I am glad I had no illusions about the hotel I booked for my stay in Paris in 2009. For it was by far the lowest point of the trip.
I was foretold. The site on which I booked the hotel basically
warned, in reviews, the good and bad points of the hotel. Among other
things, I was told about the stained carpets, lack of bathroom door in
the shower and the air conditioning woes. The reality is, I was not
about to pay 500 euros for a top hotel, even in Paris. So I booked this
least expensive property.
The obvious advantage was the privileged location of the hotel, which supposedly had a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower, the city’s business card.
Well, after an excellent flight and a delicious arrival, from the outside the Derby Eiffel Hotel did not seem bad. I thought the comments had been made by spoiled Americans, who liked over-sized Las Vegas rooms equipped with jacuzzi – and want to pay only 50 bucks for it. The reception area was simple and I could not see the restaurant were they supposedly served breakfast – incidentally, not included in the room charge. Interestingly, I noticed that although we paid US$160 a night, the stated cost was 160 Euros, so I felt foxy.
That is, until I got to the elevator. I am no expert on elevators, but as I’m 50 and lived in two mega-cities in the world, New York and Sao Paulo, I have been in many elevators in my half century, ranging from the supersonic cars of the late World Trade Center to those horrifying pantographic door lifts in some buildings in downtown Sao Paulo, which resemble a prison cell. To say the Derby’s elevator was tiny would be the hyperbole of hyperboles. It barely existed. The biggest joke was the warning sign, claiming that the vehicle had a capacity for four passengers. That would apply only if they were babies pygmies, I suppose. I practically had to stack the bags, and squeeze to get in. To be fair, it reached the fourth floor with no problems.
The room was also tiny, and, surprise!!!, looked larger in the site’s photos. The furniture was practically stacked one on top of the other. On the wall, a lamp hanging by the wires indicated a certain maintenance neglect, to say the least. The safe and TV remote control did not work. But at least there were two extra pillows in the small closet, and an ill-equipped, albeit effective, mini-bar.
I had already been warned about the lack of shower door in the bathroom by one of the site’s reviewers, but in reality, this was the best surprise in the room. It had obviously been recently renovated, and everything worked smoothly. Simply clashed with the rest of the room.
The promised view of the Eiffel Tower was real, and best of all, despite the check-in at 2pm, they let us into the room at 11 when we arrived. The hotel staff was very nice and accomodating. The only problem at the reception was a Belgian drunk who parked there at night, and insisted I was not Brazilian, but Danish and almost had a fight with me on that account. Plus he called me Euro trash when I said I liked car racing. He deserved a beating, that one, but I’m not a fighter.
The bed was good, we were not visited by any visible wildlife and out of the Derby Hotel, Paris is simply wonderful.
The obvious advantage was the privileged location of the hotel, which supposedly had a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower, the city’s business card.
Well, after an excellent flight and a delicious arrival, from the outside the Derby Eiffel Hotel did not seem bad. I thought the comments had been made by spoiled Americans, who liked over-sized Las Vegas rooms equipped with jacuzzi – and want to pay only 50 bucks for it. The reception area was simple and I could not see the restaurant were they supposedly served breakfast – incidentally, not included in the room charge. Interestingly, I noticed that although we paid US$160 a night, the stated cost was 160 Euros, so I felt foxy.
That is, until I got to the elevator. I am no expert on elevators, but as I’m 50 and lived in two mega-cities in the world, New York and Sao Paulo, I have been in many elevators in my half century, ranging from the supersonic cars of the late World Trade Center to those horrifying pantographic door lifts in some buildings in downtown Sao Paulo, which resemble a prison cell. To say the Derby’s elevator was tiny would be the hyperbole of hyperboles. It barely existed. The biggest joke was the warning sign, claiming that the vehicle had a capacity for four passengers. That would apply only if they were babies pygmies, I suppose. I practically had to stack the bags, and squeeze to get in. To be fair, it reached the fourth floor with no problems.
The room was also tiny, and, surprise!!!, looked larger in the site’s photos. The furniture was practically stacked one on top of the other. On the wall, a lamp hanging by the wires indicated a certain maintenance neglect, to say the least. The safe and TV remote control did not work. But at least there were two extra pillows in the small closet, and an ill-equipped, albeit effective, mini-bar.
I had already been warned about the lack of shower door in the bathroom by one of the site’s reviewers, but in reality, this was the best surprise in the room. It had obviously been recently renovated, and everything worked smoothly. Simply clashed with the rest of the room.
The promised view of the Eiffel Tower was real, and best of all, despite the check-in at 2pm, they let us into the room at 11 when we arrived. The hotel staff was very nice and accomodating. The only problem at the reception was a Belgian drunk who parked there at night, and insisted I was not Brazilian, but Danish and almost had a fight with me on that account. Plus he called me Euro trash when I said I liked car racing. He deserved a beating, that one, but I’m not a fighter.
The bed was good, we were not visited by any visible wildlife and out of the Derby Hotel, Paris is simply wonderful.
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