I'll be upfront – this hotel was a last-minute find for me, and it happened because my original booking got cancelled at the very last minute. I'd booked a room at another hotel two months in advance, but just a couple of days before my trip, I got an email saying they'd cancelled my booking. It's not like I was short on options, but it's high season in Sirius, and it's either pay top dollar or settle for something that's not exactly luxurious. As I've gotten older, I've found that I'm not as keen on paying extra for fancy amenities, but I also don't want to stay in some dingy room. This time, I got lucky – there was one room left, and it was available at a discounted rate. It was a two-bedroom suite, and it cost around 3,000 bucks for the night.
The pictures of the hotel and the room looked fine, but I always like to keep an eye out for surprises. Some people have some amazing artistic skills, and they use them to make their rooms look way better than they actually are. So, we arrived, and the administrator was there to greet us. We paid for our stay right away.
First off, the fact that they accepted card payments was a nice touch. But then, things took a turn for the worse. Our room was on the fifth floor, and the hotel didn't have a lift. The stairs were steep, to say the least.
One thing that really got me was the separate boiler for the owner of this place in hell. They make you drag it up to the fifth floor yourself before even heating it up. And the temperature outside is identical, so you'll get to feel the situation firsthand. Let this be a note to the penny-pinchers: people from warmer climates with a 'Perekrestok' bag aren't going to come and help you lug your suitcase up to this 'Elbrus' either, and they might just curse you till the tenth generation. Plus, climbing the stairs all day isn't exactly what you're looking for when you're heading to a resort, and more like the opposite.
For those cavepeople who still remember the bright images of Soviet five-story buildings without elevators - a little reminder: according to the WHO, it was recommended to run only up to the fourth floor without harming your health, and only take the elevator above that. But the greedy Soviet builders added another floor out of greed, and we're still dealing with the consequences, with some people still trying to navigate these architectural masterpieces.
I thought my experience would allow me to anticipate all the possible downsides and discuss them before booking, but the clever renters always come up with new ideas. Now, I'll always ask about the floor count of the skyscraper.
3. The room visually matched the image on the website. They managed to fit everything you need into a relatively small space. Even the shower/toilet and closet. There's barely any free space left, but I wouldn't trade it for a 'toilet outside, but a tennis table in the apartment' (as Lenin once said, allegedly). The room is clean, with a decent repair job. The toilet is also clean, and the equipment is in good working order.
You'll quickly run out of space to put suitcases in the room - there's just no room to spare. But hey, you can always squeeze them into the hallways and walk on the ceiling instead. Trying to make the most of the tiny amount of free space is a recipe for disaster - either the fridge won't open or you'll be stuck trying to reach the bed or wardrobe.
4. Decor is pretty sparse due to the same space-saving measures. The furniture includes:
two beds (yeah, it's a two-person room, but they could've saved some space),
one bedside table (there's no room for another),
a mini fridge,
an in-built wardrobe (basically, two sliding doors with two shelves and a hook inside),
a TV.
You get the bare minimum, and it's hard to complain about that. But what's really surprising is how they skimp on the basics. If you're really pinching pennies, I'd rather spend it on a coat hook than a decorative ceiling moulding. I mean, come on... they went to the trouble of building an in-built wardrobe and only put two shelves in it (considering there's not a single protruding feature or hook in the entire room).
I've got to say, the little things in this place are what get me. You can live with them, but at the same time, it's like, yeah, they're little things, and they could've been done in a more human way, without breaking a sweat.
So, designers, before you plan a place like this, put yourself in the shoes of the people who'll be living here for a few days and think about what's more important – having the same baseboards on the ceiling or having some basic amenities.
It's the 21st century, and we're still thrilled that we don't have to use the bathroom outside.
Next up, let's talk about the kitchenware.
1 cup and 1 glass. I guess they're leaving it to chance to see who gets to drink hot beverages.
1 flat plate, 1 deep plate, 1 saucer. Same logic, but with a few more options to keep things interesting.
forks, knives.
The power outlet near the baseboard, next to the bathroom. Yeah, that's usually where you charge your phone in a tiny room.
Even the single-use shower gels are a nice touch, like in a decent hotel. It's pretty ironic, considering the lack of basic amenities.
5. No kitchen of our own, just a microwave and a kettle on the floor.
Ironing's a whole different story. It's because of the high-rise building. The iron and ironing board are on a different floor, so you have to run up and down the stairs a few times to iron a few things. It's exactly what you don't want to do after lugging your suitcase up the stairs.
6. Other joys. I mean, their absence. There's nowhere to hang your clothes to dry. You could've just hung a rope out the window, but no, that would've ruined the 'historic view' of the city, since the windows are basically right up against the neighbor's house. So, you get to run down to the first floor and hang them out in the courtyard instead.
7. And then there's another major annoyance. Some inconsiderate neighbor from a nearby apartment decided to take it upon themselves to torment the world and steal the 'big parrot'. It's pretty clear that the parrot's not happy about its captivity, judging by the ear-piercing screams that echo throughout the neighborhood. Especially at 5 am. The sound is so loud, it's like they're killing the poor thing, but every morning it's back to its usual self, greeting everyone with a cheerful squawk. Occasionally, the neighbor's dog joins in on the conversation, creating a symphony of chaos.
Another thing that's hard to predict and raises more questions about the tenants than the owners is the lack of doorstops in the entrance doors. With the acoustics of an empty hallway and the force with which some 'friendly' people slam the doors, it's like an earthquake is happening. Our people think, 'I got up at 6 am, so everyone else must have too.' But with five doors on the floor and a crown on the neighbor's head, it's a recipe for disaster.
Overall, it's possible to live here, but 'designer' flair is everywhere you look. And... that's if you don't venture out of your room. On the fifth floor.
I wouldn't recommend it to my friends - they're too precious to me.