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MOST READERS HAVE likely graduated from the vacations of their youth, where they saved a few dollars by sleeping on a friend’s hand-me-down couch. Still, some of my fondest travel memories were shaped by such frugal accommodation.
I once traveled cross-country on a summer camp trip with 48 other teens, touring the greater U.S. in a converted Greyhound bus. It was an eye-opener, visiting such heralded landmarks as the Statue of Liberty and the St. Louis Gateway Arch, as well as must-see kitsch like the Cadillac Ranch and the world’s largest ball of twine.
We stayed in a different motel every night. The trip’s operator held down costs by favoring motels in the cheaper part of town, with four teens to a room, where they shared two double beds. Such sleeping arrangements never bothered me.
I especially loved the motel rooms with vibrating beds. Twenty-five cents went a long way back then. Now, any room with a coin-operated bedframe is a warning sign. Same for any suite that has a coin-operated dispenser in the bathroom.
From there, my taste in overnight stays evolved. Shortly after marrying my bride of now 36 years, I vividly remember taking her to Bar Harbor, Maine, to visit Acadia National Park. We stopped at lighthouses and cider houses along the way, and—for one night—found a cheap roadside motel with a partly shorted-out neon vacancy sign.
It felt reminiscent of the Bates Motel, with an off-beat, standalone cabin office complete with a wraparound colonial porch. The sleeping quarters were located upwind in a heavily wooded area located 100 paces behind the office. The entire complex felt like the Hitchcock movie, creepy with a sense of unresolved mystery. I didn’t realize that we’d need to upgrade our stay if we wanted a room with windows. We slept with the lights on.
Eerier still was a relatively elegant 15-story hotel in Philadelphia. Upon exiting the elevator, we were greeted by a Joan Miró painting, exactly like the reprint my family had on the kitchen wall when I was a child. Gee, I always thought ours was an original.
Unbeknownst to us, my son hit the wrong elevator button and we exited one story above our room. The same Miró greeted us as we left the lift. We walked to where our assigned room should have been, only to find our key unable to open the lock. We took the lift back to the main lobby to obtain a new key from the front desk.
As people entered and exited the elevator, we saw the same Miró positioned on every floor. It shattered my view of fine art. I still have Shining-type nightmares about that stay, plus it skewered my view of my father’s fine art collection.
On a trip to visit our son in Scotland, we spent a night in an inn just outside of London. To say the room was tiny would be an overstatement. We had to use a shoehorn to squeeze between the door and the bed frame. Indeed, there had been more square feet in the airplane lavatory than in our hotel room’s bathroom. I think we used the bidet as the shower, not realizing there was a communal wash area down the hall. The stupid things we Americans do.
I was once invited by a former student to give a talk in the Netherlands. She was kind enough to take care of all the details for the trip, including reservations for an overnight stay. Much to my chagrin, the room was located in Amsterdam’s red-light district. I slept fully clothed on top of the sheets, not daring to look at what I might find beneath the covers.
To this day, I still don’t know what I did to deserve that accommodation. I would like to think it was because my former student was working with a shoestring budget. More likely: She was still upset that our published scientific article didn’t appear in a higher-quality journal.
Now that I’m retired, it’s belatedly dawned on me that a good night’s sleep is worth paying for. My past frugal lodgings may have made for better memories, but today’s better accommodation leaves me a little less cranky in the morning.
Jeffrey K. Actor, PhD, was a professor at a major medical school in Houston for more than 25 years, serving as an academic researcher with interests in how immune responses function to fight pathogenic diseases. Jeff’s retirement goals are to write short science fiction stories, volunteer in the community and spend time in his garden. Check out his earlier articles.
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Loved the stories! You never disappoint!
Cheryl, Thanks for the encouragement!
I like nice hotels and have stayed at several. I have also tons years of business travel staying at the obligatory chains and corporate accommodations. But as the article suggests there is nothing quite as memorable as the bare-bones places. This summer we traveled to Alaska and a highlight was jamming into a “container hotel” in Coldfoot, basically containers lashed together with industrial rooms located in truck stop mud. These were leftovers from building the Alaska pipeline. Fantastic.
A couple of years ago we stayed at an AirBnb in Florida where the bedroom was the remodeled old elevator shaft. The bed took up the entire footprint.
I don’t need too much when I travel. You would think that it shouldn’t be too hard to get a room with a decent bed with clean sheets, a hot shower, a basic working television and a chair. However, I’ve found that even in U.S. chain hotels, the bedding is increasingly suspect, it can take a while for the hot water to come out of the showerhead, and the management has decided that a chair is no longer necessary in a room. (And those heaters under some windows never seem to give you the room temperature you want.)
(I now know the chains I respect (Marriott’s are high on my list) and I’ve found that it pays to research hotels carefully, especially in Europe, and including the exact locations. A good source for modestly-priced hotels with good reputations in decent areas is the Rick Steves website and blog.)
If only we could travel while staying at our own homes….
OK, Humbledollar, it looks like we need a subcategory of HumbleAbodes!
I’ve done a lot of traveling to speak at various conferences and universities/colleges. I could write a whole article about the wretched accommodations they put me into. Having been on the other end of this (inviting speakers or hosting job candidates), I can assure you that your Amsterdam situation was almost certainly budget-driven rather than vengeance-driven. Plus, I’ve found, if the person making the arrangements is local, they don’t know much about the hotels—why would they?
I’ve realized that I can’t be a diva and demand to stay in nicer hotels, but I’ve gotten more assertive about my travel arrangements. I remember about ten years ago, the staff person booking my flights to and from Florida asked if I’d be OK with a flight arriving close to midnight…and they wanted me speaking at my workshop by 8:30 a.m. the next morning—and dealing with a three-hour time difference in from California. I said no, try again, and in fact, because I’m pretty good at researching and booking travel myself, I’d get off the phone and check my computer and call him back. I found a nonstop flight that required someone to pick me up about 45 min from the hotel, but it arrived before 5 p.m. They agreed.
Another time, the organizers thought I could give two talks in one day, head to the airport, and fly back from Chicago to California the same night. I said no, try again, and they’d have to book me a hotel night after my talks. I mean, these flight proposals were technically possible, but I’m an (aging ) human being and not a machine.
Thanks for the comments. Much appreciated. I am sure my former student meant no harm. 😉. And you are correct about being realistic about traveling; it helps to be upfront with coordinators for the trips!
Sleep cheap, dine fine!
Flip that for me. I’ll spend the extra $$ on a big clean room, a comfortable mattress and a good shower, and I’ll save with a deli sandwich to go or a delivery pizza.
Jeff, great story. Nothing beats the 12-foot Sears cabin tent we used for the first ten years of marriage. We camped up and down the East Coast and Canada. I think camp sites were below $20 a night. Maine, and especially Bar Harbor and Acadia, is one of our favorite camping spots. One year we got hit with a monsoon. This old test weren’t very watertight, even with the tarp I added. We also got hit with a flash flood/stream that rushed through the camp. The sleeping bags got soaked and muddy. We spent most of one vacation day at a mainland laundry washing everything.
Your story remind me of my first trip to Montreal, for the ‘76 Olympics. That summer I had graduated from HS and some work buddies and I decided to spend a couple of nights sleeping under the stars in a parking lot off the island. Got to walk the venues the evening we arrived the found a place to sleep. Unfortunately about 2 am it started to pour so the four of us spent the night with our soaked sleeping bags in a compact sedan. I don’t remember the smell, and I’m sure that’s a good thing. Attended a preliminary boxing match and got to meet Sugar Ray Leonard, but then we decided to cancel the second night and head home. Great memory though!
Rick, we too have fond memories of soaked tents along the upper east coast states. Mt Washington comes to mind, with four trips where it rained each and every time!
Nice article! I used to say that I slept cheap so that I could eat well, but sadly, these days I’m likely to need a place with an elevator. That eliminates old-style B&Bs, pensions, guesthouses, etc. I did occasionally encounter really bad places, requiring a move next morning, despite guidebook recommendations. One, in Aleppo, was so bad I moved that evening. When my taxi couldn’t find the place I had picked from Lonely Planet I got out the third time we passed the Sheraton, thinking I would throw money at the problem. Turned out that all they had was a suite – for $700/night. Fortunately, the receptionist knew of a new place round the corner with less stratospheric rates, although only for one night. Aleppo was extremely popular, at least with Europeans, in 2009.
As an impoverished 24-year-old, I was in Aleppo in 1987, and stayed at the Hotel Baron, where — among others — Lawrence of Arabia had stayed. The hotel had a gorgeous bar with an ancient bartender. Behind him was lined up every liquor bottle imaginable. All were empty. All you could get was a beer. We stayed two nights. On the final morning, we were seen off with a breakfast of coffee, a bread roll and rancid butter. I suffered diarrhea on the journey back to Damascus, requiring a visit to the revolting train bathroom every five minutes like clockwork. A memorable trip.
The Baron was still going strong in 2009. I stopped by, but I didn’t stay there. Glad to see it’s still standing. Looks like that may not be the case for the Mirage Palace, where I finally wound up. Above my usual budget, but killer view of the citadel. I, too, got sick in Syria….
I felt pretty wretched the rest of the trip until I climbed onto the Lufthansa jet at Damascus airport for the flight home and then — almost miraculously — I felt just fine. I’ve had a soft spot for Lufthansa ever since.
Fun article, Jeff. I remember begging my dad for a quarter whenever we stayed in one of those rare motel rooms equipped with Magic Fingers. Now our bed at home is equipped with massage motors. I’m saving lots of quarters.
Thanks for smiles and laughs this morning.
Glad I could provide a smile!
I’ve had some interesting stays as well, mostly in rural Pennsylvania and Arkansas. No chain hotels and the people who are there to hunt and fish don’t care about motel amenities. But beautiful scenery compensates.
There are some great places in rural Texas that sound similar. A place called the Armadillo Hotel comes to mind. The people were just as amazing to watch as was the surrounding scenery.
There are luxury hotels in Amsterdam’s red-light district (e.g. Sofitel Grand) as well as many more modest hotels that cater to tourists. Are you sure your former student was out to get you?
I may never know….On the positive side, she did invite me to travel overseas at their department’s expense. And it was a great opportunity to visit.
I can relate to several of your luxury stays, especially the need to sleep on top of the covers and a tiny room in downtown London – we demanded a new room on that trip.
During my working years we were spoiled staying in five star hotels and resorts for conferences. Alas it’s 3-4 stars these days and mostly Hampton Inns on the road.
If not “better memories,” certainly better stories.
Definately! 😉