You Win Some~You Lose Some

Some vacations are so picture perfect, they’re like a postcard-life imitating art in a snapshot.  Other vacations, are not.  It all depends upon who’s telling the story…and what they’re omitting.

Much like on FaceBook, you see fantastic photographs of someone’s special occasion and read the hype and think, Oh!  Why can’t I do that?  Why didn’t I think to do that?  You experience a little bit of the green-eyed monster looking at a snapshot online at their picture perfect world and hearing about their wonderful vacation.  It’s a moment in time that tells a story, although an incomplete one. 

If you’re lucky, sometime later little tidbits are shared here and there and finally the truth is revealed:  their luggage was lost for a week; when it was returned, half the contents were missing; the suitcase was ripped to shreds and the wheels were broken, making it difficult to schlep all over Europe.  Naturally all the fights and bad meals are excluded from the story when they first described their wonderful vacation, unless the couple had a couple of cocktails and you finally hear the truth…nothing but the truth, including an extra trip to buy duck-tape for the poor suitcase.  So much for having a wonderful vacation.

If you’re real, you tell the truth.  Usually it’s the hardships that make a story more interesting. 

So when I finally arrived in Venice, I expected my hotel and room to be as luxurious as all the others I had stayed in, except during my college years when I stayed in hostels when I traveled in Europe.  There’s a reason why they’re called hostels---they make you feel hostile dwelling in old, cramped rooms with communal bathrooms and zero amenities, including lack of air conditioning.   Having stayed in 3, 4 and 5 Star hotels over the years, it didn’t take me long to realize that lots of stars equal lots of pleasure.

After researching numerous hotels online, I selected a four star hotel.  The difference in price was significantly lower than my desired five star resort and since the exchange rate was the highest it has been at 1.55, it seemed worthwhile to downgrade one star.  After all, what’s one star less? Four is pretty good, right?

As it turns out, a friend was vacationing in Europe and her high-end travel agent recommended a different four star hotel.  After inspecting the website’s gorgeous photographs of the bedrooms, suites and common area-it was a no brainer.  This hidden Venetian jewel looked great. Certainly better than the one I had originally selected.  Of course my mother burst my bubble when I showed her the pictures online.

“Their website is their advertisement.  Do you really think they’d post the ugly rooms?”

Well, if Father Knows Best my mother was a cock-eyed genius. 





The room literally had two feet of space on each side of the bed.  The tiny armoire flaunting one lonely hanger was next to the bathroom so neither the armoire or bathroom door could be opened simultaneously.  Since there wasn’t any room to put a suitcase, I stood mine up next to the wall and the bed, leaving just enough room for me to stub my toes every morning as I tried to squeeze past my overstuffed luggage.

The shower was two feet by two feet.  If you were anything but anorexic you couldn’t fit.  Shaving your legs?  Not an option in the glass enclosed thimble.  My accommodations were so small---there wasn’t enough room to change your mind.

So…is there a difference between a four and five star hotel?  In this case, the hotel was not a true four star hotel.  Their website duped me and all of the other gullible tourists who reserved rooms on their property.  At best it was a 1.5 star hotel and only because it had an elevator-which was also the size of a peanut, barely fitting a person and a suitcase.

Sleep was impossible.  I don’t know if it’s a coincidence or not, but the Italians seem to love all things al dente-from pasta to the back-breaking, cement-like, golf ball lumpy, hard bed.  Tossing from side to side trying to find an inch of softness, I giggled at the irony of my situation. Having spent the morning touring the Doge palace and the prison next to it, I realized that my room was molto piccolo-so much smaller than the jail cells next to the palace.  And for a four star hotel ~there wasn’t even enough room in the bed for me to toss and turn and certainly not enough room in the room to sneeze without wrenching my back.

Although I can look past the thorns and see the rose, I love being surrounded by beauty whether it’s art or my accommodations. Just like dining in a nice restaurant, seeing a Monet painting or attending a concert adds to a trip, so does staying in a lovely hotel.

Some people would argue that the room is only used to sleep and shower-so why spend extra money on a room instead of on nice meals, museums and concerts during the vacation?

I understand the philosophy especially if you’ve never stayed in an upscale resort. Maybe those people should just go camping and sleep under the stars, letting the coyotes serenade them in the evening. 

As for me…bring on those five stars!