Hostel of Horror

"God, New Zealand's a bit colder than Queensland"

"Well of course it is Jules, that's why they have so may sheep, it's to keep the population in wooly jumpers." snigger snigger

Or it could have just been the fact that we were wearing very little clothing, given that when we got on the plane it was 40 degrees and for some reason we never considered that t-shirt, shorts and a pair of flip flops may be unsuitable for our destination. We'll I guess it's always wise to project what the climate might be in the country you fly into, but strangley on this trip this was the second occurance of this slip up, and I can tell you that Sydney mid summer in a parka jacket carrying a heavy rucksack is a) not comfortable and b) even less comfortable for those around you when the parka finally comes off.
That all said here we were, after galivanting our way up the east coast of Australia for the best part of a month and a half, we'd made it to the place we would now, at least temporarily, call home, Auckland.
We'd had the forsight to book a hostel on the internet before our arrival, and what with no lonely planet guide this we thought would be a good move. The problem with doing that, and I'm not necessarily blaming Hostel World(naming and shaming here) for this, is just like buying anything on the internet, you're shopping blind. Suffice to say, the hostel proved to be a bit out of town and was populated by mutes, so after 2 nights we moved into town. I know what you're thinking "Hostel of Horror", well no surprises for guessing I'm not talking about our slightly inconvieniant first attempt at hosteling in Auckland(see not too bad Hostel World). So with the 2 nights up and contact made with our friend Julie, we decide to make the move into town to the Base Backpackers. Wowee! it's a grand affair, lots of swipe cards, lots of clean plasticy looking staff, and certainly a step up from the usual hostel gubbings, unfortunately though with prices to match. I'm not sure if they missed the point of backpacking, but to charge travellodge prices to muddy people with sore backs that's a little steep. Inevitably people stay for a couple of nights, realise that there travelling fund has gone and move on to somewhere cheaper. I know what you're thinking, "ok the price was a bit expaensive, but Hostel of Horror", never fear, as you've no doubt worked out the structure of this story, this was not the said hostel and just to put you're minds at ease, the next one is THE HOSTEL OF HORROR.
It was a glorious Tuesday afternoon, another day spent wandering the streets of Auckland, another day spent complaining about the price of Base Backpackers even though they do have tv's in the communal toilet. When out of nowhere a figure appears, and quickly thrusts into our hands a leaflet, I can only persume written by the hand of god himself, it read:

HOTEL DE BRETT

WHY PAY INFLATED HOSTEL PRICES

$10 PER NIGHT

"Wait a minute, $10 a night, thats nearly a 1/3 of what we're paying at the moment. Common what's the catch?"

"No catch, other than you have to stay three nights, and of course sell your soul, HA HA HA HA"

"Oookay then" we shuffle of to the nearest cashpoint and work out if we can let this opportunity go to waste. Suffice to say I'm not too fond of cashpoints anymore, generally tell me things I don't want to know. So Hotel De Brett it is, but still not completely convinced by the leaflet, we decide to pay this place a visit and have a scout about. I get the map out and find the street address, as we're sceptical anyway, any great distance from town is going to push this into the no no catagory. Turns out it's right next to the Base Backpackers, just never noticed it and rightly enough, walking back to Base, there it is, right on the corner, big sign, the works. This piles on an extra layer of intruige to the place, why hadn't we noticed it before? Met at the door by a very hairy man in an underfitting suit, we relay our intentions and make our way into the building. The reception oddly isn't in the main hall, but a cardboard sign sits where the reception clearly once was. The sign reads "RECEPTION" then a big pointy arrow indicating up the stairs. We make our way up the very large spiralling stair case. By now we have adjusted to the place and it is clear that it was on old hotel, which by the look of it, hadn't been open since the 70's. On the first floor landing we find a bald Mauori gentleman, who looks a lot like a potato, later to find out, as far we know it, his name is Potato, he greets us with a curious look. He's sitting behind a makeshift table, the kind you'd find stacked up in school GP areas often found behind a green or orange curtain. We offer "hello!, we saw your leaflet and just thought we'd come and check it out, would it be possible to see a room?" "No" he forcebly replies, rooms are for guests and your not guests" "Well we were thinking about becoming guests!, can you confirm it's $10 a night, and if we do book in can we all be in the same room?" "yeh, it is $10 and as far as the room goes, we'll work it out if and when you arrive" "So how come it's so cheap" "we've just bought the place and we're trying to drum up custom, anyway that's business and none of your concern" A little put off by his attitude, it was almost as if he had something to hide, mmmmm, we thanked him and told him we'd might be back later to book in. After going back to the cashpoint, we came to the decision there was no other choice, and afterall how bad could it be?

Going up to the third floor in a lift with a really really old stained white carpet on the walls, was an indication of where this was going to go, and for some reason we didn't turn back at the first lung full of that stale, 30 year old stale, smell walking up the corridor to our room. When the door fell off in my hand things surely couldn't get any worse. Discovering that we are sharing a room with a women that had been missing for the last 10 days, apparently that's just what she did, well that had to be it. Cramming 10 people into a room fit for 4 at most, and with no cleaning staff, having Jule's mobile phone charger stolen, finding out that there were no kitchen facilites to speak off, and no laundry and no tv lounge and a lift with carpet on the walls and a stale smell throughout the place, and a guy with an attitude problem called potato, and getting Jule's recharger stolen, and sharing a tiny bathroom with 9 others, and forever staring at a suitcase belonging to a girl who had gone missing 10 days previous, and walking through a terribly lit old run down 70's hotel, well suffice to say it all got to much in the end and we had to get out of there. We are now safe in our own apartment, and I'm pleased to say we've managed to rescue another victim of the Hotel De Brett.

There's been rumours since we left, and these all cumulated in the place shutting down last week, some say it was health and safety reasons, other that the owners didn't own the building and got finally chucked out for running the biggest squating scam in New Zealand history. I like to think Jack Nicholson got them.