Sunday, June 27, 2010

separate beds

We are checking out of our Munich hotel tomorrow, and despite the fact that the elevator has been broken the whole time we've stayed here (meaning that at the end of a long day of walking around the city we then have to hoist ourselves up seven stories to our hotel room), I am going to miss it.

I have stayed in more hotels in the last two years of my life than the thirty-four previous years. And I have come to appreciate a good hotel room. The best hotel room we've stayed in by far was the boutique Hotel St Paul in Old Montreal. But as far as efficiency this little Bavarian hotel takes the cake. There is something very satisfying about the this spare but functional room. The hot water arrives immediately, there is a light over the little kitchen sink (yes, the room has a small kitchen attached), the internet is fast and free, the refrigerator stocked with things I'd actually eat, and the is foyer wide enough to accommodate the wooden crib Ike is sleeping in with plenty room to spare--not to mention a door between the foyer and the main room that provides a quiet place for Ike to sleep while we're still awake. When we arrived Charles immediately lamented the bed situation--two twin mattresses pressed next to each other. But as we leave tomorrow I think it is this feature I will miss most.

What ingenuity! Two beds! A natural dividing line to ensure no one ends up sleeping in the middle of the bed while the other hugs the edge. Two separate comforters so if toes are exposed it is no one's fault but their own. And the edges of these German mattresses are sharp, not rounded like most American mattresses, which enables them to sit flush against each other without creating and awkward gully down the middle of the bed. They seem to rest side by side on one frame, so they don't shimmy away from one another as twin beds pushed together do. And then these mattresses are firm, the pillows feather-filled and plump, the sheets high-thread count cotton. There are no silly satin throw pillows or scratchy blankets. 

Munich is very nice, don't get me wrong. I could go on about the public parks with open-air caf├ęs and live music, the swing-dancing under the pavilion in the Hofgarten, the hearty food, the elegant courtyards, the quiet trams and ubiquitous bike lanes, or the difficulty of finding food (or anything open for that matter) on a Sunday. But what this pregnant woman will remember quite fondly is this bed. And on that note I will go join my husband who is already fast asleep on his side of it.

1 comment:

Julia said...

Oh, my German friend Manuela has told me about these beds many times. They make so much sense. Why can't American things make this much sense. It's great to have a visual now.