Getting Spanked in the Lap of Luxury
16 May 2007
I’ve waited many years to come to this point. The many stories, the church history classes, the things I’ve read have left me longing to come to Wittenberg, birthplace of the Reformation. In a way, this is the culmination of my trip, the climax of a European adventure. But who knew that when I stepped off that train at 2:34pm yesterday afternoon, the sun shining on my face, the world as it should be, a joyful skip in my step, who knew that storm clouds lay right around the corner.
I made my way downtown. I’ve always been pretty good with directions. I seldom get lost and am able, most of the time, to find my way around places that are foreign to me. I have a decently good memory, so that helps with remembering landmarks, buildings, signs, etc. Yesterday was no exception. I found downtown Wittenberg fairly easy and made my way to the tourist information center to get better directions to my hostel.
Upon arriving I asked if they could provide me with a map.
“A map of the city?”
No, a map of where I think the plastic surgeon should fix your face lady. “Yes, a map of the city.”
“We have a map. They are fifty cents.”
Quickly, I say “no thanks.”
How can an information kiosk, a place where visitors come to find out information, be charged to get that very information? It doesn’t seem fair does it?
She gives me directions to my hostel and I follow them appropriately and discover that the hostel is actually connected with the Castle Church. Incredible! However, upon arriving I discover that there has been some horrible miscommunication. The hostel I am supposed to be staying in has no online reservations. I emailed the hostel and asked if I could reserve a bed for Tuesday, 16 May 2007.
Alas, but the 16 of May is a Wednesday! Miscommunication on both sides. I thought I was reserving a room for Tuesday evening. He thought I was reserving a room for the 16th, Wednesday night. Of course he had no other beds to offer. No one does in this country, which is a horrible shock I later find out.
He tells me of hotel down the street where I can get a room for 30 Euro a night…with breakfast mind you! Well sir, I should hope so at the rate they are charging. He gave me the wrong directions, but luckily I saw the place coming in so I was able to find it once I had walked to the wrong location he pointed out on my map (which he gave to me for free. Imagine that, a free map). I am sorely disappointed that I will be paying double the price to sleep tonight, but there really isn’t anything I can do. I don’t want my Wittenberg trip to be a disaster. I have to just suck it up and do what needs to be done.
I get to the hotel to find out that it isn’t 30 Euro a night. It’s 56. Well now, 30 and 56 is a big difference. The employee at the hotel can tell I am in the market for something else. He hands me a pamphlet that lists all the night accommodation places in Wittenberg, their locations, their prices, etc. The next cheapest one is 20 Euro.
I walk to the location on the map. The place no longer exists. I walk to the next cheapest place 35 Euro a night. No room in the inn.
I walk to the next cheapest place, about the same price. No beds left.
I for one do not believe it. It is not even close to peak season and I’m sorry, but Wittenberg does not seem like the tourist hotspot for people. I can see maybe a small percentage of the population being somewhat interested, but not to the extent that hotels are bursting at the seams in the middle of May. I sit do down on the steps of a vacated building in the middle of Wittenberg.
I am cold. I am hungry. Did I also mention I’ve been carrying around a 30 lb. pack on my back and a laptop bag in my hands this whole time? Well, I was. I try to collect myself. I need to shutdown and retool. I WANT MY MOMMY!!!
Slowly I get back to my feet. Throw on my pack and trudge back down to the visitor center. Dark clouds are looming overhead. I would sleep in a park if I was sure it wasn’t going to rain. But I’m not sure.
The lady at the center can tell I am beat. I say that I need a place to stay, only one night, anything will do. She glances down at some of her forms with that look like “I don’t know…everything’s pretty full tonight…”
But suddenly hope! “How about a room for 32 Euro?” she says.
“Yes! Yes, that will be fine.”
She calls and confirms and gives me the directions. With head held high, backpack tied tight, I regained that skip to my step. By now it was nearing 5 o’ clock. I had wasted about two and a half hours settling down, but the end was in sight.
I got to the building. Walked up to the door. Turned the handle. Locked. But…what…in the…?
The tourist lady just called someone and told them I was coming shortly. I looked into the building and all the lights were off. I checked my map. Yes, this is the right address. Then I saw a sign in a little glass box next to the door. This was a restaurant/hotel and below the menu I could see the hours that the building was open. Monday-Friday (it was in German, I am only guessing) 10:00-14:00, 18:00-Midnight.
Are you kidding me? I have an hour to wait out here, in the cold, with my backpack, nowhere to sit.
Screw this, they just lost my business (and I’m sure they’re still really upset about it). I make my way to my last glimmer of hope, the Acron Hotel. It is all the way across town, close to the train station. Well, at least tomorrow I will be closer to the train station.
On my way I pass Luther’s Oak. Yep, he burned a papal bull, big woopty-doo! Can I find a room, please? It is amazing how much more you enjoy things when you have a place to stay for the night and a thirty pound pack off your back.
“Guten tag. I need a room for the night.” I don’t even bothering asking if they speak English.
“Single?”
No, I want three beds so I can hop around them all like a giant trampoline. “Yes, single.” Thanks for rubbing it in ma’m. I am single. I am desperate. I have no money, no job, no sense of humor, nothing to offer the ladies, and you ma’m have just made it worse.
“That will be 49 Euro. Of course, that includes breakfast.”
“Fine. I’ll take it.”
I pay and go to my room. This better be the best dang breakfast I have ever had.
I have been sleeping in hostels since I left. Each hostel is different and you never quite now what to expect. In some hostels, I have had a room all to myself. Some hostels provide me with breakfast. Some hostels give me internet access. Some hostels I’ve stayed in I’ve had a room to myself and a bathroom to myself.
I walked into my room. Two single beds. One has a blanket and a pillow. One doesn’t. Well, at least I can jump from bed to bed if I get bored. I have my own bathroom, which really isn’t that much better from a shared bathroom (well, not when it just cost you an extra 30 Euro).
There is a TV. Every channel is in German. “Die Simpsons.” I don’t like The Simpsons anyway. It is ten times worse in German.
I watch a couple episodes of the American Office on my laptop. Thank you Michael Scott for bringing a smile back to my sore face.
I fall asleep around 9 with thoughts of stacks of syrupy pancakes, mounds of hash browns, greasy sausage links, shiny strips of bacon, tasty scrambled eggs, refreshing glasses of orange juice, big, nourishing gallons of milk. At least breakfast will be awesome.
Europeans have no idea what breakfast is. It is the same crap everywhere you go. Bread rolls. Deli meat, the kind you would put on a sandwich. Slices of cheese. Cereal. Yogurt. A soft boiled egg.
The sad thing is that I have stayed in hostels where the breakfast was almost exactly the same.
I get some food from the breakfast bar and sit down at the nearest table. Blank stares from the other hotel guests. Probably wondering what a kid like me is doing at a hotel like theirs. Well sirs, usually I’m not stupid enough to pay these prices for such crappy service, but stuff happens.
One guy keeps looking my way. I was seriously about five seconds from throwing a buttered roll at his face. A lady with a lime green colored shirt walks by, collar popped. The sad thing is, she wasn’t a 19 year old frat guy from Michigan, but a 55 year old lady from Germany.
I try to cram as much food as I can into my stomach. I will eat my 49 Euros worth out of this place. I’m not able to eat that much, but I leave with a bread roll and an apple, feeling I am slightly making up for the outrageous price of this place.
And you know what the sad thing is? 49 Euro was pretty good. I saw the prices for other hotels in Wittenberg. 65 Euro. 83 Euro. 120 Euro! For a single bed for one night.
Back in Wiesbaden and Landshut I was living in the lap of luxury. Not paying for a thing. Getting meals cooked for me. Having my cake and eating it too. I find myself in the lap of luxury once again. Only this time, I find myself bent over the lap with a paddle raised high, waiting to come crashing down on my backside. It’s times like these I really want to be back home…and about 5 years old.
Did I also mention that the Castle Church in Wittenberg is under renovation?
I’ve waited many years to come to this point. The many stories, the church history classes, the things I’ve read have left me longing to come to Wittenberg, birthplace of the Reformation. In a way, this is the culmination of my trip, the climax of a European adventure. But who knew that when I stepped off that train at 2:34pm yesterday afternoon, the sun shining on my face, the world as it should be, a joyful skip in my step, who knew that storm clouds lay right around the corner.
I made my way downtown. I’ve always been pretty good with directions. I seldom get lost and am able, most of the time, to find my way around places that are foreign to me. I have a decently good memory, so that helps with remembering landmarks, buildings, signs, etc. Yesterday was no exception. I found downtown Wittenberg fairly easy and made my way to the tourist information center to get better directions to my hostel.
Upon arriving I asked if they could provide me with a map.
“A map of the city?”
No, a map of where I think the plastic surgeon should fix your face lady. “Yes, a map of the city.”
“We have a map. They are fifty cents.”
Quickly, I say “no thanks.”
How can an information kiosk, a place where visitors come to find out information, be charged to get that very information? It doesn’t seem fair does it?
She gives me directions to my hostel and I follow them appropriately and discover that the hostel is actually connected with the Castle Church. Incredible! However, upon arriving I discover that there has been some horrible miscommunication. The hostel I am supposed to be staying in has no online reservations. I emailed the hostel and asked if I could reserve a bed for Tuesday, 16 May 2007.
Alas, but the 16 of May is a Wednesday! Miscommunication on both sides. I thought I was reserving a room for Tuesday evening. He thought I was reserving a room for the 16th, Wednesday night. Of course he had no other beds to offer. No one does in this country, which is a horrible shock I later find out.
He tells me of hotel down the street where I can get a room for 30 Euro a night…with breakfast mind you! Well sir, I should hope so at the rate they are charging. He gave me the wrong directions, but luckily I saw the place coming in so I was able to find it once I had walked to the wrong location he pointed out on my map (which he gave to me for free. Imagine that, a free map). I am sorely disappointed that I will be paying double the price to sleep tonight, but there really isn’t anything I can do. I don’t want my Wittenberg trip to be a disaster. I have to just suck it up and do what needs to be done.
I get to the hotel to find out that it isn’t 30 Euro a night. It’s 56. Well now, 30 and 56 is a big difference. The employee at the hotel can tell I am in the market for something else. He hands me a pamphlet that lists all the night accommodation places in Wittenberg, their locations, their prices, etc. The next cheapest one is 20 Euro.
I walk to the location on the map. The place no longer exists. I walk to the next cheapest place 35 Euro a night. No room in the inn.
I walk to the next cheapest place, about the same price. No beds left.
I for one do not believe it. It is not even close to peak season and I’m sorry, but Wittenberg does not seem like the tourist hotspot for people. I can see maybe a small percentage of the population being somewhat interested, but not to the extent that hotels are bursting at the seams in the middle of May. I sit do down on the steps of a vacated building in the middle of Wittenberg.
I am cold. I am hungry. Did I also mention I’ve been carrying around a 30 lb. pack on my back and a laptop bag in my hands this whole time? Well, I was. I try to collect myself. I need to shutdown and retool. I WANT MY MOMMY!!!
Slowly I get back to my feet. Throw on my pack and trudge back down to the visitor center. Dark clouds are looming overhead. I would sleep in a park if I was sure it wasn’t going to rain. But I’m not sure.
The lady at the center can tell I am beat. I say that I need a place to stay, only one night, anything will do. She glances down at some of her forms with that look like “I don’t know…everything’s pretty full tonight…”
But suddenly hope! “How about a room for 32 Euro?” she says.
“Yes! Yes, that will be fine.”
She calls and confirms and gives me the directions. With head held high, backpack tied tight, I regained that skip to my step. By now it was nearing 5 o’ clock. I had wasted about two and a half hours settling down, but the end was in sight.
I got to the building. Walked up to the door. Turned the handle. Locked. But…what…in the…?
The tourist lady just called someone and told them I was coming shortly. I looked into the building and all the lights were off. I checked my map. Yes, this is the right address. Then I saw a sign in a little glass box next to the door. This was a restaurant/hotel and below the menu I could see the hours that the building was open. Monday-Friday (it was in German, I am only guessing) 10:00-14:00, 18:00-Midnight.
Are you kidding me? I have an hour to wait out here, in the cold, with my backpack, nowhere to sit.
Screw this, they just lost my business (and I’m sure they’re still really upset about it). I make my way to my last glimmer of hope, the Acron Hotel. It is all the way across town, close to the train station. Well, at least tomorrow I will be closer to the train station.
On my way I pass Luther’s Oak. Yep, he burned a papal bull, big woopty-doo! Can I find a room, please? It is amazing how much more you enjoy things when you have a place to stay for the night and a thirty pound pack off your back.
“Guten tag. I need a room for the night.” I don’t even bothering asking if they speak English.
“Single?”
No, I want three beds so I can hop around them all like a giant trampoline. “Yes, single.” Thanks for rubbing it in ma’m. I am single. I am desperate. I have no money, no job, no sense of humor, nothing to offer the ladies, and you ma’m have just made it worse.
“That will be 49 Euro. Of course, that includes breakfast.”
“Fine. I’ll take it.”
I pay and go to my room. This better be the best dang breakfast I have ever had.
I have been sleeping in hostels since I left. Each hostel is different and you never quite now what to expect. In some hostels, I have had a room all to myself. Some hostels provide me with breakfast. Some hostels give me internet access. Some hostels I’ve stayed in I’ve had a room to myself and a bathroom to myself.
I walked into my room. Two single beds. One has a blanket and a pillow. One doesn’t. Well, at least I can jump from bed to bed if I get bored. I have my own bathroom, which really isn’t that much better from a shared bathroom (well, not when it just cost you an extra 30 Euro).
There is a TV. Every channel is in German. “Die Simpsons.” I don’t like The Simpsons anyway. It is ten times worse in German.
I watch a couple episodes of the American Office on my laptop. Thank you Michael Scott for bringing a smile back to my sore face.
I fall asleep around 9 with thoughts of stacks of syrupy pancakes, mounds of hash browns, greasy sausage links, shiny strips of bacon, tasty scrambled eggs, refreshing glasses of orange juice, big, nourishing gallons of milk. At least breakfast will be awesome.
Europeans have no idea what breakfast is. It is the same crap everywhere you go. Bread rolls. Deli meat, the kind you would put on a sandwich. Slices of cheese. Cereal. Yogurt. A soft boiled egg.
The sad thing is that I have stayed in hostels where the breakfast was almost exactly the same.
I get some food from the breakfast bar and sit down at the nearest table. Blank stares from the other hotel guests. Probably wondering what a kid like me is doing at a hotel like theirs. Well sirs, usually I’m not stupid enough to pay these prices for such crappy service, but stuff happens.
One guy keeps looking my way. I was seriously about five seconds from throwing a buttered roll at his face. A lady with a lime green colored shirt walks by, collar popped. The sad thing is, she wasn’t a 19 year old frat guy from Michigan, but a 55 year old lady from Germany.
I try to cram as much food as I can into my stomach. I will eat my 49 Euros worth out of this place. I’m not able to eat that much, but I leave with a bread roll and an apple, feeling I am slightly making up for the outrageous price of this place.
And you know what the sad thing is? 49 Euro was pretty good. I saw the prices for other hotels in Wittenberg. 65 Euro. 83 Euro. 120 Euro! For a single bed for one night.
Back in Wiesbaden and Landshut I was living in the lap of luxury. Not paying for a thing. Getting meals cooked for me. Having my cake and eating it too. I find myself in the lap of luxury once again. Only this time, I find myself bent over the lap with a paddle raised high, waiting to come crashing down on my backside. It’s times like these I really want to be back home…and about 5 years old.
Did I also mention that the Castle Church in Wittenberg is under renovation?
3 Comments:
Great blogs Eric, I'm enjoying the tour!
If you think the sad comment about not having 50 cents for a map will get you $$ from home...forget it.
glad to hear that when we all head to europe for our post graduation celebration vacation you will know how to handle the locals.
way to stick to you guns.... 50 cents for a map. ridiculous.
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