Don Moustache Hostel

Barcelona is a city that desperately wants to take your money. It lures you in with the promise of Gaudí and sunshine, then hits you with twelve-euro gin and tonics and tourist menus that should be classified as a crime against humanity. If you’re traveling on a budget, you’re usually relegated to the fringes—some windowless box in a neighborhood that smells like despair. But then there’s Don Moustache. It’s sitting right there on Carrer de Girona, a street that’s actually quite lovely, in the heart of the Eixample. This isn't a place for the faint of heart or the luxury-obsessed; it’s a place for the mercenary traveler who knows that a bed is just a place to horizontalize between adventures.

When you walk down Carrer de Girona, you’re in the 'Dreta de l'Eixample.' It’s the grid. It’s the rational, orderly part of the city that Cerdà designed to keep people from dying of the plague, and today, it keeps you from dying of the claustrophobia found in the Gothic Quarter. The hostel itself doesn't scream for attention. It doesn't have a rooftop pool or a celebrity chef. It has a door, a desk, and a philosophy of functionalism that I can actually get behind. You aren't paying for a 'lifestyle brand' here; you’re paying for a locker that actually works and a staff that knows where the locals eat when they don't want to be seen with tourists.

The dorms are exactly what you expect, which is to say they are rooms full of beds. Whether you’re in a four-bed or a twelve-bed, the reality is the same: you are sharing air with strangers. There will be snoring. There will be the rustle of plastic bags at 4:00 AM. This is the tax you pay for freedom. But here’s the kicker—the showers. Reviewers talk about the showers here like they’ve discovered a holy spring. In the world of hostels, a shower with actual water pressure and consistent heat is a unicorn. Don Moustache has the unicorn. It’s the kind of small mercy that makes you forget you’re sleeping three feet away from a guy who hasn't washed his backpack since 2019.

The common area is where the magic—or the tragedy—happens. It’s a mix of digital nomads staring intensely at MacBooks and backpackers nursing cheap supermarket beers while trying to figure out how to get to Park Güell without paying for a taxi. It’s honest. There’s a kitchen where you can boil your pasta and pretend you’re not broke, and a terrace where you can smoke a cigarette and watch the Eixample life move past. It’s a window into the real Barcelona, the one where people actually live and work, not the Disneyfied version on La Rambla.

Is it perfect? Of course not. The elevator is a relic, the rooms can get tight, and if you’re looking for a 'party hostel' where people do body shots off the reception desk, you’re in the wrong place. This is a grown-up hostel. It’s for the person who wants to see the Sagrada Família, eat some decent tapas, and then come back to a place that doesn't feel like a frat house. It’s clean, it’s safe, and it’s cheap. In a city that’s increasingly becoming a playground for the ultra-rich, places like Don Moustache are the last line of defense for the real traveler.

The verdict is simple: if you want a gold-leafed experience, go find a boutique hotel in Gràcia and pay through the nose. But if you want a solid base of operations in one of the best neighborhoods in the city, where the showers actually work and the price doesn't make you want to weep, this is it. It’s a place to crash, to wash off the city grime, and to wake up ready to do it all over again. And really, what more do you actually need?