10 pm we arrive at the hotel. It has all the ambience of… a hotel. Nondescript, boring, large anonymous international hotel. I turned to look around the room and suffered flashbacks to the five weeks I spent in an identical room in Johannesburg in 2001.
After quickly unpacking we foolishly decided to head back downstairs for a drink at the bar. It had been open when we came up, but despite the signs stating “Open 7PM to Late” they’d shut by the time we returned. I guess ten o’clock is late here…
In search of a relaxing drink we headed out into the night — not realising that it wasn’t just the hotel bar that shuts at ten on a Sunday night in Perth… We quickly realised that nothing was open.
Last resort was to venture into the hotel bar of the Hotel Duxton, which looked dangerously up-market. It was quite affordable, we had a relaxing glass of wine in pleasant surrounds, to the gentle murmur of conversation from the four Frenchmen at the table behind.
Then it was back to Mercure, a big day satisfactorily completed.
Where?
Perth
