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Sep 15

I love hostels!

Posted on Tuesday, September 15, 2009 in Travel

My first hostel experience at age nineteen was my worst only because my friend and I did not know what to expect. It was not until years later that I rediscovered them through sites such as hostels.com and hostelworld.com and fell in love. I have since stayed at fifteen hostels throughout Europe and the States.

I grew up vacationing in tents and an expandable trailer (I miss it). As an adult, I’ve been fortunate to have enjoyed deluxe accommodations like the Intercontinental, a fabulous five-star hotel in Singapore, New York’s four-star le Parker Meridien, and various gawdy hotels in Las Vegas.

WHAT TO EXPECT

  1. small quarters
  2. bunk beds
  3. sometimes no windows
  4. people who may not clean up after themselves
  5. few bathrooms
  6. varying levels of security
  7. mostly young people
  8. sometimes a chronically ill person
  9. sometimes a creepy f*er
  10. noise, especially if you’re on a popular street
  11. planned hostel events like pub crawls or dinners
  12. usually a great location
  13. a really cheap price
  14. paying a bit extra for linens or possibly internet
  15. sometimes a kitchen and use of the frig
  16. to book, pay only 10% up front, if you don’t show, you’re charged one night’s stay only

I personally tend not to hang with people at the hostel, just because I prefer to party with the locals and not speak English, the prevalent hostel language.

WHAT DO I LOVE?

The fact that it’s cheap allows me to travel much more often than I would if I always stayed in hotels. There are people to hang out with if you’re bored, and you have a kitchen (sometimes) to store your food. There’s usually free wi-fi or PCs and a metro stop is often nearby.

HOW TO FIND A GREAT HOSTEL

Your primary tool is the rating system. On booking sites, each hostel is rated by its guests. I usually stay at hostels in the 75% to 90% satisfied category. Secondly, you look at the written reviews. Through them, you see what quirks you might not enjoy, like being on a major street, rude staff, or cold showers. If I see any reviews of bedbugs, that puts me on edge. Once in a New York budget hotel, I woke up looking like a leper. No thanks. I’ve never been attacked by bedbugs at a hostel. As for noise? Bring earplugs. I usually come back to the hostel at 4 or 6 a.m. I’d hate to wake you up. One more thing, if you’re getting on in years, hostels are probably not for you. Meaning, if you’re an older person, you may fall into the “creepy f*er” category, and I’d hardly want to encourage you to be my roomy.

If you’re staying for a decent period of time in one city, book several locations, for variety’s sake. You’ll discover more parts of the city, and if you happen to have a roommate that hacks up her guts every night and guilts you into buying her dinner, you can say, “Bye, bitch.”

Finally, at the end of a trip, I like to book a a single room to decompress, shop like mad and not worry about where to put all the new stuff, and just enjoy being by myself. I found a crazily-prized, highly-rated single room in Barcelona for a miniscule 25€ a night, including taxes and booking fees, through barcelona30.com.

I personally have had no issues of theft in a hostel. Usually, people who travel in hostels already have so much shit, the last thing they want is yours. Laptops are very common so unless yours is amazing or light like a netbook, there isn’t much of a draw. Plus, you can just put those things in a locker. Also, don’t bring things that would make you cry if you lost them. That’s just standard travel advice.

Enough about hostels. I’m almost done booking mine for my upcoming trip. One more city to go. Happy hosteling!

Sep 3

Roma, you suck, but you coulda been cool

Posted on Thursday, September 3, 2009 in clothes, clubs / discos / bars, rants, Travel

So I neglected to rant about my April trip to Rome.  This is probably because I’d returned to Barcelona and successfully washed Rome off of me in the Catalan city I call “where my heart is.” Pardon the euphemism.

After I arrive in the slut I call Rome, I take a loudly-squeaking, graffiti-covered train  – think of an old lady in metal form – and then get ripped off by a seemingly warm-hearted taxi driver. “Oh, your first time in Rome, eh?” – which in Italian means “I am going to rape your wallet, but with a huge smile on my face.” He even asked what I was doing so far on the other side of the city, when in actuality the train station and my hostel were on the same side and it was a mere five-minute drive from the station. The meter he was using was very odd – no decimals – and was completely different from any other meter I saw for the rest of my trip.

I pay the damned 20 euros – though it should have been about 8 – because I just want to get to my hotel, dammit. So, bye, a-hole. Hello, f-ing Rome.

My hotel, Hotel Lodi, is an oasis in the grime-ridden, tourist-ridden, old-crap-ridden, noodle-ridden hole I call Rome. The hosts are friendly, it has a lovely courtyard, one of the staff just out of the blue cooks lunch for a few of us, and it is outside of the touristy areas.

The rest of my Roman experience is pretty much crap. The spirit that I thought was the core of the Italian existence is missing. It is as if the tourists have sucked the life out of the city. The city is in ruins, not just its old buildings. Because my guy in Barcelona requested it, I take various pictures of famous sights, but I am unimpressed. I had gone there to live like a Roman, but Romans are no fun anymore. Clubs are small – bars are more the norm – and other than the weekend and a few random clubs on a Monday – namely, an American-filled, hip-hop meat market – I’d say the nightlife, not so great. Roman guys are weird-looking in general – kind of Neanderthal or nondescript, and there’s very little variety in food. And guess what? Carbonara is not good for you. Oh, how it hurts!

I had only booked 4.5 days there, but 3 is enough. I frantically Skype–> fail – -> internet –> fail –> call, to get my flight changed so that I can get back to my beloved Barcelona 1.5 days earlier. I pay 100 euros for the favor – more than my original ticket – and escape!

Of course, my experience could have been a lot better had I remembered to contact people via couchsurfing.org, before my laptop started spazzing. After the fact, I saw that there were an impressive % of good-looking Roman couchsurfers who could have made the trip bearable.

ACTUAL GOOD THINGS ABOUT ROME:

1) A drink called a Spritz, which is Campari, sparkling white wine and sparkling mineral water and twist of orange. My first I had at the Caffe Ducati, which on a late Saturday night was sadly one-tenth full. But the drink was nice. Note: Campari by itself is disgusting!

2) Shopping - not the best I’ve seen but I bought a unique leather purse for 40 euros and a comfy, pretty tiered top. Rome had a Fornarina and Stuary Weitzman shop, plus a lovely billboard of Marion Cotillard, one of my top three fave actresses in the world. She’s a mix of gutsy and vulnerable.

3) Amazing starving artists - do you see this dude doing a masterpiece in chalk? Crazy, eh? Here’s a link to him and his fellow artists: http://madonnaripugliesi.blogspot.com/