The Romantic Gringo

Glenwood Springs, Colorado

2012-01-16T09:43:00.001-08:00

>As soon as R.G. and her brother C.G. spotted the stained-glass spectacle of the Starlight Lodge signage, coupled with the fairy tale facade of its office, they knew their miserable drive was over for the night. (The trip was really gorgeous through the mountains right there, but they'd racked up too many miles that day to appreciate it properly. Plus, it was dark.) When they entered their room to find forest trompe l'oeil wallpaper, Ukrainian folk art, and paisley bedspreads, C.G. announced, "Hard work, paid off!" Joy, don't you know.

The Starlight is adorably weird, as you can sort of see from R.G.'s photos. (R.G.'s camera phone is inadequate to indoor light.) Glenwood Springs is also a find. A couple blocks from the lodge (technically a motel but indeed situated in lovely Alpine mountains) are ancient Indian vapor caves, in which R.G and C.G. sweated the next morning. You walk in through a spa, descend into crazy cavernous caves with multiple rooms, pick a slab of rock on which to recline, and steam yourself into bliss. Then you shower and sit in an ugly solarium until you're ready to either do it again or embrace your day. Despite their good accommodation luck, R.G. and C.G. let the driving get to them and had a blow-out fight before entering the caves, and, quick as you like, those caves melted their animosity right out of them.

Starlight Lodge, 121 West 6th Street, Glenwood Springs, CO,(970) 945-8591, $50 for a double; dog free with promise of good behavior. TV, coffee maker, no internet. Yampah Spa and Salon, http://www.yampahspa.com/caves.html.

Palm Springs, California

2012-01-16T08:39:00.001-08:00

Palm Springs has been a dream destination for R.G. ever since she saw, in the mid-nineties, in The New Yorker, a photo spread of its mid-century architectural glories. So when she discovered the geographic truth that to get from Phoenix to L.A. a driver would have to gas right on through Palm Springs, she knew a night in the desert oasis would soon be hers.

Research for an inexpensive old charmer that allowed dogs turned up Caliente Tropics Resort, where, in its heyday, Elvis Presley once cavorted. These days Caliente is a cool, somewhat ironic, tiki-themed, high end motel with lovely pool and grass-hutted dog run. (When R.G. and C.G. were there, C.G.'s dog ran it by his lonesome.) The resort aspect--restaurant and bar--is awaiting a kick start. But for restauranteurs to lease it, The Congo Room (see third photo) is all set to go. If you are such a person, please make this happen. R.G. forgot to take photos of the inside, so you'll just have to take her word for its tiki magnificence.

On the other hand, a hopping Congo Room would surely up the rates, and as it is now the nearby Ace Motel provides excellent nightlife and eating. The Ace Motel also has great aesthetics, at significantly higher rates. Stay in Caliente, visit Ace is R.G.'s sage advice.

Caliente Tropics Resort, 411 E. Palm Canyon Dr, Palm Springs, http://www.calientetropics.com/, $73 for a double, $25 for dog. TV, internet, coffee maker, knowledgable concierge.

Holbrook, Arizona

2011-12-23T21:37:00.001-08:00

For over a decade, R.G. has yearned to stay in the Wigwam Motel of Holbrook, AZ. Coincidentally, R.G.'s great aunt moved to Arizona in the '40s, around the time the Wigwam Motel first opened its wigwam doors. R.G., however, caught wind of the place after it reopened in the '90s. It's taken until now for her to be able to manage a visit, but the experience surpassed her buildup, which is saying something.

The Wigwam Motel is amazing. It's super cute from the outside, super cute from the inside, and, what you wouldn't expect, just plain lovely. The mattresses are heavenly and the towels are huge and fluffy. It was so nice in there that R.G. and her brother found it hard to motivate themselves to leave and saunter to The Empty Pockets Saloon, which was an obvious misstep. R.G. is pretty sure Empty Pockets would have been the creme a la creme. A train runs behind the wigwams, but amazingly you cannot hear it from inside. The only downside to the place that R.G. can detect is the overly aggressive shower spray. Too hard, that shower spray!

Holbrook is cute, by the way. Besides Empty Pockets, there's Joe and Aggie's Cafe, which is adorable with very charming owners/staff. The friendly teenager who manages the liquor store spoke of belligerent local youth, but R.G. and brother didn't see any troublemakers for themselves. (There was some concern because C.G.'s traveling attire is shiny and pink, which they suspected might rile a ne'er-do-well with strict ideas about gender roles.) It looked pretty peaceful, but then again it was quite cold out.

If it's serious eating you're after, drive 30 minutes west to The Turquoise Room of the magnificent La Posada Art Gallery/Hotel in Winslow. Not cheap, but local-sourced and masterfully cooked. 303 E 2nd St Winslow, Arizona 86047, (928) 289-4366, www.laposada.org/

Wigwam Motel, 811 W. Hopi Dr., Holbrook, AZ 86025, Hopi exit off I-40, (928) 524-3048, http://www.galerie-kokopelli.com/wigwam/. $60 for a double. TV, no internet or coffee maker in room. Dog $5 extra.

Tucumcari, New Mexico

2011-12-23T20:45:00.001-08:00

R.G., her brother, C.G., and her brother's dog, E.G., are making an automotive pilgrimage from Detroit to Carefree, AZ for the holidays, and Tucumcari was, as you may intuit, an important motel stop. The old strip of Tucumcari that runs along Rte. 66 has many adorable '50s motel exteriors. It looks like the old section of Vegas or Reno, without the depressive gambling. A part of R.G. wants to go back and try out a bunch of them. The Buckaroo, however, did not disappoint: it was cheap, clean, un-renovated, and un-updated (which is to say dated, as R.G. commends). Well, the mattresses have been updated, which R.G. appreciates, but the rest of the decor gives the proper time capsule vibe. Fake wood paneling, padded headboards, vintage furniture. The owners are sweet and sensible. It's just good there.

The only complaint to be had was that R.G. and brother found the area nightlife a tad lacking. They went to the only establishment that appeared to be open, the promisingly named Lizard Lounge, and found an empty bar. They patronized it, and the bartender was nice, but it wasn't much. Tucumcari food looked scarce too, but that might be because the Buckaroo is quite far down the strip.

In any case, don't risk it. Instead, stop 20 miles before Tucumcari at the Dhillion truck gas station off the Logan exit. Don't be intimidated by the frankly unnerving exterior. The samosas they make inside are transcendent.

Buckaroo Motel, 1315 W Tucumcari Blvd, Tucumcari, NM 88401, first exit off I-40, (575) 461-1650, $30 for a double. Dog $5. TV, no internet, no coffeemaker.

New Orleans, Louisiana

2011-05-31T19:19:00.000-07:00

R.G. recently celebrated the end of the semester with a trip to visit her old friend A.T., currently residing in Mobile, AL. Their Gulf Coast holiday started in New Orleans, where, although she had never before visited, R.G. has been harboring a secret desire to move. That fantasy has been bolstered. New Orleans is true R.G. territory. The hotels are not cheap as in Mexico or even Paris, but many of them boast R.G.'s other requirements of history, charm, minimal decor, quiet street locations, balconies, etc.

One of these, thanks for asking, is the Hotel St. Pierre on a lovely, residential street in the northern French Quarter. The St. Pierre is sort of a collection of small buildings, the oldest of which dates to 1778. Most of the rooms face inward and many have internal balconies, which, particularly in the French Quarter, are the best kind. Because they demanded this double twin room set-up, A.T. and R.G. had to forgo the balcony. Their room was very cute, though, and R.G. wishes she had captured the darling bathroom. She also wishes she had swam in one of the pools (you know how R.G. likes a hotel pool!), but she was under the misapprehension that the rest of the trip would be spent in the ocean. (In fact, they went from New Orleans to Ship Island, Mississippi by ferry and spent a beautiful blue-skied day on the beach, where, unbeknownst to them, they were frying themselves halfway to Kingdom Come. R.G. was trying raspberry seed oil as sunblock, which, it turns out, is not sunblock, is not sunscreen, is not, in the last analysis, much of anything at all. Such are the tolls of an open mind. To give their epidermises a rest, A.T. and R.G. had to spend the duration indoors, heavily drinking. It's a good thing Mobile has such excellent bars and beer.)

The St. Pierre's free breakfast is not good, which is really its only downside. The staff are no-nonsense, which R.G. likes in staff, and the parking is free, which is important if you've driven there, like A.T. did. When she goes back, which she definitely will, R.G. plans to try out a few other hotels, but the Hotel St. Pierre did her right.

Hotel St. Pierre, 911 Burgundy St, New Orleans, LA, ph. 866-539-0036, http://www.frenchquarterinns.com/hotelstpierre, $125 for a double twin.

Bloomsbury and Bayswater, London

2010-07-16T08:37:00.000-07:00

R.G. popped across the vast Atlantic Ocean recently to give a paper at the Jean Rhys conference at King's College. When living in London at the turn-of-the-last-century, Rhys roomed for a time in cheap boarding houses in Bloomsbury, so R.G. decided to really soak up the Rhys atmosphere with her own such room at St. Athans. Turns out, that was excellent thinking. The pictures (first two) look bleak, but St. Athans has a certain charm. The ceilings of the rooms are very high, and the decor is plain but tasteful. What it really has to recommend it is the breakfast, which is full, cooked, English, with what tastes like real coffee (should you want real coffee). Free internet in the lobby and even a communal computer you can use if you're lucky enough to snag it. R.G.'s room was right on Tavistock, which is a tad busy, but the hotel location is unbeatable, as is the price. Unlike in Paris, London hotels are expensive.

After the conference, R.G. moved to Bayswater for a complete change of place. She picked this area, actually, for The Pavilion Hotel, which draws models and rock stars. If in London one might as well hang out with rock stars, R.G. reasoned. (The same logic could be applied to R.G.'s home base of NYC, but, for R.G., NYC is a real place whereas London remains the stuff of fantasy.) It was a splurge, taken because The Pavilion's decor is amazing. If you like witty excess, as R.G. very much does, this is the place for you. Each room is a whole different world. R.G. and her old chum, H.M., stayed in Funky Zebra, which is documented here with the photos of red tapestries. The photos, in order, are entrance way; concierge; Funky Zebra interior and ceiling; and secret, Victorian, sitting room that R.G. and H.M. found through a bathroom doorway, as if they were entering Narnia. (R.G. recognizes Narnia was discovered through a wardrobe, but you get the gist. Magical.) R.G. and H.M. clandestinely drank their rose in there one evening, which was lovely.

Speaking of imbibing, The Pavilion needs its own bar. They have a liquor license, evidenced by the room service drinks one may order, so it wouldn't be a stretch. The hotel's location is just okay, between parks Regent's and Hyde, but a bar would make the Pavilion its own destination.

St. Athans Hotel, 20 Tavistock Place,020 7837 9627,www.stathanshotel.com, 44 pounds for a single.

The Pavilion, 34-36 Sussex Gardens, 020 7262 0905, www.pavilionhoteluk.com. 60 pounds for a single, 100 pounds for a double.

Old Montreal, Montreal

2009-11-14T07:55:00.001-08:00

R.G. took the train, naturally, to Montreal last week to attend a modernism conference. The conference was at the Delta Centre-Ville, which gave participants a 'deal' of $160 a night for a sanitized business room. Scoffing heartily, R.G immediately located the lovely Hotel Champ-de-Mars in Vieux-Port, aka, Old Montreal. Look at the romantic haze that ensconces the place! (R.G.'s camera lens appears to be smeared in vaseline, which she cannot explain.) A double is about $60/night for a corner room on the third (in American terms) floor, and the first photo is R.G.'s view from one of her two windows. Make sure breakfast is included in your booking, which wasn't the case for R.G. due to her choice of online booking agent.

After full days of rigorous intellectualism, R.G. whiled away the evenings in the charming lobby (see what you can make out of it in picture 3) on her computer with a bottle of wine. That choice reflects R.G.'s poverty, not the state of Montreal's nightlife. Occasionally a fellow guest, an international student or other bohemian sophisticate, would join her. R.G. plans to make her way to Quebec City in the none-too-distant future, where she surely will be fully in her element, and she will revisit the good folks at Hotel-Champ-de-Mars before and after.

http://www.hotelchampdemars.com/rooms.html.

Lakes Superior and Michigan, Plus an Upper Peninsula Quarry

2008-08-07T11:12:00.000-07:00

Although this blog is supposed to stay focused on charming and frugal accommodations, R.G. is making an exception with this post. She just got back from a week in the Upper Peninsula and on the west coast of Michigan. While her living situations were either not charming or not frugal, she feels she should give Michigan a boost as a vacation destination. It is, in a word, gorgeous.

The first photo is of Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, which runs along 12 miles of the south side of Lake Superior. The rocks are sandstone cliffs, reaching heights of 200 feet, cut by glaciers millions of years ago. The second photo specifies a beach to which R.G., her brother, cousin, cousin's family, and friends pontooned. It was, as you can see, virtually uninhabited, the sand fine, and the water turquoise and surprisingly tepid. Lake Superior has a reputation as the coldest of the Great Lakes by many degrees.

R.G.'s clan spend most of their vacation at a duney paradise on Lake Michigan, on the south side of the Upper Peninsula near Brevort. R.G., alas, has no photos of that beach. She does, however, have this photo (third) of a spring-fed, limestone quarry a few miles north of Epoufette Bay, in which they swam and cliff-dove one perfect day. Chances are, the water was drinkable, although no one drank it. Clear as glass, it had cool boulders on the bottom.

On their way back to Detroit, R.G and her brother stopped off at their friends' Lake Michigan rental near Harbor Springs in the lower peninsula. The beach was private, meaning people could walk by but not plop their towels down, and the second day they didn't see one other person. It was the perfect way to say goodbye to the Great Lakes.

Montmartre, Paris

2008-08-04T19:40:00.000-07:00

R.G. was recently off to France for her friends' wedding in the Loire Valley, and she popped into Paris on the way there and back avec her ami, T.P. The photos from the last time she stayed in old hotels of the City of Lights went missing, so it was very important that R.G. get a good place to document.

And so she did. The Grand Hotel de Clermont is absolutely perfect for R.G.'s purposes: on a quiet street in Montmartre, R.G.'s favorite neighborhood; the first residence of Edith Piaf as a young, busking teenager (R.G. forgot to ask for her room); firm mattresses (T.P. says hard); TV-free; 38 Euros for a double; and above arguably the best bar in Paris.

The bar is a real selling point. If you abstain, the Clermont loses some pull. The bartender is friendly but cool, the clientele is all local, the interior is charming and the music great old French standards as opposed to ubiquitous Euro crap. Even though their combined French is not impressive, R.G. and T.P. met many cheerful drunken folk, and, when they left the next night to broaden their horizons around the corner, they ran into many of the same revelers as if the party had not stopped. And that was a Monday and a Tuesday.

Grand Hotel de Clermont, 18 Rue Veron, (33) 1 46 06 40 99, http://www.chezammad.com, no credit cards.

Lake Huron, Michigan

2007-07-23T08:32:00.000-07:00

R.G. hails from the great state of Michigan, and this year her yearly trip to the land of the hand took her, her brother, her mother, and two problematic dogs to Great Lake Huron. In consideration to this motley company, the lodging search had certain rigid parameters: they needed a lake cabin that welcomes canines, rents daily and cheaply, and of course has R.G.-approved aesthetics.

All these needs were more or less met at the family-owned Lusky's Lakefront Cottages. R.G. forgot to ask, but the cabins, real cuties, look like they were built in the '30s or '40s. Each has a screened-in porch, a picnic table, and a grill. Truth be told, the inside of R.G. & family's was perhaps overly precious. Too much heart stenciling, for example.

Also, the place absolutely crawls with children and dogs. R.G.'s camera caught only this one jolly Michigander (who fortunately is in sunglasses since R.G. has received no one's clearance), but she is not representative of the general Lusky population, which tends towards the tiny and the multiple. The only dogs that annoyed R.G. were the ones she arrived with, and the kiddos were all happy and well-behaved, but R.G. imagines that that might not always be the case.

Despite the romping creatures big and small, Lusky's is civilized. There are paddle boats for rent rather than jet skis, thank heavens, the outdoor ping pong is free, and there's a fire pit by the beach. One night, R.G.'s brother and she came back from yet another dog walk and found a sign on their door announcing "Fireworks Tonight" in a child's scrawl. They poured themselves cocktails and sauntered the couple yards to the beach, where they were treated to a surprisingly dazzling, legal, amateur, Michigan fireworks show.

Lusky's private beach is very nice, although all Lake Huron beaches on the Michigan side are stony. R.G. and family spent hours scouring the beaches for rocks, and R.G. left with an incredible haul of fossils. (She's not sure what to do with them now, since her Brooklyn apartment has this '30s-satin-bedspreads-and-ceramic-swans thing going that doesn't really work with fossils. Fossils require a 19th-century, Victorian, mad classification decor, an aesthetic R.G. appreciates but unfortunately doesn't inhabit.)

Anyway, once you gingerly step over the rocks and fossils, Lake Huron is clean, sandy-bottomed and, compared to the Atlantic, warm. R.G. swam happily every day. It was the only way to fully escape the dogs.

Lusky's Lakefront Cottages, 8949 Lakeshore Rd, (810)327-6887, www.luskys.com. $67/weeknight for one bedroom that sleeps a cozy four.

Tulum, Mexico

2006-05-17T17:13:00.000-07:00

R.G. just got back from Tulum, where she went with her boyfriend, A.J., for a wedding. Tulum's attraction is its gorgeous, crowdless beaches, its Mayan ruins, and its cenotes with stalagmites and stalactites. The sad town is just a road with second-rate knick-knacks and some decent food. Also, 16-ounce, glass-bottled Cokes made from cane sugar, but you can get those all over Mexico.

Cabanas Copal, pictured, is a mellow resort and spa--perfect for a wedding because you can take over the whole place, which they did. Copal has a little bar on the beach and seaside thatch-covered, swinging beds that are divine. One memorable day, R.G., crippled over with period cramps, popped a valium and spent the entire day on one of those beds.

Left to her own devices, however, R.G. would stay at Tribal Village, an even simpler 'resort' down the beach from Copal. Seaside cabanas for two are $35, and, although R.G. did not get inside one, they look very rustic. The beach there was completely deserted, and she was there at the hottest time of the day on the hottest day of her trip. R.G. wishes she had brought her camera to show you pictures. She also wishes she had a phone number for reservations, but the net will cough up nothing.

Guadalajara, Mexico

2006-04-27T08:20:00.000-07:00

The biggest draw to Guadalajara is the food. R.G. ate better here than she ever did in Mexico City, thanks to the excellent recom- mendations of David Baird and Lynne Bairstow in their Frommer's Mexico 2005 guide. (R.G. has a friend who is an editor at Frommer's and gives her free guides. R.G.'s glad she does have this friend, because otherwise she would have never consulted such a booshie guidebook.) R.G.'s willing to go out on a limb here and declare the best food in Mexico to be the morsels she devoured at La Fonda de la Noche (see picture in introductory post). La Fonda de la Noche offers incredibly delicious Durangoan cuisine at very easy prices; pretty, retro '40s decor; and charming, early Twentieth-century, Mexican background music. The owners, artist Carlos Ibarra and his childhood friend Raul, are wicked cool. R.G. could go on raving, but she'll stop now.

La Fonda de San Miguel is another fonda with fine, fine eating in a lovely atmosphere. R.G. doubts you'll be able to maneuver partying with the owners hours after the place has closed, but the restaurant is located in the beautiful colonial courtyard of a converted convent (see third photo, with stars hanging from the ceiling; photos before and after are of Posada Regis) and the food is tops.

Unlike in many Mexican locales, R.G. did not traipse around Guadalajara wishing she could stay in all the gems of yesteryear. She pretty much nailed her accommodations on the first try, which were in the converted, 1850, French-style mansion, Posada Regis. As a single-family mansion, Posada Regis must have been very strange. The layout does not make any sense for a house. For a hotel, the arrangement of rooms around a central courtyard, like spokes of a wheel, is very nice. For $35, R.G. luxuriated in a huge, well-appointed, corner room with private bathroom and shower, which her photos do no justice. Also magnificient is the aforementioned covered courtyard outside the private hall attached to her room. Corona, while not terrible, is not the quiet, little street R.G. covets. As a result, she was able to detect street noise from her bed, a situation about which she was not 100% crazy. That withstanding, Posada Regis is a charmer.

Posada Regis, 171 Corona, ph. 01 (33) 3614-8633, 3613-3026, or 01 (800) 734-4746, www.posadaregis.tripod.com, http://www.posadaregis.com/index.php

La Fonda de la Noche, 251 Calle de Jesus, ph. 33-3827-0917.

La Fonda de San Miguel, 25 Donato Guerra, ph. 33-3613-0809

Cuernavaca, Mexico

2006-04-27T07:27:00.000-07:00

In May of '05, R.G. had to go to Cuernavaca to do research for a dissertation chapter she's writing on Under the Volcano. Hence, she felt behooved to stay in Bajo el Volcan, the hotel converted from Malcolm Lowry's home and setting of Under the Volcano. Because the staff was so absurdly nice, R.G. feels somewhat uncomfortable dissing the place. But the over-renovation was tragic, and the price was a whopping $95 or something. R.G. cannot recommend it.

In contrast, for $30 she could have stayed at the Hotel Juarez, 19 Netzahualcoyotl, ph. 777-314-0219. She marched in snapping photos, and no one blinked an eye. That's the kind of nonservice R.G. appreciates. She doesn't like staff watching her every move. Anyway, unlike many shabby chic hotels, Hotel Juarez has made a half-assed effort to decorate their rooms and the results are commendable. Each room is different. Of the open rooms on the second floor, this one was R.G.'s favorite. And as you can see, the Hotel Juarez also has this low-rent pool! Pools of any caliber are very unusual in this kind of old hotel. R.G. can't imagine what would take her back to Cuernavaca--the town, while pretty, features hordes of yahoos--but if something did, she would stay here.

Mexico City, Mexico

2006-04-25T21:29:00.000-07:00

Centro Historico in Mexico City is a goldmine for the Romantic Gringo. Many hotels meet her exacting requirements. One of these is Hotel Zamora at 50 Avenida Cinqo de Mayo, ph. 5512-8245. (She had wanted to stay at the Hotel Canada across the street, because that's where Geoffrey and Yvonne Firmin stay in Under the Volcano. But she just couldn't. The decor was some kind of hideous '80s floral nightmare that she could not countenance, try as she might.) Very old and quite charming, Hotel Zamora stands about a block and a half northwest of the Zocalo. Doesn't have an elevator, so you have to be able to lug your luggage up at least one flight of stairs. Bathroom and shower in room, and as R.G. remembers it's basically like having a toilet in your shower. Lovely mattress. Spartan decor, just the way R.G. likes it, and wooden beams on the ceiling. R.G.'s room was small but servicable, and the crazy-high ceilings gave her a spiritual lift. Corner rooms may be larger, as is usually the case. Get a room on the little alleyway to ensure peace, when you open your big windows. There's a little balcony out there for smoking or for communicating with suitors, as the case may be. R.G. thinks she paid $14 or something for a double bed on the second floor, which is actually the third floor. Hotel Zamora is family-run, and they are good, leave-you-to your-own-business people. R.G. will be visiting them again.

Another excellent choice for the romantic traveler is Hotel Montecarlo, 69 Uruguay, ph. 5518-1418, two and a half blocks southeast of the Zocalo. A 400-yr-old converted monastery, Hotel Montecarlo was the hotel of choice for D.H. Lawrence when he was in Mexico writing The Plumed Serpent. Unfortunately, R.G. didn't take photos when she stayed there in July of '04, so you have to take her word for the ambience of faded grandeur. If memory serves, there is both a huge, sexy staircase and an elevator. Because she knew this discussion would be well beyond her Spanish, R.G. handed the concierge a note in Spanish that said something like, "If it is at all possible, may I have the room that D.H. Lawrence stayed in?", and he did not miss a beat in handing her the keys to a very large, charming room facing the street, on the second floor. R.G. would be interested to hear if similar requests result in the same room. But even if they don't, and it turns out that concierge was playing her like a fiddle, the big windows, high ceilings, private bathroom and shower, healthy double mattress and effortless Deco appointments were well worth the $18 she forked over.

The Romantic Gringo Makes Her First On-Line Appearance

2006-04-25T18:45:00.000-07:00

The Romantic Gringo recieved her nom de plume in Guadalajara in May '05. She was sitting in one of the city's best restaurants, La Fonda de la Noche (photo on left) with the owner, Carlos Ibarra, complaining about the nonexistence of 2nd class buses to Mexico City. "First class buses are terrible," she insisted, "They play ridiculously loud American movies and air condition the hell out of you." "What?" Carlos asked in disbelief, adding, sensibly, "The movies make the trip go faster." "Not for me," R.G. retorted, "The windows don't open, and lots of times there's a curtain in the middle of the window. I want to see the Mexican countryside: That's the whole point of a bus trip!" "What a romantic gringo!" Carlos declared, laughing.

R.G. saw immediately that a romantic gringo was indeed what she was. Her traveling tastes are anti-bourgeois to the point of being unintelligible to the general public. For example, she abhors renovation. Wall-to-wall carpeting and TVs in hotel rooms make her cringe. This reverse snobbery frustrates others and subsequently herself in travelsite chat rooms. And while R.G. devours travel guides, often traveling with three at a time, she can't find the kinds of rooms she wants listed--or if they're in there, the descriptions obscure the goodness. All-important photos rarely attend, and R.G. needs to see photos.

Hence, R.G. has started this blog so that other romantic travelers of a certain idiosyncratic temperment might share her finds. She doesn't travel often, so the updates will be infrequent. The scope of her travels is small and repetitive: these days, Mexico is a favorite as is Paris. And she isn't interested in winning any popularity contests. People are welcome to think she's an ass, but she doesn't want to fight with them about it. To that end, she will list upfront her general desires in a hotel room, in no particular order:

1. Character
2. Charm
3. Age
4. History
5. Quiet street location
6. Unstudied decor
7. Frugal rates

For those seven graces, R.G. will put up with curfews and tromps down the hall for a shower. She will even withstand a lumpy mattress, although she does not like a lumpy mattress. She doesn't require any service at all, beyond basic, intelligent interactions with the staff. Her tastes are not everyone's; this blog has a very limited target audience. If you are a like-minded romantic traveler (no need to be gringo, of course; R.G. is not prejudiced), please share your discoveries. Homogenized traveling is taking over, and we need to give these old gems our (albeit limited) financial support.

Happy travels of faded grandeur,

The Romantic Gringo