A Hostel After All These Years, Hilo, Hawaii

Overwhelmed by the cost and pomp of the hotels we were checking out on-line, Matt and I booked a couple nights of our stay in Hawaii at the Hilo Bay Hostel in Hilo on the Big Island. The price was right (1/3 of our hotel costs everywhere else for a private room), and we wanted a change from the big chain hotels anyway.

Right off the bat, we both liked the place. There was a wide, open entrance that led up a staircase to a gathering space. Surfboards decorated the ceiling, and birds chirped a cheery welcome. A young mother made dinner with her toddler in the kitchen, and a young girl sat at the common table journaling, reminding me of me once upon a time. Our host reminded me of one of my student's parents, and I immediately liked him, too.

It only took one minute inside our room to untint my rosy memories of hostels past. The windows were without screens and locks, and my pillow was lined with plastic. We had only flat sheets and tired, thinned bedspreads. A box fan sat on the floor next to a white wicker chair. We were a far cry from the Hawaiian Hilton Village.

And, yet, that night, I slept just fine. And the next morning, with the hostel quiet and the parakeets still under cover, the only movement was the young mother back in the kitchen with her son. Happily, I walked down the hill for coffee from Hilo Sharkey's and to check out the surfers braving the cool, wet morning. Within an hour, I was back at the hostel, journaling happily in the common area.