Why do hotels offer breakfast

Controversial point of hotel breakfast : It's about the croissant

Per breakfast in the room:

It was a warm October morning. We lived on the "wrong" side of Capri, not the one facing the open Mediterranean. The sun covered the Gulf of Naples with a gracious light, from our balcony we could see the cone of Vesuvius, the city at its feet and the first ferries over to the island.

The room service lady brought us a tray with freshly brewed espresso, orange juice, a few croissants and jam. "Take your time!" She said and left the room. We ate in our pajamas on the balcony, which only had space for two chairs and a small table, but it felt like a box with a private show. A boat chugged there, a fisherman called there - and slowly we drank ourselves awake with coffee.

We would not have experienced this relaxed and private start to the day if we had gone down to the breakfast room. We could have sat on the terrace in front of the villa, but the large pine tree in front of the hotel would have completely blocked the view. We should have exchanged niceties with other guests, "wonderful weather, but Vesuvius, disgusting smell - completely overrated", a curtsey here, a bow there.

I am a sloth. I don't want to be squeezed into a social corset first thing in the morning.

Breakfast is more intimate than any other meal, the body still in an intermediate state of sleepy indolence and potential activism. You yawn, stretch yourself, shake off your tiredness and first want to come to terms with the world again. Observer undesirable.

These days, the first meal is becoming a political issue in the hotel business: Can and should the guest go down to breakfast with the other hotel residents? Does he expose himself to a threat from viruses, does he even spread some himself? When it comes to prima colazione in bed, social distancing hurts the least.

At Le Meridien in Bangkok, breakfast is served on a hall-like mezzanine. From the balustrade, guests can see down into the large entrance hall and up to the bar. The sound can spread unhindered. And there are also the parents who have not given their pitiable four-year-old boy any headphones for his tablet. In animated films there is of course very loud bangs, horns and dinging - and three tables down we no longer understand our own words.

The hotel is a place to relax, to feel good, to let yourself go a little further. But not in front of everyone! In the hit movie "A Star Is Born", Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper have breakfast in the room after their first night, they celebrate the moment with pancakes, rolls, coffee and baggy clothes. Is anyone seriously wondering why they didn't go to the hotel restaurant and have the waiter read them the egg menu?

Holidays are not a time for asceticism

Hotels make us feel special. The service distinguishes them from a hostel with self-service options or the shared kitchen at home. Why not treat yourself to something and be served in your room? The holidays are not there to punish yourself with asceticism. It's cool to tick breakfast on a card the night before, hang it on the door handle and wake up to a knock in the morning. Sir, your bun!

In Milan I once had the opportunity to stay at the Four Seasons, a converted monastery. At that time, I was still excitedly hurrying down to breakfast, wanting to see what the buffet had to offer - even though I already suspected that I would not eat the Japanese, Chinese and English dishes. Afterwards, I asked a fellow traveler why he hadn't turned up: “Are you crazy? I want to have my peace. "

[More on the subject: Cell phone checks proximity to infected people - what you need to know about the Corona warning app]

He was right. I have never heard of someone who dreams of ordering an omelet at a buffet. Or wake up in the morning, turn to your loved one and say: "Honey, are you looking forward to the queue in front of the cheese counter?"

Shortly before the Corona outbreak, I visited a hotel on Gendarmenmarkt to try out breakfast. It was a Sunday, apparently other Berliners had the same idea, and the house was full. I had to queue up behind a dozen people so that I was assigned a table from which I could get up to wait behind the same people for rolls, cheese and cereal. The rush reminded me of the thirsty animals crowding in front of a waterhole in Etosha National Park.

I didn't feel like doing that. I went back to the square hungry and wished I was sitting on a balcony in Capri. Ulf Lippitz

Contra breakfast in the room

It tickles your nose. Am I dreaming or am I awake? The smell of freshly brewed coffee and roasted bacon creeps into the half-sleep. What a gentle awakening! I know: poached eggs are about to fly into my mouth downstairs, which I never want to succeed at home. While I'm still showering, friendly people are already putting the rolls in the basket and plucking the wildflowers in the vase.

I love breakfast in general, and especially when I'm traveling: a delicious way to start the day. My favorite vacation rentals are bed and breakfasts, where breakfast is as important as the bed. But each for itself, nicely separated. The hosts bake, cook, chop and decorate and greet each and every guest in a friendly manner. Like at home, only nicer.

In Ponden Hall, for example, where the Brontë Sisters were already visiting, you sit down at the lovingly laid wooden table and are served. The long morning meals in the B&B, one course after the other, the conversations with hosts and other holidaymakers are among my most beautiful holiday memories. In doing so, I learned more about England than from some books.

Right now the whole industry is considering how to serve a corona-friendly breakfast. The communal tables fit in well with the times. It's easy to keep your distance at the long boards. Some hotels want to put bento boxes or sandwich bags in front of the room door, very few can afford individual room service for everyone. And even if: no, thank you. I'm not going to the hotel to have breakfast in my room! I can stay at home right away. And God knows I've been there long enough.

Trauma in america

I don't feel like having crumbs next to or in the unmade bed. On the chair the clothes from the day before - should I sit on it? Since I don't book suites on vacation, I would have to sit alone or in pairs at a narrow table under the TV, on which there is barely enough space for a plate, with a view of the wall or the unmade bed. Camping feeling. I hate camping. By the time the fried eggs arrive in the room, they're lukewarm, the toast has long been wobbly, and if I'm missing something, I can't even quickly reorder it.

As for breakfast in the room, I'm traumatized early on. When I was in my early twenties, I moved to America to study. The arrival was a disaster. The flight arrived late at the airport, in the middle of the night, where of course no one was waiting for me as promised. Not even my suitcase, which had fallen by the wayside somewhere between Brussels and Ohio. For a year in the US, I only had a laptop-sized shoulder bag.

The next morning I ordered a continental breakfast at the airport hotel where I had to stay the night. As in many American hotels, there was probably no breakfast room at all. I thought I came from the continent, I know my way around and now fortify myself with cheese and sausage. Instead, I got a dusty raisin snail, shrink-wrapped in plastic, served on a plastic tray with a paper cup of bitter coffee. I burst into tears.

If you're freshly in love or you're short on time with your lover - okay. Or on business trips when you still have to prepare for an appointment. But otherwise? There is a reason why I've never ordered Lieferando & Co to be delivered to my home. During the lockdown, I got two dinners to go out of solidarity. Honestly! If I want to eat at home, I can cook myself right away. Then at least the food is fresh.

Going to a restaurant or having breakfast in a hotel is about so much more than just eating! The atmosphere, the life, the other people, the waiters, the conversations in the room: the whole theater of conviviality. Which also includes the silent married couples, the sweet child who wraps the whole hall around his finger. On vacation I want to be a stranger, to absorb the customs and hunger of other guests, to hear their strange sounds, whether Spanish, French or Bavarian ...

And then there was a slap in the face

No matter how small the hotel room I have booked, how dreary the view - the breakfast room in most hostels is large and beautiful and bright. In the Welsh Harbor Master we sat by the panoramic window facing the harbor, in the San Giorgio the coffee is wonderful Served garden, looking down on Lake Como.

I love the hotel breakfast so much that it was worth the only slap my father ever gave me. Because we so seldom stayed in inns (we usually went on vacation in the holiday apartment) I let every bite melt in my mouth. My sister, faster than me, had already emptied her jam jar, grabbed mine, we started arguing - and: bang. One for each. In the meantime, the two of us particularly enjoy our hotel breakfast together.

And when we have finished eating, we get up and leave everything behind. If we had eaten in the room, the aroma of cold fat would hang all over the bedroom, if not the clothes, and the table would be a garbage dump. Instead, we return to the clean room and get ready for a wonderful day. Susanne Kippenberger

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