Long day yesterday, 11 hours, and here’s where people don’t understand about business travel. The grind. The long hours. Rarely do you get downtime to relax. Except for yesterday at lunch when Juan and Carolina took me to this local outdoor restaurant I’ve seen the inside of a warehouse and a Marriott. And the local neighborhood. I hired a taxi driver to take me to work everyday. Today he took a "better" route. We wound through neighborhoods which I love to see...even the squalor...that's what's real.
Which brings me to the Marriott. I sat at the same table at breakfast as I did yesterday, and started to itch. The mountains are off there. The lushness that surrounds the hotel is manufactured; a quick taxi ride outside the gates will tell you that, and I start to feel that uneasiness I’ve always feel in places like that, the feeling of being trapped by all of the politeness and luxury. Today the coffee wasn’t that good; it was watered down. The service was very poor. And what am I suppose to do? Complain like a spoiled American? I’d rather go get my own coffee. Or make it myself. Serve myself. I don’t need or want servants. I don’t like being coddled or served or cow-towed to. I don't like it when things are kept from me. Let's build a wall of lush greenery and gates and walls so we can't see the outside world. What's real out there..
Everything at the Marriott is manufactured to please someone’s warped idea of sensibility. The hotel is designed and decorated like a Spanish hacienda. Except the problem is, it isn’t a hacienda. It’s like Disney World all over again. Like a theme park or a carnival ride. All fake and contrived. And it wears on a person. It wears on me, that’s for sure.
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