Worst. Hostel. Ever

Following on from the trauma that Kate and I endured at the South Beach hostel in Miami, I have managed to find an equally poor excuse of a backpackers in the Southern Hemisphere. We drove up to Kununara, the last stop before reaching the Northern Territory, through some pretty nice scenery. So we arrive at the hostel there, having been told that we "may not" be in the same room, interesting. Essentially the hostel comprised of about 3 wings, with about 50 people staying in each one, with one toilet for each wing. Add to that the average kitchen, with sticky tables, and a tv room with furniture that I can only presume was looted from a nearby plane crash, and even that had bit the dust. No one in the hostel seemed bothered though, for these people, are what we call "lifers". Lifers are generally people who cant be bothered to move on from one place, so get a job cleaning somewhere and seem to live in bliss in the skankiest hostel going. So we are surrounded by these happy people that seem oblivious to how bad the place is. At least I have a bed to sleep in. Well. Nic and I were indeed in different rooms, she was in a 4 bed dorm and with a few weirdos, yet I opened the door to find a seemly normal German girl and a somewhat Wizard like Male who later introduced himself as "Bushy". Having been there for 3 months, presumably in the original bed linen, he worked as security on a farm, which entailed sleeping in his clothes and then getting up at around 4am, turning on the light and then prancing around humming and singing for roughly half an hour before leaving me alone for an hour or so. Fantastic! So all in all it was pretty crap! Oh and it rained all damn day!