I've stayed in some special places.
For starters, when I was about 7 we decided to go to Yorkshire for a week, self-catered (unusual for my cookery-avoidant mum). The "grottage", as it has been referred to ever since, was ancient and vile: hadn't been dusted in weeks, bathroom was so bad my mum had to clean it before she let any of us near it, and there were used ladies' things under the bed. Ew.

Secondly, there was the otherwise okay hotel in Fuengirola the summer before I started uni; by foolshly allowing Stalker Boy (who only won't do a leisure and tourism qualification because he thinks it's for illiterate chavs) to book the late deal, I arrived to discover, to my absolute horror, that we were sharing a room. It could only have been worse if there was a double bed, but luckily for us there were two immovable single beds. Of course, this meant every time he wanted to take a shower and get changed, I had to go out onto the slightly rickety looking balcony so as not to be confronted by his length (probably nil) and his Stay Puft physique (and made gay). Of course all the other balconies around us were populated by middle-aged couples and youngish couples with screaming kids who would have assumed the worst.

On a slightly less related note, I could write a book about my halls in Siena (otherwise known as Pervland) - which my roommate and I came to refer to as living "in the ghettoooo". You were only allowed one key between the two roommates, and any attempt to procure the spare would be met with complaining and glares, especially if your Italian was less than perfect. The staff in reception ranged from evil grumpy bitches to old men with lazy eyes to slightly less bitchy women. And there was no internets other than dodgy wifi on the roof which worked if the wind was blowing the right way (the only site I was unable to get to was b3ta).

One of my friends had her bag snatched through the window (luckily the only thing in it was her phone), and as the complex lacked security guards, the only response she got from the staff was "oh mi dispiace." (Oh, sorry about that.) This motif of window snatching continued for anyone on the ground floor who was stupid enough to leave the window open without guarding it.

The lights would randomly cease to work, and I often came home to find the building in total darkness, no explanation given (one time all that we needed to do was to open the fusebox and push a fuse back in). The shower overflowed one day, spreading water onto the floor of the entire room, and out under the door into the corridor. The washing machines erupted similarly, but more regularly, and one day the electricity for the entire complex stayed out for a good 24 hours. Again "mi dispiace". The food from the onsite restaurant gave my roommate's friends gastroenteritis and served only variations on pasta with sauces, suspect looking meat arranged on kebab skewers, and granny-stewed vegetables. Not appetising.

The only benefit to the place was the price: €200 a month, and even then I think I was overcharged. I'm still pissed I paid them about €1400 when all my friends lived in lovely places with their own internets.
( Maladicta, Sat 19 Jan 2008, 13:39, 1 reply)

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"and there were used ladies' things under the bed. Ew."

Some bastard left used irons under the bed?!

Disgraceful...
(b3tamax Mate, you're fat and I'll throw you in the river, Wed 23 Jan 2008, 14:20, closed)