Tag Archives: Gap Year

Backpackers survival guide: An introduction to the hosteling lifestyle and how to survive.

For your room:

Hostels are notorious for being the cheap and easy way to travel. If you want to spend a few extra bucks, you can have your own room, but if you’re on a budget be prepared to share a room with 3-25 other people. At first it’s a little daunting – sharing a room with a number of complete strangers – but as you backpack, it becomes more of a lifestyle. You meet people from all over the world, with different stories and ways of thinking. You may share a bunk with a kid from another country that offers you a place to stay should you ever be in his hometown, or someone traveling in the same direction as you. (Which, when traveling solo, is a nice change of pace.)

Now comes the part that takes the ‘getting used to’; the noise. If a hostel is known for being party-central and in the hip part of town, the chances of doing your early-to-bed-early-to-rise routine will be more difficult than a hostel that is a few blocks away. Whether it’s the cellphone alarm that goes off for 15 minutes at 5 in the morning, the squeaky bunk bed that groans with every movement, or the ‘frisky’ couple that decide to share a bunk in the multiple bed shared room, you will have noises that you wish didn’t exist. For this I recommend iPods or ear-plugs.

I have only ever had one thing stolen from me in all my experience at hostels; a jean jacket that I hung up to dry – on the “left behind/free” clothes rack in my room. Most of the time you can ask around to backpackers who have been in the hostel a while to see how bad the theft is. For the most part, it’s a good idea to keep your things together, and keep copies of important documents/phone numbers for credit cards in separate bags. If anything is stolen, you will have the important numbers to call into your consulate/bank and have the information to protect yourself from your passport being sold on the black market.

 

SURVIVAL TIP!

When you are staying in a shared dorm, most times people will keep all their stuff together in piles. This helps reduce any confusions about whose stuff is whose and if someone had something that ‘oozed’ over to your pile, its easier to tell it apart.

Also, just remember that when you’re sharing a room, people may not want to see you strutting around in your tighty-whities/teddy. You may want some comfy pajamas that double as lounge clothes.

 

Addition: A lot of hostel rooms have scarce power outlets. Having a power strip that turns one outlet into many will make it possible to charge your phone, computer &/ iPod at the same time.

 

Recommended tool-kit items:

Earplugs/iPod with playlist that you can sleep to.

Comfy pajamas that you don’t mind warring in front of people.

Power strip

 

For the kitchen:

In Hostels, most of the time there is a shared kitchen with your basic kitchen appliances, and a community fridge. The fridge works like that one in your break room at work; lable your food and others know whose it is. For the most part I haven’t had any trouble with food theft until a couple weeks ago, when someone in my big city hostel decided to go on a ‘picking spree’ and in addition to my bread and cracker missing, others had sandwich ham, milk (which is the most common thing ‘stolen’ from community fridges), and a few other things go walk-a-bout from our bags.

This led me to invest in a $5 bag that was created for this environment; a mesh bag with handles and window for labeling, and “o’s” on the zipper to attach a small combination lock that is conveniently attached to the bag. However, there are many styles and sizes you can get these in. If your going to be staying in a large hostel, or in a hostel with food theft problems, I highly recommend these.

Normally though, hostel kitchens are the heart of the backpacking social experience (that is, if the hostel doesn’t have a bar attached.) Here it is common for backpackers to meet up with others and create a community meal, each donating a part of a recipe or volunteering to cook/clean.

 

SURVIVAL TIP!

Do your dishes. Yeah, when you lived at home mum and dad took care of that. So what if your excuse is “I’m not good at it, it’ll take me ages”? Some hostels simply consider it bad karma, while others may keep key deposits. But in a community kitchen, the general rule is ‘if you use it, you wash it’.

 

Recommended Tool-Kit items:

Sharpie

Locking , mesh kitchen storage bag

 

 

For the bathroom:

On the rare occasion you will have ensuite bathrooms, but the majority of the time its large communal bathrooms with a few shower stalls. I would recommend getting a pair of plastic flip-flops/sandals to use as shower shoes, and have a bag that you can dedicate to shower stuff (Soap, shampoo, razors etc.)

 

SURVIVAL TIP!

If you’re at the hostel for a couple days, you can figure out the bathroom traffic, and go for your shower when you don’t have to wait. Usually showering in the morning has less traffic, since most people are either sleeping, or getting ready to check out. Them being busy means you get that favorite stall.

 

Recommended Tool-Kit items:

Canvas bag/reusable shopping bag for ‘shower bag’

Plastic shoes.

Small town charm

The pub, which has a rich history in the community, is located at the main (and only) intersection in town.
Built in the 1920’s, it had undergone a few renovations because of fires and remodeling, revealing a spooky set-up. A room under the stairs existed since the building was rebuilt after a fire in the 1930’s, with no way in or out. Before tv and automobiles were in the area. During the latest renovation, that room was opened, as it had no way in or out, (it was effectively dead space) and inside was a stool, and a black and white tv.

This, and other stories come from Trappa, the regular to the bar with his ‘spot’ along the counter, and knowledge of everything in the town. With a curly beard, age sunk cheeks, and blind out of his drooping left eye, he points at things around the bar, pictures, carvings, and sketches, and delves into their history. After all, he is the one who did the renovations.

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Within a few weeks of being here, Trapper was sitting at the bar and said how he had two Koalas, a mama and baby, in the trees by his shed. (Just across the a street from the pub.) He called his wife to confirm they were still there. Within 5 minutes, I am fighting the approaching dusk to get as many photos of the koalas I can.

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Another thing that I have been fortunate to learn from trapper was the histories about his father in law, a lieutenant in the royal Australian air force in WWII. The war hero J.H. Dixon had been shot down, not once, but three times, over both land and ocean. The day after telling me of the successful missions (and realizing my weakness for WWII history) he brought in a case of old photographs and memorabilia from Dixon’s flying days.  One of the items was in old map. While folded neatly and tucked into its plastic sleave, it looked like any other map, roads and cities plotted against the yellowing medium. But it wasn’t paper. The map was a silk scarf used by pilots who, if shot down, could use the maps for navigation, and conveniently, warmth.

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The locals have been very generous with offering to show me around. From geological forms, to taking me to get photos of cattle being mustered, to giving me contacts for the quicksilver pro, the people here are as excited to show me the ‘real Australia’ as I am to see it.

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Christmas craziness, and the Plot Twist

Few from the northern hemisphere understand blazing heat over Christmas. (Hears a shout out to all my Florida people!) But here in Australia, it only adds to the tradition of cold beers and food having been cooked the day before Christmas to be chilled for lunch on Christmas day. (As an example, the heat this week reached 42 C, or 107 F. Other parts of the region hit 50 C, or nearly 130 F.)
My Australian family took me in once more, this time for a week of shenanigans.
The heat hit early in the day, making the tent poles that we were assembling to be unbearably hot. Once set up, the trailer/tent that became my accommodation was quite comfortable with the breeze.
With the heat continuing to build, we improvised a pool out of a tarp and an empty trailer, which supplied hours of splashing.
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(Ashlee and I climbing trees)

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(Amy on makeshift karaoke night, that girl has a set of pipes!)

Christmas eve was spent peeping for the big day, with every square inch of the fridge accounted for, hams, seafood, salads and deserts occupied every vacancy.
We stayed up to track Santa and watch Christmas specials, before drifting off for Santa to visit.
Christmas morning everyone was crowded into the small yet comfortable living room for presents and scratch offs , then gathered outside for our amazing Christmas-lunch spread.
Christmas dinner was a blur of awesome shenanigans. At a large family gathering and barbeque, Ashlee and Amy and I indulged in leches (a small gooey fruit) and enjoyed the child like delights of christmas goody bags while laughing along with the jokes of the crazy aunt. (Every family has that one aunt or uncle that provides the entertainment just by showing up. Yeah, Jenny was it.
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(Two crazily cool chicks! My Aussie sisters, Amy and Ashlee.)

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(My Aussie family. The kindest people, whose dysfunctionality made me right at home. I love these people, and will always consider them family.)

Once Christmas was over, it was time to go back to work. Working new years eve was made up for with wondering on down to the rodeo in Goomari once we cut out for the day.
The rough and tumble of the rodeo was welcomed, since I am used to small town rodeos, and I met back up with Ashlee, Amy and crew to enjoy the festivities.
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(Notice rider, then notice the saddle. Ouch!)
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(8 seconds is a long time)

I had to bow out early, not only having to drive home that night, but having to be up early the next morning too.
Over that week, not much had happened besides finding guineafowl chicks around the farm. But by the end of the weekend, I had received word that the family I had been nannying for wouldn’t need me anymore. And back to Wondai I went.
Within a few days I had a job lead with a hotel that I applied to before I started nannying. This hotel isn’t quite ‘Crocodile Dundee’ or ‘Red Dog’, but it has the unmistakeable spirit of ‘small town’. Everyday Cowboy and Trapper will wonder through those thin double doors, and I almost have all the drinks the locals order memorized… After all there’s only a dozen regulars at most.
The town is an intersection. The hotel, and a gas station, with the neighboring buildings, that once housed vendors and shops, standing vacant beside the Anzac memorial (veterans memorial) park. The big bold letters “lest we forget” sit, almost poetically, against the forgotten old buildings.

Stay tuned for more adventures from the hotel, and the ghost stories that accompany them.

Endless sunsets, rolling hills, blistering heat. Yup, its Christmas.

‘Twas the week before Christmas and all through the farm, everyone was busy with horses in the barn.
The toddler hung his paper snowflake with care, in hopes that chocolate biscuits were near.
Santa came early, with presents of joy! A flash green bike for a good little boy.
During the smoke’o, everyone gathered, enjoying shade and coffee, (or tea if they rather.)
There was a first gingerbread house for young and old. It was just like in the stories they had been told!

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And because I like ‘getting in the spirit’ archaeological style…

On the twelfth day of Christmas archaeology gave to me,
Twelve trowels sharpened
Eleven students digging
Ten test pits surveyed
Nine sifters sifting
Eight hours sitting
Seven days of digging
Six ice cold beers
FIVE ARTIFACTS!
Four wall collapses
Three sore asses
Two stressed grads
And an A in archaeology!
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