Guest User
January 11, 2024
The ill-fated saga began along the way, but I will limit myself to evaluating the inn (or rather, “robbed”). Upon arrival, still trying to identify where the reception would be, as all that could be seen were some tables and chairs arranged in front of a kind of bar counter, which had an aquarium as a neighbor that was always too cloudy, even before any “hello, welcome!”, what we heard was “will it be in debit or credit, the rest of the reservation amount?”. Payment made, now it was time for the good news: the Wi-Fi signal does not reach the rooms; air conditioning, only from nine thirty at night to eight in the morning; The use of hair dryers, straighteners and any other device that uses resistance is prohibited. So far, so good, we don't really care about it. It is understandable that a place that runs on a power generator would have such limitations. Heading to the room (the most expensive facility in the inn, it should be noted), the disappointment was already present at the door, which had a broken handle and serious problems opening it. The bed linen was smelly. The TV was awkwardly positioned at the angle between the wall and the ceiling (but that didn't matter, after all, it didn't really work). While we were still settling in, we discovered that the lights wouldn't turn on. Later, we realized that this was just one of the countless and long-lasting power outages that plague that place, and that the owners insist on blaming the guests for tripping the generator's circuit breaker, claiming that they had certainly used one of the prohibited devices ( which we discovered, in conversation with our roommates, which, obviously, was not true). The first night in that place was rainy. After spending time in the “reception bar” and after a break from the rain, when I returned to the room, a pleasant surprise: the bed was soaked thanks to two leaks above it. But all of the above described still hadn't been enough to shake our morale. “Okay, these things happen,” my fiancé and I thought. Of course, the worst was yet to come. When we received dinner... it was at that moment that everything became clear: all the events narrated were not mere misfortunes; in fact, those (ir)responsible for that place don't give a damn about their guests. That was the materialization of the absolute lack of, I would say, affection but, more seriously, what is really lacking is respect. I wouldn't even serve that food to pigs. I would have preferred to have been washed, it would have been better. The lasagna was a sort of oil soup with clumped flakes of ground meat and inconsistent shavings of dough. Everything floating. The chicken parmigiana were small pieces of chicken dipped in a sauce similar to that used in stroganoff, with a horrible appearance and texture (which is also the sauce present in the stroganoff itself and in, amazingly, fish – it is a standard sauce, apparently) , accompanied by a handful of lifeless rice and a few pieces of French fries (just over half a dozen, served
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