The path to Llacas

A double room in the Bates Motel? Certainly Madam.

After reluctantly leaving our safe haven (why does sitting in a pub feel more like home than home sometimes?) we embark onto the adventure of finding our hotel. On my map it looks perfectly simple to find but we know now that that doesn't mean anything. And so it proves. Round the bend to the left, under the bridge, up the hill and it's on your right is what it says. After applying ourselves to the map's twisted logic we discover that it's actually round the bend to the right, nowhere near a bridge, down a hill and to the left. Still, we made it, although at this point we haven't seen the inside of the place yet.

We have a history of staying in 'interesting' hotels. In Liverpool for New Year 2004 we had a room with a door that didn't fit the frame, wooden slats on the floor that slid about when you walked on them, wardrobes with no fronts, and a huge vent between us and the next room which meant we had to spend an hour listening to the occupants crucifying a selection of Kylie hits. In London we chose one that looked like the Ritz on the website, but actually turned into a Travelodge once you were past reception. This one was my favourite, purely for the 'Welcome Brochure' that we were given on arrival. This solemnly proclaimed that guests were allowed no more than two of the bar's 'special' Bloody Marys, and were also not permitted to invite 'ladies of the night' to their rooms. Disappointingly we obeyed the rules, and did neither.

So when the Dergvale Hotel (chosen as I hoped the strange name might indicate further weirdness) turned out to be relatively normal we felt a little deflated. If we'd known then about breakfast tomorrow we needn't have worried...

After settling in (i.e. he unpacks everything he is carrying and puts it in the correct place; I figure out how the television works) we plan our big Irish craic. Partying all night, drinking the bars dry - off into the Dublin evening we go!

....................

We are getting old. We find a superb Italian restaurant (hmm, lost the Irish connection immediately there, didn't we?), eat and drink wine until his credit card refuses to pay for anything more and then find a pub for the first pint of the night. And the last as it turns out. Half past ten, and you can tell that we are both sat there hoping the other will yawn, so that we can say 'Oh dear, are you feeling tired? Well, although I was hoping to stay out longer, I really don't mind if you need to go to bed'...

Eventually I give in and admit that I really could do with going back to the hotel. He agrees, and we start walking back, having conversations that start with 'In all fairness, we have been up since 5am', or 'Travelling really does take it out of you'...

Photo credit to http://www.flickr.com/photos/dogfael/

posted by Liberty Slutzski @ 3:53 pm