One of the challenges with Grump Goes Grand is that people often assume I am reviewing individual components of an experience.
I am not.
I am reviewing the experience.
The distinction is important.
To explain why, I need to tell you about Paris.
In 2022, Grump & Co travelled to France.
It was my first visit.
Like many Australians, I had spent years seeing Paris in movies, television shows, travel magazines and advertisements.
Paris was supposed to be romantic.
Paris was supposed to be beautiful.
Paris was supposed to be magical.
Nobody mentioned the plumbing.
We stayed in a small apartment overlooking the Louvre.
Not figuratively.
Not “within walking distance”.
Actually overlooking the Louvre.
Our tiny Juliette balcony opened onto a view that looked like a postcard had escaped and attached itself to the building.
The view was magnificent.
The apartment itself appeared to have been designed by somebody with a deep and abiding hatred of available floor space.
The room was small.
The hallways were smaller.
The lift was largely symbolic.
The bathroom was accessed via a ladder that climbed above the bed into a tiny loft space.
As somebody carrying a few extra kilograms and operating on a hip that was already considering early retirement, this arrangement was less “Parisian charm” and more “workplace health and safety incident”.
The shower required sitting in the bath.
Using the toilet required good aim and an optimistic attitude.
The plumbing appeared to predate several major European conflicts.
Navigating the hallway while the cleaners were working required a combination of gymnastics, diplomacy and controlled breathing.
Objectively speaking, there were very few parts of the accommodation I actually liked.
And yet.
I would stay there again tomorrow.
This tends to confuse people.
“How can you recommend something when you spent ten minutes complaining about it?”
Because the complaints and the experience are not the same thing.
The apartment was awkward.
The apartment was impractical.
The apartment occasionally felt like a puzzle designed by an architect with unresolved anger issues.
But every morning I opened those doors and looked across at the Louvre.
Every evening I sat on that tiny balcony and watched Paris happen around me.
The experience was bigger than the inconveniences.
Which brings me to one of the core philosophies behind Grump Goes Grand.
I may not like the dishes.
But I can enjoy the dinner.
I may not like the pillows.
But I can enjoy the room.
I may not like every individual component of an experience.
But the question I am ultimately trying to answer is much simpler.
Would I do it again?
For Paris, the answer is easy.
Immediately.
Though I might pack a head torch this time.