During 2014 I worked as a barman at the popular Lima hostel, ‘Loki Lima.’ While hardly mastering the craft of ‘barman,’ during my time there, I was given an insiders look at what it means to work at a hostel in South America. Though wild, the time I spent there was easily the most fun that I had during my time away, and I’d strongly encourage and backpacker visiting South America to consider bar work while visiting.

Money was short when I arrived at the Loki Lima hostel. While not destitute, I certainly had spent way too much in Argentina and Chile, and needed to reduce expenses somewhat. At check in, when asked by the receptionist whether I’d consider bar-work, I took it to be a gift from God.

‘Absolutely,’ I said, and she told me that I could start Monday.

My first shift in the bar was a little rough. It was strange going back to work after not having worked since leaving Australia. However, the manager of the bar, Leo, was awesome, driven, and really knowledgeable, and got me up to speed really quickly.

‘It’s simple,’ he said. ‘You work 5 shifts a week down here, and don’t pay any accomodation costs whilst you’re working. We pay for your meals, and you get 50% off on drinks.’

I’m sure they would have seen my smile from the International Space Station at this point.

From there on it was a steep learning curve. I joined a team of other backpackers who were either in need of finances, or were looking to take a break from the gringo trail. A few of us were Australian, there was a Dutch guy, and one woman from New Zealand. Each night we’d descend to the bar, clean the place up, and then prepare for the rush.

Loki Lima is a bustling place, and during 2014, in the midst of the FIFA Football World Cup, the hostel was consistently booked out. During my first few weeks there, I was trained in how to make all of the basic hostel cocktails: Pisco Sour, Caipirinha, Dark and Stormy, and the famed ‘blood bomb,’ (a Loki hostel special: red bull, jager-meister, and grenadine.) The biggest take home message during these weeks was that to do my job, I didn’t need to be most technically gifted barman, I just needed to get people in the bar to have fun. Which, given we were in a hostel, wasn’t hard.

This meant organising regular games: whether they be drinking games, beer pong, ‘dare night,’ or themed parties - it was easy, just make sure each night was novel, new, and exciting enough to bring guests down from their rooms. Leo and I consistently thought up new and exciting ways to get people to stay in the bar: whether it be for themed football games, or just for simple table tennis competitions, the trick was in making the hostel bar fun enough that backpackers wouldn’t want to leave. And God almighty were we successful at this.

Each night the bar was heaving. Both with guests and locals alike - the place was packed wall to wall with patrons. We’d share a beer with them, banter with others, and send the more intoxicated to bed. As a team, we generated a serious rhythm, and ensured that the bar remained the best ticket in town for a cheap night out. For the team behind the bar, our drink of choice became White Russians. Don’t ask me why - heavy milk content, heavy taste, but very, very fun behind the bar.

The two months I spent there flew by. In my time there I single handedly helped Australia reach a respectable second place on the blood-bomb world championship leaderboard, won the beer pong competition (I still have the t-shirt somewhere), and got to hang out with the most eclectic, awesome group of people that I met overseas. Each night was a party, and each day involved us hanging out, having a beer, and sharing a meal. It was, to put it simply, a perfect oasis in the midst of my travels.

That isn’t to say that the work didn’t take it’s toll. As we were in a youth-hostel, it stands to reason that we were consuming ungodly amounts of alcohol most nights, as both a means of keeping up with the patrons, and to keep things fun. However, after a month of doing so, I did begin to feel slightly burned out, and possibly in need of a detox. The late nights too, were taking their toll. each night we’d be working until at least midnight, and possibly 2 or 3, if the bar was busy enough. Over time, the lack of sleep and regular drinking certainly wore away at me a bit. It was time to leave.

Thus, all good things had to come to an end. My time there was awesome, and in the end, I was offered a paid role at the bar, and could have stayed longer. But, with a looming return flight home, and the desire to get north to Colombia on my mind, I made the difficult decision to leave the Loki Hostel Lima. However, feeling very, very hungover the next morning after my going away party, I recall being struck by thinking, ‘that may have been the most fun I’ve ever had,’ as I stepped onto the bus north. Looking back now, I still feel the same - Loki Lima, thank you.

Any questions? Fire away in the comments below! Better yet, tell me more about your experiences working as a barman in a hostel!