Hotel, Motel, Bunk
One of the first things I cared about on our trip was a bed. Thanks to jet lag, and flying overnight, when we got into Vilnius, I was ready for a nap. [Actually, I slept fairly well on the flight over, thanks to Mark's conveniently close shoulder. Thanks, babe.] Mark convinced me to go exploring instead,
but every day naturally ended with a bed. Having spent half of my trip in one, this is what I can tell you about European hotel rooms:
Most of the rooms had 2 twin beds that were separated by 2 inches. It's almost like sleeping in the same bed, but not. Mark liked that I couldn't steal his covers.
Space is tight. Sometimes, space is super tight. Like that time we stayed in an inn where the toilet
was literally in the shower [you had to close the toilet lid and remove the toilet paper before showering], and the bunk-beds took up 7/8 of the room [okay, I didn't actually measure, but you get the idea]. A couple of the hotels had a moving shower door, so that you could maximize on bathroom space when someone wasn't
showering. Great idea, but they often had drainage issues.
It may look as if you can control the temperature of the room, but I'm pretty sure it's a ruse. In every room, we'd try to adjust the thermostat to a preferred-level of cool, and nothing would happen. We'd call the front desk, and they'd give us a fan. Every time. I guess the appearance of autonomy is nice.
Latitude makes a huge difference in the start of your day. I think the sun rose at 5am, and didn't set until 11pm. To preserve the natural sleep-wake cycle and the body's response to light, we blocked out the windows. Most of the hotels had thick curtains, but the bed-and-breakfast place in Sweden didn't, so I engineered a pillow-and-blanket sunlight blockade.
Ikea seems to be the primary provider of hotel furniture, at least in the Baltics and, of course, Sweden. The wardrobes were legit Ikea designs. Ikea even made an appearance in one of the museums we looked at.
Our hotel in Tallinn was famous for KGB spying on foreign visitors. When the Soviet occupation ended in 1990, KGB agents abruptly left, but left a lot of tools and gadgets that had assisted in the espionage efforts. Peephole cameras, bugged tea saucers, booby-trapped purses, recording machines.... So the top floor of that hotel is a KGB museum. Of all the demonstrations of KGB activities, this was certainly the tamest.
Most of the rooms had 2 twin beds that were separated by 2 inches. It's almost like sleeping in the same bed, but not. Mark liked that I couldn't steal his covers.
Space is tight. Sometimes, space is super tight. Like that time we stayed in an inn where the toilet
showering. Great idea, but they often had drainage issues.
It may look as if you can control the temperature of the room, but I'm pretty sure it's a ruse. In every room, we'd try to adjust the thermostat to a preferred-level of cool, and nothing would happen. We'd call the front desk, and they'd give us a fan. Every time. I guess the appearance of autonomy is nice.
Latitude makes a huge difference in the start of your day. I think the sun rose at 5am, and didn't set until 11pm. To preserve the natural sleep-wake cycle and the body's response to light, we blocked out the windows. Most of the hotels had thick curtains, but the bed-and-breakfast place in Sweden didn't, so I engineered a pillow-and-blanket sunlight blockade.
Ikea seems to be the primary provider of hotel furniture, at least in the Baltics and, of course, Sweden. The wardrobes were legit Ikea designs. Ikea even made an appearance in one of the museums we looked at.
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| The Swedes are on to something |
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| the grey phone is a direct line to KGB headquarters |
We're glad to get back to our own messy-but-private apartment, even if it doesn't come with a free breakfast.
Or a cleaning service.
I really miss that one.
Love your blog!!!
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