You know what you’re getting when your nightly accommodation budget wouldn’t even buy you a sandwich in Sydney.
When you make the decision to choose a hostel over a hotel, you acknowledge that the experience will come without some things – things like fresh, monogrammed bath robes and consistent heating – and with some others – questionable stains and even more questionable bunk mates.
For example, once upon a time in a six-person dorm in Edinburgh, I awoke to a sight that will forever be burned into my retinas.
It was a middle-aged woman who’d had a few too many cordials the night before and fallen into bed in nothing but her birthday suit — fitting, as it was her birthday she was celebrating.
Evidently, she didn’t feel the need for a sheet or doona as she slept through that warm morning, either.