Are you looking for the next cool place? If so, why? And for God’s sake don’t go looking here.
Attention four-star and five-star hotel hoppers: You know you’ve seen it there, lurking in the closet above the logo-emblazoned single-use slippers and plastic laundry bag. Your first reaction is probably something like, “Hey, that’s a really nice looking shopping bag!” to be swiftly followed by something like, “But hey, why did they stick a shopping bag in the hotel room closet? After all, it’s a hotel room, not a shop.” Followed, after a fumble as you reach out to touch it — thick! sturdy! glossy! — by a third wave of reactions: “What am I supposed to do with it? Am I supposed to use it? Am I allowed to keep it?”
Damn you, hotel shopping bag! You come on so innocently but really the angst that follows, sometimes it really is too much. We’ll think about you later, and about how you sit there in the dark night after night branding yourself in silence after we Instagram that room service menu that faux-tantalizes us with the promise of $28 challah French toast plus 15% room service charge, no gratuity included. . .
After all, when in your hotel room you’re supposed to think of other things like the bed or the bathroom or leaving your hotel room to go out and explore, or about things like airports and train stations and taxis and packing and unpacking and packing again and yes, that’s when your mind turns once again to that quixotic creature in your temporary closet, the monogrammed, or sort of monogrammed hotel shopping bag. Could you–I mean what if you—could you seriously even—why yes, I even have, and more than once!–think of it as a complimentary complementary suitcase? YES! YES! YES!
But like most pairings, what at first seems like a natural match can drift into the domain of delusion, and end up as a downright pain in the derriere.
Allow moi to tripsplain: Let’s say you’re in Paris. You arrive at your hotel with your favorite suitcase. After a day in Paris you buy a couple souvenirs. After two days you’ve acquired a bunch of new stuff in a variety of shopping bags, some nice, some just cheap plastic. After three days you’ve accumulated so much crap because you’re such a … that you’re contemplating buying an extra suitcase but–why should you when that sweet hotel shopping bag beckons? Just use it as that extra suitcase! And impress all those losers in the security line (you know, the tightwads who wouldn’t spring for TSA Pre) with the fancypants paper imprint of the Park Hyatt or Ritz or wherever you just had your (hopefully not too woefully scripted) luxe chain hotel experience.*
*Because the hotel shopping bag phenomenon is not widely seen outside the larger luxury hotels, although there are exceptions. Anyway…
Just do it! DOOO IT! Grab that bag! But hold the 420, it smells bad. Do it like so: think stacking.
That’s a hotel shopping bag from the lovely Sofitel Athens Airport Hotel, which made it through round one without a hitch: it’s pictured above, on top of my carry-on, in the lobby of the St. George Lycabettus Hotel in Athens. Shopping bags and cross-town taxi rides make for easy bedfellows.
Making it to round two, i.e. getting through airport security, is another matter altogether.
The problem is this: if like me you have seen the hotel shopping bag as a cost-free substitute for an extra suitcase, you will proceed to pack it up like one. Only it isn’t one, which will became painfully evident as everything falls out of it once you tilt it over to send it through the X-ray machine.
But let’s suppose you didn’t overstuff it and it does make it through the security process intact. It’s surely going to get scuffed between the terminal and the tarmac, so once you finally get home, if you’re going to try to impress your neighbors or fellow grocery shoppers with that hotel brand-emblazoned shopping bag, it’s fine but it will be clear that you are no Kim Kardashian, not even Dubai-dwellin’ LiLo and that you had no limousine or VIP service, that you did all the heavy lifting on this trip yourself, and that despite the glamorous patina momentarily conferred upon you by the ever-flirtatious hotel shopping bag, your dreams are as tattered as it is now, and you are still a loser.
Oh God damn you, hotel shopping bag!
Do you have a Hotel Shopping Bag story of your own? Great! Keep it to yourself.
LADADIKA, THESSALONIKI, GREECE — Think Pink. Or green, yellow or cooling blue. Pink was on my mind however because of what had just happened an hour or so before I checked into what is easily the most charming (is it still legal to employ that word?) boutique hotel in Thessaloniki. And this is because, as my Aegean Airlines flight came humming in low over the still-as-glass Thermaic Gulf (a northern finger of the Aegean Sea that tickles the underside of Greece’s second city), the sun alternately emerged from then disappeared behind pillowy banks of sunset clouds in 16 shades of gray, presenting itself in a single, glowing pink beam that progressed with all the stealthy affirmation of cat paws over the ribbon of water, setting it on pink Turkish delight jello-y fire. In other words, pretty gosh darn pink.
That is why I was somewhat relieved to find my room was done up mainly in teal and blue, because that particular day in May no spin on pink decor could have been a match for what the Macedonian sun had so marvelously cooked up before giving in, like me, to the night.
I arrived so late I didn’t realize all that was going at the hotel and frankly, I hadn’t even looked at the hotel’s very good website. My bad, I know, but it was late and I was tired and that’s why I was relieved to find the room was fresh and new, the bathroom immaculate and the bed super comfy. I didn’t even realize until the next morning that the room came with a big private balcony, too.
Of course, I hadn’t come to Thessaloniki to spend a lot of time in my hotel room: my mission was actually to pack in as much history, and particularly Jewish history, in the 24 hours available to me ahead of my virginal flight on Ryanair. Having the Jewish Museum of Thessaloniki across the street was reminder enough that there would be no time for slacking off. Which is a shame, because not relaxing in Thessaloniki borders on criminal activity.
So another room, the “Copper Room” was across the hall, and looks in part like this:
The hotel features a Garden Bar which does double duty as the breakfast space and as, well, the bar. I took some time to study the libations menu which had been placed in my room. I was stunned by the range of coffees and artisanal teas on offer.
The coffee menu, and another guestroom.
The Garden Bar is the kind of hotel bar where locals and hotel guests mix easily and breezily. I mean, would you expect anything less in a city where there are giant outdoor fans to keep you cool in the heat of summer? I’m not kidding! Look! See?
Breakfast was perfectly proportioned and really good. Mine looked like this (not pictured, my coffee and fresh-squeezed orange juice: I was really thirsty!)
And here’s a view of the main seating area. Colorful!
Here I should make some Wildean statement about how budget should never be a consideration in matters of gastronomy or travel, but nah. I will simply mention instead that Colors is a casual 4-star hotel with “21 cleverly designed rooms, the freshest cocktails and spot-on body rejuvenation all under one roof.” Replete with a “guest-centric approach…and coolest crew in town that will make you feel right at home. You will get to enjoy sweet stylish comforts and speed-of-light fast Wi-Fi. Make COLORS Urban Hotel your base camp to discover the city.” Which I did — and so should you!!
COLORS Urban Hotel is located at 13 Tsimiski Street, the heart of Thessaloniki.
Getting into the Palm Springs swing of things