Melbourne was the first port of call at the very beginning of my solo traveler life, and it couldn’t have been a greater initiation!! I stayed for a total of 2 months living in a hostel called ‘Home at the Mansion’ (which, if you’ve been to Melbourne, is located at the top right corner of the city centre, adjacent to the beautiful Carlton Gardens) and it really did serve as my new home from home. 

I met so many awesome people there it seemed quite unreal that as the days and weeks went by, I grew closer with some friends whilst making more friends until there was such a big group of us who genuinely all loved to hang out together, and we would all go for some big nights out, have a football match every Tuesday, enjoy the Queen Vic Night Market on a Wednesday and any time just chill on sunny days in the park with drinks and music. 

On one such day, me and my ‘home at the mansion’ family had been drinking in the park together, lounging, chatting, listening to some tunes while the sun started to set and we progressively got bitten by mosquitoes.

I decided it was time to make the journey over to my new hostel for the night. I think I must have been too late with my weekly payment and my bed at Home at the Mansion had been filled by someone else. My friend Mary comes with me as her shared flat is in the same direction and we head over to the tram stop.

Nestling nicely in my backpack were some rather important items: namely my Passport and my iPad, but also clothes, toiletries, charging cables, headphones and other such backpacker stuff. I had left my main pack at the Home at the Mansion hostel because I was due to go straight back there after my one night’s stay away and I didn’t need all that stuff with me just for one night. I did however, need my passport with me to show the new hostel as proof of identity for my booking, so that’s why I kept that with me in my smaller daypack.  

Myself and Mary reached the tram stop and waited for what we saw on the notice board as the last tram running that night. We’re sitting there chatting and trying to keep warm as the temperature dropped, when the tram arrived at quarter to midnight and we quickly jumped on to escape the cold, the tram then pulling us away in the direction of my temporary accommodation. 

We’re 2 stops before arriving at our destination and suddenly I notice… 

I don’t have my bag with me anymore. 

Being a little bit tipsy from alcohol, it took me a minute to work out when I had last had it, but gradually came to the conclusion that I must have had it last at the tram stop. I say to Mary I’ve gotta go all the way back to that tram stop near the park and she very kindly agreed to come with me. 

Now we remember that the trams had just stopped for the night so the only way back was by taxi, and so we manage to grab one fairly quickly and start the return journey. I pay for the cab and with a feeling of immense anticipation and apprehension, get out and walk over to the tram stop….

It’s not there.

We had a search around the whole area but it was very clear that someone had taken it. In a state of shock and trepidation, Mary and I made our way on foot to Melbourne Police Station to report my lost bag with both Passport and iPad inside. Walking the city streets now fast approaching 1am, we came across many totally drunk people who were shouting and knocking into each other, acting lairy and unpredictable. 

We were also walking into an area I hadn’t been before, which in the darkness of night was enough to make me feel even more uneasy, now adding a different kind of uncomfortable feeling, a sense of foreboding, to the mixture of tension rising inside me.

Our worries were not eased when we reached the Police Station.

On arrival we were confronted by a woman who was marching in and out of the entrance shouting obscenities and her convictions of how everyone was against her. Someone, she said, had raped her and an endless stream of violent accusations were spewing out of her mouth as the police officers behind the counter tried to deal with her but were highly ineffective and so she continued spouting the same thing on repeat, over and over again.

Meanwhile Mary and I are trying to stay well out of the way of this woman and are attempting to explain over the incessant shouting, that I’ve lost my Passport and iPad and the lady behind the counter gives me a form to fill in. I fill it out, giving a description of the bag and so on, and hand it in while finally the very troubled, very loud woman is finally dealt with and escorted outside.

Now I had to recommence the journey to my new hostel. Walking part of the way with me, Mary wished me luck with the bag, I thanked her for staying with me, then she went off in the direction of her apartment.

As I approached the hostel, using google maps as my guide, I thought what I needed in order to enter the premises and thankfully I still had my wallet, which I always keep in my pocket, and within that I had my driving license and debit card so I could validate who I was at Reception and pay for my booking. 

The hostel was gigantic. It was like a factory where backpackers were processed.  

On the 6th floor up, I made my way through the dimly lit, empty corridors to the room number allocated to me. I opened the door and a waft of stale air hits me; the many human bodies cramped inside the room, evidently without a window open so the ‘stank’ was sealed in.  

Through the darkness I could just make out a large room with all the bunk beds laid out in close proximity, 15 bunk beds in total, so up to 30 people. Chickens cooped up in a battery farm I’m sure could relate to these sleeping quarters. At this point though, I was just grateful to have a bed to sleep in, as I creaked onto the top bunk feeling the distinct lack of a bag full of my stuff with me. 

As I lie there, I could clearly see my backpack in my minds eye and I thought how it even sucked that I’d lost the bag itself. It was pretty much brand new! A beautiful, green, Low Alpine 16Litre daypack, which was so comfortable to wear and had straps and pockets in all the right places… and before I’d even got to have any experiences with it, I’d left it behind and it had been gobbled up by the streets of Melbourne… With a sad sense of regret, I drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning I woke with an empty, hollow feeling in my stomach as I blankly stared up at the grey ceiling, not so far from my face… 

It didn’t take long for me to escape the hostel.  I obviously didn’t have anything to pack, and without a towel or toiletries, I wasn’t about to take a shower and I couldn’t brush my teeth, so once my clothes were on and my phone and wallet were safely in my pocket, I checked out of the backpacker factory and found myself walking again through the streets of Melbourne.

Feeling considerably lighter without my bag on my shoulders, I meandered in a daze all the way back to ‘Home at the Mansion’ in a state somewhere between despair and utter blankness, like part of me had drifted away… the lights were on, but no one was home. 

I slumped on the couch by the TV and asked a guy I recognised from the hostel if I could use his iphone charger as my phone was dying, which he happily lent me. I didn’t feel like talking, so I half-heartedly sat and watched whatever movie they had on and fiddled around on my phone.

Half an hour or so later, a private message comes through, a request message so I couldn’t view it completely and I didn’t recognise who had sent it; the funny thing was, in my state of slight despair, I very almost clicked it away without even reading it!

But I non-committally pressed to open the message and here’s what it said: