I arrived tonight in Austria for a week in Bavaria. However, I have to admit that I had a total princess moment of panic in the car on the way to Stansted this afternoon when my musical director revealed that we were heading for a hostel for the first two nights. The discussion concerned whether or not we were supposed to have packed our own bath towels, something which I admit had never, ever occurred to me. My first trip to Europe was when I was 28. I never did the thing where you hang around for weeks in youth hostels and take a Eurail pass all over the continent. On my first European trip I was a week in Portugal at a conference, with a solo room in a four star hotel, and then a week in East London in a two-room suite at a newly-built college dormitory with a private kitchen/living area and bedroom plus bathroom, and maid service. I just somehow managed to completely miss that whole young and grotty backpack around Europe thing. And at my age, and with my current level of overwork and slight spoiled-ness (flying economy plus on trans-atlantic flights) I was not feeling much like roughing it.
I am, however, happy to report that the “hostel” has lovely single, en-suite rooms which means that the only way you can tell it’s not a typical hotel is that it has a set of single bunk-beds in the room instead of a double bed. Oh, and there is no bad paintings or cheesy artwork hanging above the bed. There is, however, free wi-fi and a flat screen TV in the room. I’m guessing this is not the hostel norm, and I’m getting spoilt.