Hotel bonanza

When mentioning a stay in a hotel, one may invariably and over-confidently start daydreaming about beautiful suites with a surface proportional to the number of stars, mini bars full to the brim of junk food and drinks you just look at, crisp linen and gold of the takiest kind everywhere you can look. The point of going to a hotel is also (also, I underline) that, right? Getting out of your routine environment and boundaries, finding comfort in something different and beyond reasonable that, as functional as it may be - everyone needs to sleep somewhere - can also be nice and comforting.

Well, think again, my friends. I find that stars may be numerous nowadays, but losing all their shiny coat. The readily promised bonanza looks more like this: the paint is not fresh, the stink of sigarette is strong and the neighbors so loud and vulgar that you have the feeling of having them throwing a stag party in your own gloomy bathroom. Where is the point in asking whoever was in charge of the booking (not me, needless to say) that:

I do not smoke.

I asked for a single room, not for a pow-wow venue.

Despite these little surprises that will add to the charm of a working weekend, as I slipped into the tiny bath tub of this so-called four star hotel (ha ha ha ha, four times), I actually thought - contrary to all expectations - it was just great. Yes, just great for the simple reason that I do get immense and rewarding pleasure from not having to do a certain number of things, finally: no cleaning, no bed to make, no dishwasher to empty or fill, no dusting, no folding, no lightbulbs to change, no hoovering... Basically, the pleasure of getting careless is intact.

I guess while that feeling holds, it does not matter how stars are shining (or if they are up there at all). Simple, hun?

Credit: TheDaydreamer (via iPhone) - A room with a view would have been such an unfortunate choice for this post. Yes, that was the view from my room.