Despite my age, it rarely happens, but it did so just after 2 a.m. at the Dunstan Downs High Country Sheep Station, 17 kilometers down the road from Omarama, New Zealand. We were staying in one of the cabins used by sheep shearers that doubled as rentals for the solid matron of the operation. It was technically a hostel, with a common kitchen and separate outbuildings with shared toilets and showers.
There was also an outhouse, which was closer to our single-room cabin, and when I woke up needing to pee (that’s the thing that rarely happens to me at night) I decided to head out for an adventure.
I stepped out into the night and I was showered with stars.
The south-central area of New Zealand’s South Island (Te Waipounamu) serves as the focal point for astro-tourism (yeah, that’s a thing). From Stewart Island off New Zealand’s southernmost coast to Lake Tekapo and everywhere in between, the absence of light pollution has made this part of the world a destination for star gazers. It lit up the night for me as I traipsed to the outhouse. And it would not have happened if we weren’t staying at a sheep-station-turned-hostel in the middle of nowhere.
Instead of the thematically-led experience at an observatory, I had my own star show at two in the morning. The sky crackled and blinked at me so profoundly that I abandoned the idea of peeing in a smelly outhouse and instead found a bush where I tinkled while the stars twinkled.
Staying at a hostel had literally gotten me out of my comfort zone, and it was an experience we had over and over again as we traveled the length of New Zealand. If you’ve never traveled via hostels, it’s one of the best ways to connect with people wildly different from yourself. And if you think you’re too old to rough it in a hostel environment, think again. Hostels are fun, inexpensive, and communal—the pillars of travel.
Throughout our traveling lives together, Chantal and I have constantly sought out different experiences. Actually, Chantal has sought out unique experiences, and I went kicking and screaming—until I loved it. In the 90s we cycled around Ireland’s Ring of Kerry, staying with a different O’Sullivan family each night. Ten years ago Chantal traveled the Camino de Santiago, an adventure she shared with me a few years later in Portugal. Each night on the Camino you stay in some variation of a hostel, from rooms packed with snoring pilgrims to smaller, municipally-run accommodations. But the experiences are similar.
The hostels we stayed at in New Zealand were varied. The sheep station was rustic. Some of the places we stayed at were called “holiday parks,” which had tent sites and camper van hookups in addition to bunk rooms and private rooms. We opted for private rooms in all of our hostel stays, with a shared bathroom and common kitchen/dining areas. Our favorite was the Glow Worm Accommodations in Franz Joseph. Run by a young couple (she’s German, he’s a Kiwi) with young children, it very much had the Shawn & Chantal @ the Auberge de Stowe vibe of the early 2000s. At dinnertime, the kitchen was bustling with a mix of old folks (us) and mostly young backpackers preparing food.
The gossip at the dinner table—picnic benches—was wonderfully eavesdrop-able, as people compared notes on places they’ve been, where they’re going, and what they want to do. Here’s a sample of an actual conversation:
Dutch Gal: “How long have you been here?”
Croatian Gal: “Oh, three months.”
Dutch Gal: “Are you working?”
Croatian Gal: “Not really. You?”
Dutch Gal: “No, just traveling.”
Croatian Gal: “What do you do in Holland?”
Dutch Gal: “I do sports.”
Croatian Gal: “Sports? Are you like an athlete?”
Dutch Gal: “Yes.”
Croatian Gal: “Oh, did you watch the Paris Olympics this summer?”
Dutch Gal: “I was in the Paris Olympics this summer.”
Croatian Gal: “Wow! What was your sport?”
Dutch Gal: “Rowing.”
Croatian Gal: “Wow! How did you do?”
Dutch Gal: “I won a gold medal.”
Croatian Gal: “Holy shit!”
It’s a conversation you are unlikely to overhear on a Viking cruise floating down the Danube past Budapest.
Traveling by hostel is still a popular mode in much of the world, and if you’re a sexagenarian who doesn’t mind being pushed out of your comfort zone a little (thanks, my love!) it can be a surprising and rewarding way to experience unexpected lights—Olympic, astral, and otherwise. New Zealand is particularly well-established for this, as you will discover when you go there.
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