Chasing Amy-Lou

A week after leaving the delights of hostel life in Brisbane (oh the sarcasm), I’ve found myself looking back, contemplating and yearning for that crowded, smelly, noisy, badly air-conditioned, backpacker platform again (sorry, I can’t help it, it’s the lowest form of wit; sue me).

In all seriousness though, I am missing the hostel life just a tad, but that’s only purely for social reasons, and if we’re getting down to the nitty gritty here, I’m missing the intimacy of a slightly smaller hostel, one where everybody knows your name (pun definitely intended, and for all those who don’t know what I’m referencing here, you’re obviously way too young. Go brush up on your Ted Danson knowledge), one where people actually speak to each other in the corridors or the kitchen, rather than just avoiding eye contact and merely issuing a smile. This, amongst other things, is what I experienced at Base Central in Brisbane and to be honest, I found it wasn’t the most social of hostels I’ve ever stayed at and I’m pretty glad to be out of it.

Situated directly opposite Central Station, Base prides itself on being in an ideal location (it is), boasts over three floors of shared accommodation and single dorm rooms (it has over 400 beds and is nearly always fully booked), has a bangin’ basement bar/club (possibly one of the worst places I’ve ever step foot in) and likes to think of itself as a hub of activity for meeting other like-minded travellers, ready to explore, to party, to mingle, to adventure…erm…ok…then…

I’m possibly being way too critical here, but when you’ve stayed in a place like this for over five weeks, you begin to really notice that even the slightest little things can piss you off. Here’s just a few things I want to rant about:

1) When there’s possibly more than 32 girls and 32 boys on one floor, why not think it’s a GREAT idea to close all the toilets and showers on that floor and make over 64 people use the bathrooms on the other floors, making bathroom traffic twice as bad as it usually is. Genius.

2) Have one kitchen with three fridges, not enough cutlery and no ovens. Place all the hobs in one corner and let all the guests in the hostel fight over clean spoons while waiting for a free microwave to cook your noodles in because the gaggle of German lads have used three of the six hobs to cook their pasta on.

3) Air conditioning. It would be nice to have some that actually worked. All of the time.

4) Common room. Base lacked in this one vital thing that I feel all hostels should have. Yes, there was a TV room (usually dark and full of zombie-eyed drones watching movies), yes it had a communal area with a couple of computers to sit at and yes, it had a kitchen, but there wasn’t actually anywhere you could go and chill, on a beanbag or a sofa and chat to randoms. Ok, it had a rooftop terrace where I used to sit and sunbathe, and I did meet a couple of girls up there who I’m still friends with; and ok, it had a bar, the infamous (yes INFAMOUS) Down Under Bar (more on this later) but this wasn’t for the sole use of the backpackers in the hostel; any Tom, Dick or Harry could drink in there so you never knew when you were chatting to a backpacker, or a local. I wanted full on communal debauchery. For backpackers. For socialising! God Damn it.

5) Not a necessity I admit, but a bit of free WiFi wouldn’t go amiss, know what I’m saying? It’s not as if we travellers are on a budget or anything…

6) Showers that actually spray water at you instead of issuing a tiny, little, pissy bit of liquid that is either too hot or too cold. We’re in the 21st Century here, it’s not too much to ask for really, is it?

7) A fucking annoying loudspeaker system that blasts out at least three times a day on every floor. You can hear it in every room. Well, when I say hear it, what I really mean is you can here someone speaking over it but you could NEVER distinguish a fucking word they were saying. Whether this was some ‘funny’ hostel joke to entertain the reception staff (‘I know, lets make the announcements inaudible and amuse ourselves and see how many people come down to ask what we’ve just said’), or whether they genuinely had no idea how to use a microphone, I will never know.

8) Roommates who either don’t speak to you until you politely introduce yourself, or those annoying roommates who never, ever shut up. I had the unfortunate experience of being stuck in a room for a week with a girl who didn’t know when to stop talking. Now, I like a good chin wag as much as the next person, probably more actually but this girl? It was like a motor had been shoved in her mouth, filled up with petrol and left to run until there was none left. I also had a couple of roommates for a few days who too enjoyed talking. I was actually stood in my towel one morning, poised and ready to go out the door to the bathroom when I made the mistake of opening a small talk conversation with one of these girls, only to still be stood there fifteen minutes later. Such is life…

9) The Down Under Bar (bear with me on this one, it could be lengthy). Well, well, well, where do I start? It’s not just the fact that this bar has a reputation for being a hotbed in which to pick up girls (or guys; most nights are a sausage fest in there to be honest), and it’s not just the fact that it’s probably the most dingy club I’ve been in for a long time, or the fact the ladies toilets stink of piss, male piss; it’s the god damn music, man! Yes, the drinks might be cheap. Yes, you can get money off with your room key. And yes, if you’re under the age of 25 you’ll probably fucking love it, but my god, do they know how to milk the shit out of a playlist. When I first moved into Base in the middle of October, I was staying on the third floor. We had to keep the window open all the time because the air conditioning didn’t work. This would’ve been fine, had we not been able to hear the music from the bar. All. Fricking. Night. Not just til 2am either, some nights till 5am. And it wasn’t just the melody or the tempo of the music (or the choice, of which I’ll come to next), it was the bass. Jeez, that bass. Thump, thump, thump. Either the DJ had no idea about levels, or the building was so badly constructed that…no, I’m going with the former. I’m guessing if you were only staying in a hostel for, say, three nights, and were on the lash for these three nights, then this would not be a problem. I’m no party pooper, I love an all night bender as much as the next traveller; give me a jaeger and I’m anyone’s. However, when you reside somewhere long-term, the decibel level of the constant output of shite music begins to grate somewhat. Speaking of shite music, Down Under Bar has possibly the worst playlist I’ve ever heard, even if they did play One Direction every night. Let me enlighten you dear reader: now, I pride myself on being somewhat of a music snob, a connoisseur of some sorts (1D are my guilty pleasure, ok?!); I’m a gig-goer, a festival-reveller, an indie-music lover, a soul sista, a funk-lover, a Motown madam, a lover of good 80s synth pop; I am not though, a fan of the same regurgitated chart pap that is the ONE AND ONLY playlist this club has to offer. By the fourth night of my five week stay, I already knew which order the songs were coming in and what to expect next; if I heard Mr Brightside followed by The Jackson 5’s ABC one more time before 10pm then I’d scream. And don’t get me started on Iggy fucking Azalea, that terrible All About That Bass song, Nicky-I’ve got a fat arse and big tits and I’m proud of it-Minge, and the god awful (but everyone seems to cream their pants over it) Chandelier by (predicted) one-hit wonder Sia. My ears are still bleeding now. I know my music taste isn’t favoured by everyone and I am aware that catering to a drunken majority is the way these places operate but c’mon, have a bit of variety!

10) It was so effing big! Like I mentioned earlier, Base had over 400 beds (or maybe it was 800, who knows) and was more or less fully booked all week. I had never stayed in a hostel this big before, the biggest probably being the Blue Mountain in Shanghai or the Wombats in Berlin. The sheer size of Base made it difficult, in my opinion, to keep regular tabs on anyone and to forge lasting friendships. One day you had a new roommate, the next they were gone, before you’d even been able to ask them their name. One day you’d bump into the cute Dutch guy in the corridor, exchange a few words and then fail to see him again until the pub crawl the following week. I found Base to be quite anonymous at times and also quite difficult to meet people. It didn’t seem as friendly as other hostels I’d stayed in, for example, Mosquito in Krakow or One Sants in Barcelona. Maybe this was just Australia though – the bigger the country, the more diverse the travel plans: few people will stay for a long time, more people just for a good time.

11) The staff. Now, you may mistake me for wanting to have a good old pop at the staff working at Base, evidently I’ve done nothing more than slag the place off, on the contrary though, I’d actually like to thank and congratulate them. Despite it being busy and despite there being the usual hostel problems, all the staff I came across were friendly, helpful and pretty good fun. From the paid staff on reception, to the staff working for accommodation, I never had any problems in this area. The kitchen was always cleaned on time, the linen on the beds were changed each morning, or with each departure, the laundry was always done, the bathrooms were cleaned once a day and the general upkeep of the hostel was more than satisfactory. Hoorah, Base Central, you just earned some positive feedback on TripAdvisor!

Concluding then, I’m guessing you’ll be taking some rather positive vibes and informative lessons from this little outburst…jokes. Truthfully? Hostelling isn’t all that bad. I had some good times in Base and met some good people; it certainly wasn’t the worst hostel I’ve ever stayed in. It has however taught me a few valuable lessons and left me with tips I’ll remember for the next time I book into a backpackers. I’ll certainly consider size and will try and go for something a little smaller (first time you’ll hear me say that *ouch*) and more friendly. I’ll also be looking for a hostel which has more common areas such as a pool or its own personal bar, in turn, making it easier to mingle and meet people. I’ll also be taking some personal playlists along with me; it doesn’t hurt to shake the music up a bit now does it? Next stop on the hostelling route is Byron Bay. So, Byron, are you ready for me???