Home Destinations Europe. Climbing into bed at 4 AM. That wouldn't be like us… Yet with the disco remixes of all our beloved gay anthems still echoing in our heads, we know we deserve a rest after a long day of exploring the city. We can still hear the laughter of patrons who are leaving the long line of bars and clubs which populate the gay village, and relish in the thought that although we're miles from home, we still feel surrounded by our big gay happy family! This is the feeling of being in a gay hostel, regardless of where we are… When interrailing around Europe, we found gay hostels a great place to connect with fellow LGBTQ backpackers who have since turned into lifelong friends.
Watch a seductive clip from Eastern Boys
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A group of men in red and white robes stroll through the reception area. Women in high heels sit at the bar in a haze of cigarette smoke, chatting to clients and laughing. Germany legalised prostitution in , creating an industry now thought to be worth 16bn euros a year. By treating prostitution as a job like any other, the idea was to prise women away from the pimps that often run the sex trade. It's not like the street where you don't know what happens with a man," said year-old Hannah, who arrived in Stuttgart after two years working in a brothel in Berlin. But critics say Germany's liberal approach with its sex laws has spectacularly failed, normalising prostitution and turning the country into what they are now calling the "bordello of Europe".
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It is conducted not through ringleaders and brothelkeepers, but over the bar counters of a dark and cobbled alley called Paardenstraat at an average of pounds 50 a trick. A slow but steady post-Cold War influx has enabled the rentboys from Romania to take over what was once a placid backwater of Dutch sexual laissez-faire. Never before exposed to gay sex, the Romanian boys, aged between 17 and 22, are in it only for money.
My visit to Germany in March began in a most memorable and, for me at least, distinctly German way. Just before our first station stop in Frankfurt proper, the train came to an unscheduled halt right next to an allotment garden colony. Germany received an early spring and it was a glorious day: 25 C, sunny with the trees and gardens lush and green. As I sat at my window seat reading the paper, a movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. A second later, two hands emerged to pull the branches aside; and when they did, a something gentleman on this point I am perfectly clear , emerged, his shock of white hair only slightly contrasted by the even whiter tone of his pasty skin.