Beja Hotels

Fawlty Towers of Beja: Residence Hiba

The residence Hiba looks quite grand from the outside, assuming you've managed to track the place down as the sign seems to have fallen off. Inside, the staff are a confused lot. They were quite cold at first, and begrudgingly showed me a large room with comfy beds and a sink for 15TD (1TD = about 50p). Strangely, the price changed according to language...I was quoted "dix-huit" or 18TD in French until I managed to persuade them to talk with me in Arabic, when the price became "khamset ashr" or 15TD. Maybe I should have tried a few more languages...

The receptionist soon got into the swing of things, and was up and down to my room every five minutes...registration card, then a bar of soap, then an ashtray, then a demonstration of how the door worked. But the door didn't work, as it didn't actually fit the door frame, so i was moved to a bigger, grander room with a double bed and a balcony overlooking the square. That door didn't seem to want to close either, and once he'd managed to close it and lock it, he realised to his horror that it would now not open, and we were locked in for the best part of an hour!

I chose to stay in the original room, and had to leave my belongings at reception every time I went out as there was no way to close the door from the outside. I was given a key on two occasions, but neither fitted the lock and the receptionist just shrugged as if to say "of course they don't, what do you think this is, a hotel?"

Rooms are spaced out oddly...in groups of three with a communal, lockable door, but seemingly inter-connected. Bathrooms are also odd, with no hot water shower but a very powerful flush on the toilet which can give you an involuntary wash if you stand within three feet...press it and get ready to run!

The hotel has its own restaurant below, although they didn't appear to have any food. I was welcome to sit in there in the evening, they said, but there really didn't seem much point when there was nothing to eat and nobody in there to talk to.

An old man in a red fez hat sits behind the reception desk sometimes. He doesn't seem to have anything to do with the running of the hotel, and appeared to be invisible to hotel staff.

On leaving, the receptionist asked me rather bizarrely if I liked carrots. I have no idea why, and it didn't occur to me to ask at the time.

All very strange.