I really enjoyed my stay at the Penta Hotel in Leipzig. Cliff recommended it and it was within walking distance to where I was doing interviews so I snatched up a very reasonably priced room without knowing much more about the place. It was a bit off the beaten path, just on the other side of the square from the Old Town, but that made it ideally quiet despite being in the center of everything.
I could write loads on how ridiculously awesome it was to stay in a hotel with a *gasp* comfortable king-sized bed all to myself — one that was actually one complete bed and not two mattresses shoved together. One with bright windows and a ridiculous terrace to enjoy the sun on. One that had pickles in a can in the vending machine. One I actually wanted to come back to after being videotaped for 12 hours straight, even if all the businessmen getting drunk in the lobby were Americans who talked too loudly about all the bullshit they thought they were experts on, like how to make a proper gin and tonic.
I’m not much of a business traveler, so maybe I’ve been living in the dark on the brothel that these hotels become at night, but getting through that lobby after a certain hour was a bit like working my way through a nightclub during a Ueber-30, aka Gammelfleisch, aka Resteficke party. And forget the swimming pool. I only had to set one toe in the pool, dreaming of a lapped swim, before some jackass started hollering at me from the whirlpool to come join him where the water was warm. Talk about schmierpapier.
Anyway, as lovely as this hotel was, it was full of platitudes that were aimed at making the place seem more inviting. The notes on the shampoo were cute and quaint and distracted from the fact that they were holding your typical soap-in-a-bottle hotel shampoo that messes up your hair. The shower curtain reminded me to take care of myself well after a long sweaty run. But then I went downstairs and saw these signs, first, by the “office” kiosk where I printed out my train ticket back home.
Uh, nope, not really. Also, is anyone else reminded of the sign “Arbeit macht frei” or is it just me being too sensitive?
Then, there was this everyday sexism on the signs to the toilets:
Now, I’m as used to the everyday sexism in Germany as the next girl, but this is a ridiculous blight on an otherwise nice hotel.
By the way, I don’t have a penis but I do write about both football and shopping. Amazing and gender-breaking, I know.
**Clearly, this is not a sponsored post. I wish.