I am at the home of a Bosnian War Lord. Or rather, that should be… ex War Lord. who seems to have acquired a collection of trophies and spoils around his house. A wonderful mixtures of Religious Relics; Venetian Glass; portraits in oils and furniture which would seem more at home in a venetian palazzo. Add to that the slightly kitsch style of Russians ( forget me Mother Russia but bling and gilt ( where designer or faux) are some of your trading names) and you have our resting place for the next week
It stands perched up on a cliff…overlooking a bay and the Locals from near and far will spy it as they descend down from the mountain pass into the town below. Its something you definitely won’t miss and something not to be missed…..A whipped up confection of meringue in the form of lots of snowy buildings with a huge dusting of blue icing in the form of coloured glass haphazardly installed around the place.
A gaudy display of bad taste which somehow seems to rub along nicely with furniture from the Mother Land ( where ever that might have been when the boundaries changed). You couldn’t be entirely sure which country you were in and it all depended upon which entrance you took.
Our arrival was greeted by indifference and slight surprise, although we had booked. A slight mix up with the rooms, as was to be expected. ” No we really Don’t want the additional sofa bed and unusable room at the back without window and backing onto the car park, instead of the room with balcony and sea view which we had booked and really, I will have to insist that you take us to that room now please!”
Having dug my heels in and insisting the extra bed was in no way a fair trade off for the sea view, he produced a room with such magnificence and splendour that I wondered why we weren’t taken there first.
Aagh – upon opening of the door it became clear. An acrid smell of cheap air freshener mixed in with the terrible smell of wet and dirty dog met you. The room was indeed wonderful but quietly tucked away in the corner was a sofa you would NOT want to perch your er, b. Said smell of wet dog who had obviously recently vacated his holiday bed was only marginally hidden by the cheap and acrid air freshener. We shrugged and lived with it
There was no welcome other than this. No explanation of meal times; Dos and Donts and no hotel handbook. They did not seem to be troubled by this in any way. They were certainly of the adage ” dont believe the publicity” and frankly, why should they care? A quick look around the car park showed a full occupancy rate or very nearly, and with Guests from Italy; Ukraine; Germany; Slovakia, I wouldn’t think they worried either way. We prepared for Dinner and noted, still no sign of Antonio……