Generator Hostel Review

The chances are that if you’re looking at getting a hostel in Berlin, you’ll encounter Generator Hostel somewhere on your virtual travels. Indeed, a couple of years ago I wound up staying there – most likely because it was first on Hostelbookers.com’s listings to be fair. Having had a cursory glance around various hostel review sites, I can’t see a single review of the place that accurately sums it up. It almost seems as if people writing for the Internet don’t give a shit about what they write, as long as they get paid. Tisk. Hence, I would be somewhat remiss in my duty if I didn’t cover this kind of thing.

So…

Spend too much time in the bar at night, and you WILL fit.

It’s in Fredrichshain, just around the corner from my place, and as such, an automatic recommendation to any of my various bum mates looking for a free bit of floor space. It’s also one of the cheapest places in town, as far as I can figure – certainly if you’re looking to stay in dorms. The reason for this is immediately obvious if you ever see it. It’s bloody massive. And decked out top to toe in neon. How wonderfully retro.

Fucking neon, yeah?

Who doesn't like a neon penis?

And this point deserves note. There’s more than a hint of brothel about the look of this place. It’s almost as if the owners were hedging their bets, just in case the place didn’t work out as a hostel. If you’re in any way keen on looking, gazing, staring or otherwise using your eyes, this may not be the place for you – it is a hell of a lot of neon. In fairness, it’s only the communal areas that are decked out entirely in neon. Everything else merely bathes in the leftover light that can’t find its way into some poor sods retina.

Okay, so I don’t like neon. This is mostly because I feel it highlights my complete ineptitude with girls. I prefer not to peacock – tending to take a more trapdoor spider approach – so I like dark corners (preferably with enough leaf litter to construct some kind of rudimentary camouflaged den). In fairness though, who really does like neon?

Berlin beer gardens

Generator Hostel or, more specifically the bar, has a couple of saving graces, however. Past the relatively modest pricing of the rooms, and easy access to town, it has one thing that a vast majority of Berlin pubs don’t have: a beer garden. If you come from where I do, it’s only a beer garden in the same sense that your toilet is, technically, a water source. Still, needs must. Pretty much every pub here has some kind of outside ‘bit’, but it’s usually just a few rickety benches on the pavement. 

Then there are the more chilled areas. There are a couple of pool and fussbal tables dotted around the place with Internet stations and a popcorn machine as well as pretty much constant (and probably illegal) movie screenings. For Berlin, there’s a surprising amount of non-drink necessitating activities on offer. That said, if you do like your beer, the prices are pretty reasonable, with a stonkingly good happy hour from 5pm to 7pm with beers at around €1.20.

Generator Berlin overall

C'mon. Tell me you wouldn't smash that to pieces.

In general it’s got a far more free-and-easy vibe than other places in town, such as Belushi’s. Hanging out at Generator, you’ll see the full gamut of holidaying types. Far more than many other places I’ve stayed. Watching a stag do consisting entirely of early-thirties men, each weighing more than a fully mature female hippo, collectively hit on a table full of teenage girls is an amusing sight – until they start pairing off and heading upstairs at least, at which point it becomes profoundly depressing. But hey, it's only statutory rape, right?

Either way, it comes highly recommended on a personal level. It’s clean, safe and has enough throughput of pretty young things to make for a fun night out. Competition like the aforementioned Belushi’s is a different type of place.  Those places have a code of conduct that, in reality, dictates the kind of person that might stay there. Generator’s code is dictated by the group of people you find yourself hitting on, no more, no less.