My "touchstone"

(A 9–minute read)

The Mercedes met me at the new Terminal 2—what a change for the better: no waiting to get through immigration, efficient luggage handling, wide open spaces, and clean, clean, clean! My driver, Jack, was a master at getting through the traffic and in no time I pulled up at the Far Eastern Plaza Hotel.

On previous visits to Taipei (this is my fourth visit in twelve months), I’d dined here in both the Shanghai Restaurant on the 39th floor and the Marco Polo (Italian) on the 38th. In both cases, I was taken by a well-known local person, received excellent service, and enjoyed good food. The hotel is stunningly modern, with exquisite details. It is linked with an up-scale shopping mall, has two outdoor swimming pools, a fabulous spa, and a number of popular restaurants and lounges. On weekends, as at most hotels in Taipei, the local citizenry throng the place.

Expecting the perfection that the exchange of letters with the Director of Communications should have produced (I made no bones about coming specifically to review the hotel for you), I was in for some surprises:

Check-in: Not a great beginning.

Not since arriving at the Taj Mahal hotel in Bombay at 11:30 P.M. in the middle of an enormous wedding party, ten years ago, have I been so curtly received (in that case, I switched to the Oberoi without breaking my stride). As I approached the front desk to check in, the guest relations gal was pretty, spoke English without an accent, and gave me a big welcoming smile. But then she handed me the key saying, “You’re on the 9th floor,” and waved me toward the elevators!

Hey kids, even though managed by the venerable Shangri La organization, I was being treated as though I had just arrived at a Holiday Inn in some backwater town in the United States, and I was slated to pay NT$10,000 a night (that’s about US$350)!

Look, I know you travel as much as I do, and you probably do much of it in Asia because of the outstanding service we’ve come to expect. Everywhere most of us go these days, we are met on the front steps by the assistant manager or higher, escorted to our room, and finalize the registration procedure there (if not at a special desk off the main traffic flow of the lobby), giving the lads time to get the luggage to the room before we start wondering where it is.

Be that as it may, I loved my room. After only one wrong turn, I found my “Executive Deluxe.” It was down the hall from the cute “touchstone” (above) whose foot I tickled every time I came “home.” 912 is a large corner room with three huge windows, a good sitting area with a comfortable sofa and executive desk, a king bed, and a bedside chaise longue. The design is such that there is an entry hall with mini-bar before you even get into the room proper. Down another hall, lined with really large closets and a mirrored wall, is a large bathroom with a big window over the tub, a really large separate shower stall, and a small TV. All in all, it feels like a rather chic apartment. The décor is beige on beige with Roman blinds that really keep out the light. Very nice indeed.

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