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Published: September 26th 2007
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Steamy Bottom Hotel
Lovely surroundings. And while the hotel looks nice from a distance, it's a different story close up! After a few days in La Paz, I said goodbye to our travelling crowd from the past few weeks. Except for Steve and Theresa who were heading to Chile with me. Before setting off into the bowels of Bolivia, we thought we'd have a few days of luxury, indulgence and pampering. We found a glossy pamphlet advertising a luxury spa hotel in the hills. The rooms looked opulent and immaculate, and the whole place suggested comfort and relaxation. So we booked, looking forward to being treated like kings for a few days. Alarm bells started to gently ring when twelve of us were crammed into an ancient people carrier using a shoehorn. I wasn´t expecting a white stretch limo, but some level of comfort would have been nice.
Anyway, several hours and one flat tyre later, we arrived at the hotel. It was a secluded place, amidst rugged mountains and miles from anywhere. But the hotel itself.... it was built in the 1930´s, and had a kind of historic charm to it. But only enough charm to make a small rusty charm bracelet. We were expecting a huge, towering barrel of charm, with "LUXURY" stamped on the side and excess
Serial Killer Bathroom
where did I put that quicklime? charm spilling over the edges onto the steps below. The reality of the hotel was that paint was peeling off outside, and it was dim, cold and unwelcoming inside. It hadn't had a facelift (or possibly even a dust) since 1930. "At least our rooms will be nice!" we chirped. Wrong! Three saggy beds, a leaning wardrobe held together by a few flakes of paint, and mold on the ceiling. There were photos on the walls of families from the 1970s, on holiday and smiling as if they were in a decent hotel. Also, there was what I called the "Serial Killer Bathroom", because it looked like the kind of bathroom a serial killer would use to dispose of the bodies. Chop them up into pieces and put them in the bath with quicklime to dissolve the evidence. Wait, are those blood stains splattered on the floor? Nope, just my overactive imagination dripping all over the place
We ate a basic lunch in the drafty and non-majestic dining room. The food was remarkable in it's unremarkableness (what kind of hotel serves tinned fruit in jelly for dessert?) As I looked around the dismal dining room, it suddenly hit me
Hot Springs
I wallowed around in these like a fat little hippo what this place reminded me of. A dilapidated seafront hotel in England, with it's fading paint, bland food, vague service, old tableclothes and ancient cutlery. We were captured in a timewarp from the 80´s, the last true era of seaside holidays in England. Add a splash of Fawlty Towers and the picture is complete.
However, things did improve somewhat. We discovered they sold red wine behnd the counter at reception. (for some reason, this hotel did not have an actual bar?). And the pampering was actually quite good. The whole area has underground volcanic water, and so they had created some steaming hot springs in the grounds. The toilet water in the hotel also came from these springs (I'n glad it wasn't the other way round!). This meant HOT toilet water which also meant you got a steamy bottom when you sat down.
So, we settled down to some serious relaxation. we all had a massage, which was lovely, despite it being done in a dingy room in a half-built extension. We also had a "herbal aromatic bath". It was a deep, tiled bath, Roman Style and big enough for three. Huge pipes fed steaming hot water into
but it wasn´t all bad....
(Steve and Theresa) We secured a seat by the fire, used up all their wood and drank some fine wine! it, and the gardener threw in a huge bundle of exotic herbs the size of a bouquet of flowers. These turned the water green and smelt fabulous!
The next day I took a wander into the hills by myself. A faint track led off from the main path, and on impulse I followed it. It led me into the next valley, and about 40 minutes later, I saw a crop of plants on a hillside, in an improbable location. The rest of the valley was barren, but this patch of green had an automatic watering system which I could hear hissing and spraying. There was no living dwelling in sight, and I had seen much easier slopes to cultivate on. Bizarre. Around the next corner I saw a huge tent, half hidden in a group of trees. Again, this was in the middle of nowhere. What could it contain, miles from any civilisation? Someone was trying to hide something. I decided to investigate. Then my overly suspicious mind thought "maybe the mysterious crops are coca leaves, and maybe this is a secret mountain location for producing cocaine?" That might sound absurd, but this was Bolivia, and it has to be produced somewhere, right? I crept closer, using the bushes for cover and looking out for any people. I reached the tent, peeked through a flap and saw...... a huge pool of water. It turned out to be a trout farm! Presumably kept hidden to stop the locals from thieving the fish? As for the mysterious crop, I have no idea. So there was no clandestine cocaine laboratory. It was all just a figment of my overactive imagination. Perhaps I should start writing adventure books. Resurrect Enid Blyton´s Famous Five novels. "Five Go To Bolivia"? Or maybe "Five Cycle Death Road"?
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deleted_47159
Fab blog!!
Just stumbled across your blog, as i prepare to start my own: one word-fabulous! You've got a great sense of humour. Just wanted to say, i hope your travels get better on the accomodation front, and i shall think of steamy bottoms whenever i visit delapidated hotels from now on :) Caroline x