Highs and Lows of Hostel Living

I’ve been living in a hostel in central Adelaide for a month now. Having lived most of my life in a household of four (with several years at university in households of six-twelve) it is a new experience to be sharing living areas with over two-hundred others. (I’ll stress, though, my dorm is only shared with three others!)

There are so many reasons that hostels are highly recommended for solo backpackers. They are the most affordable accommodation option when you’re on your own – even though in Australia they are definitely not cheap – and, with so many others wandering the same hallways, you’re bound to find someone you get along with. I’ve made friends through passing comments in the kitchen: compliments on earrings, laughing over the charred skins of pancakes. Once, I overheard a conversation happening at a nearby table, and made eye contact with one of the participants. He invited me over, I joined the conversation, and that was how I ended up at a festival with new friends that Friday. Since then, I’ve found that I’m always experiencing moments of connection in the hostel’s communal areas. There is always someone around, someone to hang out with, someone to tell you’re going to bed, only to accidentally stay up with talking for an hour more. 

But hostels have their challenges. Sharing every living space – kitchen, bathroom, dorm – with others means that privacy is infrequent, downtime little. Sometimes, I get tired, and even though my head feels stuffed with cotton wool, I hesitate to lie and rest because hiding feels like failure here. 

And I can’t relax like I can at home. The space isn’t mine in the same way. Whilst it’s clean enough, and safe, it lacks the comfort of home. And it is tiring not to give yourself permission to pause. Fatigue gives way to other feelings. When I’m exhausted and my defences are down, my patience drops. And then it's tough to be surrounded by others. Sometimes, you need to be alone.

But I am learning how to deal with these challenges; I am getting better at being uncomfortable. Periods of discomfort are unavoidable, but temporary and even necessary. So I’m making peace with them. And I am understanding how to respect my boundaries. Learning when I need to take time to rest, and ensuring I do. Because I know that the discomfort will pass. And when I've rested, and I’m feeling more myself again, I know that outside my door is a world of connection, both established and potential.