Surprised by a modern hotel

Surprised . . . 

In Madrid, Kathryn and I stayed in a hotel set up in a multi-use building. It was on the third floor; it had no elevator. There was a bar on the ground floor and a restaurant on the first floor. There were literally half a dozen more bars, restaurants, and confeiteras on the street, on the corner, and around the block around the corner. The bus stop was in front of our door, and the metro stop was two corners over.

In Lisbon, the first place we stayed was an apartment that had been converted from three bedrooms to one and turned into 21st Century elegant. It was extremely comfortable, and it had an elevator. It also had a modern kitchen and washing machine. There were places to eat seventy-five feet from the door either direction. There were shops and people in motion everywhere.

Our second hotel in Lisbon was in the old commercial district. Like the Madrid hotel, it was the third floor of a multi-use building . . . shops on the first floor, private apartments on the second and third and fifth. The entire street was shops, eateries at every price point and every nationality. Again no elevator. The furniture (and bed) were well aged. It had a shared kitchen, which we used.

Our hotel in Coimbra had a kitchen down the hall, student housing in the next wing, no elevator, and a confeitera a block up the hill, and a wonderful one a block down the hill. Comfortable bed, no second chair, and a shower taken right out of Jean-Luc Picard's cabin on the Enterprise.

In Porto the first hotel was a converted office building that was a hotel. The water was hot enough to make coffee with (we -did- adjust the mix), with paired single beds. While we only needed one of the beds, we absolutely piled the blankets on; there is little or no heat in typical Portuguese residences, etc. There was a confeitera forty feet across the street from the front door. We even had the ground floor. There were places to go any time of day or night to get something to eat.

The second Porto hotel was an elegant little 35-year-old purpose-built hotel with a full bed and a twin bed that were comfortable. Blankets in the closet came out, even with the heat on, a view into the courtyard, 24-hour staffed front door . . . leave your key at the desk when you go out during the day; ring the front bell when you come back in. They served sliced ham, sliced cheese, fresh rolls, coffee, and cereal each morning. Dad sang three church gigs this past weekend with the choir plus orchestra in different churches. He sang for the Pope when that worthy visited Portugal and dad-as-a-kid was on television. Music was always in the air there.

Today we checked in to a three-star purpose-built nine-story hotel in Lisbon. We have a custom tour scheduled plus some other business at the embassy to take care of. The room is . . . uh . . . perfect. Wood floor white walls with warm gray laminate built-ins to match the gray curtains. Windows that look out over the neighborhood. State-of-the-art flat, walk-in shower, apartment refrigerator, television on the wall. And it's perfectly sterile and boring as hell.

We might as well have stayed in Dallas or Houston or Kansas City or Atlanta or Shanghai or anywhere else in the corporate-cookie-cutter-complex world. We are so damn frustrated and bored with this place. We're stuck here for three days. I reserve rooms online, and this one was the cheapest, but, damned if it has -any- character. It's in the modern part of the city, which I have to admit is pleasant to walk, but, well, it's not very rich in humanity.

I'll get out tomorrow and take the metro to that border between where old and newer Lisbon interface; that's where our tour starts Wednesday. Just to get back into the flow of mankind.

I'll talk about the Canadian couple we met at breakfast and the Korean couple we met on the train and the coffee-shop owner we FB-friended in another post.

Because Life is Good Anyway.