally, it’s a good idea to intersperse your hostel stays with hotel stays, especially on longer vacations. Every so often you need a room (and bathroom) to yourself.

 

 

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