For those of you who have seen the grand Budapest Hotel.... I'm staying there. If you haven't seen the film watch it!

The concierge was a strange little man, who appeared to have become part of the family through a series of unfortunate events.

A Manwel of sorts in distinctly Turkish garb. The place had a bohemian air about it grandiose dimensions sparkling bottle green shutters an ode to an unspeakable past and long forgotten time. Tiny little bottles of sparkling water lined a what looked like a cast iron fridge next to three crystal jugs of homemade lemonade topped with coriander???? Every clearly did not seem as it appeared.

Gaudy lightbulbs the colour of a muted rainbow dangled from precarious wire tresses overhead every third one missing, a death trap waiting to happen.

The owner a well to do little fellow patrolled the corridors under the vaulted ceiling every his watchful gaze from tiny beady eyes alerting him to stop now and again to inspect a crack in ancient plaster or wipe dust with perfected bleached white glove.

"Well met Mr Hooogoss" he would offer at every passing or mostly just before the turn of the hour and then offer chai from a perfect but ludicrously small teapot.

I pursued the eclectic mix of refuges to take residence at the Meziki hotel. Mrs Batten, the old widow in the current with the light wiff of fermaldihide. Boris from the dock was next (following a clockwise direction) perched by the window, his impossible small hand rolled cigarettes burning his fingers every time he was caught daydreaming into the smoke wiring above him. And then the ridiculously good looking young couple who clearly forgot to check trip advisor!

I drained my cup of black coffee, my third for the morning the slight lingering of cardomon catching in my throat washing down the crispest brownest bread I have survived and set forth my the monastir today's little adventure.