A stroll around London’s Whitechapel is like walking around a living, breathing museum. For a moment, if you ignore the besuited office workers spilling out from the trendy bars and eateries, look past the new developments and shiny buildings, the area oozes history. Every street name has a story to tell.
As far back as Roman times, this area of London was the main thoroughfare on the important route between London & Colchester. It remained so until the 16th century when Whitechapel grew into a burgeoning suburb outside the city walls. It soon became known as the ‘other half’ of London, an area beyond the city’s controls. Soon London’s less desirable enterprises moved in; Tanneries, breweries and foundries. It was here that Philadelphia’s Liberty Bell and London’s Big Ben were cast at the Whitechapel Bell Foundry.
By the 19th century, the East End had devolved into what many consider to be classic Dickensian London. Although Whitechapel Road remained relatively respectable, the warren of lanes and small, dank streets branching from it was a hotbed of suffering and overcrowding. The squalid Dorset Street, now a much cleaner private alleyway, was once described as “the worst street in London”. It was these busy, badly lit and labyrinthine slums that allowed Jack the Ripper to carry out his reign of terror between August and November of 1888.
Stumbling out of East Aldgate station at 8 pm on a Friday evening, I saw that Whitechapel is now a far cry from the pages of Oliver Twist. The narrow slums have been replaced with office blocks and expensive looking apartments. The restaurants and bars that have replaced the decrepit tenement buildings heave with a post-work, Friday night crowd spilling onto the street outside. Rather than the likes of Bill Sikes and Bob Cratchit, it’s Londons hip-young things and wide-eyed tourists that wander these streets, making their way to nearby Shoreditch for a night on the town.
My ultimate destination, 7 Dock St, is a building that has every bit as much history as its surroundings. Opened in 1865, it is older than even the Ripper mystery itself. Originally a sailors mission, the Red Ensign Club was a hostel for seamen and dockers from the nearby port until the late 20th century. Back then it gained the nickname ‘Alcatraz’ due to its tiny, cell-like rooms, barely big enough for a bed and a few coat hooks. There is no doubt that during the Victorian era, the hostel would have been squalid and rough. Despite this, the writer Joseph Conrad had fond memories of living here during his time as a merchant seaman. Today, 7 Dock street is still a hostel. Since 2014 it has been home to Wombat’s CITY HOSTELS London.
Clattering up the steps with my wheeled case, flustered and a couple of hours later than expected after a chaotic journey from Budapest, I couldn’t see how this was the same building that was once named for one of the world’s most notorious prisons. It’s much more welcoming than that. Its ground floor facade is all glass and light, the tall windows emanating a glow into the fading light of the muggy, London evening. Passing a group of giggling backpackers huddled in the doorway, I step inside the bright, open lobby. All along one side, guests laze on sofas, tapping away at their laptops and phones while opposite, a stylish, wooden reception desk has a glowing bulbed sign – one that wouldn’t be out of place 2 and a half miles away in London’s West End – spelling out ‘WOMBATS’.
However, it’s the subtle touches that catch my eye; The record players dotted around the room with stacks of vinyl close by for guests to flick through, the elevated bookshelf suspended from the ceiling that spans the width of the room, complete with a little ladder to help you peruse and select your reading material. The room contains some cool vintage finds; among which is a self-proclaimed #hipstertrap: a fish-eye mirror just asking you to snap some selfies.
As I check-in for my London Staycation, I’m told by the smiling receptionist that the downstairs bar has just opened and that happy hour has begun. As he says this, he hands me a couple of free drink vouchers. After a long day of travel, a cold beer was high on my agenda and as £3 pints are virtually unheard of in London, or practically anywhere south of the Midlands these days, I couldn’t say no.
While hostels with their own bar are a dime a dozen, it’s true that not all bars are created equal and the WomBAR at Wombat’s London is a cut above the rest. I make my way down the restored 1950’s stairwell to the basement. I step inside a warren of brick-vaulted archways that are a clear remnant of the Victorian era, only now what was probably once a dank basement has been transformed thanks to marquee lighting and quirky furniture. The former caretaker stores, boiler and plant rooms have become the social epicentre of the hostel. Up-lighters enhance the height of the arches and exposed bulbs dangle at intervals to create atmospheric nooks for patrons to lounge on daybeds upholstered with Transport for London moquette fabric. Amongst the modern remodelling, there are little hints of the area’s history. The bar itself is over 500 years old, created from reclaimed oak that was once found in ships and churches. A fitting addition to a hostel that used to house sailors.
Despite just opening for the evening, the place is already buzzing. I sidle up to the bar and order my surprisingly cheap pint. Behind me, a group of backpackers are setting up a game of beer pong on the dedicated table, while others shoot pool, watch sport on the huge screen, or sit and quietly tap away at laptops. It is an incredibly sociable space, but one that provides a quiet spot for people to relax at the same time. Its a combination that is hard to pull off, but somehow Wombat’s have managed it. It maybe helps that adjacent to the bar, there is a light, airy dining area complete with open plan kitchen and double doors that open onto an outdoor terrace – a rare find in the middle of London – that means the majority of the hostel’s common areas are all clustered together in one spot.
Just a week earlier, I was in Amsterdam, sat at the bar of a popular hostel brand. The surroundings were equally stylish but there was something missing. There was no atmosphere. Despite a throng of people occupying the common area, no one was talking. It was a social area without any social aspect. Wombats couldn’t be more different. There is something about the WomBAR that seems to nurture convivial interactions and chance meetings. Within a few minutes of sitting down, I was deep in conversation with a group of Korean travellers. They were in London to celebrate their University graduation and upon hearing I was English, gravitated towards me to question me on my London knowledge. As I moved onto the outdoor terrace to enjoy the balmy London evening, I found myself in the centre of an intense chat about football with some incredibly drunk, but incredibly friendly Australians. I had started the evening solo, but within an hour I had gained a few dozen drinking buddies.
Gradually, as the night wore on, people began to filter out of the bar, making their way to nearby Shoreditch for a night on the town. A few of my new-found friends enquired about me joining them but I decided to stay, conscious that I had planned to wake up early the next morning to get out and explore London. “What do you think of the bar?” asked the barman as he pulled me another £3 beer. I took my drink and gushed about how great the space is. He gave me a knowing smile, “It’s fantastic, isn’t it? This is fairly quiet, but when it is busy, I can’t think of a better place to be working.”
I kept my promise the next morning and left the hostel before most of the other occupants were awake. I wanted to explore the Southbank and surrounding area before thousands of other tourists descended on it. Luckily for me, Wombat’s is just a 10-minute walk from Tower Bridge and the Tower of London. Within half an hour I was wandering across an eerily quiet Millenium Bridge, the whole of London to myself. An hour later, I arrive back at Dock Street in time for breakfast.
If not all hostel bars are created equal, hostel breakfasts are even more variable. In the downstairs kitchen – a beautifully clean and modern dining space, the best I have seen at any hostel – I find the usual assortment of cereal, pastries, cheeses and meat, as well as a toastie maker: An ingenious addition to any buffet. It’s these little touches that make it worth forking out a few pounds for a breakfast ticket rather than having to traipse elsewhere in search of food. They even forgo the usual jar of instant coffee and provide guests with a professional-looking coffee machine so that you can have a caffeine fix that doesn’t make you wince.
I realise that, until now, I have made no reference to the actual accommodation. Luckily, Wombats have put as much thought into the rooms as they have with the rest of the property. Afterall, the motto for the chain is “By travellers, for travellers” so you can assume that the two Austrian originators of the chain (the idea for Wombats was born one beer-fuelled night nearly 20 years ago while backpacking in Melbourne) know what visitors are looking for in a dorm room.
I’m staying on the third floor in a private room. I pass multiple keycard operated security doors, through the bright, airy corridors and into my abode. Gone are the days when 7 Dock Street was full of crowded, cell-like hovels. Instead, I find myself in a room that wouldn’t be out of place in a hotel. It is spacious, with a comfortable double bed and ample space for me to fling my suitcase and its contents all over the floor, as I am want to do. My particular bugbear with hostels is their tendency to not provide adequate plug sockets. It may seem petty, but in these modern times who doesn’t sit in bed scrolling through their Instagram feed on their phone. Luckily my fears are alleviated when I spot that there is one at each side of the bed. Cold showers with poor water pressure is another crime that tops my list of hostel faux-pas, so I am pleasantly surprised when I find that the bathroom has a hot, rainfall shower that is possibly even better than the one I have at home. The bathroom itself looks as though it has been recently remodelled.
A private room is all well and good, but I’m aware that the majority of the 640 backpackers that this hostel can hold will be staying in one of the many dorm rooms. A quick tour of the hostel reveals that there is a selection of 8, 6 and 4-bed dorms – a nice touch that there are none of the ‘mega dorms’, rooms with up to 20 beds – that are so prevalent in many London hostels. It’s also worth noting that the 6-bed dorms are available as ‘female only’ too.
In terms of amenities, everything you could need is here; ensuite toilets and showers, spacious lockers and comfortable beds. However, it’s the small touches that really make a difference; The lockers are accessed using your keycard, meaning that you won’t be fumbling for your jangling keys late at night or early morning with a fear of waking your roommates. Each bed also has its own reading light and plug socket as well as a shelf making it easier to charge your electronics during the night. The rooms nearer the top of Wombats are privy to the shared lounge that gives a stunning view over London, taking in the skyscrapers and modern buildings of The City. It’s a view you would expect to pay several hundred pounds a night for, rather than double figures.
I spend the rest of my day exploring the local area in the most casual of fashion, making the most of Wombat’s location. I walk the 10-minute stroll to Shoreditch and peruse Brick Lane’s Sunday market and lazily dwell over a few coffees and trendy cafes before heading south of the river to Bermondsey – a 20-minute walk from the hostel – to try some of the ultra-cool breweries that have popped up beneath the railway arches of the Bermondsey Beer Mile.
I make it back, a little too caffeinated and a few beers deep into my day, just in time for the WomBAR to open and ready to welcome some of my favourite London-based bloggers to experience it. It’s the perfect venue for us to sun ourselves over a few quiet drinks on the outdoor terrace before moving inside to join the party. I can’t help but think that if this place was just a regular bar and not hidden away within the hostel walls, I would definitely visit to start, or finish, an evening on the town. It’s this social space, as well as the hipster decor of the lobby and the well planned, spacious rooms that have gained Wombat’s plaudits such as ‘Best Hostel Chain’ and ‘Best London Hostel’ from HostelWorld.
As someone that has stayed in literally hundreds of hostels throughout the world, including some of London’s best hostels, I can finally say that I have found one of my favourites. As I continue to party the night away with friends both old and new, it’s clear that Wombat’s CITY HOSTEL London is a beacon of light in London’s backpacking scene, rather than a ‘Heart of Darkness’.
This post was brought to you as a result of the #wombatsTraveller blog trip, created and managed by iambassador in partnership with Wombat’s CITY HOSTELS. I received a complimentary stay at Wombat’s City Hostel, however, all views expressed are my own.
One Response
Thanks for the wonderful review of Wombats City Hostel. I will definitely stay there.