There is some profoundly luxurious about the crisp white sheets, the fluffy white towels, movies on demand, room service. To me, the money I spend on a good hotel when traveling is totally worth it.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve stayed in my share of bad hotels. Baaad hotels. One in Inglewood, CA, I chose not to leave unless it was in a taxi – I was a bit scared of my less-than-salubrious neighbours hanging around on the street outside. So now I stay at the Marriott when visiting LA.
Sometimes it can be fun to stay in low-cost places. Staying at backpacker hostels is fun. You can meet interesting people and they tend to have better cooking facilities and free Internet.
But in general, I’m over sharing bathrooms and small dank rooms. Part of the pleasure of traveling for me is the sense of anticipation I feel sliding the keycard in the door, eager to see what’s behind it. After a long day of adventuring there is nothing better than kicking my shoes off and collapsing on a huge comfy bed.
And for a day or two I get to live another kind of life in that room, where I have a maid and cook on call and I never have to do the dishes. It’s the best, and I’m experiencing it right now. Bliss.