When a Backpacker Grows Up

When I took my first solo trips through Europe, when I was approximately age 20-25, I stayed in hostels. Hostels are the cheapest option by far, but you have to share your sleeping, living, and bathroom space with complete strangers from all over the world. It was lovely and fun - there were always new people to meet and conversations to enjoy and adventures to undertake. There was a time when I couldn't imagine travelling any other way.

But there was a reason why I couldn't imagine travelling any other way - I didn't have anything else to compare it to! I'd lived in my college dorm - many hostels were way more fancy. I didn't yet need or want or depend on a whole lot to be comfortable.

I remember recommending hostels to my parents at an early point in that period. I don't remember what my mother said in response, but I very clearly remember the look on her face and the shudder of disgust that followed. As the wise Rick Steves warned me, hostels are not for everyone. 

Years later, I remembered that conversation when my then-boyfriend stayed in a youth hostel on his post-bar trip to London. He and his buddy were both 29 at the time, and were very uncomfortable with the whole hostel set-up. I reflected on how lucky I was to have stayed in hostels when I did. 

Now, at a young age that happens to be past the 20-25 range, I'm in a very different place, in life and in travel plans. I don't need all the frills of a big hotel, but I put a much higher premium on my creature comforts. And for that reason, I think my hostel days are behind me.

On this trip, my accommodations are a step or two above a youth hostel: simple budget hotels or good-value Airbnb places. Now that I have a little more to spend, I'm happy to spend a little more to have my own room and bathroom, and to have air conditioning, in a quieter setting with fewer people. 

But even today, with my very own hotel room and many amenities waiting for me, I'll confess that walking past hostels and the people enjoying them brings a twinge of nostalgia. While I can't and wouldn't ultimately want to go back to that time, I miss the freedom of not needing or wanting much to be content. I wonder when and how the joys of air conditioning and a private bathroom became more important than the possibility of adventure that hostels offer. I wonder what I can take from each of those experiences on this trip, and where the "right" balance is for me.