Hostelling on a Budget

“No no,” she waved me away, muttering incomprehensibly in Danish.

I pointed to the sign indicating the kitchen closed in the afternoon; therefore was presumably open to boil an egg for breakfast. Another worker appeared and I eyed him pathetically.

“Can I please cook my egg?” I gestured to my carton and pan.

He ushered me in, an inconvenience. Relieved, I heated water for my meal, a bit of protein to sustain me for the long walk to the train through a springtime snowstorm.

Inconveniences aside, Hostel Copenhagen Amager is clean and quiet, not a rowdy youth hostel but a refuge for travelers of all ages. Resting on a “green space” across from the spectacularly slanted Bella Hotel, the clean lines of Scandinavian design are epitomized even in budget accommodations. Though located on the outskirts of Copenhagen, the nearby train is quick and modern. Or experience a commute as true Dane—bicycle rental is available on-site from the hostel staff, who directs guests to the must-see attractions around Copenhagen and the Hovedstaden region.

Guests can expect a comfortable bed in a shared dorm for 145 DKK per guest ($28). For those accustomed to staying in hostels, extra expenses are expected. A charge for linens is acceptable; Internet fees understandable. Here, the add-ons become bizarre. If you plan to self-cater, pans are provided, but disposable dishes must be purchased from the front desk. The shelf that holds staples like salt, sugar, and a sketchy bottle of oil? That’s been wiped clean—but seasoning packets are available for sale. And don’t even think about eating in your room unless you want to risk an automatic $20 charge.

Inevitably, numerous additional charges led us to wonder the costs of the architectural marvel across the street. Travelers who don’t require a kitchen (and prefer to have their linens already on their beds upon arrival) will be pleased to know the Bella Sky Hotel starting rates are around $130—not too much more than “budget” accommodations.

After checking out, my husband races to the car. “Let’s get out of here—the woman from the kitchen caught me throwing out wrappers from the chocolate I ate in our room yesterday!”

Hostel Copenhagen Amager

Vejlands Alle

200 2300 Copenhagen, Denmark

Tel. +45-32-522908 Fax. +45-32-522708

copenhagen@danhostel.dk

Hostels need not be limited to college students—they offer a unique experience for travelers of all ages. Here are some others to consider:

Stockholm `af Chapman & Skeppsholmen' Hostel

Flaggmansvägen 8
11149 Stockholm
Sweden
Tel. 46-8-4632266
chapman@stfturist.se

A special hostel experience indeed, this Swedish treasure allows guests to stay in a traditional room or on a ship. The historic boat serves as a glowing landmark for newcomers to the city—its masts are lit in the evening and can be spotted throughout the Stockholm archipelago. Rates for dorm-style rooms start at about $21 per guest.

Hostel Puerto Iguazú

Av. Guarani N°70
3370 Iguazu Falls
Argentina
 Tel. +54-3757-421295
Fax. +54-3757-421295
info@hosteliguazufalls.com

The Iguazu Falls area is a true rainforest experience, and the Hostel Puerto Iguazú is a perfect place to relax after hiking the legendary waterfalls. Guests can cook their own meals at the outdoor kitchen, or spend an evening lounging by the pool. A real bargain for $10 and up.

Busan - Busan YH Arpina

45 Haeundaehaebyeon-ro
Haeundae-gu
Busan
South Korea
Tel. +82 51 740 3228
Fax. +82 51 740 3233
phk@mail.arpina.com

The South Korean culture is epitomized in the Busan Hostel. No comforts need be sacrificed—guests are offered a fitness center, massage parlours, and even a driving range within the facility. With all of the amenities, advance booking is recommended. Dorm accommodations start at $22.

insecurity, anonymity, & an onsen

A tall white girl walks nude into a Japanese bathhouse…It could be the crux of any number of bad dreams. I stood up awkwardly, pale and gawky, completely naked in a room filled with a hundred or so women. But they were all naked too. I felt the tension leaving my body, hovering and then evaporating into the steam that enveloped me. This was to be enjoyed, even cherished.

Following informative brochures I’d been handed upon entering the onsen in Tokyo’s outskirts, I had stripped off my colorful kimono and walked through the doors into the oasis that housed a dozen steaming pools. Slipping into a little booth and, propped on a short wooden stool, I washed myself thoroughly. First step, done. No faux pas yet.

Gripping the tiny towel I’d been allocated along with the kimono, I sank into my chosen tub—fresh, still water in an outside basin encircled with uneven stones and bamboo. The chilly air hit the hot water and bathed me in a fog, completely anonymous though I couldn’t look more different than any woman near.

Surely, there were nuances that I was missing. I couldn’t understand contentious conversations among mothers and daughters, didn’t know if teenagers were critical of their changing bodies. But from my blissed-out point of view, I snuck a glimpse of something truly beautiful. Women of all ages, shapes and sizes; bathing together. Groups of college-aged girls gossiping in a bubbling tub, a wrinkled grandmother gazing peacefully at a smooth-skinned toddler poking her toes into a warm pool, tense and tired middle aged women draped over private buckets, damp cloths covering their faces.

I felt a twinge of envy. Could my own often nightmarish insecurities have been quelled by a culture that embraced the freedom of lounging publically unclothed with all generations of women? Feelings of vulnerability and acceptance were palpable. Acceptance of one’s body seemed to quite literally be a foreign concept.

dirty fingernails & department stores

Kicked out of my bedbug infested B&B for a declined credit card, hyperventilating into a phone in a red booth to my mom.

A few hours later, reaching out a grubby hand to touch a Prada jacket.

The few times I’ve passed through London, a stop at Harrods has been an absolute must. My dad flew to England in 1982, the year after I was born, to play violin with his post-hippie band at a music festival. Snippets of his experience pricked throughout my childhood in small souvenirs. The canvas Piccadilly Circus bag, a tiny, wood-framed picture of a mouse plucked from the ground of the mythical Underground, a commemorative mug from Charles and Di’s wedding from the regal department store…

A year out of college and burned out from uninspired day jobs, I impulsively hopped a European flight. A backpack, a crumpled travelers checks, and a credit card with a $500 limit was all I carried.

First up: Ireland. Easy—free! Friends with couches, brown bread with butter.

Next, a budget airline flight to Glasgow; Edinburgh; Rome. Stays in hostels and square slices of pizza on the street are the visceral experiences of backpacking adventurers, but lack of planning would soon catch up.

My trip would be bookended by solo weekends in London, a charming city. English-speaking, subway-loving, familiar.

Unfortunately, the US dollar plummeted somewhere over the Atlantic and I bottomed out my meager funds quickly.

Unless you’re out of cash. Then, you’re nothing but a clumsy girl without her crumpled travelers checks who could really use a shower, deciding if sleeping at Pattington Station in 40-degree weather would be prudent.

So, how did I find my way to Harrods, fondling designer outerwear?

Nostalgic and generous parents couldn’t turn down their only daughter, naively broke in London. They made some calls, got me a bit of cash, and I got a new (and happily bug-free) room for the night. A shower, scoop of ice cream, and cup of coffee later, Harrods was my playground.

The food halls, perfume rooms, china floor, wine cellar; sensory overload, no purchase necessary.

Next, I hesitantly ventured into the Women’s department. Plush carpets, pristine garment racks, and well-suited salespeople fronted the goods-- Dolce and Gabanna, Chanel, Armani.

“Go ahead, you can touch it. It is meant to be enjoyed.”

My fingers brushed across the sleeve, buttons, hemline. A moment of undeserved glamour made me think, just for a moment, that this place of excess could hold treasures for anyone, even me; maxed out credit card in my pocket and tiny red bug bites under my chin.