Wednesday 12th – Saturday 15th
Wednesday morning the family arrived back from their holiday to the house we had been sitting for the last three weeks. We had spent the previous day trying to gather all our stuff and repack our backpacks (nightmare). We also made sure the house was in top condition for their arrival home – after a 30+ hour journey with two young children we knew they’d want to come back to a warm and clean house!
So they arrived at 7.30am on Wednesday. We sat and had coffee and a catch up then left them to settle back into their home. We were now making our way to St. Kilda to our next stay – Pint on Punt backpackers hostel. It was the cheapest hostel we could find with availability, priced at $62 for three nights. Only problem is – our check in time was 2pm, and it was currently 8am. So we hopped on the tram in no rush and made our way to St Kilda. We had the idea to go to the public library, as it is nice and warm there and free (its quite a chilly day). So we get all the way to the library and its closed for a staff training day. We then have to get back on the tram and we head towards a McDonalds – again warm and free to sit in!
We then realise we had gotten on the wrong tram – classic Erin and Siobhain. So, we get off at the next stop and then get on the correct tram. Once in Mcdonalds (after a short walk – Erin wasn’t too impressed, carrying her 85L backpack and a smaller 20L rucksack) we chill and wait, but by this time its 11.30 anyway. We managed to waste a lot of time just riding on trams going in all manner of directions. At around 12 we get back on the next tram and make our way to the hostel. There is a pub below the hostel that opens at 12. So we arrive and sit in the pub for a well deserved drink!
At 3pm we check in. We’re pretty excited because neither of us have stayed in hostels before, and we’re ready for a proper night out. We’re also looking forward to a couple of days without the responsibility of looking after two crazy dogs. BUT – it all goes down hill from there. I’m 100% certain we hadn’t really thought properly about hostel life, if we had we definitely would have adjusted our expectations. Anyway, we walk into our dorm. We chose a 4 bed dorm – 4 bed is better than 10 bed right?…wrong. One room should not have any more than 2 beds! Standard rule we now have! Living in such close proximity to two total strangers is not my idea of fun. But, in the travelling spirit and trying not to be such a socially awkward human I suck it up and think of the positives. We have only been here for 10 minutes after all.
We see that both the bottom bunks are taken and my immediate reaction was excitement – top bunk seemed like all fun and games, until I actually tried to climb up onto the bed. Let me just put a picture in your mind of the kind of bunk beds I’m talking about. Think….Ikea, flat packed, held together with tiny screws, made out of metal that isn’t really metal, the whole frame shakes and rattles. That is the kind of bunk bed I’m talking about. A bunk bed that I’m guessing has an age limit – possibly labelled 10+, but what it really means is, appropriate for 10 year olds and up, as long as you weigh 6 stone and sleep in a death like stillness – all of which I do not. I kid you not, the frame is about as thick as a white board maker.
So I put my foot on the first step and hold on to the top of the frame – immediately the entire bed shakes, leaving me feeling old and obese. I hoist myself onto the bed and am seriously surprised when the stupid thing is still standing in one piece. Next challenge – actually sleep in the top bunk for the next three nights. Sarcastic ‘YAYYYYS’ all round.
We have showers (gross communal showers – I immediately hate hostel life. Sharing is not a hobby of mine. I even had my own bathroom for most of my uni life). And then go down to the pub for some dinner. Okay so, they have a special backpackers menu with cheaper prices, which is obviously a bonus. But, the menu is seriously limited and the food we had was errr…..not the healthiest, or the nicest! Feeling disgusting we head back to our dorm and meet one of our dorm people (roommate? dorm mate? hostel friend? what do you call these people, its all very new). In this moment realise that I am extremely high maintenance and socially inept (although I knew I was socially inept anyway, but the high maintenance thing is new, maybe – I am pretty set in my ways. And slightly OCD) Our dorm person then mentions Wednesday nights are free cheese and wine night, so I begin to feel a little better and conversation gets a little easier – it was also helpful that she was a chatty person. It meant I didn’t have to create the conversation, otherwise we’d probably be at in silence if that was the case! I am actually a nice person I swear lol. I’m just one of those strange people that finds it easier to talk to animals than humans, which makes it weird that I chose a degree in Sports Therapy – which requires quite significant social skills.
So trying not to be socially awkward we go to the cheese and wine thing, feeling like this is more like our kind of style. Apart from when we turn up theres a plate full of cheddar, but not real cheddar – basically a block of cheese strings melted together, and wine that had been poured out of a box into clear glass bottles (not that I’m against boxed wine, Sainsbury’s boxed wine got me through many a night out at uni). You had to grab a glass from the bar and then hep yourself. DAMMMMIT. This is not what I had in mind. I was expecting silver trays of varying cheeses being brought around to small groups of talking people by a waiter, whilst another waiter pours a selection of wines to your taste.
Strong realisation that as I have gotten older (I’m only 23 but I think my soul is like 40 years old) my high maintenance traits have gotten far more poignant. Totally get that from my mother, thanks mum. Although at uni I could definitely get in touch with my inner savage, even though I did still have my luxuries and my uni life was pretty luxurious compared to some. But, turns out, I can’t even hack one night of savage any more.
Until a few classes of cheap red wine later and myself and Erin are running back up to our delightful dorm to get changed and go out with fellow hostel people. This is obviously where our expectations and standards finally lower, we decide to suck it up be social and go out, and we have a really good night. We’ve both start to enjoy the hostel vibe a bit more (despite still feeling slightly concerned about sleeping in a bunk bed that may as well be made out of paper). Mostly we enjoy the much needed night out with very little responsibility.
We eventually get back to the hostel at 4am, a little worse for wear after being up for now 24 hours. I walk into our dorm and remember that I have to share a room with two random people and I have to somehow climb up onto the top bunk. I can’t even explain how I got up onto that bunk bed – wearing an extremely tight dress, no glasses on (basically blind without glasses), and slightly intoxicated. 100% sure it wasn’t a very elegant site. But hay, I made it onto the bed and we slept until afternoon time the next day.
Upon waking up the next day we immediately go back to hating hostel life. Feeling a little rough from the night before I was missing home comforts – like a bath/shower that wasn’t shared with other people. At the hostel I could be showering and theres a cubicle next to me with someone else showering – just no!! I also wanted a nice cup of coffee, and Netflix, and a nice comfy warm bed to recover in all day. Hostel hangover was causing way too much distress. By this point I seriously missed waking up hungover in my own bed in England, with a clean and private bath, a beautiful coffee machine, working wifi that allows me to watch Netflix all day with no interruptions, usually a hungover evening at home would involve pizza and snacks with the people I had been out with the night before. But errr, none of that exists at a hostel. You just wake up gross and continue to be gross for the entirety of your stay!!
The next two days we explore St Kilda and try to get out of the hostel as much as possible. Its nice to get fresh air and do what we actually came here to do – see things, and do things we enjoy. We did a costal walk from St Kilda beach to Brighton beach. We walked a good 12+ miles and saw some pretty impressive views. It was also a super warm day, perfect beach weather. We did kind of wish we had rented bikes, it was a really good cycle route. But we still had fun walking.
By the morning of Saturday 22nd we were so ready to leave. Our last night was a sleepless one because of the noise (Friday night in a hostel – not sure what we expected). We had spent the last three days spending money like it grows on trees, but it was almost unavoidable. We were totally fed up sharing a tiny room with two other people (who were super ill and snotting everywhere – not ideal) and four huge backpacks which took up the entirely of the floor space, sleeping on a mattress closer to the ceiling than the floor, one flat tiny pillow, freezing cold room, sharing showers and bathrooms, and a tiny and unequipped kitchen. Also the wifi was useless – which meant no blogging! I’m glad we did the hostel, we met some people and had a good night out, that I think was needed. But theres no way Id do a hostel for a long period of time. By the third night I had died inside a little and longed for basic things like a bed that was actually on the ground, and food that wasn’t beige in colour!
If you are a young solo traveller who has been to uni and is an outgoing social butterfly who wants numerous nights out, a hostel is the perfect place to be! 18 year old me possibly would have enjoyed hostel life but it just didn’t suit what myself and Erin were looking for on this trip. Back at home I somehow got into a bit of a pickle with life, I lost all ambition and ended up in a trapping routine of working but living for the weekend, and completely wasting hard earned money – thats what the hostel felt like to me, but obviously a more full on version. Not really enjoyable and not a way I would choose to live. Ive never been a 9-5 living for the weekend kind of person, I want more from life than that, which is part of the reason I decided to travel. It was a routine I was looking to get away from, and my travel goals were therefore clearly very different from many of the others staying in the hostel.
It was such a comparison to the last three weeks spent house sitting. And I must say, housesitting has been perfect for us. We’ve seen so much, we’ve been able to do lots of actual travelling for a very low cost, and we’ve got a feel of what real Australian life is. Valuable for me because living here permanently is a consideration. So I learnt a lot from the Hostel and Id totally recommend trying it, buy its really not for everyone! Now looking forward to the next 10 weeks in Wodonga for our next house sit – comfortable in knowing we’re not missing out on anything hostel life has to offer!
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