South Africa has some excellent backpacker spots, in Cape Town and Joburg and I’m sure in Durban. Banana Backpackers is not one of them.
My bus was nearly 2 hours late leaving East London. The trip was mostly uneventful except for that minor incident when some muppet on the side of the road threw a glass bottle at the bus managing, by some miracle to hit and subsequently shatter the right-side front window. No-one was sitting in those seats (I was a whole row back), so no harm done but seriously, our cricket team should think about drafting in the person somewhere between Kokstad and Port Shepstone who can hit a moving bus at 20 metres with a projectile as unpredictable as a coke bottle!
Other than that, uneventful, if particularly pretty. As a result, it was pushing 11 by the time I arrived at the Backpackers. At this point, things got weirder. The cab dropped me off on a city street, beside a run-down building. The front door was open and the security guard directed me up the creaking stairs. On the first floor, the rickety-looking black gate was opened by two girls at reception. Over the thumping, distorting noise of music in the adjacent bar area, I was told to follow them to the dorm. I dragged my suitcase past the central courtyard area, where people were braai-ing and drinking.
Just off the central courtyard, in a dark hall, the reception person knocked on and then just pushed open an orange door. The 10-bed door looked pretty standard – white linen, pillow and thin duvet on each bed, bunks that look like they’ve seen better days. I was sharing with one other person, who was already asleep. I put down my bags and returned to reception to check and pay. The girls at reception could hardly hear me over the music. I went out onto the balcony – hunching against the wall to avoid the rain – in search of somewhere I could hear myself think. Pretty soon, I gave up and headed to bed.
Which meant braving the bathrooms. They’re not the worst backpacker bathrooms I have ever seen – that honour is reserved for a particular hell-hole in Mozambique – but they’re a good, solid second. And they shared the problematic characteristic of being available for general use by the bar patrons, most of whom were not residents. The place was a mess. The kind of mess where you simply grit your teeth and get through it because you’re not going to find anywhere better tonight.
By this stage I was tired. All I wanted was to fall into bed and sleep. I got to the dorm and turned to close out the noise and the people. The door wouldn’t close. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t get the door closed. I went to fetch someone from reception. She said she’d send someone later. I objected until she came herself immediately. She explained that I couldn’t have a key because it was a dorm (for the record, this is absolutely not standard practice at SA backpackers). I explained that I could live with not having a key, if I could only have a door that would close. She shrugged and said it was a difficult door and there was nothing she could do. And that was it.
I lay in bed for hours, fuming, tossing and turning, attempting to find the mosquito that was hunting me and wishing there was a way to block out the thumping music and the screeching people (like a door, perhaps!). Through the un-curtained windows, a street lamp blinded me whenever I turned over. After a couple of hours two girls, clearly a little worse for wear, wandered through our dorm to the balcony to have a chat. The other person in the dorm got fed up, threw them out and found an old, plastic chair to put against the door. That didn’t close it, but at least it was obvious that it was supposed to be closed.
In the morning light, the dusty floors, the dirty bathrooms and the noise were glaringly obvious. The linen on the beds seemed clean, but beyond that there was little to recommend the place. I’d initially picked it because of the location but I’d certainly rather have been a bit further away and had a backpackers that was closer to the usual standard of SA backpackers. The place obviously used to be quite pleasant – walls painted, posters advertising adventures, 24-hour reception. Plus, paddle-pool and braai area. But those days are long gone. And all this for exactly the same price as I recently paid for a classy, clean, comfortable backpackers with excellent service and even better location in Cape Town
For the record, anyone seeking a better SA Backpackers experiences could start with Cape Town Backpackers, iKhaya Stellenbosch Backpackers, Penthouse on Long (Cape Town) or The Backpackers Ritz in Joburg, to name just a few.