The Americans in Room #9
Inverness
John behind the wheel on the "wrong side of the road", my navigation with GPS and real maps, narrow twisting mountain roads, and sunshine made for a breath-taking drive as we came into Inverness Scotland, halfway through our three week vacation. However, as we pulled into the hotel's gravely drive at the top of the hill just up from city center, rain drops spotted our windshield, squeezed out suddenly from overcast skies. I gazed up at the building as John pulled our bags out of the car after we parked in the lot behind the building- a pitted beige sandstone old, two-story with bay windows facing front, center entry with near floor to ceiling windows framed in white.
It was an old family home converted into a hotel, one step up from a B&B. Not quite the stately mansion pictured on TripAdvisor, but that was OK. We're traveler's, not tourists, fully willing to enjoy local accommodations. John quipped, "It looks a bit like the old John Cleese hotel in his TV show, Faulty Towers." I laughed, hoping the hotel had a lift, knowing how he grunted at having to carry bags up stairs in Oban, our previous stop.
Dark wood and low light at the reception desk were brightened by the cheery brogue, rosy cheeks, and enthusiastic welcome of the hotel clerk. He explained everything -- its history, from the first floor dining room and pub-like bar with a wide hall between them. Also, he proudly announced that they had a new chef, then handed us an electronic key to Room 9. Ah, I thought, this is a thoroughly modern place even though it looks as old as dirt. Room 9 was a large modernized affair on the second floor with a bay window atop the dining room, looking out over the Inverness river and surrounding hills. Lovely!
Now all we had to do was carry our bags up the twisty stairs, down a narrow hall to Number 9. John grunted. As we ascended the stairs, we were thrust into darkness that looked like it continued down the hall to our room. "Oh, don't worry about that, I'll get it fixed. We've made some wiring changes today. Here let me help you," the clerk said when John returned to the reception to report the problem.
We were relieved to find the room clean, decorated with tartan plaid rugs, bedspread and pictures, all light and airy. The furniture wasn't fancy, but sturdy enough we thought. As we sat at the small table in front of the bay window discussing what to do for the next two days, a harried workman suddenly burst through our door, without knocking, waving a key card. "Sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here. I need to check the water pressure in your shower as we just upgraded the hot water system. It blew out the shower head in the room next door."
Speechless, we let him proceed. He left. Two minutes later, a knock this time. His boss came to apologize and check once more. OK. Now that we knew the shower worked properly, John sat down on the bed. It rolled two feet away from the headboard. He picks up the phone to call reception - no dial tone. He goes down through the dark hall and stairs to reception, finding the back stairs totally open to the street - no security. This man, my husband of 25 years, is now not only tired, but also cranky, not a happy camper.
With the clerk following him, John returns to demonstrate the problem with the bed, phone and security door. The young clerk, clearly flustered, promises to get everything fixed in an hour or two. "Might you want to take a walk into town?" he pleads. OK. We go.
In the end, all has been corrected through a mix of shipping tape and substitute lighting and such. Dinner was wonderful - the new chef is very good, however, rain continued through the next day. Did you ever take a walking tour in cold, windy rain? I don't recommend it. But, on the third day, as we drove out of town, the clouds parted and the sun shone once again.
In the end, it was a very good trip. We did it ourselves - we planned, trained, drove, bused, ferried and walked our way through London, Bristol and St. Albans England as well as Glasgow, Oban, Inverness, Stirling and Edinburgh, Scotland, staying in hotels from the trendy boutique upscale to the Faulty Towers variety. We took our laundry out three times (a great way to get to know the local folk), visited with friends in London and Glasgow, spent hours in roman ruins, castles, Cathedrals, national monuments and museums, attended two plays in Covent Garden, and ate like kings everywhere we went (except that one pub on Mull Island outside of Oban).Yes, we are travelers - people who make their own way, planning what's next as they go along, taking the risk that things may not work out. At the other end of the spectrum are tourists, people who are likely to be following those umbrellas, herded in buses, not having to worry about what will happen next. Is one better than the other? I think not, but knowing which you are can make your vacation what you want it to be.