Backpacking after 40
Are you too old for a hostel at a certain age?
I love backpacking and have since I was in my twenties. Hostels are outstanding places to meet travelers from around the world and to find inexpensive day tours and cooking classes led by locals. They’re ideal for people traveling alone, which I sometimes do when my significant other can’t come along for the journey.
And yet, I look at my passport, and it reminds me I’m over 40. 15% of my life is now behind me. A look around the average hostel suggests two-thirds of the people there are younger than me by 10 or 20 years. Even the term “youth hostel” seems to say “CT, you now belong in the Radisson in a different area of town.”
So what have I learned about backpacking after 40? Is it still viable, or a symptom of Peter Pan syndrome that makes me an age-inappropriate GenX mid-lifer trying to cling with futility to youth?
With visions of sitting alone in a $350/night room haunting me, I continue hostelling with some provisos.
Stop being a cheap-ass.
In my 40s, I’ve worked nearly 15 years and now have room in my budget for nice vacations. I have the option of booking a $350/night room on credit card points. There is no longer a need to pretend the choice between a $7 and $9 bunk will make or break me. It’s time to open the wallet.
Certain indignities come with life after 30. I snore. I toss and turn. I wake up inexplicably at 3 AM, and my stomach makes strange, loud gurgling sounds in the middle of the night. Someday soon, my prostate will be the size of a casaba melon, sending me to pee six times in the night.
So, this is the first lesson of hostel life after 40: midlifers should not book bunk beds in dorm rooms, unless they have to. Most hostels have private rooms. Sometimes these rooms are $40 or $50, instead of $13. If you’re over the age of 35 and you have the means, book these rooms. You’re still getting a bargain. Do not be the old guy who snores and farts and gurgles and creaks in the morning. Let twentysomethings discover this very special time of life on their own, not through your example.
Not everybody who stays at a hostel is young.
Dismiss the notion you’re age-inappropriate if you stay at a hostel after 40. The most surprising thing I find at hostels is that about a third of the people there are my age or older. I met a 59-year-old French graphic designer in New Delhi, a 38-year-old Korean writer in Bangkok, and a 45-year-old Mexican businessman in Hong Kong, all in common areas of hostels. We have shared fun and interesting conversations, food, and adventures. Most midlifers I’ve met at hostels — myself included — are no longer there for cheap beds and drinking, but because they find value in hostel culture and the community feeling that hostels propagate. Be that person.
Young travelers do not immediately think you’re creepy, unless you are.
When I was 26, I made older friends in hostels- sometimes in their fifth or sixth decade. Part of the joy of travel, in fact, was meeting a 60-year-old backpacker who eschewed the rules of life. It helped me realize I don’t have to chain myself to a career or lifestyle and can keep traveling with abandon.
Other times, older travelers tried hard to insert themselves into my dinner or after-hours plans and ended up being awkward third wheels.
For twentysomethings, hostels are an exceptional place to invite yourself into other peoples’ lives and plans. For fortysomethings, my advice is never invite yourself. If people want you there, they’ll ask, and if they don’t ask, it’s okay.
I once had a fantastic dinner with a group of 19-to-23-year-old students who pulled me out of the hostel lounge to come along with them for seafood. I ended up being the second oldest guy at the table when they invited another person who was older than me. We had a great night. It made me happy I was no longer 19 and making the choice between a $7 and $9 bunk.
On another occasion — when I first started wondering if I was too old for hostels—I inserted myself into other peoples’ plans as I had for decades and realized I was out-of-place. I was father time, minus the hourglass, separated by an expansive generation gap. I didn’t know whether to leave early, see it through, or double down and act like I belonged. For the record, doubling down is the worst thing to do in such a situation. Feign a phone call and get an Uber. Remember, you don’t have to split a cab anymore. You’re over 40.
One of your best bets is to bring a friend. That buddy you took with you to Europe back in 2003? Ring him or her and hit the road, again. You’ll likely still meet people, but you’ll have a smashing time even if you don’t.
Don’t pretend, but don’t be honest.
Lastly, when staying at a hostel, don’t pretend to be a college student if you’re 45. Don’t say things like “I’m young at heart,” or “I don’t remember how old I am,” or “I’m 50 but I feel like I’m 23.” Don’t say “I’m forty-one and ready for fun.” If you’re fun, you don’t have to announce it.
Likewise, don’t be honest. Nobody wants to hear about your shin splints, your acid reflux, your dental pain, or your battles with metabolic syndrome.
In summary, backpacking does not have to end once you get your first job and turn 30. For some, life changes like marriage and kids turn backpack trips to Europe into the stuff of youth and memory. That does not mean that backpack trips can only be the stuff of youth. Just be mindful of, and accept, change.
