Hostels

One thing I have quickly learnt here in Australia is not to have any expectations. If you have high hopes then they could be dashed by the smallest disappointment; and if you don't expect anything special then there's always room to be pleasantly surprised. Hostels are no exception to this rule, and this has already been proved time and time again.

You come to find certain sounds, sights, and smells unfortunately very familiar. The sound of someone coming into the dorm at 4am; the sound of someone else getting up and leaving the dorm 5am; the smell of a fridge with long abandoned food hidden in its depths; the site of long abandoned cups/clothes/linen gathering dust and new lifeforms from its hidden den – and of course combinations of all three senses: The sound/sight/ smell of someone bending over next to your bed and letting one off in your direction when you're still too asleep to recoil or retaliate. Yes – that actually happened (and I'll get the b-----d back if I get a chance.)

Staying in a dorm is not for me. For a few extra bucks I can get a room on my own – and as it's only ever somewhere to sleep, I don't feel like I'm missing out on any community spirit that might be happening elsewhere in the hostel. And if it means I don't need to listen to eight other guys snoring and farting all night I think it's money very well spent.

And when you come across a true 'gem' of a place you understand how apt that phrase can be. Shining through the mud and detritus of most other hostels you sometimes come across a gleaming retreat with a personal touch that makes all the difference. Somewhere, which straight away makes you feel at home; with people that you come to consider family; and an atmosphere which is contagious (in an altogether different way to other places) and comfortable. And when such a place is found, a value cannot be put upon staying there.

I've learnt that the sort of places worth staying in are small personally-run hostels and lodges where the manager and owner is on the premises most of the time. If that is the case, then hopefully they won't be prepared to live in squalor – and that will mean you won't have to either. In a smaller place, everyone can get to know each other pretty easily and the staff will know you as well. Small personal touches can make all the difference when all the normally-familiar faces are thousands of miles away.

Without a shadow of doubt, my favourite place I've stayed in is just such a place: The Flying Fox in Katoomba, The Blue Mountains, NSW. The setting helps tremendously – waking up in the morning and being able to look down in to the valleys of misty-blue eucalyptus, exotic birds and animals, and glowing sunshine. But everything about the hostel itself is just as pleasant – from the log fires at night; hours of conversation and drinking of wine with the owner every evening; the sense of community everyone who stays there experiences. (And of course it is very clean, well-priced, and comfortable.) I'll be spending Christmas there later this year... it helps to book somewhere early... and I know there will be a fantastic celebration with much food, booze, and probably the odd present or two changing hands. So if I don't call anyone this year – you now know why. I'll be having way too much fun to remember!