Hostel Living: Ten Days of Unexpected Characters

Our experience at Flinders Backpackers Hostel was a rollercoaster. Not only was our patience tested, but so was our sanity — often at the same time.

The bathrooms were relatively close to our four-bed, all-female bedroom, yet a single trip there involved much more hassle than we’d pre-empted. I (stupidly) purchased a lock that could only be opened by a key. I had three, but managed to lose two in the first few days. In order to find any of my possessions, I had to actually find one of the keys, get down on my hands and knees to open my locker, and search for the desired item, which was often tightly rolled up in a packing cube or at the bottom of a wash bag. This ritual was carried out around ten times a day and often in total darkness, as one of our long-term dorm mates frequently decided to shut the curtains and get into bed in the middle of the day. As you can imagine, she was a ball of fun.

Another dorm mate of ours was equally as tricky… in her own way. She made a habit of waking us up in the middle of the night, either by turning her light on so that it shone directly in our faces, or by crashing around the room like a manic horse. This could be because she wasn’t so fond of us, potentially due to our late-night entrances and not-so-quiet indoor voices.

Although we may have made some enemies, we also managed to meet our first ever friend here in Melbourne. On day six, we decided enough was enough. Why hadn’t we made any friends yet? Was it because we knocked over people’s food in the communal fridge? Was it due to the loud voices and boisterous energy we brought into the kitchen? Or was it simply because we couldn’t stop giggling at everything and everyone? Well, our new bestie, Frank, saw past all of that. He kindly shared his washing pods with us in the laundry room, and later that day we got chatting and had a monumental oversharing session at the pub. He has made our time here a joy.

Another night, when we were making spaghetti bolognese, this tall man — whom we nicknamed ‘Slenderman’ — was peering over our saucepan. He grimaced at the burnt onion and carrots sizzling at the bottom of the pan and asked, “What is that?” in his strong Italian accent. As it turns out, this man was from Bologna, and he seemed to greatly disapprove of the appearance of our dinner. However, we quickly managed to win him over when we gave him a spoon of our bolognese, which he rated a solid ten out of ten. Recipe dropping soon.

While the intense interactions we had with strangers at Flinders were memorable, and although the tribulations of going to the kitchen were amusing, moving to our Airbnb was massively needed. We now have our own space, and although it may be small, at least we can now cook naked and shower with the door open.