Having a one night's sleep at a hostel really does leave you with an experience so unlike any other that it remains firmly embedded in your memory even long after that one night is gone.
It has been two, maybe three years since I got a night at Coziee Hostel along Kallang, and even till now I can still remember how the little space was, how the restrooms and bathrooms were, how the place was like, and how I hardly got a wink of sleep that night.
We all know what hostels are like, or at least we know how the hostel culture is like. Very often they paint a picture of lively interaction between the mostly youthful guests, backpackers, towels, communal living, notebooks, papers, maps, lots of beer, snacks, cigarettes, music, music instruments, laptops, a very hippie atmosphere altogether. These days the guests are more than the usual backpacker. I've known of founders and co-founders who stayed a week in a hostel whilst attending a boot camp here. And I've known of employees who live in hostels whilst they sort out their accommodation.
It wasn't any different at this particular hostel.
Late at night we got in- thankfully there were vacancies in the mixed rooms- so in we went, a pal and I- and the first thing we paid extra for were bathroom towels, which were thin but not threadbare. We were shown to the room. Rectangular shaped, airconditioned, no window, and built-in cubicles lining one side of the wall. The cubicles closer to the far side of the room were already occupied. There was just one upper cubicle and one lower cubicle left. The upper one was just in front of the door, right below the blasting aircon unit, and directly under the light. The lower one was in the middle of the whole row.
I chose the upper cubicle- because I fancy higher ground and I thought it would grant me more privacy- whilst my pal had to make do with the lower one. By the side of each vertical row were shelves where everyone placed their toiletries, small towels or whatever they wished. I laid out my toiletries there- if someone wanted to steal my shampoo then so be it- and climbed up.
It was really a three-sided cubicle with a sort of reading light at the side, a neat wooden shelf by my right, two power sockets and if I'm not wrong, one hook. There was a comforter. My clothes I folded and placed by my side. A very simple layout, a very simple arrangement.
It was really a three-sided cubicle with a sort of reading light at the side, a neat wooden shelf by my right, two power sockets and if I'm not wrong, one hook. There was a comforter. My clothes I folded and placed by my side. A very simple layout, a very simple arrangement.
If there's one thing about hostels I found out that night, it is that people really do go in and out at all times of the night. And no one ever switches the light off in the room until everyone is back in- doesn't matter what time it is. And, technically no one shushes anyone up if they enter the room and do stuff, just so long as they're not yelling about.
I spent the night with the glare of the room's light in my face. Even a partial shade from the privacy curtain didn't help. And, as early as 5am I found myself restlessly roused from whatever sleep I was having by the sound of many rustling plastic bags. It got to a stage where I peeked down to see the guest in the cubicle below mine with her luggage wide open and her belongings strewn about on the bed as she busied herself packing her luggage....
Still, having such a hostel experience does grant you the opportunity to meet many a visitor. At breakfast the next morning in a little back kitchen upstairs, we shared the small table with an African. Over a mug of instant coffee and a slice of bread with margarine and strawberry jam, we spoke a little- I think he was passing through. There were people lounging around on the orange sofa in the communal area with laptops and phones. There were people at the computer stations downstairs. There were people drying their laundry in the dryers.
I didn't really get to speak to them. Everyone's pretty much occupied in the hostel environment.
But after breakfast, just as we were heading back to the room to pack, downstairs near the entrance, a female cyclist from Ireland was fixing up her bike in the narrow corridor. I admired her bike, we chatted a bit, and she shared that she was cycling up north to Malaysia that very day.
Okay.
I spent the night with the glare of the room's light in my face. Even a partial shade from the privacy curtain didn't help. And, as early as 5am I found myself restlessly roused from whatever sleep I was having by the sound of many rustling plastic bags. It got to a stage where I peeked down to see the guest in the cubicle below mine with her luggage wide open and her belongings strewn about on the bed as she busied herself packing her luggage....
Still, having such a hostel experience does grant you the opportunity to meet many a visitor. At breakfast the next morning in a little back kitchen upstairs, we shared the small table with an African. Over a mug of instant coffee and a slice of bread with margarine and strawberry jam, we spoke a little- I think he was passing through. There were people lounging around on the orange sofa in the communal area with laptops and phones. There were people at the computer stations downstairs. There were people drying their laundry in the dryers.
I didn't really get to speak to them. Everyone's pretty much occupied in the hostel environment.
But after breakfast, just as we were heading back to the room to pack, downstairs near the entrance, a female cyclist from Ireland was fixing up her bike in the narrow corridor. I admired her bike, we chatted a bit, and she shared that she was cycling up north to Malaysia that very day.
Okay.