In Bad Hersfeld, I’m staying at a place that’s more than a hotel—it’s practically a meditation retreat.
I presume the staff’s noble objective was to upgrade me from “guest” to “enlightened ascetic.” No pesky distractions disturb the yogic mind here:
- The TV has a single knob that controls both channels and volume. I can therefore choose between “German movie at whisper-level” or “German movie at jet-engine decibels.” Naturally, I keep it off and meditate instead.
- Out of thoughtful concern for my diet, the hotel offers no food whatsoever. There’s no restaurant attached, and the only takeout menu in the room is—yes, you guessed it—entirely in German. So, I’m fasting, as any serious yogi should.
- Temperature control is delightfully simple: simply open or close the window. I can either be hot and tranquil or cool and serenaded by traffic – perfect metaphor for the choice between comfort and enlightenment, neither of which I achieved. Truly, a masterclass in mind over matter!
- “Free breakfast” is indeed free—free of anything I can eat. It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet of sausages, bacon, and ham, which means all I can eat is bread. Except I can’t, because the bread is baked with sesame seeds, to which I’m allergic. As for beverages, they offer coffee, orange juice, or beer—but not the one breakfast liquid I actually drink: tea. When I asked for black tea, they kindly offered chamomile instead, the perfect herb to deepen the effects of my jet lag and ensure I slept through my entire conference. I declined and practiced some more austerity.
- The only reason I booked this place was that it advertised free Wi-Fi. A girl can live without food, water, bed, and climate control—but not without Wi-Fi. Turns out, they don’t really understand what they advertised.
When I asked for the password, I was shown a router with an illegible scribble on it and gently reminded that access was permitted for one of my devices only. I could practically hear the hotelier thinking, “Tea and Wi-Fi on two gadgets? Spoiled American!” I promptly divested myself of all equipment and assumed the lotus pose.
And yet, it’s not all bad here in Bad Hersfeld. I ride in German cars, indulge in German chocolate, and admire the German genius for engineering—from sloped elevators and precision trains that register your seat electronically to ketchup dispensers that somehow guesstimate your need by the weight of your food.
And there’s a certain Willkommen in the air—from the kindly Apotheker who knelt to bandage my toes to the
hotelier who offered to press my clothes. Most of all, I adore the conference crowd: very friendly, very nerdy, and gloriously multilingual. Between sessions, I’m treated to side conversations in Latvian, Polish, Spanish, and French. I just made a few more friends that I don’t understand!
All is good in Bad Hersfeld!
.…. from Gita’s Chronicles of Chronically Underwhelming Experiences