Note - "Executive Floor"
My views out the window
My new digs!A Fish Out Of Water - May 22, 2008.
The change in my circumstances yesterday was so weird that I am still getting used to it. A fairy godmother came into my life and granted me three days of absolute luxury in the Hilton Opera House. (NB - I don't suppose, given the hisotric associations, they could call it the Hanoi Hilton - for you young ones that was the name of an infamous POW camp during the American war).
The change in my circumstances yesterday was so weird that I am still getting used to it. A fairy godmother came into my life and granted me three days of absolute luxury in the Hilton Opera House. (NB - I don't suppose, given the hisotric associations, they could call it the Hanoi Hilton - for you young ones that was the name of an infamous POW camp during the American war).
As blogs are public I won’t include her name and the international organization she works here. My meeting with this wonderful woman was fortuitous in a number of ways. I heard, in a chance conversation in a lift, that she was in Hanoi and cheekily sent a note asking if I could meet with her. It was great talking with her about the project I am working in. She had been involved in the original scoping and is aware of some of the critical issues, opportunities and problems. Talking with her was inspirational. She has an amazing ‘make-it-happen’ attitude and tremendous knowledge about how systems work internationally and specifically in Viet Nam. Every meeting that I have had this week has been really worthwhile – this discussion was particularly encouraging.
While we were talking I was laughing as I described the awfulness of the hotel that I was staying in. She generously announced that her room in the Hilton was free for the next three nights and that I could use it gratis. I could not believe the offer but take not take long to accept.
I am used to basic hotels – having a private room instead of a dorm in a backpackers is my idea of luxury but the Prince 79 Hotel is something else. I had a balcony room on the 3rd floor. Now what relationship this hotel may ever have had to princes and in what way this could be described as a balcony will forever remain a mystery. It was pretty grungy with broken furniture and fittings and a layer of grime over everything but I could cope with that. The electricity to my room was turned off sporadically, the narrow spiral stairwell was cluttered with junk and supplies, the TV only hissed out static most of the time and had no volume control apart from loud, the reading light did not work and the wall light had a bulb of about 20 watts, the fridge made noises like an emphysemic octogenarian fighting for his last breath, the shower base was broken and leaked all over the floor, the towel was literally the size of a hand towel ….. It did not thrill me that in five days and four nights I only had my room serviced once, and that was after I asked for it for two days. Eventually they deigned to give me a new mini-towel and to empty the rubbish bin.
All of that I could cope with but the real issue was the staff. Now that I have left there I can admit that the staff at the place frightened me. They were all very young and loud. They kept me, and I am sure most of the hotel’s guests, awake until the early hours of the morning with shouting, arguing and laughing. I should have left sooner but most mornings I had witnessed them harassing other departing guests with trumped up problems and I was certain that leaving sooner than my booking would end up with demands that I pay the entire account – and I was not at all confident, given the amount I am able to pay, and the reports that I had read about comparative hotels on the internet, that I would find anything that was better. The other issue was that because they were holding my passport they had a lot of power. Once I knew I was moving to the Hilton I planned my get away with the precision of a prison escapee.
I worked out the exact cost for the nights I had stayed and converted it to dong, extracted my passport from them by telling them my ATM card was not working and I needed to go to the bank, packed my bags and presented myself at the desk, fait-accompli. I gladly paid a 40,000 ‘surcharge’ (not recorded on the receipt) and, much relieved, raced out the door. A passing cyclo driver assured me that he could carry me and my heavy bags and knew where to go so, having clearly negotiated a price of 18,000 we set off. Immediately we started going in the wrong direction. At first I gave him the benefit of the doubt, thinking maybe it was a problem with one-way streets but as he took turn after turn in the wrong direction I protested more and more loudly. I did not know if he was mistaken (presumably not many of his customers move from Prince 79 to the Hilton) or if I and my luggage were off for some unfortunate eventuality. I was rapidly planning how to launch myself and my bags off the cyclo when he slowed for a turn but he finally asked for directions.
A while later we pulled up in front of the palatial hotel where I assume that guests are much more likely to arrive with their matching luggage in a limo, or at least a taxi, than in a cyclo. Unfortunately my entrance was even further marred by three unfortunate occurrences. (i) trying to get out of the cyclo which, in my defense was tipped on a steep angle because of my heavy bag, I tripped and just about landed on my face, (ii) I had an unseemly argument with the cyclo driver – the price had mysteriously changed to 80,000. In my hurry to escape I had not done the usual written confirmation or displayed-money negotiation. The door man suggested that I just pay as that it was not much money. Given where I was being delivered to I could see it from their perspective and payed up. (iii) as I made my way, goggle eyed and open mouthed through the smoothly revolving doors I was so busy looking around that I nearly got squashed. Not an auspicious start to the rich life!
I am in this environment a fish out of water. The cultural difference between this and my normal life is immense. For those of you who are plebs like me I am conducting a research study on life amongst the rich.
What does this sort of money buy?
Staff – dozens of staff who glide when they walk and murmur as they enquire as to your desires. Staff who, having already made everything pristine early in the day, come again in the evening to turn down the bed, draw the curtains and to refold the toilet paper into a precise point incase you are offended by the sight of the straight edge you have torn. What is that all about?
Softness and comfort – gorgeous sheets, huge fluffy towels, feather duvets, piles of pillows, slippers, lovely robes and a bed an acre wide.
Silence – a room that it is quiet and serene. Even the air conditioner is nearly silent. I cannot hear the traffic, the neighbors or the morning announcements.
A big bathroom full of lovely treats, more than 20 TV channels, telephones in every room (including the toilet!), in-room broadband, a cavernous marble, mirrored and gold lobby with a string quartet or someone playing on the grand piano, swimming pools, exclusive shops, doormen who summon taxis and limos etc etc. Everything that you could want is available – at a price.
Given that my actual financial circumstances have not changed I am staying right away from the in-room snacks, the restaurant, the bar and room service. I left my study of the rich and snuck off a number of blocks down the road to find street food that I could afford. It was very nice too – and sitting on my plastic mini stool I had a stunning view of the lights twinkling on the lake. But – with my fairy godmother's hotel package breakfast in the executive lounge is on the house! What a breakfast. Anything that you can imagine anyone, from anywhere, wanting for breakfast was on a buffet. I was as happy as a pig in muck! So much to choose from. Suffice it to say I didn’t even think about eating again until I was on my way home at 6:00 pm.
So what doesn’t money buy?
Beauty. How come opulence has to be the antithesis of beauty? Why is it compulsory in these places to have dreadful carpets, gold and shiny surfaces everywhere, horrendous chandeliers and appalling art works?
Friendliness – nobody is chatting in these lifts. We travel up and down pretending that the other people around us don’t exist. It is not just because they can see that I am an interloper – they don’t talk with their own kind- I have watched! And the staff are unwaveringly polite but never for a moment are the lines between the server and the served blurred.
Reality – it seems to me that with sufficient money it is possible to visit another country without leaving your own culture. Sheltered within the walls of the hotels, restaurants, shops and vehicles, designed to maximize comfort while minimizing difficulties, the real life of the country may be something to be glimpsed and commented on between coffee and cocktails. This is almost certainly an unfair stereotype but, having in the name of research, eavesdropped on a number of conversations in the lobby, I can verify that it is true for many here.
Do I envy the people who stay here? Mostly not - however some of it, sometimes, would be bloody nice. But – I am a fish out of water here, I feel like a fraud. I keep expecting one of the managers to discreetly come up to me and ask me to leave. Anyway - even fairy godmothers have limited powers and, just like Cinderalla's pumpkin ,my level of hotel (no star) will return to my life on Saturday - but it will not be the Prince 79.
Besides all of this frivolity I am actually working. By the end of tomorrow I will have met with people from seven agencies and organizations involved in early childhood in Viet Nam. These meetings have been really valuable and interesting. The people I have met with have been generous with their time and knowledge. I will write more about this and some of the wonderful things I have seen later.
Staff – dozens of staff who glide when they walk and murmur as they enquire as to your desires. Staff who, having already made everything pristine early in the day, come again in the evening to turn down the bed, draw the curtains and to refold the toilet paper into a precise point incase you are offended by the sight of the straight edge you have torn. What is that all about?
Softness and comfort – gorgeous sheets, huge fluffy towels, feather duvets, piles of pillows, slippers, lovely robes and a bed an acre wide.
Silence – a room that it is quiet and serene. Even the air conditioner is nearly silent. I cannot hear the traffic, the neighbors or the morning announcements.
A big bathroom full of lovely treats, more than 20 TV channels, telephones in every room (including the toilet!), in-room broadband, a cavernous marble, mirrored and gold lobby with a string quartet or someone playing on the grand piano, swimming pools, exclusive shops, doormen who summon taxis and limos etc etc. Everything that you could want is available – at a price.
Given that my actual financial circumstances have not changed I am staying right away from the in-room snacks, the restaurant, the bar and room service. I left my study of the rich and snuck off a number of blocks down the road to find street food that I could afford. It was very nice too – and sitting on my plastic mini stool I had a stunning view of the lights twinkling on the lake. But – with my fairy godmother's hotel package breakfast in the executive lounge is on the house! What a breakfast. Anything that you can imagine anyone, from anywhere, wanting for breakfast was on a buffet. I was as happy as a pig in muck! So much to choose from. Suffice it to say I didn’t even think about eating again until I was on my way home at 6:00 pm.
So what doesn’t money buy?
Beauty. How come opulence has to be the antithesis of beauty? Why is it compulsory in these places to have dreadful carpets, gold and shiny surfaces everywhere, horrendous chandeliers and appalling art works?
Friendliness – nobody is chatting in these lifts. We travel up and down pretending that the other people around us don’t exist. It is not just because they can see that I am an interloper – they don’t talk with their own kind- I have watched! And the staff are unwaveringly polite but never for a moment are the lines between the server and the served blurred.
Reality – it seems to me that with sufficient money it is possible to visit another country without leaving your own culture. Sheltered within the walls of the hotels, restaurants, shops and vehicles, designed to maximize comfort while minimizing difficulties, the real life of the country may be something to be glimpsed and commented on between coffee and cocktails. This is almost certainly an unfair stereotype but, having in the name of research, eavesdropped on a number of conversations in the lobby, I can verify that it is true for many here.
Do I envy the people who stay here? Mostly not - however some of it, sometimes, would be bloody nice. But – I am a fish out of water here, I feel like a fraud. I keep expecting one of the managers to discreetly come up to me and ask me to leave. Anyway - even fairy godmothers have limited powers and, just like Cinderalla's pumpkin ,my level of hotel (no star) will return to my life on Saturday - but it will not be the Prince 79.
Besides all of this frivolity I am actually working. By the end of tomorrow I will have met with people from seven agencies and organizations involved in early childhood in Viet Nam. These meetings have been really valuable and interesting. The people I have met with have been generous with their time and knowledge. I will write more about this and some of the wonderful things I have seen later.
No comments:
Post a Comment