Top Ten Tips for Parting with Party Hostels

Saying Goodbye to Those Best Left Behind

Hi K - Thought yesterday’s journal entry might make a decent Standard Operating Procedure. Let me know what you think after you give it a read-through. One of my concerns is that the Agency-prescribed format for SOPs is a bit forced in this particular case so I took some liberties. Quite possible that with a little pulling, bending, and tweaking the fit will improve.

I’m hoping that this material may be useful to Agent W for his upcoming Budget Accommodations class up in Advanced World Training (AWT-202). When I took the class way back when, there wasn’t much on the syllabus regarding party hostels, but I guess that could’ve changed over the decades since. I think I’ll cc him on this since I know the new quarter’s about to begin.

BTW does the place I describe below remind you of anywhere? Maybe that hostel on that Amsterdam mission? :) Legendary!

J

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Tracking

MISSION:  J35418-2023E
DCN:      7030632
TDY:      SIEM REAP, CAMBODIA
DATE:     2023-11-05
TIME:     9:09 AM (GMT+7)
TO:       AGENT K
FROM:     AGENT J
CC:       AGENT W,R
SUBJECT:  STANDARD OPERATING PROCEDURE 121 - TOP TEN TIPS FOR PARTING WITH PARTY HOSTELS

Relevant Class

SEMINAR:     COMFORT IS A STATE OF MIND
INSTRUCTOR:  AGENT W
CLASS:       BUDGET ACCOMMODATIONS
CLASS NO:    AWT-202

Context

Online hints were typically enough to clue me in ahead of time, but I knew at some point during my travels through Southeast Asia that I’d have a sudden unplanned “opportunity” to stay at a so-called “party hostel.” More suited to those in their mid-20s than mid-50s, I’d been avoiding them like the plague. Known for their free flowing alcohol, loud music, lively pool scenes, stuffed social calendars, and young adults brimming with raging hormones, they also usually came equipped with giant dorm rooms to fit all of their drunken guests.

The alternative for ambiverts, who need some much needed peace and quiet to balance out the heavy stimulus of overseas travel, is the quieter and calmer “chill hostel.” It’s in places like these that I’m nearly guaranteed a good night’s sleep with the bonus of having access to a great common room to relax, read, write, draw, or just simply breathe, all mixed in with the kind of meaningful socializing that I like to do now that I’m older. When I’m ready to tap into extroverted reserves and reemerge into the chaotic world of travel, there’s no better way than to spend some quality time in the smooth transition zone of a chill hostel where a guy like me can meet some really cool people over breakfast and have wonderful conversations with smart enlightened travelers from all over the world.

While out on assignment, usually I make my picks carefully and wisely. Alas, in this particular instance, I had been swept up in the moment late the night before as I scanned my options for the next waypoint along the road early the next morning. Quite honestly, I was suckered-in by the low rate, and it cemented up quickly with a quick glance at its high rating on the booking app. I can now forgive myself for not having more time that night to delve a little deeper. Reading reviews and studying pictures in greater detail would’ve been helpful.

My first sight off the street as I entered this particular hostel in one of Cambodia’s biggest cities was the huge bar. Standing room only? Just what time was it?!

Blinded by a sober mix of pride and folly, I shouted two succinct words to sum up my most pressing questions. “Check in?” I yelled to the bartender at a decibel just barely loud enough to break through the mid-morning tunes blasting away somewhere behind a sea of drinks. All was for naught. I couldn’t make out the even shorter answer she hollered back as she turned away towards the other end of the bar.

After receiving an impatient, and dare I say hostile, quick return glance in my direction, scanning me up and down for a nanosecond trying to decipher whether I was now actually ready to order a drink instead of merely check in, she hastily threw up her momentarily free hand and pointed deeper inside the place just as her head pivoted back the other direction towards a wad of cash being thrust her way by an all too thirsty twenty-year-old squirt whose fourth drink of the morning had just run dry and who’d long forgotten not only just when he had checked in but also which country he was visiting and why he was even there to see it because who cared when the party’s just as good or maybe even better here than at the frat house back home cuz the drinks are stronger, the buzz is cheaper, and you’re surrounded by people like “all y’all” all day and all night long. Except for that one old scratchy dude over there. Don’t know what his deal is...Alright, clear enough.

As I weaved my way back through the all too happy guests sauntering up to the bar, I couldn’t help but notice that most of them were wearing far less than the local townsfolk walking the streets just a few steps away. Brushing by a few damp shoulders holding up flushed faces with dripping hair, it soon became obvious just what this was. No, they weren’t sweating like me on this already too-hot day. This was most definitely a poolside bar. And there was a lot of bare skin exposed. Ultralight minimalist indeed!

Despite the young hour, there was no vacancy at this particular oasis. Every lounger was claimed. Bikinis, board shorts and drinks were scattered everywhere. Passing by a few clearly blitzed dudes shooting pool on the far side of the deck and a few girls staring curiously at a dartboard in the corner trying to figure out where all the darts had gone, I had almost made it to the front desk. But no. First I had to navigate a sea of backpacks that had been hastily strewn in a haphazard mess spread out across the floor in front of it as the feeding frenzy took hold in full force to grab a free welcome drink, kick off the shoes, and take a plunge to wash off all that long-haul overnight sleeper bus jammy-juice that comes complimentary with an unbelievably low ticket price.

“Yes, hello! Can you hear me? I have a reservation.” Believe it or not, I’d like to actually check in before I start drinking. Yes, that’s right. Oh, I see. You need to talk to the manager to see if that’s even possible? To not start drinking yet? Oh, sorry, my mistake. To check in this early? Okay. Sounds good. Thank you. What’s that? OK. No problem. I won’t mind if you take a few seconds to refill your glass on the way back to the front desk. You look thirsty. Not to worry.

Dishing through my coin pouch to see if I had enough to cover a costly key deposit, the kid gave me the low-down: front desk is staffed all night long, WIFI password is “beer,” and the little ticket is for a spin at the wheel for my chance to score a free drink. Canned smile. Hmmmmm…no wonder the bar was so crowded. Free drink or not, my guess was that they came pretty cheap anyway.

If I had been paying closer attention, I would have noticed more clues written on the walls. No Sex in the Dorm Rooms. Return all Glassware to the Bar. See Front Desk for Darts. Just as telling were things not posted. Not a single “No Smoking” sign was in sight. Were there any quiet hours? Apparently not. Other hints came in the way of flyers advertising their many “social” offerings: bar hopping tours, pool parties, beer pong tournaments, late night food tours. Did they have morning tours? Silly me. Just how many of their valued guests would actually sign up for those?! That’d be stupid.

Finally, I stumbled upon the biggest clue of all. A flyer advertising that this very hostel was the newest and biggest the city had to offer the discriminating backpacker who was looking for the best place to meet and greet other young travelers from around the world so that they could have the best times of their lives and never want to leave. Jumping off the page was the proud statement that they were ready as ever to handle the masses with hundreds of beds spread out over multiple buildings and floors. I staggered backwards. Mentally and physically. Oh crap. Here we go. I tried really hard to look on the bright side but the best I could come up with was that I loved experiential travel and this could give me something to write about.

At that point in my wanderings, I’d been in Southeast Asia for a few weeks and was well over my jet lag. By then, I’d been sleeping solidly in hostels scattered up and down Thailand and Cambodia. But as I struggled to go to sleep that night at around 9:30 PM in anticipation of a 4 o’clock alarm set for an early morning tour, I had a sinking feeling that I’d made a huge mistake. Yes, no doubt that a party hostel would be interesting and would generate some new material, but at just what expense?

As I lay in an exhausted lump on the quickly aging mattress of a bottom bunk trying to get a few hours of sleep as the clock ticked away closer to pre-dawn, I was keenly aware of the fact that there were only ten beds in the room from an earlier count. Good. Ten out of several hundred could be considered small. But, alas, as I would soon find out, at least half of these were occupied by night owls with seemingly strategically staggered bedtimes: one just shy of 10 PM, another around midnight, the third maybe at 1:00 or 1:15 AM, one more at 1:40 AM and the last around a half past two.

How could I tell all of this with my earplugs in and sleep mask on? Dead to the world I should’ve been, but no. Due to an awful combination of alarm anxiety, noisy roommates, bad room acoustics, and a lack of good air conditioning in a stuffy corner of the room, I was up almost the entire night. The door couldn’t stay shut. People were shuffling around digging through their stuff in the bank of lockers just around the corner but still well within earshot. Bed-side curtains being drawn open and closed. Middle of the night bathroom runs were going for cheap. #&@! Wide awake, I was, to witness it all. Finally, at what must have been around 3 in the morning, I finally nodded off for a short “nap” before a not-so-quiet retribution of my full volume klaxon alarm echoing off the walls of the room at 4:00 AM sharp. Did I have some trouble finding the silence button in the dark before I let a dozen shrieks pass? I just might have…

Though I’ve now managed to log a long list of super crappy jet-lagged fueled sleepless nights overseas, that night in Siem Reap takes the cake as the worst-ever sleep abroad. And now, having been on the hostel circuit for more than a few weeks as an older traveler in this new age of world backpacking using the internet as my guide instead of an oversized and overstuffed 1980s vintage paperback guidebook, I’m all the wiser when it comes to hunting down just the right hostel prior to booking it online.

Standard Operating Procedure

Here are my top ten tips for avoiding party hostels when out searching the web:

1. First the obvious; read the name and description of the hostel. Quickly run the other direction if you see any of these key words: Party, Social, Wild, Station, Mad, or any other word that connotes mass mayhem.

2. Study the pictures. If you see a packed pool, crowded bar, bright eyed and bushy tailed guests toasting drinks, or common rooms stuffed to the gills with more people than you’d thought possible all squeezing close enough together to fit in the photo, you’ve likely found yourself a party hostel. Now look a little closer. Is the mean age of the guests just out of college? Do some of the guys have their shirts off? Bikinis everywhere? Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. Keep searching.

3. Look at facility features: 24 hour reception? Bar? Pool? Hot tub? Pool tables? Darts? More than one of each? All warning signs.

4. Review the house rules for age restrictions. No children allowed? Are there maximum age limits that seem way too young? Move on and look elsewhere. Thankfully, you’re likely too old to qualify anyway.

5. All day breakfast? Yeah, that’s a big clue. Who needs to eat breakfast at four in the afternoon? Especially with so many free beer nuts!

6. Is there an advertised “Welcome Drink” at check-in? A fortune wheel? Hmmmm….think twice.

7. Organized social activities? Yikes. Chill hostels let such things happen organically without having to sponsor organized events. Let all those unnaturally canned hostel offerings of pool parties, drink nights, or other vague references to a wealth of “activities” and “mixers” scare you away.

8. Carefully read reviews and pay attention to some of the bread crumbs that past guests may have left you. Remember that someone’s idea of a “dead social scene” may be your idea of a really relaxing and memorable time as you meet a much smaller set of more like-minded travelers and are able to have some fascinating discussions down in a cozy common room. Also, take a peak at the age of the people posting the comments. And just what did they decide to focus their reviews on? Weak drinks perhaps? No hooking up allowed in the bathrooms? Aha.

9. Use Google Maps, or the like, to look up the location of the hostel and study what’s around it. Is it surrounded by bars and clubs as far as the eye can see? Usually not a good sign. Seeing references to “Khao San Road?” Run the other direction. Also, while you’re at it, look up any reviews posted on these third party navigation apps to cross-check what may be slanted and filtered reviews posted on the booking apps.

10. Last but not least, one of the best ways to avoid a party hostel is to heed the word of mouth from other like-minded travelers who have similar preferences as you. Ask them where they’ve stayed, what they’ve heard, and if they have any recommendations.

Notes

Having booked two nights at that wonderful gem in Siem Reap, I had no idea how I was going to get through another round. Could I double up on earplugs? Was that possible or even safe? How about using a white noise app with earbuds instead? What about asking for a quieter floor, room or bunk? Hah! Silly me.

I decided to make the call only after getting through the first order of business - recovering from a critical two hour early afternoon nap in a then-empty dorm room. While everyone else was out doing things like having breakfast with their third or fourth drink of the day, I was taking a nice quiet cat nap to get my head back in the game. Waking up with a bit more clarity, the best strategy for a good night’s sleep was suddenly obvious. Moving out to that small gorgeous boutique hotel down the road made all the sense in the world. It’d be worth the pretty penny for the tranquility.

As I wandered back to the front desk after hastily packing up my bag, I received my final clue. Cementing the whole deal was the lack of any raised eyebrows or questions as to why I was checking out at three in the afternoon at an hour when so many others were just now checking in. Did I understand that I wouldn’t get my money back for the abandoned second night? Yes. That’s okay. Aha…they’d seen this before. No need to ask me anything else. They already knew all the answers. I fit to a T the typical profile of an early check-out. Mid 50s, big bags under a pair of red eyes, disheveled, yawns, and looks of tired frustration. No need to call the manager. Besides, she was too busy at the bar.

Goodbye party hostel. You’re good for what you are if that’s what you’re looking for, but you’re definitely not for me.

Am I too old for hostels? No, not yet. Too old for party hostels? Yes, for sure. If that description fits you too, or if you’re just another traveler like me who likes a much quieter scene, regardless of your age, I hope this post gives you some tools on how to steer well clear of them.

Happy hunting. I hope you find some wonderful places that rank up there with the best of them.