When I stay in a hotel I expect a front desk, an elevator, a
long corridor with rooms on either side, electronic key card and, of course, a
view of some sort when I draw back the net curtains and take a look outside.
It’s nice to be at least five floors up and it’s good to know that, somewhere
below me I’ll find a decent restaurant.
I’ve never liked a hotel room with direct access to the
outside world and I can’t stand being on the ground floor, like American motels
in movies like Psycho.
So I find myself on the outskirts of Rheinberg in a small
and sleepy village. I’m booked into the Orsoyer Hof. Room three is effectively
is on ground level facing a small field populated by some sheep and a few apple
trees. It is accessed from street level by a single flight of slightly
precarious stairs.
This is a pub hotel with a half a dozen rooms, a restaurant,
bar and function suite.
There’s a fence separating the hotel rooms from the
aforementioned field, but each hotel room opens onto a walkway that leads back
to the flight of steps, taking guests back to street level and the hotel’s bar
and restaurant.
The check-in wasn’t the usual smooth affair involving
polite, female receptionists handing over the key card and wishing me a pleasant
stay. Instead it was a busy pub scenario where I simply announced that I had a
reservation. The barman checks a book behind the bar, mentions my name and I
said ‘that’s me’ and was handed the key to room three. Then I was led down the aforementioned
steps, along the walkway and left to get acclimatised with my surroundings.
I expect a hotel room to have a wardrobe as they come in
handy to store clothing, but there isn’t one. Instead there are a few hooks and – in my case – no clothes
hangers. I decided to leave everything in my suitcase.
Next, there’s a privacy issue. Unless I draw flimsy curtains
across door and window I have no privacy.
Whenever I stay in a hotel I check out the bathroom and
normally I’m pretty impressed. Not today. It was gloomy, a tad dated and made
me feel miserable with its beige tiles and dowdy appearance – it just didn’t
‘gleam’. There was no bathtub.
I found towels and soap on the bed and there were a few
shampoo sachets.
In effect I’d gone back in time to the mid-to-late-seventies.
This feeling was reinforced later in the bar and restaurant when I heard first
Procul Harem’s Whiter Shade of Pale and then Hot Chocolate. I could have been
in an Aberdeen Steakhouse.
I ordered cream of tomato soup and beef stroganoff, a carafe
of wine and a bottle of mineral water. The food was fine – not great – and I
couldn’t finish the stroganoff as there was far too much on the plate.
Dinner for two cost 54.60 Euros. My colleague ordered fillet
steak, which was also too big to finish and her room had clothes hangers.
I slept relatively well, waking at 0400hrs and then at
0800hrs. Breakfast was poor and served (self service) in the restaurant, which
was dark and dingy in the morning light. I chose strawberry yoghurt, a couple
of bread rolls and a slice of processed cheese. No tea, just coffee, so I opted
for orange juice.
Now you could say this was all pretty miserable. It was. But
what you must remember is that I had bed and breakfast for just 47 Euros, which
ain’t bad. While I’ve painted a bleak, albeit accurate picture, the right
response to reading this review is, “Well what did you expect for 47 Euros?”
Would I return? No, unless I was on a stringent budget. I
like things to be a little better quality and I’d happily pay more for it –
because I’m on expenses!
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