A splurge for tired travelers

As faithful readers may recall, when we travel in Europe we tend to stay in Bed & Breakfasts or family-run inns. We seldom do so in the United States, where we travel mostly in our little RV.

Now and then, however, we splurge.

If we’re doing a lot of sightseeing and will be gone all day, clean and quiet is all that matters. On the other hand, if we want to spend several days unwinding from the rigors of travel, we may choose more luxurious digs.

Of course, the room with the view is going to be pricier. That’s when we shrug and decide: “What the heck. We won’t be here again. Let’s go for it.”

There’s a B & B in Zell, on the German end of the Mosel River, that falls into that category. Our second-story room opened to that beautiful waterway with its fascinating (to me, at least) barge traffic. We’d have been happy just to sit all day in that sunny room, leaning on the window sill, watching the world go by. Dave’s favorite memory of the world going by: a Canada goose that flew past at our eyes’ level.

A couple of years ago, Mary booked us a surprise. We landed at Frankfurt and took the train to Cologne, a city I’m particularly fond of and wanted to show Dave. Trudging up the Rhine promenade we had nothing to direct us save an address.

When we found it, our jaws dropped. There’s a row of five tiny wooden houses with sharply pointed roofs, each house painted a different bright pastel. They crush together in the shadow of Grosser St. Martin, with a Biergarten shading the tables lined up between the houses and the Rhine.

The platz there is the old Fischmarkt where the fishermen brought their day’s catch, and a few of the oldest homes there have been converted to offer some kind of hospitality.

I’m sure that every person who knows and loves Cologne has either shot this view or bought it on a postcard. We spent two nights in the pink one. Expensive, yes, but unforgettable. We could walk everywhere, and we did, and soundly slept away our travel fatigue.

You can safely book a room sight unseen in Germany and in most of northern Europe, and you will find it clean and quiet as advertised, and sometimes rustic but rarely dingy. Bedding is usually of good quality and your bathroom, if not in your room, will be on the same floor and immaculate.

We’ve stayed in only a few American B & Bs, as a rare splurge, and I’m about to tell you why I’ll never book blindly again. Not all are sumptuous or even decent. We’ll start with the worst.

Wanting to take a friend to Cumberland Island, we booked two nights at an old hotel overlooking the docks in St. Mary’s. It looked quaint and had its own restaurant, and was just the kind of place we’d have taken in Europe.

Big difference, however. Quaint does not trump dirty. When we went upstairs, we were appalled to see a really grungy-looking long-haired dog stretched out on a couch in the broad landing. From the looks of the rest of the thread-worn furnishings on that landing, he had napped on all of them at some point in his life.

Snapped from them too. We had been warned not to pet him, an easy injunction.

There’s a point when rustic crosses the line to grimy, and this one was miles over the line. The bed was made, but (I’ll spare you the graphics) bore evidence that the sheets had not been washed since the last guests lay in them.

This place wasn’t cheap. I don’t remember what we paid. I don’t plan to need that information again.

The next could have been as bad, but was not. It was an old horse-country farmhouse outside Leesburg, Va. where the owner made you feel like her family. We were there to celebrate the wedding of our daughter Jean, Jan.1, 1999, a New Year’s Day that may still hold the record for cold and snow.

It was old, rustic, yes, and clean and appealing. Two of the second-floor bedrooms shared a bath, and since the other room was occupied by our daughter Mary and Rainer, we for sure were family.

We came back to the house as soon as the reception was over. I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold. Thank heaven for a fire on the hearth. Several guests were huddled around it, and we managed to persuade Mary and Rainer to put on an impromptu piano/oboe concert. It was cold and storming outdoors, but ah, that crackling blaze and lilting music.

Early in November, Dave and I drove home to Henderson, Ky. No, really, this is only the second time we’ve ever been in Henderson, but it “feels” like everybody’s idea of what a hometown should be. We were there for a friend’s wedding, and on his mother’s recommendation reserved a room at the L & N Bed and Breakfast, Ltd., named for the Louisville & Nashville Railroad Company. I figured (based on our experience in Leesburg in 1999) I might splurge and spend at least a hundred dollars a night for a really nice place.

Henderson’s Main St. is indeed a main street. There are four walking-distance parks in it, one overlooking the wonderful Ohio River. Church steeples seem to tower above every corner, and at the north end of Henderson (you’ll probably need to drive out there) Audubon State Park invites you to visit.

Mary Elizabeth and Norris Priest own the B & B; they live next door. They had bought several houses on that block and made repairs, stripped floors and stairs, oiled them – all the details that had barely survived previous owners who subdivided the house several times to rent it to railroad crews. Most of the houses on this block are now listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

The L & N is a two-story all-brick Victorian with stained glass transoms over most of the doors, inside and out. All the furniture was purchased locally from antique shops and flea markets, and looks like the houses I knew as a kid: big front parlor, worn wool rugs on hard floors, dining room that could seat 10, small downstairs kitchenette, front hall with curving staircase, and three more bedrooms upstairs. It’s been restored to meet today’s building codes, but without looking modern.

Remembering our painful luggage-schlepping up five flights in Sweden and the Baltics, we chose the downstairs suite, complete with adjoining bathroom and office, with a shared kitchenette, a door to the back stoop and paved parking area. Early frost knocked out most of Mary Elizabeth’s flowers but the driveway was done in brick pavers, adding a little color. Altogether, it is a very pleasant house.

But quiet? Well, here’s the amazing part. The Priests’ property line is about 50 feet from the rail line. “Our” house is a block in from the river, and the elevated track vaults several streets (including Main) before leaping across the river. Trains come and go all day and all night. There are about 50 trains a day – long, long, long trains. They don’t have to whistle because there are no at-grade crossings, but if you wave, they’ll generally wave – or toot back.

The Priests’ have glassed in their screen porch next door and joined us in whatever we asked for for breakfast at 9 a.m. (8 a.m. Eastern time). Even from there the engineers saw us and waved.

The thing about the trains is that they simply didn’t bother us. I swear we thought there were only a couple a day. We get more rumble and vibrations here in Peachtree City, and we live about a mile from the tracks. Mrs. Priest says she always mentions it to prospective guests and has had only three complaints.

Heck, we thought it was a perk!

Did I tell you, it cost $75 a night, so we booked Monday night too and just walked around Henderson and on the river promenade watching river traffic (barges, trains on bridges, more barges!), then stopped in at the wonderful James John Audubon Museum.

Then we both napped all afternoon.

This kind of decadence I could get used to.