Alumni stories
Sue and Larry’s Hostelling Story: Fun in the Everglades
The latest HI-USA newsletter carries a deeply touching story of a California woman who told of growing up in a poor home where there were no books and travel was never mentioned. A book on cheap travel was her mid-life introduction to AYH as the avenue to a six-week European trip. Our own HI-USA story sprang from a different source. It was a Long Island lawyer friend and his wife who stopped in to see us a few years ago on their way to a hostel in Vermont. They exuded enthusiasm for their experiences meeting other hostellers and the interesting people who run hostels. (We promptly signed up.)
In 2007, planning a trip to Florida (we'd last seen only the Miami area -- in 1970!), we were to visit friends on Sanibel Island and drive down to Key West. But we also wanted to get into the Everglades, and looked into hostels in the state. The Florida City hostel, at a jumping-off point for the Everglades, had just what we needed, and we got a private room to boot (at, I think, a bargain $50 a night).
We enjoyed the hostel spaces with their distinctly local décor indoors and out, the communal dinner one evening, and other meals shared with an array of people from all over the U.S. and abroad. Over several days, we made expeditions into different parts of the Everglades, meeting the Miccosukee people, seeing their classic chickee home, walking, boating, tram-riding, observing alligators, discovering the distinctive mangrove tree and (my great favorite) the spectacular anhinga bird -- amid all there was to learn about the unique ecosystem that is the Everglades.
One treat was meeting a particular group of fellow hostellers -- student volunteers from the University of Wisconsin who were spending their January term rooting out of the Everglades an invasive species of orchid. "How did an invasive species of orchid get into the Everglades?" I asked. Answer: Parts of the Everglades were once used as dumps; someone discarding a flowerpot with the spent bloom of the exotic plant was likely the origin of the entire problem. -- All sorts of fascinating surprises await your uncovering via hostelling!
Susanne & Larry Washburn from Dorset, VT
Chris’ Hostelling Story: Florence's Villa Camerata Hostel. Compassion for the sick
The Florence, Italy, hostel (Villa Camerata) brought me luck. The first day that I stayed there in May 1978 I was offered a job in central Florence. The second day there I found 1000 lire lying on the Lungarno near the Ponte Vecchio and minutes later bumped into a long-lost friend from college days. A year and a half later, I was in Florence on a Christmas break. I had a painful sore throat and fever when I arrived. In the morning, I was still in bed in the dormitory (there were huge, 50-bed rooms in 1978 at the Florence hostel). When I went to leave for the standard daytime lock-out the hostel papa saw that I was in pretty bad shape. He let me stay in bed. "Abbiamo un'ammalato qui," (We've got a sick guy here"), he told his team. They locked everyone else out and let me stay in and rest. I had the whole hostel to myself, but I was in no condition to wander around. I slept and slept some more. They brought me hot soup, tea and juice, and woke me up to give me more food (no charge, either!) The bottom line is that the staff showed their compassion and bent the hostel rules for me; the world needs more compassion like that.
That night, feeling much better, I sat up for a while and listened to Mr. P. J. Canty tell wonderfully amusing stories of the royal treatment he used to get from the police back in the States who would pick him up for illegal hitchikiing. P. J. Canty was an American on a long vacation, or he was retired. He hitchhiked near Petaluma, CA; Memphis, TN,; and many points in between. He looked a little like Hemingway. How can you forget a person who looks like Hemingway with a name like P. J. Canty? The guy should be famous but I've never heard of him since.
Chris Mei from San Francisco, CA
Steve’s Hostelling Story: Kindness in Marseilles
Several days after graduating from college in May of 1975 I arrived in Germany to begin a long trip, with no plans, a European rail pass, and a membership in AYH. I traveled all over Europe, but one night in October in Marseille, France stands out. I boarded a train in Zurich, Switzerland, bound for Marseille, France, and spent the whole ride trying to impress some young ladies that I had met on the train. The time went by and I arrived at the main train station in Marseilles around 11pm. It was dark and cold. I found myself the only passenger left at the train station. As I left the station, I quickly found myself in the worst part of town. All I could see around me were what best could be described as the toughest thugs in the world and I knew any minute might be my last. I tried to avoid looking at them, but the thugs started following me. Almost immediately a large truck pulled alongside of where I was walking and the driver started screaming at me in French. I did not understand a word of the French he spoke, but somehow understood his complete meaning. He was telling me how stupid I was to be there at that hour. I jumped in his truck, as he continued screaming at me. A few minutes later, continually screaming, he pulled up in front of the Auberge de Jeunesse de Bois Luzy of Marseille (youth hostel). That guy was tough as iron and had a heart of gold, he had saved my life. Lucky, I was let in to the hostel at that hour. The next day I met a group of students from Morocco, and again not understanding a single word they spoke, but we partied together for the next few days and parted friends. When I returned to the states, I purchased a life membership in AYH. I will never forget the kindness that truck driver showed a stranger and have tried to repay him by looking out for traveling students ever since.
Steve Polakof, from Cleveland, OH
Paula’s Hostelling Story: Adventure in Aix-en-Provence
Happy Anniversary. I would like to share my hostelling story. It was 1996, I was 20 years old and traveling through France for the entire summer by myself. I was a HI member and about mid-way in my trip planned a weekend in Aix-en-Provence; I would be staying at the hostel there.
Well here's where the story gets interesting. I was taking the train from Veynes to Aix-en-Provence but accidentally got on the wrong train which passed through the city but didn't stop there. What makes this interesting is that this particular hostel had a midnight curfew and I had planned to arrive there just before closing time. Now that I missed the train I was really in trouble. So long before everyone had the convenience of cell phones, I had to find a pay phone at the train station. Luckily, I had credit on my France Telecom phone card along with my Hostelling International guide book. Oh it also helped that I spoke French. I called the hostel front desk and explained to the clerk what happened. I told her I was on the next train back to Aix and would now be certain to get on the right train. The clerk was about to close up but advised me to hurry and that she would wait for me. She was eager to get home because not only was she closing up the hostel that night, but she was also on the first shift the very next morning! So I arrived in Aix-en-Provence after midnight. Outside the train station was dark and there was absolutely no signage to indicate the direction to the youth hostel. I closed my eyes and asked my gut if I should go left or right and the answer was 'left'. So I went left down a dark street. As I was second-guessing myself, I saw a busy street and lots of light...and taxis! The queue for the taxis was extremely long. I went to the person at the front of the line and in my tired, greasy, sweaty, very young and haggard and obviously a backpacker way asked if I could skip in front of him and get the next cab. He was very nice and said yes. The cabbie was just as nice and when I said 'hurry'...he did. We got to the hostel quickly and I arrived just in time. I met the clerk who said she was just about to give up on me and leave. She hurriedly checked me in and gave me the keys to my room. She remained polite although I could see she was very tired.
Here's where it gets even more interesting. I crept quietly into the dark room I had been assigned where the fellow hostellers were already sleeping. I found the lone empty bed from the moonlight shining into the room and just slipped out of my jeans and kept on my T-shirt. I didn't want to make noise by zipping and rummaging through my bags. Anyone who has been in a shared hostel room knows how annoying that can be.
Anyway, I was dead tired and fell asleep quickly. I do remember noticing in the shadow of the night that the other girls in the room looked a bit large. I slept soundly. In the morning as I awoke ...still just wearing a T-shirt and undies, I looked around and saw...guys..hairy big men. Yup..I was in a room with seven young men! Luckily, only one had awoken and he found the entire thing funny. I discretely put back on my jeans and went downstairs immediately. The front desk clerk in her haste gave me a key to the boys' room! Before I could say anything, when she saw me she apologised profusely, asked me not to report her and gave me the correct key. I thanked her and told her I was more grateful she had waited for me the night before. Otherwise I would've been stranded.
When I moved to the girls room there were several girls there. I started to introduce myself and tell the story. Unfortunately, only one of them spoke English. An Aussie chick said 'oh you must have been in the same room with my boyfriend'. We had a laugh and later had breakfast together with her boyfriend. The hostel closes in the middle of the day so we all had to figure out what to do. I went my own way and started to explore the city. Early into my street tour I decided to visit the Tourism Bureau and ran into none other than my Australian friends. Well we ended up chatting right there in the Tourism Bureau for what seemed like hours and spent the majority of the weekend together including a bus trip to the Riviera. We kept in touch via snail mail and four years later I went to celebrate my 24th birthday with them in Australia! My friends have since had two young boys and still live in Australia. 2009 marks thirteen years since my trip and our meeting in France. We are still friends and replaced snail mail with e-mail which we exchange regularly.... none of this would have happened had I not taken the wrong train and subsequently be placed in the wrong room! Thanks HI Aix-en-Provence!
This is my hostelling story. I remember my experiences fondly and will definitely be open to hostelling for life!
Paula Grace Willis from Sunrise, FL
