Not long ago, I considered myself to be a minor expert on Bed and Breakfast Internet searches. Our latest experience in Philadelphia, however, has shaken my confidence.
Online, it looked great. A 170 year old house set in an uppity area of Philadelphia, close to a train station. Local color. Free parking, in contrast to the $57 per night fee charged by the Marriott in Center City. A complete, hot breakfast, not just “continental”. Yes, this would work for our two night stay.
Our GPS routed us through miles of endless traffic lights and city busses to our destination. This gracious old stone mansion was surrounded by evergreens adorned for Christmas, lighting our way up the path to the huge front porch. So far, so good. After knocking repeatedly to no avail, we gingerly opened the imposing front door, surprised to find it unlocked. We had stepped into Christmas! Gorgeously decorated trees glowed in every corner. Fireplace mantles were draped in green and graced with candles. The long curving staircase boasted garland and bows, clear to the top. It was a trip back to Christmas Past.
“Is anyone home?” No reply, even when we yelled. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse, let alone the proprietors. We returned to our car, shivering a bit as night fell, and phoned.
“Oh, yes,” Anna answered in her lovely Serbian accent. “Just ring the bell. Adam will come.”
We groped around and finally found the doorbell and rang it. Here came Adam, smiling all the way down the stairs. He loaded our luggage onto an ancient creaky elevator and escorted us upstairs to a very spacious antiqued room, somewhat frayed around the edges. It boasted a beautiful large queen four poster bed and was adjacent to another room with twin beds, off of which was the bathroom. We could use both rooms, we were told, as long as we did not sleep in all the beds. Why would we? It occurred to me that if they rented the adjacent room to someone else, we would have to access the bathroom through some stranger’s bedroom, but thankfully, that did not happen. As I took in the heavy damask curtains, the curving couches and chairs in burgundy tones, the unused fireplaces, the phrase “shabby elegant” played around the edges of my mind. It was beautiful.
More quirks began to emerge. Adam could not for the life of him get our TV remote to work, so he offered to let us use the TV in the other room. Before exiting, he warned us in ominous tones that breakfast was served from 8 to 9, not a moment later. After he left, my husband got that “Rose, what have you done?” look that I’ve learned to recognize. He began searching for outlets, groping along the walls while asking how long we were staying here. Outlets were sparse, and none were located close to a mirror. It’s a good thing that we had brought 3 prong adapters along with us.
It was about then that we realized that we could not lock our room from the outside.
What did all of this portend?
We made our way to dinner at a cozy tavern nearby and then returned to the house to settle in for the night, using the side door with the combination lock as instructed. Curious. Upon entering the house, were were met with a microcosm of ethnicity. A young Russian woman was cooking cabbage in one of the various kitchens on the lower floor as her little boy hovered nearby. In another kitchen an Indian woman was preparing roti’s. She and her husband graciously invited us to eat with them, but we were stuffed with tavern food and wistfully declined. As we settled into our room for the night, we were puzzled by a variety of ethnic cooking odors wafting into our room, along with strains of family chatter in several languages. We later solved this mystery . An internationally recognized school for brain injured children is located nearby. People come from all over the world to get help for their children.
The next morning, we went down to breakfast in plenty of time, but the frittata and sausage were cold. Adam cooked on his own schedule, serving promptly at 8 AM and not a minute later. But we ate it anyway.
Adam was helpful in guiding us to the train station and gave us a schedule, which I put on the couch just inside our room. When i returned minutes later to pick it up, I came upon the grown son of the Indian couple. I ushered him and his guilty look out of our room and realized that he had taken the schedule, but no one could find it. This brought the issue of the unlockable room to the forefront. But Adam solved that problem. He installed a sliding bolt on the outside of our door, just above the doorknob. I’m not sure how that prevented theft, but at least we could still lock ourselves in at night with the chain lock. So we just hoped for the best.
In the Old City, we were taken on a tour of the American Bible Society where a longtime friend works. The ABS does incredible work around the world, addressing PTSD issues in a variety of countries. We then enjoyed a Philly steak and cheese in a local restaurant. After that we still found time to see the Ben Franklin Museum and the Liberty Bell. A good moment.
In the morning, after a breakfast of cold Eggs Benedict and great coffee (Adam was so proud of his efforts that I didn’t have the heart to complain) I determined to take a shower. the bathroom had been modernized but the only outlet was in the huge walk-in shower. Not good. It was then that I realized I had forgotten to pack a bar of soap. This became a problem. I found one microscopic bar of “Spring Bouquet” wrapped in a delicate pink paper, circa 1940. I began to hunt for other options, but all i could turn up was a large pumper bottle of something called “Activated Charcoal and Hemp Seed Oil”. It was either this or nothing, so I pumped away. It was the consistency of black tar, but it worked, more or less.
Checking out got challenging. I had been quoted a certain all-inclusive price (I had specifically asked about taxes) but the bill was considerably higher. I pushed back and after some discussion, the proprietors held to the original quote, on condition that I would write a check. I did, and quickly. Lesson learned. Shop more carefully in the future. read the small print on the reviews. Take them seriously. And if you goof, make the most of it.