Travel always leads to a FFS moment somewhere along the way. Expectations are that somewhere a train will be cancelled or a flight delayed or you get sick. These things you tend to ride out with a ka sera sera, the joys of travel, kind of mindset. But sometimes there is just something that really gets to you.
Mine came in St Malo. Nothing against St Malo itself its lovely and we had a great time here and as I write this we have moved a short ferry ride away to Dinard, to enjoy more of it. It’s a sort of long story, to write at least so I shall try to summarise as best as my brain allows.
I precision planned our entire trip with accomodation from Rome, to Portugal to Nice to Brittany with the exception of three days in between airbnbs which I decided to wing it. The night before we leave our bnb in Arradon we sit down to see where to stay in St Malo. We think we will just pack some things in an overnight and leave our luggage in the car, but whatever we do we needed a car park which proved to be our downfall. We found a couple and then rang but their car parks were full and the time is now approaching 10.oo at night. I go onto my Accor app and there are a few in St Malo but after ringing two and finding there car parks full I finally book an Ibis, with a car park. It’s $260 for an Ibis, expensive I think, whilst WH says out loud “what $260 for an Ibis that’s expensive”. It’s done I say loudly, booked, it has a car park and I don’t care.
I am no longer on a daily budget as we travel round the globe and I have given up trying to convert every euro into dollars, yet I cannot help but wince as I fork out 20 euro for a pub cheeseburger but the pain dissipates as I drink in the view and live in the moment. The fact remains its difficult to fork out that much for an ibis room even if it does have a view but its an Ibis, its available and it has a car park.
We turn up and put our car in the car park and the receptionist says it will be 15 euro to park the car and would we like to pay now. I then pay 275 euro and we are given our keys to the room. Yep 275 euro. It doesn’t register at first but we get upstairs to the room and it is the tiniest Ibis room I have ever stayed in and I have stayed in a few. You have to turn sideways at the end of the bed to walk past as there is only about a foot between the end of the bed and the end of the room. The bedside table is a tiny round stool which leaves about another 18 inches between the side of the bed and the wall. IT is incredibly lucky we bought in an overnight bag as there is no room whatsoever for a suitcase. I am pissed. WH says “it’s done” just let it go.
LET IT GO. Not since the great 2007 Wales travel inn rip off, when we were charged 150 pound to stay in a mouldy motel room at the RWC, have I felt so ripped off. I obviously haven’t let that go.
I go back and double check the booking, it turns out the app converted to Euro and I had indeed booked a 250 euro room not an expensive $250 NZ dollar one. We decide to go for a walk and explore and enjoy this wonderful place so I endeavour to “let it go”. On the way back downstairs I read the tariff rate above the reception and it’s lower than what we paid. WH walks out the door but I can’t help it and I go back and ask why and am told that’s because I booked yesterday. I say that is not OK but I am informed that it is. I want to just leave but as it’s after 6pm that we checked in the flexi fare rules are done and I would have to pay anyway. The back up receptionist comes out from behind the wall and tells me in stern French there are no refunds now. I just need to “let it go”.
I go outside and catch up to WH with great intention of letting it go and I tell him of the rate above the reception. He too says it reminds him of Wales, which makes me laugh that we think the same thing and I at least feel validated that I am not alone in my thoughts. We wander on the promenade, where even the sun has graced us with its presence, it’s a beautiful spot in the world and yet my mind wonders how much each hotel is as we wander past its door. I bet they are cheaper than the Ibis. I resist the urge to get my phone out and google the rates. The tide starts racing in again and we stop for dinner at a yummy little restaurant where we luck upon a table in the window overlooking the sea and we watch as the sun melts into the ocean.
We watch the sunset from the promenade and momentarily forget our teeny room until we head back and realise it has no jug or tea and coffee, I guess there is no space to put it. The final straw in the coffin as I pine for my bedtime cup of tea. The next morning as I shower with the threadbare tea towel imposing as a bath towel I cannot help but think I have paid fluffy robes for scratchy large tea towels.
So there its out. Judge as you will. There are lessons to be learned all be it expensive ones. Do your homework and read the fine print and if you get it wrong then “let it go” or it will have cost you more than money.
PS
I shall just add this wee story on the let it go page as well because I am shocked with the subterfuge as well nauseous with the thought now WH has told me as he read my latest blog that my delicious stew was ox tongue. I am a girl of simple tastes and tongues and other such things are not simple. I choose wholeheartedly not to eat them I am an ante organ, sweet meat, offal, tongue, stalwart who has been mislead. He tells me he didn’t know when we bought it only when he ate it. I think I will stay in denial and class him the ex butcher as being wrong.