Spending two weeks at YHAs, you do come across your fair share of characters. There are people you share the dorm with, with whom you just "click". Others follow you around like a puppy and tell you their life story, whether you want them to or not. Some just sit in the corner, others use the YHA as an excuse to go and visit their mistresses.

I have spent quite a few weeks of my life sharing dorms at YHAs, backpackers and hostels all around the world. Just recently, I met an Australian lady at the YHA in Jordans, who was over here to research her family history and actually managed to find some of her relatives. We shared the room for a few days, and just got talking in a nice exchange of thoughts, ideas and experiences. She left to travel some more but came back to the hostel after I'd left the area for good (but I did leave my contact details for her) - and she just called me, saying she was sorry she missed me and wanted to say goodbye because she will be flying home tomorrow. I now have another contact in Australia, and an invitation to come and visit her when I'm next Down Under. Meeting people like her is nice. You bond, you have someone to talk to. But then, there are others.

At the same YHA, a retired man checked-in. He was there two days, and told everyone everything they possibly needed to know about his life. He just started talking and all attempts to either shut him up or get out of his way (the amount of times I got up, did the dishes, left the room, tried to read...) were to no avail. He kept following us, me in particular, around. I now know that he rides his bike nearly everywhere, has had more jobs than I care to remember, that his best friend in Germany is called Rolf, he loves the city of Freiburg, he lives just outside of Birmingham and his daugters all have taken gap years - the only thing I don't know is his name. He never introduced himself.

YHA Jordans was used as a base by many of us, who worked temporarily in and around Windsor. An actor who was working as a double on the latest Harry Potter drove to work from there, lecturers prepared lessons and other met clients in the area. Although I had to be up farily early myself, I was usually awake by 5am - the time the first dorm-sharer would jump down from the top bunk and shake the bed every morning without fail.

During my Gap Year, I joined impromptu BBQs in Australia, was given didgeridoo lessons by fellow travellers and went shopping with the staff of a South African hostel, before singing "Son of a preacher man" alongside Mama Fefe in Cape Town during karaoke night. I made friends with PeaceCorps members in Swaziland, witnessed how somebody staying at my hostel in Brisbane was arrested and smashed the police van, and slept in a bunk bed that had been put under a car port in Tamworth, Australia, when the YHA owner realised she had hopelessly overbooked.

The worst, but also most hilarious YHA moment happend in L.A. though. I was in a mixed, 10 bed dorm for a few nights, and noticed that some of the guys were also staying for more than two days. One guy in particular kept bringing a different girl back to the dorm every night (why you would even consider that is beyond me), but during the fourth night, one of the other guys got up (at 4am), turned on the lights and said completely serious: "We might as well just watch."

At the time, you might not be too impressed, but looking back at all the people you've shared a dorm with, it's those characters you'll remember and they make the experience very lively indeed.