Travel Log, Part Four
What's a trip without a brand new place to stay?
Hotels are wonderful creatures. Havens of civilization in the wild expanses of touristdom, giving the weary traveler a taste of home and an island of comfort in the great unknown. At least, in theory, that's what they're supposed to do. More often than not, that description is questionable at best. Especially when you're getting the action for free.
In terms of accomodation, I'm a poor tourist. My colleagues love the whole resort beach hotel thing, with spas and sun and gyms and pools and what not. I am a cold functional type, and I don't need sun and beaches to make my day. I need a nice hotel and hotel room. Here's where our viewpoints begin to differ.
Le Suffren was my kind of hotel. Stark and simple, but still pretty to look at and located close to various conveniences, not the least of which were the glorious Golden Arches. God bless Ronald McDonald, evermore. The rooms were elegant, even if I was on ground-floor tsunami level (I've never considered my hotel rooms for the tsunami factor until now...), and the bathrooms were ideal. This was a good hotel.
La Plantation was their kind of hotel. Scenic and pretty and beachy and fancy, without a doubt. My dolphin buddies totally agree with me.
As I mentioned before, I did get a free bird and newt with my hotel room here. I have to wonder, however, about some of the other "features" of this hotel room...
-Dim lighting. A total of four bulbs that, combined, probably don't make a 100Watt bulb. This makes for poor nighttime reading light. Maybe it makes the rooms more romantic and stuff. Bollocks. I need photons.
-Minimal power. There are two power outlets in the entire room, and that's assuming you're clever enough to find the hidden one that the standing lamp is plugged into. The only outlet worth using is the one in the bathroom. This makes for wacky hijinks while ironing.
-Questionable shower construction. There's a nice big tub. Fancy. And a hose with an adjustable shower nozzle. Good. But... nowhere to hang it up so that you get an overhead shower going. So you always have to hold the hose and direct it around your body. Now that isn't bad, by itself, but then factor in the lack of shower door/curtain/cover/anything, and you find yourself hosing down the entire bathroom every morning.
-No drawers. This could well be the damning point of this room. There is not a single drawer in the room. Not on the desk. Not on the bedside. Not in the bathroom. I almost ripped off the side of the bed looking for space. The closet is spacious enough for hangars, but I don't want to hang my socks and undies up in the closet. WTF?!?!?!?
My cold functional self is offended by this room. Not even a free newt makes up for all that. Although, to be fair, free buffet does go a long way toward soothing the pain. Mmmmmm... buffet. I'm hoping to get a picture of the bird who eats directly out of the pancake fixings bowl. That's comedy.
And if that weren't enough, the hotel is a trap and an accident waiting to happen. Behold, the Marble Floor of Doom:
It seems innocent enough, although with a few seconds of scrutiny it's easy to see that the center area is really a shallow pool of water over a black marble pool base, just like the floor itself, which is level with the water. If you're not paying attention, it's easy to mistake water for floor. We saw one gentleman fall entirely in. I simply landed my entire foot into the illusionary floor. Bastards.
Apparently the hotels Oberoi and Labourdonnais are THE places to be, if you've got the mad cash. We visited both of them. They are the collective shiznit. Next time I've got $50k to blow on a tropical island vacation, I'll be coming down here for a week or two.
Hotels are wonderful creatures. Havens of civilization in the wild expanses of touristdom, giving the weary traveler a taste of home and an island of comfort in the great unknown. At least, in theory, that's what they're supposed to do. More often than not, that description is questionable at best. Especially when you're getting the action for free.
In terms of accomodation, I'm a poor tourist. My colleagues love the whole resort beach hotel thing, with spas and sun and gyms and pools and what not. I am a cold functional type, and I don't need sun and beaches to make my day. I need a nice hotel and hotel room. Here's where our viewpoints begin to differ.
Le Suffren was my kind of hotel. Stark and simple, but still pretty to look at and located close to various conveniences, not the least of which were the glorious Golden Arches. God bless Ronald McDonald, evermore. The rooms were elegant, even if I was on ground-floor tsunami level (I've never considered my hotel rooms for the tsunami factor until now...), and the bathrooms were ideal. This was a good hotel.
La Plantation was their kind of hotel. Scenic and pretty and beachy and fancy, without a doubt. My dolphin buddies totally agree with me.
As I mentioned before, I did get a free bird and newt with my hotel room here. I have to wonder, however, about some of the other "features" of this hotel room...
-Dim lighting. A total of four bulbs that, combined, probably don't make a 100Watt bulb. This makes for poor nighttime reading light. Maybe it makes the rooms more romantic and stuff. Bollocks. I need photons.
-Minimal power. There are two power outlets in the entire room, and that's assuming you're clever enough to find the hidden one that the standing lamp is plugged into. The only outlet worth using is the one in the bathroom. This makes for wacky hijinks while ironing.
-Questionable shower construction. There's a nice big tub. Fancy. And a hose with an adjustable shower nozzle. Good. But... nowhere to hang it up so that you get an overhead shower going. So you always have to hold the hose and direct it around your body. Now that isn't bad, by itself, but then factor in the lack of shower door/curtain/cover/anything, and you find yourself hosing down the entire bathroom every morning.
-No drawers. This could well be the damning point of this room. There is not a single drawer in the room. Not on the desk. Not on the bedside. Not in the bathroom. I almost ripped off the side of the bed looking for space. The closet is spacious enough for hangars, but I don't want to hang my socks and undies up in the closet. WTF?!?!?!?
My cold functional self is offended by this room. Not even a free newt makes up for all that. Although, to be fair, free buffet does go a long way toward soothing the pain. Mmmmmm... buffet. I'm hoping to get a picture of the bird who eats directly out of the pancake fixings bowl. That's comedy.
And if that weren't enough, the hotel is a trap and an accident waiting to happen. Behold, the Marble Floor of Doom:
It seems innocent enough, although with a few seconds of scrutiny it's easy to see that the center area is really a shallow pool of water over a black marble pool base, just like the floor itself, which is level with the water. If you're not paying attention, it's easy to mistake water for floor. We saw one gentleman fall entirely in. I simply landed my entire foot into the illusionary floor. Bastards.
Apparently the hotels Oberoi and Labourdonnais are THE places to be, if you've got the mad cash. We visited both of them. They are the collective shiznit. Next time I've got $50k to blow on a tropical island vacation, I'll be coming down here for a week or two.