Celebrating Schirrmann

I was eating dinner in Devonport with a couple of my Australian hostel mates, Leonard and Mildred (real names forgotten). They were an elderly couple that probably lived a combined 160 years. I had been introduced to them by John, a spring chicken at 72. I was bothered by all the old people in my hostel.

“Does Australia run its hostels differently than Europe? I was in England last spring, and I don’t remember seeing so many…adults in the hostels there,” I ventured. Talk about tact.

“Old people, you mean,” said Mildred. “No, there probably aren’t so many adults in European hostels. At least that’s not how they used to be, when Schirrmann started them in the 1900s. You’ve heard of Schirrmann? No? Well, I’ll tell you about him.”

She explained to me, as Leonard silently puffed his pipe, that Schirmann was a well-to-do nature lover who wanted to provide the European urban youth with a way to cheaply travel and experience the outdoors. He bought houses around the continent, crammed bunks into every room, and let people stay there for dirt cheap prices, on the condition that they all helped to cook and keep the buildings clean.

“We didn’t have much money back in the fifties and sixties, when our children were still young. It let us explore the countryside on a tight budget. And there was a sense of community, with everyone pitching in. Even the kids would help out, putting the laundry on the line, setting the table. They grew up, obviously. But we never wanted to stop traveling, and now that we’re pensioners, we make do with a fixed income.

“You don’t have to pitch in anymore—and even more of a departure from Schirrmann’s hostel—you can request your own room for yourself. That’s not a hostel, that’s a hotel. But like I said, we still enjoy them, and there aren’t many places where you can find accommodations for only $18AUD ($15USD) a night.”

Amen, Mildred. And thank you, Schirrmann.