Ballad of The
Hosteller
By John
Osbaldiston
Between the
enthusiasm of youth and the reality of old age there is an unusual
creature called a Hosteller. They come in assorted heights, girths,
shapes, sizes and degrees of craziness. They can be found anywhere at
sport, in or on vehicles (cars, buses, trucks, bicycles), in public
places down on the ground, under trees or even up in the air, in debt
or wealthy (money in pocket). Transport companies love them, wanders
tolerate them, YHA relies on them and good luck protects them. A
hosteller is an optimist with a tip about something good to do, a
superman on the move, an astronaut with his pack on his back, an
explorer looking for a hostel with a handbook as his only map and
guide. He has the cunning of a fox, the generosity of a spend thrift,
the imagination of a Banjo Patterson, the thirst of the Sahara and the
elusiveness of the Scarlet Pimpernel. He likes cool drinks, easy to
find hostels, talking, hot drinks, easy transport, fellow hostellers,
and above all an understanding warden. He hates full hostels,
unsociable fellow hostellers, hard or dirty duties and any other
troublesome happenings. No other person can cram into a rucksack, a
camera, food, axe, radio, musical instrument, books, heating irons and
then some clothing. He gets more enjoyment than anyone else out of
seeing places and doing things yet no one else could live and travel in
this way but still remain so cheerful. A hosteller is a magical
creature, seldom appreciated but indispensable to the travel and
tourism industry. You can lock him out of the exclusive club but
can’t keep him out of your circle of friends. He is talkative,
helpful, sometimes troublesome, argumentative, hard working bundle of
fun, and with all of the above he is the most likeable guy that ever
existed.
