Like I have mentioned before, I learned many life lessons during the semester. While learning about different perspectives on culture, faith, and social justice; I also learned traveling tips. Lesson number one: don't trust a hotel website that doesn't have pictures. Better yet, never stay in Charleroi, Belgium.
Back in March, my roommate Beka decided for her birthday weekend we should go to Amsterdam. Then our friend Jacqueline decided to join, too. Since none of us had been there, we thought it would be fun territory to explore. However, getting to Amsterdam from Bologna is an adventure on its own (well through Ryanair that is). The first step is to fly from Bologna to Charleroi, Belgium. From that airport you take an hour bus ride to Brussels Central Station and take a 4 hour train into Amsterdam. So that Friday after being in 3 countries in one day, we finally arrived to Amsterdam. Because we waited really late to book hostels, we had to stay in a different place each night. The first night we stayed in a Christian hostel a few blocks from Anne Frank's house. The next night, we could not find a single hostel available, so we had to splurge and book a hotel room. Even though, it was outside the city, we enjoyed our luxury for the night. Since the airport was almost 6 hours away and a country away, we decided to book a hotel in Charleroi for the night before our early returning flight. I was put in charge for booking the hotels for the weekend, and since we had to splurge on the hotel, I decided to go really cheap for the last night. So a few days before we left, I just booked a little hotel near the airport. It was only 43 euro for the three of us!
After our long day getting back to Charleroi, we catch a cab from the bus station to our hotel. A little delirious, we pull into the parking lot and all I can see our colorful lights in the shape of an A frame. I look at the name and it’s the name of our hotel, Formule 1. We paid the cab driver, and soon as the doors were shut Beka says, “Jordan, where the hell are we?” Jackie and I finding it extremely comical decide to walk in and check this place out. All we first see are two creepy men in the “lobby” on their little laptop. We almost missed the reception because it was tucked away in a little corner. I give him our name and reservation information, and as I am leaning down for my credit card I cannot stop laughing. This hotel was the worst thing I had ever seen, and we had not even made it to our room. We decided to pay 5 euro extra for their “Gourmet Breakfast.” After checking in, he hands us a piece of paper and says that is our code to get into our room. All very confused, we decide to get to our room as fast as we can to avoid any other guest. We walked up the horribly decorated carpet stair well and finally get to our floor. First thing we see in the hall is the bathrooms. They are like airplane bathrooms, with automatic flushers synced with door opening and closing. Then we walk down the hall that favored a public storage unit building because of the bright orange doors. We found our room, punched in the code and shut the door to find that the door opens just enough that it didn’t hit the full/queen size bed. Over the top of the bed there was a small twin sized bunk that ended up being my bed for the night. Jackie and I immediately fall onto the bed laughing hysterically. Beka is in the corner having a minor panic attack. We decide to open the window to see the little grass patch, and I said, “That must be where the pool is going when they get the money.” After hearing cows mooing, we shut the window and decide to go get something to eat.
We walked across the street to the only restaurant around, which happens to be an Italian restaurant. Reading the menu, we were completely confused to see the Italian things, but written in French. Even ordering we would answer the server by saying, “Si….oui….shit!” Italian restaurant in a French speaking country always leads to confusion. Scared to go back we kill as much time in the restaurant by enjoying our pitcher of vino. Jackie and I found the situation completely hysterical and the peak of our weekend. Beka was ready to call for another hotel. We decided since we were going to be there for less than 6 hours that we could suffer it for the night. Before going to bed, we all took bets on what our “gourmet breakfast” would be. I guessed bread, cheese, Nutella, and an assortment of juices. Of course I was wrong by the assortment of juices; it was only an orange juice-like drink.
After our long day getting back to Charleroi, we catch a cab from the bus station to our hotel. A little delirious, we pull into the parking lot and all I can see our colorful lights in the shape of an A frame. I look at the name and it’s the name of our hotel, Formule 1. We paid the cab driver, and soon as the doors were shut Beka says, “Jordan, where the hell are we?” Jackie and I finding it extremely comical decide to walk in and check this place out. All we first see are two creepy men in the “lobby” on their little laptop. We almost missed the reception because it was tucked away in a little corner. I give him our name and reservation information, and as I am leaning down for my credit card I cannot stop laughing. This hotel was the worst thing I had ever seen, and we had not even made it to our room. We decided to pay 5 euro extra for their “Gourmet Breakfast.” After checking in, he hands us a piece of paper and says that is our code to get into our room. All very confused, we decide to get to our room as fast as we can to avoid any other guest. We walked up the horribly decorated carpet stair well and finally get to our floor. First thing we see in the hall is the bathrooms. They are like airplane bathrooms, with automatic flushers synced with door opening and closing. Then we walk down the hall that favored a public storage unit building because of the bright orange doors. We found our room, punched in the code and shut the door to find that the door opens just enough that it didn’t hit the full/queen size bed. Over the top of the bed there was a small twin sized bunk that ended up being my bed for the night. Jackie and I immediately fall onto the bed laughing hysterically. Beka is in the corner having a minor panic attack. We decide to open the window to see the little grass patch, and I said, “That must be where the pool is going when they get the money.” After hearing cows mooing, we shut the window and decide to go get something to eat.
We walked across the street to the only restaurant around, which happens to be an Italian restaurant. Reading the menu, we were completely confused to see the Italian things, but written in French. Even ordering we would answer the server by saying, “Si….oui….shit!” Italian restaurant in a French speaking country always leads to confusion. Scared to go back we kill as much time in the restaurant by enjoying our pitcher of vino. Jackie and I found the situation completely hysterical and the peak of our weekend. Beka was ready to call for another hotel. We decided since we were going to be there for less than 6 hours that we could suffer it for the night. Before going to bed, we all took bets on what our “gourmet breakfast” would be. I guessed bread, cheese, Nutella, and an assortment of juices. Of course I was wrong by the assortment of juices; it was only an orange juice-like drink.
The next morning we are waiting for our flight back to Bologna, still laughing about the night. Beka still is blaming me for it all, but is just glad we are out of the place. I then decide to say, “I now understand why the website didn’t have pictures.” She didn’t like that too much. The important thing is that nothing bad happened to us. We were all very glad to get back to Bologna safely, from such an adventurous weekend. Good news is that Formule 1 Hotels are an international chain! Who wants to join me in a world wide Formule 1 adventure?
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| Beka not so happy. :-( |
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| Jackie discovers the broken stair case. |
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| The occupied toilet. |
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| Wait, I thought this was a hotel? Not a storage unit. |
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| Glad we didn't loose that piece of paper. |
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