My hotel room is awesome - huge with 15-foot ceilings and two humongous windows overlooking the street. It is completely multifunctional for quality sleep, work, bathing, and chilling out , with lovely well-considered amenities. It is spare, but smart. Euro Chic all the way. Its modern and minimalist design enchants me. But while I'm charmed by some of the smart design details, at the same time I can find this design aesthetic impractical (once it's actually functioning, all the clean lines are lost) and uncomfortable (a little welcoming warmth and softness goes a long way for me).
In front of the windows, two small leather chairs stand on either side of a table-cum-fridge. The platform bed faces the two windows. It has crisp white sheets and a fluffy white duvet, punctuated by orange and red textured throw pillows. Its brown-leather upholstered backboard on one side serves as a long counter running along the other side, incorporating a sink and a desk. Along another wall, a long alcove houses a sleek armoire, a stand-alone tub on a platform open to the room, and a literal water closet holding the toilet.
It has been a long day - actually a blend of three long days since my departure from home. Today's 2-hour flight from London to Vienna was much, much more grueling than anticipated - altogether a 7-hour journey by taxi, train, and delayed plane, arriving at my hotel just after midnight. My ultimate arrival in this room - where I will spend the next four nights - is a welcome relief. But, also way damn hot. It seems Vienna has been balmy these last days, and it is 80 degrees and humid even at this late hour. The a/c is doing its best, but not really working.
First things first. I put on the CD of (Austrian) music provided in the CD player. I crack open a (Austrian) beer from the minibar, open some (Austrian) peanuts, and cut up an apple. And when my simple dinner is finished, I indulge in the chocolate truffle left by my bedside. I'm satisfied, and starting to feel my travel-induced grouchy edge begin to smooth out.
Then, still uncomfortably hot, I strip naked to unpack my bags. It's my habit to settle into a hotel room even for a night. Hanging up clothes, charging my gadgets on the desk, laying my toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink, arranging my Vogue magazine (and The Economist) on the little table where I enjoyed the peanuts and beer, placing my book on the nightstand. The room is not cooling down, however, and I can feel sweat droplets running down my neck and back, one drips onto my foot.
Unpacked, but still sweaty and uncomfortable, I ponder my next move. The bath beckons, and I run an icy one - all cold! - complete with the bubblebath the hotel has thoughtfully provided. A cold bubble bath - this might be my first. I turn off all the lights in the room, and brace myself for the chill as I alight the tub's platform. The first dip is a bit of a shock, but soon, I'm enjoying the refreshing cool bath, the dark room, and being able to see out the window to the night street. At long last, I relax.
