I’ve stayed almost exclusively in dormitories in Hostels so far. I’m quite used to it now and for the most part it’s been fine. Every hostel is different. Sometimes they’re a little shabby but the staff are great or the atmosphere is really good or vice versa. I’d not had a particularly bad experience until Istanbul.
I arrived slightly unprepared (as usual). I’d managed to get currency this time and even knew the exchange rate but had forgotten to download a map of the area. I took a free transfer from the train station which was out of town and was dropped somewhere near another station more centrally, I think. Not knowing where I was or having a map was a bit of a predicament. Thankfully, a nice Kiwi couple I’d met on the train actually used their map to find my hostel and walked me there!
The hostel wasn’t very obvious to find as you had to walk into a confectionary shop to go up some stairs, several flights of a spiral stair case. I’d already sweated a considerable amount walking up the hill to get there and wasn’t overly enthusiastic about scaling further heights with my rucksack on. I climbed up about three storeys and saw some dorms but no reception. Sigh. I went all the way down again to the shop only to be told the reception was there but on the very top so up five flights of stairs I went to the roof.
The staff were polite but not exactly welcoming. One guy didn’t really speak English. I was shown to my bed, I wasn’t given a key or anything like that and my under-bed locker’s hinge was broken. It was a ten bed dorm with one fairly grubby toilet/shower. This would have been OK if the rest of my experience had been better. In it’s favour it did have a little roof terrace with some lovely views out over Istanbul.
The common area next to this however acted like a heat trap as it had a tin roof and it was unbearably hot so it wasn’t really an option to hang out there in the day time. When you arrive in a new city you often rely on the Hostel to give you some advice about what to do/see, where’s good to eat etc. The only English speaker at this place was basically a kid and wasn’t very forthcoming.
I’d managed to turn up, after the overnight train with no clean t-shirts and so I asked them to wash my clothes which they said they could do for the following morning. I was so hot and sticky I actually decided to go off and buy a couple of new t-shirts in the meanwhile.
That evening, despite the ‘AC’ it was damned hot in the dorm. They had not provided any top sheets and so it was just a case of stripping to your boxers and making do. I was lying as such in my bed playing on my phone when a guy turned up at about 23:45. I noticed that he needed to pray as he took out a prayer mat. He asked the Hostel worker the direction of Mecca, which rather unfortunately appeared to be me. He laid out his mat facing me, only a couple of feet away and proceeded to pray towards Mecca/a sweaty me in nothing but boxer shorts. Not the holiest of sights. It was a little awkward, although more so for him I imagine.
I’d booked two nights here so decided the next morning to stick it out. To be fair, they put on quite a nice little breakfast spread up in the common room which was nice before the heat of the afternoon kicked in. I arrived there and asked about my laundry only to see it still sat there and they’d just forgotten. Given my lack of clean clothes I was fairly livid, but being British I just found myself saying don’t worry about it. After breakfast, I then had to wait for ages whilst everyone used the bathroom before me and without going into details by the time I got in there it wasn’t the most inviting environment to venture into.
The morning was then spent trying to find a laundrette. This was easier than I had imagined and after trekking down some side streets I found a room full of old washing machines, the kind you’d find in your home. I was greeted by large topless man with an enormous distended midriff proudly on display. He looked like a Turkish Oliver Reed in the later years, top lip adorned with an impressively bushy moustache. I was told to come back at 4pm.
I’ve provided a picture in case your imagination isn’t up to it.
I laterreturned to the Hostel only to find the Hostel owner asleep in my bed! That was the final straw for me and decided to write off the cost for another night’s stay and book somewhere else. I still had to collect my washing so left to see some more of Istanbul in the afternoon. I returned again to the dorm to find it looking like a bomb site, screws all over the floor and power tools lyng around. I went up to reception to try and settle my tab and check out but ended up having to wait for the guy to return and found myself stuck in the heat trap perspiring heavily. There were some others who were still waiting to check in. After nearly an hour I was able to pay up and get out. The decision was cemented when I went down to the dorm to collect my bag and found that someone else had been assigned my bed anyhow!
I did not look back.
Wandering Henry 