Hotels (a healthy obsession)

One time chatting to my Mum, I let slip about a hotel I’d stayed at. I very quickly walked myself back from giving further details when I realised she was doing some sums in that Dutch head of hers. As a rule, I kept my travel itineraries pretty close to the chest when it came to my mother. Ma’s idea of a great weekend away was a YHA booking at The Rocks in Sydney for her and Dad. Not so much for me. I’m happier down the road at the Four Seasons or the equivalent thereof.

My obsession with hotels began when I was a teenager. Our family holidays, although memorable for many reasons, was not because we were living the mile-high life. We did not do five star, not when there were seven(!) of us along for the ride. One time we took a family trip around Tasmania in the family sedan with literally a square plastic box on the roof for excess luggage. Other than that bit of custom kit, the trip was solidly two star. (Not to mention the wind drag driving around the island slowed our speed to a crawl.)

The accommodation on that trip was either in family rooms in hostels or in leaky tents at remote camping grounds along the east coast as we drove from Devonport to Hobart. It kinda killed me how my parents skewed towards cost cutting vs let’s live a little. I don’t know if it was at this point that I promised myself never again to darken the door of either a YHA or a tent flap but something was planted earlier enough in my life that has become a standard to uphold in my later years.

I either pay for off-the-charts, eye-watering-ly priced hotels or I’ll go camping. And nothing in between. These days I don’t mind the camping because it’s beautifully balanced by the other end of the scale. And I do keep these ventures to myself and Ronald because I am my mother’s daughter and there is something more than a little obscene about this particular obsession.

Some highlights in no particular order:

  • Tswalu - South Africa

  • Forestis - Dolomites Italy

  • Vumbura - Okavango Delta Botswana

  • Kittawa Lodge - King Island Tasmania

  • Hotel Esencia - Tulum Mexico

  • Chable - Yucatan Mexico

  • Saffire Freycinet - Tasmania

  • Willow House - Terlingua USA

  • Castle Hot Springs - Sonoran Desert USA

  • Vista Lago di Como - Lake Como Italy

  • Vora Villas - Santorini Greece

This habit is a no-holds-barred luxury but I downplay it because it is an indulgence that sits uncomfortably with the Dutch Calvinist/Protestant wellspring of my ancestors who took greater pride in the withholding than the indulging. And it’s embarrassingly bougie.

There’s a bit of me that feels utter mortification when I’m reading reddit and the douche bags on luxury travel threads mention some of these places. I want to have a little vomit in my mouth because while this is me, I’d like to think my highly refined discernment separates me from the grabby and striving nature of some of the comments on these platforms. This is what I tell myself at any rate…