Moving

Woke up early Saturday and the hotel lady had made fresh kolacs with 'chocolate' (bitter hot cocoa). I packed up my suitcase and checked out of the hotel. I decided to book hotels a week at a time. This would give me an opportunity to see different parts of the city and ensure I was never stuck at a terrible place for more than a week. It was like a safety net. Turns out it was a net with large holes.

The new hotel had pictures online of clean rooms with white linens and happy guests. It had a list of amenities including smoke free rooms, wireless Internet, and breakfast. It reported it was close to the tram. It was pure propaganda y'all. Stalin should have bulldozed this place when he had the chance.

The lobby was clean but old. I could live with that. They insisted on payment with a credit card. I could live with that. They gave me a real key with a keychain as big as my palm attached. This was my first clue that things might be taking a turn. They assured me that the key worked on both the bathroom and bedroom locks.

I beg your pardon?

Yes, they had seperate locks - for safety reasons. We have already discussed my imagination, so I won't bore you with the 'safety reasons' I came up with in the next few seconds.

The wireless Internet was twenty Euro for thirty minutes.

They pointed me in the direction of the lift, and said that it had been working most of the day. I thought about taking the stairs, but they put me on the 8th floor and my suitcase is heavy. The elevator came, and there was room for me OR my suitcase. It wasn't full of people or cleaning supplies. It was just that small. I didn't feel I could put the suitcase inside, push the button, and then race up the stairs to meet it for 'safety reasons', so I started up the stairs with suitcase in tow.

The cigarette smoke was choking me. It was like a jazz club in a movie with clouds of tar swirling around as you walked through. I swear it had all risen to the eighth floor. The walls were dark yellow except where the pictures used to hang. There, it was white. The carpet was....industrial.

I unlocked the door to the bedroom. There was one light overhead. There were no power outlets. The window had bars. (I'm on the eighth floor! Why do I need bars? Is Spiderman coming to murder me in my sleep? Who are these people? )

The beds, for there were two, did not have mattresses. Instead, they had four inch thick pieces of foam much like that used for seat cushions which was upholstered in what I can only assume were carpet remnants. There were no sheets. The blankets were wrapped in a slightly less than pristine white duvet cover that was mostly transparent. In their favor, the pillow (singular) seemed nice.

There was a rotary phone. I did not unlock the bathroom. I didn't have the courage.

DH booked me another hotel, and I canceled the rest of the week. Call me a snob, but do it while you're calling me a taxi, please.