Room Size

... my bedroom window I am in a single.  

Wyona and Greg are in a double.

I have no window.  

Well, that is not quite true.  

There is a window painted on the green wall of my bedroom.  

Chimes are hanging on the outside of the painted window.   The inner ledge holds a pot of greenery and a picture.  I am reminded of O Henry’s “The Last Leaf”.  I am actively controlling my claustrophobia.  There is a fan in the bathroom that circulates the air of the room to the outside.  I rely on the small holes in the fan to sustain my irrational hope that there is another way out of the room when the door is closed.

... clothes closet is hooks on back of door ...
... no perk of side table, but is that a reason to upgrade ...

I measured my room. 

If I stretch my arms out lengthwise, then from tip to tip, there is 12 more inches than arms. 

If I take the same measurement on the width of the room, I have an extra 6 inches.  

My bags consume half the floor space.  

The other half can be measured by one stride of my foot.  

There is one tap on the bathroom sink – cold water.  

... tank is smaller than appears in this pic ...

Thankfully the shower has hot water.  

The water tank  is 2/3rds the size of a 12 pack of toilet paper and hangs from the shower wall. “Turn the tank on 10 minutes before you wish to shower,” the clerk said. I might wait until we get on the ship. 

The single bed is hard.  I try to think of a way to describe how hard.  The bed is one step up from sleeping on the beach. At Annis Bay, sleep on the rocks and I may have to rake the surface flat.  I wait all winter to get to do that.

Here, the bed is hard and flat. No raking.  Otherwise – the two spaces are equal.

How to spend the accommodation dollar?  That is the real question. Right from the get-go, when we entered our rooms, Wyona said to Greg, “Do you want me to change hotels?  I thought this one was a hot deal, because it has free Wi-Fi and an elevator.  And look at how cheap it is.  But, is your back going to make it through four nights? I can change, Greg.”

“I am fine.  In fact, so far, a hoot,” he replied.  “I don’t think anyone will believe us when we tell about this trip to Hong Kong.”

On other accounts, Greg has more walking stamina that Wyona or I have right now.  This morning she told him not to feel that he has to go with us.  “We are too slow. Take off, we don’t mind.” 

But he said, “No, I prefer this walk with the two of you.  I am soaking in the sights, the sounds, and especially the smells, all of which is accompanied by interesting conversation.  I am good.”

As soon as he said that, I made every effort to block out the visual and the aural.  I tried to concentrate on the smells that he was giving himself over to,  which now became overwhelming, changing every few steps as though each shop was beckoning us by smell.  At the end of our walk, when we were outside of a new cosmetic and lotion shop, I did not need to ask if the 10 foot high floral displays were silk or real.  The fragrances of the arrangements of lilies, roses and snap dragons were redolent, overpowering, now blocking out all of the delicious food smells.

Oh where was my camera when I needed it?

Arta