Hotel LC

Hotel LC, originally uploaded by futurescraps.

We knew that our stay at the hotel LC was going to be a special one. Already, leading up to Sabine’s 30^th birthday party, all of our reservations had been mixed up in every way possible and an earlier conversation with Mr LC had gone a bit like this:

“Oh, Mr Gouiric. Yes, yes. I have given you a wonderful room. Not my best, that one is next to the road, but still excellent. Oh, did I receive you cheque? Yes, I did. I can’t find it anymore, but that’s no worry. I am pretty sure I haven’t cashed it. It’s here somewhere. But you understand why I need it? People say they will come, but then they don’t. They’re horrible, people like that. How am I meant to make things work with people like that? You’re not like that at all. You sent me a cheque. So, I will see you on the 29^th. Oh, the 23^rd? No, that’s what I meant. I am pretty sure that’s what I have written too. I will see you on the 23^rd. I’m certain.”

We arrive at his “hotel”, effectively an elaborate bed and breakfast without the breakfast. A door opens in a tall stone wall and we walk into the garden. It is like walking into wonderland; Mr LC has created a maze using hedges over two metres high, faintly written signs tacked onto the hedges indicating which path to take towards the “reception”. We finally arrive at a gate where another sign suggests that we ring the bell.

We ring it. We wait. We hear coughing and grumbling.

Mr LC, a rather overweight, short man, who has difficulty walking, arrives and stares at us suspiciously. We introduce ourselves and he seems confused at all the names. Only mine makes any sense to him.

“Ah, Mr Gouiric, with the cheque.”

He takes us on the grand tour.

“Here is the pool. It is very warm and right now (7pm) is the best moment to go swimming. After 4pm it is reserved for “naturalists” (nudists). Right now really is the best time for you to all swim. I will keep it open just a bit later, if you want. We get so few young people here.”

He shows us the pool, which is completely protected except on one side, where it opens in full view of his dining room.

Next, are the rooms. What was once a simple, rectangular building has had extensions tacked on in every direction, mostly out of rickety polycarbonate, making wonderful greenhouses within. The thermometer on the wall of my dining area reads 36 degrees.

Each room had a small outdoor eating space completely surrounded by hedges, a narrow piece of sky visible above. Later, when we would be having breakfast in the days to come, it was like some kind of 19^th century game. While at our tables, we could hear people in every direction by couldn’t work out where they were exactly. If you just stayed silent, no one knew you were there, listening....

Before Mr LC let us go, he showed us the all-terrain-vehicle (four wheeled motor bike) that he said we could use if we wanted. We all got excited about using it to get to the party, but his suggestion that the one girl amongst us could get on the bike straight away and he could take photos dampened our mood. We thanked him and reminded him that we really had to get to the party.

On departure, two days later, he magically found my cheque, but lost everyone else’s. We haggled over the price of the room (he had originally said 38, then on leaving, told me 46), and we settled on 40, and he threw in a bottle of cider, which I accidentally forgot in the room when we left.

Ah, Mr LC, you know how to run a b and b.