Wonderful World (Chapter Four: Hotel, Smotel)

I wish this was the view from my Best Western hotel, but it was not.  This is the sunshine coast, north of Brisbane.  No, the view from my hotel was a bunch of buildings and the tallest one, right out the window had a big digital clock on it.  That was actually kind of handy.  Also, the building accross the street had mirrored windows, so that I could look at the bottem floor and see Adam enter the hotel from the street in the morning, but I digress. 

When we left off, it was still my first day in Australia and I had just visited Adam's apartment, killing time, because my room was not ready yet.  My little glass of ice was gone too soon and there were too few of the little teeny ice cubes frozen to make much of a second glass of diet coke, so all too soon, it was time to leave Adam's place and walk, walk, walk back to my hotel.  I would say, at least it was down hill, but my knees hurt just as much down hill as up hill.  Note to self: lose 30 pounds last month.  But I digress.

When we got back to the hotel, there was a new person at the desk.  He smiled very brightly and I was encouraged.  Mr. Meanie (whom I had met earlier) was still there, but he was excellant at not making eye contact.  Mr. Smilie listened to my request to check in and cocked his head and said "Huh?"  It was as though I was speaking a different language.  He didn't seem to understand me.  Finally I just gave him my credit card and he found my room.  As I recall these moments, I realize that I was babbling on and on about the odd parking situation, so perhaps I was incoherent, but his puzzlement really lead me to believe that either he didn't understand English or I wasn't speaking it. 

Anyway, as I gathered my bags out of storage and started to my room, I asked where was the ice machine?  "What?"  Mr. Smilie says.  The ice machine, I repeated, enounciating every syllable--my English was a second language to him.  "No, no ice machines" he says.  NO ICE MACHINES???  Really, the expression on my face must have been something for the record books.  I flew thousands and thousands of miles to a different continent, a different hemisphere and you have no ice machines?  This is information you are supposed to state out loud on your brochure so as to avoid hysterical women from running up and down the halls screaming frauds, liars, cheats!  No ice machines--who do you think you are? European?  I don't think I said any of that out loud, but it was sure written all over my face.  Mr. Smilie, however, was not a complete ogre--he added "You can get ice at the restaurant, right here" and he pointed around the corner.  Breathe, I told myself, breathe. 

So I went around the corner to the restaurant and tried to get the attention of the fellow behind the bar.  He was also, quite the expert at avoiding eye contact.  But I was on a mission to get ice.  I spent 14 hours in a plane with no ice.  Adam's teeny tiny ice cubes just would not cut it for a whole week.  This restaurant better have ice and they better give it to me NOW!  Finally, I got the guy's attention and he said, "Oh, we're closed for lunch.  I already turned off the ice machine.  There's no ice."

..........

Even as I remember this, I distinctly remember counting to 10.  Let's break down the news that had just been imparted to me.  They were closed for lunch.  The restaurant in the hotel was closed.  For lunch.  Ok, I reasoned.  It is Sunday.  Perhaps on Sunday, a nice breakfast/brunch service is offered and they close in the afternoon before a big Sunday dinner service.  I guess I can try to wrap my mind around the concept that they, the restaurant in the hotel are closed for lunch.  It is a stretch, but by golly, I'm in a different country.  If the custom in Australia is to close the only restaurant in the hotel for lunch on Sunday, then by golly, I'm just going to have to accept that there are some customs I'll never understand.

But "I already turned off the ice machine.  There's no ice."  This is incomprehensible to me.  Counting to ten did not help me at all.  There's no ice, there's no ice, there's no ice.  I just couldn't comprehend it.  Perhaps it was the jet lag.  Perhaps it was the extreme fatigue.  Perhaps it was that I was not completely not hungry.  Perhaps it was my brain trying to circle the drain in the oposite direction being in the Southern Hemisphere.  "There's no ice."  No comprende.

[That reminds me of what I like so much about "The Tourist", he was speaking Spanish in Italy and expecting every one to understand him--so cute.] 

As I left the restaurant weighing my options, stay at a hotel with no ice, stay with Adam with teeny tiny ice cubes, I realized that I was willing to spend money to buy ice.  They sold great big bags of ice at the grocery store we'd just been to in the neighborhood.  I was willing to buy a great big bag of ice every day if I had to.  I had a car.  This problem has just been solved.  Relief spread through me, delight almost.  Oh my, crisis averted.  That was close.  I feel so much better.  I think I laughed out loud, I was so relieved.  As I passed the desk, I remembered to ask Mr. Smilie the password for the wireless.  [There was a line now, so I had to wait a bit, but solving the ice crisis had put me in magnanomous frame of mind.  I was happy to wait.]  Finally it was my turn and I tried to remember to enounciate.  "What is the password for the wireless internet?" I asked with a great big smile left over from solving the ice issue.  "We don't have wireless internet.  There is a dial up Internet connection available for a fee in the back computer room."  I was just too numb to feel the blow.  The significance of "no internet" just didn't occur to me.  We walked back to the elevators and off to the side I saw a tiny windowless room with a 1980's computer moniter and it didn't even register.

I put "there's no wireless internet" out of my mind completely.  Denial, denial, denial.  I refused to allow the concept to enter my brain.  Let's see the room.  The lobby was nice enough, but there was no ice and the restaurant closed for lunch.  The clerks were mean or uncomprehending.  It was almost impossible to drive here and parking was in a skinny back alley elevator.  My brain had seen the 1980's computer moniter, even if I was trying to block it out.  I was getting rather giddy frightened.  I tried the card.  Nothing.  You were supposed to "wave" it in front of the scanner.  I waved it and waved it, but nothing happened.  I tried the door knob to see if I just wasn't hearing a click.  It was locked, but I happened to glance at the key cover and realized I was at the wrong room.  Whoops.  We went to the right door and the key worked right away.

I was pleasantly surprised that the room was very nice.  There was a washing machine in the bathroom, so the sink was built very high.  I liked that a lot.  There was a full kitchen, stove, refrigerator and sink.  Two microwave ovens.  [Don't ask me why they had two microwave ovens--there was a washing machine in the bathroom and their only restaurant closed for lunch.  I cannot comprehend such customs.]  There was a sofa, a desk, two nice chairs and a beautiful balcony with a table and chairs to sit out on.  It overlooked the city and it was lovely.  But none of the lights worked.  Every switch and nothing.  Finally, Adam realized that there was a place next to the door to insert the key card that connected the electric.  When you leave the room the electricity goes off, so no lights left burning.  Very green and economical.  Each electrical outlet had a switch on it, so that you could turn off the outlet when you were not using the things plugged in.  Really cool.  All in all, the place was redeeming itself, big time.  It was a very comfortable room.

And then I looked at the tv.  WraaRow.  It looked pretty old.  Oh well, Adam and I will be out most of the time anyway.  I didn't fly thousands and thousands of miles to watch tv in Australia--how bad can it be?

Well, I'd gone almost an hour without a diet coke and there was no ice at this hotel, so we should be heading out to remedy this situation.  We decided to do some sight seeing and we walked down to the River.  I did not have any expectations for the River.  My original vacation plans were to go to Hawaii, so trading down to a river from the ocean made my expectations nil.  Oh contraire, mon frair.  The river in Brisbane was beautiful.  Absolutely lovely.  The walk through the City was beautiful.  It was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon.  [And more gentle hills between the hotel and the river than between the hotel and Adam's apartment--so a much easier walk.]  Along the river there was a wide flat walkway that made for a very pleasant stroll.  We passed a very nice looking bar that served Italian food--that means Pizza.  From the window, I saw Li Na and Sciavone and the red clay of the French.  The score was 2 2.  Oh my.  I lost Saturday completely in my flight.  I already knew who won, but here it was, right there.  We must go in, I told Adam.  We ordered lunch (pizza for me) and they had diet coke and a glass with ice without me specially requesting it and I got to watch the Women's finals of the French.  This vacation was really looking up, big time.

Stay tuned--Adam baked (after I bought him a pan to bake in).