Planning my trip I knew enough about dormitory sleeping – purgatory for me and my bladder - to book single en suite rooms at the backpackers’ hostels in Sydney and Melbourne. I struck lucky in Sydney where the management ran a tight ship and partyers were made to clear up and shut up at 11 pm. On the whole they complied and the only cockroach I saw was dead on arrival, probably because someone was paid to give the kitchen a good clean every morning.
Melbourne was a different story; doors to a balcony that ran the length of the top floor enabling the party people whose drug of choice I guessed to be Ecstasy, to play outside including outside my room. They also dominated the communal kitchen and dining area with a mega sound system. One glance in the cupboards told me that I didn’t want to use the kitchen anyway and a diet of supermarket salads and fruit was good for me anyway. Didn’t see cockroaches though – probably driven off by the noise. My fellow hostellers were nice to me though and I was nice to them, while thinking uncharitable thoughts about the parents who were probably paying for all this. Advice to university admissions tutors – never believe what kids say about their gap years.
Booking, I’d congratulated myself on finding a place in Spencer Street, where my rail station for arrival and departure sits. Spencer Street must rival New York’s Broadway ‘s claim to be the longest city Street and I was at the far end on the wrong side of the tracks, almost next door to the remand prison and a hot walk from public transport. This might have contributed to my preference for Sydney over Melbourne, which has amazed most people.
