Tutto bene a parte la colazione... Ho dormito due giorni, la prima colazione è andata bene, i tavoli erano apparecchiati. La seconda mattina era di lunedì, dovevi apparecchiarti te la tavola... Che in un 4 stelle non è cosa... Chiesto spiegazioni... Non le hanno date...
L'albergo è in una posizione ottima a poche centinaia di metri dal centro storico di Brescia, vicino sono presenti vari bar dove potere fare colazione e qualche locale dove pranzare e cenare. Le camere sono buone e discretamente pulite. Per una coppia la stanza standard è perfetta, a noi è capitato un inconveniente abbiamo prenotato con Trip.com la camera standard di 16mq e ci hanno dato la camera francese più piccola, ma il vero inconveniente è stato che dal bocchettone dell'aspirazione dell'aria del bagno usciva puzza di fumo. Pertanto dopo averlo fatto presente purtroppo dopo la seconda notte, ci hanno cambiato la stanza dandoci la standard e fondamentalmente senza puzza di fumo. Alla fine se non ci fosse stato questo inconveniente il soggiorno sarebbe stato perfetto, peccato. Se sanno di questo problema non dovrebbero dare a nessuno queste stanze con problemi. All'inizio appena arrivati, sembrava che qualcuno avesse fumato da poco dentro la stanza e addirittura la receptionist ci ha anche arieggiato la stanza e spruzzato un prodotto che assorbe i fumi. Se ci avessero detto che il problema era invece la stanza avremmo cambiato subito stanza. Purtroppo credo che sappiano benissimo il problema di alcune stanze e continuano ad assegnarle. Cmq do una valutazione generale appena positiva.
Nice hotel service and nice location. Near the train and the bus station.
They call it the Eternal City. A phrase that feels almost trite until you stand alone, utterly dwarfed, beneath the Pantheon’s impossible dome, or trace your fingers over travertine worn smooth by two thousand years of passing hands. Rome isn’t just eternal; it’s immediate, visceral, a theatre of existence where the past isn’t preserved behind glass, but bleeds passionately into the vibrant, chaotic present. And experiencing it solo? That’s not loneliness; it’s liberation. It’s a conversation, intimate and profound, between your soul and the city’s timeless spirit.
My dialogue began at dawn, chasing the first honeyed light spilling across the Piazza Navona. Alone, you move differently. Unburdened by consensus or compromise, I followed whims: detouring down a cobbled *vicolo* heavy with the scent of baking cornetti, drawn by the sudden, breathtaking reveal of the Trevi Fountain, still relatively quiet. Tossing my coin wasn’t just a tourist ritual; it was a whispered promise to the city, a silent pact sealed in the cool morning air and the fountain’s roaring majesty. Solitude amplifies these moments – the crisp *click* of your heels on ancient stone, the unfiltered awe as Bernini’s marble figures seem to surge from the water, frozen in divine drama. You hear the city’s own heartbeat, the murmur of awakening life, the distant clang of a baker’s shutter, the splash echoing in the vast basin.
Wandering towards the Roman Forum, the sheer weight of history becomes palpable, almost a physical pressure. Alone, you can truly stop. You can perch on a sun-warmed block of tufa, gaze at the skeletal arches of the Basilica of Maxentius reaching defiantly towards a piercing blue sky, and let your imagination run riot. No commentary needed, no shared speculation required. Here, amid the ghosts of senators and centurions, the silence isn’t empty; it’s resonant. You feel the centuries compress. A stray cat sunning itself on Julius Caesar’s altar becomes a perfect, poignant metaphor for time’s relentless, indifferent march. The Colosseum looms nearby, its brutal grandeur undeniable. Observing it solo, you feel its dual nature more acutely – the awe-inspiring engineering marvel and the chilling echo of spectated suffering. It prompts introspection, a quiet contemplation on humanity’s enduring contradictions, impossible amidst a crowd’s chatter.
Then, the Pantheon. Stepping inside is like walking into the mind of God, conceived by mortals. The sheer scale, the perfection of the dome – that oculus open to the heavens – is humbling beyond words. A shaft of sunlight pierces the dusty interior, illuminating motes dancing like celestial dust. Sitting alone on a bench, head tilted back, the immensity washes over you. The whispers of fellow visitors fade into a reverent hush. You feel infinitesimally small yet profoundly connected to the generations who stood precisely here, awestruck, for millennia. Solitude allows this space for pure, unadulterated wonder. It’s not just seeing; it’s *feeling* the architectural genius, the spiritual ambition made stone.
But Rome isn’t just monumental stones; it’s vibrant, messy, delicious life. Crossing the Tiber into Trastevere, the atmosphere shifts. Narrow streets twist like tangled yarn, laundry flutters like colourful flags between ochre buildings, and the air thickens with the garlicky perfume of *cacio e pepe* and frying *carciofi*. Solo travel makes you porous. You notice the old men arguing passionately over espresso at a tiny bar, the clatter of plates from a hidden trattoria kitchen, the effortless elegance of a Roman woman navigating the cobbles in impossible heels. You slip into a *salumeria*, point at mysterious cheeses and glistening olives, and assemble a picnic feast. Finding a quiet step on Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere, watching life swirl around the ancient basilica as you savour pecorino sharp enough to make your eyes wa
We stayed at this place for 3 nights and used the swimming pool only once. It is an okay place to stay but it needs major upgrades. The door could not open with just one turn of the key. Sometimes we would just turn the key up until the door decided it was open. It is an old hotel and I get the look and feel but it needs some serious maintenance. The shower was so tiny in the corner of auch a big bathroom space…I didn’t like that.
L’hôtel est tout d’abord bien placé près de l’autoroute.
Il est proche de milan en voiture 30-35 minutes.
L’hôtel est grand propre bien indiqué, lumineux,
Le service et le Check in etait parfait, le parking dispose d’un garage extérieur et intérieur.
La propreté est irréprochable, j’aime aussi l’ambiance de l’hôtel, la literie bonne et comfortable.
Douche propre design avec des bons produits rituals. ☺️
Merci moom
ดีมาก
132 รีวิว
8.8/10
ราคาเริ่มต้น
PKR 22,656
ต่อคืน
ดูห้องว่าง
ดูโรงแรมทั้งหมดที่มีที่มีสปาในลอมบาร์ดี
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ดูทั้งหมด
8.4/10
ดีมาก
YYuen NgaNice hotel service and nice location. Near the train and the bus station.
They call it the Eternal City. A phrase that feels almost trite until you stand alone, utterly dwarfed, beneath the Pantheon’s impossible dome, or trace your fingers over travertine worn smooth by two thousand years of passing hands. Rome isn’t just eternal; it’s immediate, visceral, a theatre of existence where the past isn’t preserved behind glass, but bleeds passionately into the vibrant, chaotic present. And experiencing it solo? That’s not loneliness; it’s liberation. It’s a conversation, intimate and profound, between your soul and the city’s timeless spirit.
My dialogue began at dawn, chasing the first honeyed light spilling across the Piazza Navona. Alone, you move differently. Unburdened by consensus or compromise, I followed whims: detouring down a cobbled *vicolo* heavy with the scent of baking cornetti, drawn by the sudden, breathtaking reveal of the Trevi Fountain, still relatively quiet. Tossing my coin wasn’t just a tourist ritual; it was a whispered promise to the city, a silent pact sealed in the cool morning air and the fountain’s roaring majesty. Solitude amplifies these moments – the crisp *click* of your heels on ancient stone, the unfiltered awe as Bernini’s marble figures seem to surge from the water, frozen in divine drama. You hear the city’s own heartbeat, the murmur of awakening life, the distant clang of a baker’s shutter, the splash echoing in the vast basin.
Wandering towards the Roman Forum, the sheer weight of history becomes palpable, almost a physical pressure. Alone, you can truly stop. You can perch on a sun-warmed block of tufa, gaze at the skeletal arches of the Basilica of Maxentius reaching defiantly towards a piercing blue sky, and let your imagination run riot. No commentary needed, no shared speculation required. Here, amid the ghosts of senators and centurions, the silence isn’t empty; it’s resonant. You feel the centuries compress. A stray cat sunning itself on Julius Caesar’s altar becomes a perfect, poignant metaphor for time’s relentless, indifferent march. The Colosseum looms nearby, its brutal grandeur undeniable. Observing it solo, you feel its dual nature more acutely – the awe-inspiring engineering marvel and the chilling echo of spectated suffering. It prompts introspection, a quiet contemplation on humanity’s enduring contradictions, impossible amidst a crowd’s chatter.
Then, the Pantheon. Stepping inside is like walking into the mind of God, conceived by mortals. The sheer scale, the perfection of the dome – that oculus open to the heavens – is humbling beyond words. A shaft of sunlight pierces the dusty interior, illuminating motes dancing like celestial dust. Sitting alone on a bench, head tilted back, the immensity washes over you. The whispers of fellow visitors fade into a reverent hush. You feel infinitesimally small yet profoundly connected to the generations who stood precisely here, awestruck, for millennia. Solitude allows this space for pure, unadulterated wonder. It’s not just seeing; it’s *feeling* the architectural genius, the spiritual ambition made stone.
But Rome isn’t just monumental stones; it’s vibrant, messy, delicious life. Crossing the Tiber into Trastevere, the atmosphere shifts. Narrow streets twist like tangled yarn, laundry flutters like colourful flags between ochre buildings, and the air thickens with the garlicky perfume of *cacio e pepe* and frying *carciofi*. Solo travel makes you porous. You notice the old men arguing passionately over espresso at a tiny bar, the clatter of plates from a hidden trattoria kitchen, the effortless elegance of a Roman woman navigating the cobbles in impossible heels. You slip into a *salumeria*, point at mysterious cheeses and glistening olives, and assemble a picnic feast. Finding a quiet step on Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere, watching life swirl around the ancient basilica as you savour pecorino sharp enough to make your eyes wa
AAleRoTutto bene a parte la colazione... Ho dormito due giorni, la prima colazione è andata bene, i tavoli erano apparecchiati. La seconda mattina era di lunedì, dovevi apparecchiarti te la tavola... Che in un 4 stelle non è cosa... Chiesto spiegazioni... Non le hanno date...