Room to improve... world’s worst hotels
ALMOST time to tell 2018 to push off, but before we do, this column would like to tell you its motto for the New Year: ‘Infotainment at its most infotaining.’
I’d toyed with ‘The column that never says what it means, though it usually ends up saying something similar’ but I felt that wasn’t really what I wanted to say.
‘Promoting: Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, Temperance’ also looked like a runner, but I didn’t feel truly committed to fortitude.
So, we’ll go with infotainment one, so here is all the infotaining stuff for the last time in 2018:
DANGEROUS DIGS
LOOKING for a New Year’s thrill?
Somewhere with a jaunty seaside air? Well, you could do worse than a stay in what is billed as the Most Terrifying B&B on Earth: The Frying Pan Shoals Light Station.
It’s 34 miles off the coast of North Carolina, and stands 85ft tall in North Atlantic’s Hurricane Alley. So if there’s a 70mph wind blowing and the rain is cascading against the windows, it means it’s turned out nice again.
With eight bedrooms, and still maintaining the look and feel of the original 1964 US Coast Guard Light Tower, the Light Station stay is part of a growing trend of off-the-grid travel. This is bleak chic at its bleakest.
A two-night stay will cost $1,345 including helicopter transport – and you take off from Cape Fear Airport, North Carolina.
But although a stay on Frying Pan Shoals may be a terrifying experience for some, how about these others across the world’s trouble spots?
One hotel that regularly crops up on any list of digs to be avoided is the Hotel Intercontinental in Kabul. The management will provide you with bodyguards armed with Kalashnikovs should you wish to take a stroll into town.
But should you not fancy the delights of downtown Kabul, staying put in the hotel itself can be less than restful. In January of this year, a group of gunmen attacked the hotel, sparking a 12hour battle.
The firefight resulted in many fatalities.
The optimistically named Peace Hotel in Mogadishu, Somalia offers fresh pastries on the veranda – with flak jackets. Like the Hotel Intercontinental it has been the venue for extreme military action over the years
The Corinthia in Tripoli promises ‘refined hospitality and pampering luxury’– as well as bombproof curtains, armed guards and shatterproof windows. It is, also, prone to gun attacks and kidnappings.
But situations can change in a short period of time, so who knows? These hotels in the future could become havens of relaxation.
The people of Belfast, and in particular the owners of the Europa Hotel on Great Victoria Street, are delighted to no longer feature on the same list as Kabul or Mogadishu.
At one time the most bombed hotel in Europe, the Belfast Europa is now a thriving city centre haunt. And today it’s filled, not by journalists, but businessmen and, yes, tourists.
COLD COMFORT
WHEN I read the advert from 1914, I wondered what the job might have been.
It said: “MEN WANTED for hazardous journey, small wage, bitter cold, long months of complete darkness, constant danger, safe return doubtful, honour and recognition in case of success.”
What could it be? A job as a travel rep with a hen party on their way to Majorca or Vilnius? A job with a no-frills airline? A reporter with a local, rural newspaper? It was only when I read the name of the person who had placed the ad that all became clear. ‘Ernest Shackleton, 4 Burlington Street’. Yes, Kildareman Shackleton, Antarctic explorer. Mind you, there is one resonance with journalism. When Shackleton was on his arduous expedition to the South Pole, at one stage his men were exhausted and were demanding that they stop and rest.
But Shackleton knew that any such halt would kill them – they would simply freeze.
So what he did was this – he told the men that they could rest for two hours, and then they had to proceed.
The men bedded down as best they could, and as soon as they had dozed off – after some minutes – Shackleton woke them, telling them they’d had their two hours.
They believed him, and though exhausted, continued their adventure – without any loss of life.
And the journalistic angle? Oddly enough, it’s a tactic a newspaper editor in Belfast used to employ with his staff when I worked there some years ago.
AIRHEAD THINKING
A FEW thoughts on air travel occasioned by recent plane journeys.
I happened to be sitting behind a famous Irish piper on a flight between Dublin and London. It was only as we took off that it occurred to me that the principles of jet power are the same as that behind the bagpipes – suck, blow, whooooooooshh.
But I decided to keep my thoughts to myself.
Don’t you love the way air travel is such a transformative experience? Particularly for the pilots.
They strut about in their fancy uniforms, looking like South American dictators. Then when they land they have to get out to look at the plane, so they have to put on those high-vis yellow jackets. From leaders to binmen in one easy step.
News from Britain: big government cuts are on the cards – Britain’s Royal Air Force is to be reduced considerably.
How then are the British Army going to get to those trouble spots? I think I see a business opportunity for Ryanair here. The only problem would be that the British army bosses would have to book early for the best prices.
SPANISH CHESTNUTS
JUST before you put your Christmas jumper away, a word on the general topic of pullovers. I was given a beautiful Aran sweater for Crimbo, and will be wearing it on every available occasion.
Tradition has it that the intri- cate designs on these sweaters serve a melancholy purpose. Basically they were used as identification tags for drowned fishermen. Or so the legend goes. But whether the jumpers were actually ever widespread amongst fishermen is a moot point. Their heavy woollen material would make them prone to water-logging, impractical for working on a boat, and a positive danger if you went overboard.
The story of each jumper having a distinctive pattern for identification seems to be something of a myth. The story possibly originates from JM Synge’s Riders to the Sea – a drowned fisherman is recognised by his sister when she recognises a dropped stitch in the socks she made for him.
The legend may have turned the sock into a sweater, and by and by it became part of folklore.
Over the years, the Aran design has become ever more clearly defined and elaborate.
There is a theory they were originally Moorish, being copied from Spanish sailors washed up on western shores of Ireland during the Armada.
In order to investigate, I got myself to Granada to have a root round. This was the last redoubt of Moorish influence in Spain, and many of the designs at the Alhambra are remarkably similar to what you might see in the Book of Kells or a Killarney gift shop.
There is yet another possibility. The Coptic church, established c. the 2nd century AD in Egypt, employs ornamentation strangely reminiscent of Celtic design. Some historians believe that early Irish missionaries brought these designs back, while also being inspired to build hermitages as a way of emulating Christ’s days spent wandering in the desert.
However, no deserts in Ireland. Instead the most out of the way places were pressed into service for these early Anchorites. Thus when you read the names Dysert O’Dea, Killadysert, Desertmartin etc. – the deserts actually refer to the Western Sahara.
Just thought you’d like to know.