The “Region’s Best Two-Star Hotel” – the Paris International

So we finally arrived to Karaikal at around noon after more than 30 straight hours of traveling. The bus ride was harrowing at best (I'll blog more about the driving experience later). But clearly God was not ready for us yet and we survived.

Once the door of the bus opened, the street turned into a mini festival in our honor complete with a drummer and a man playing some kind of a horn while dozens of people stood around watching us stand there and listen to a few songs. It was a warm (in more than one way) welcome ceremony and as we were ushered into the hotel each of us was presented a garland of beautiful fresh flowers around our neck and given a red bindi on the forehead that was quickly followed up with some gold powder. While it was pretty and truly a once in a lifetime experience, I knew I needed to get that thing off of my forehead before it slid down to my nose. It was as hot indoors as it was outside. We were promptly told that the power was out and that when it is restored we will all have air conditioning.

The drumming and horn continued playing in the confines of the non-acoustic friendly lobby, which would probably be fire code rated for about 30 people but had about 50 of us in there. And then we were told to present our passports to receive a room key, gather our luggage, and get settled in our rooms. Ahhh, at last. Me and my three bags, a nice shower, and some rest before we head edover to set-up our pre-operative clinic at 4 pm.

Well, that was the plan for a few minutes anyway.

Once in my room, I quickly discovered that the Paris International Hotel was living up to its two-star billing. My father, who knows I enjoy a few creature comforts when I travel, will get a particular kick out of the pictures and what I’m about to describe.

Immediately, I went into the bathroom to quickly use the facilities only to discover it was a small closet with a pipe coming out of the wall (my shower), a toilet, and a sink—all freshly doused with water. There was about ½” of water on the floor as well. Well, at least the toilet looked familiar. So I approached, took a seat, and immediately slid right into the bowl by a vacuum force of water on the seat. OMG! Everything was so wet that it worked like lubricant guiding me into a place I didn’t want to be. After pulling myself out, I slipped my way over to the sink I tried to locate anything that looked like a towel to wash and dry myself off and then found it on the bed in the main chamber. I set to exploring my "luxury room" complete with a walk-in closet (four hooks on the wall) and a newspaper covered desk. And what would a stay in Paris be without a picture of the Eiffel Tower mounted precariously on the wall?

This may sound like I’m complaining. But actually, I was laughing as this all was happening.

I entered my suitcases and started to unpack what I could, setting up little stations so I could later find things. All settled in it was now time to take a shower. All ready and only needing water, I stood there waiting for water to come out of the pipe in the wall. Nothing. Crap, I’ve got to get dressed again. Downstairs I went only to find out that they would move me to another room in about an hour since my shower was broken. So, I waited.

Finally, my patience was rewarded. Two men came with a new room key and helped me to my new home on the second floor. Unpacking was a little easier this time as I preserved my stations from the other room when I quickly repacked. Now about that shower.

Oh sweet blessing of all blessings I have water! And I don’t even mind that it’s trickling and cold! I’m enjoying the water when I discover that I’m not alone. My open-air shower has invited in dozens of new found friends dying to take a bite of this fresh white meat. Mosquitos are flocking in for a feast. Awesome. Off goes the water and I scrambled for my towel which I had left on the bed after my toilet adventure. Out to the bedroom chamber I slammed the bathroom door and locked it (as if mosquitos respect locks) and slid across the tile right onto the bed. I give up. This is a pretty good spot as it’s dry and there’s a fan blowing overhead. Never mind that it looks and sounds like it once powered a World War II prop plane. As long as it blows air on me and stays on the ceiling, I can handle it.

Welcome to the other Paris! I have finally arrived.

My bathroom -- and the scene of an unplanned
swim. Left is the toilet (obviously) and the bucket
that represents my bathing option.

The desk/vanity (covered with the local
newspaper). Notice the view of the
Eiffel Tower above the television!
It's all about the details folks...



Welcome to the Hotel Paris International -- a truly unique
experience for those exhausted from travel and otherwise
lacking options. I still haven't seen a "suit."


The sink was another experience... -- check this out on YouTube for a quick look.