The first thing I thought of when I opened my hotel room door this aft (well, the second thing… I hafta admit the real first thing I thought of was “oh my, I’m gonna be able to getta blog post outta this!“) was that it is the size (and aspect) of a cell. Monk- or jail-, I waffle.
The one window is a skylight that is set into the slanted roof that runs from about two feet over the head of my bed up to about 10 feet at the opposite wall. I’m not particularly tall, but I’ve already bumped my head. Twice. Stucco scrapes.
The bed is a single and the furniture midget-sized (including this desk–which is no deeper than this laptop–the Barbie-sized bedside lamp, and the 13″ tv). It was a very small monk who lived in this room, I gather. Mini-fridge, microwave. Do you sense the theme? I was worried that when I opened the washroom door I would find one of those teeny toilets they had in grammar school. And a sink to match. Was relieved to find grownup-sized facilities, however. And–perplexing–a walk-in closet. I mean, you couldn’t swing a cat in here, but there’s a walk-in closet. I’m not sure monks have more than one or two robes, either, so go figger.
But it is convenient, and that’s what I wanted.
I am in Tronna for 10 days for the Hot Docs film festival. I am going to try to update this thing fairly regularly. But for now I’m just going to crawl into my teensy bed and dream small dreams of holidays in Liliput.
→ originally published 2007-04-20