Dear Hotel Stary,
We were introduced casually, a link from a friend whose wedding reception you were hosting. She was after your understated elegance. I think she liked that you were a magnificent private residence in 15th-century Poland.
You stood in the heart of Old Town, tucked just off the square, confident in a land of old and new. Once inside the Gothic structure, I knew I was in for something special. Tasteful modern touches, like Molton Brown bath products and heated floors, blended with the antique romanticism present in every exposed beam, Italian marble vanity, and thick plaster wall.
In the brief time I knew you, it was as if I didn't know myself. Stary, the fete, that night, was one for the books. I don't know what came over me (the red leather furniture? the black and white checkered floors? the polished woods?), as I'm usually so restrained! But in the end, you had me kicking off my high-priced heels and singing Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" with the rest of them.
I want to explore every nook and cranny, without the mock Euro-disco celebration of that night. I want to dip in the grotto pool, sip cocktails on your rooftop (it has the best views of the city), and play chess in the lobby while an attentive staff caters to my every whim. I need to know you beyond the debaucherous haze that brought us together. I want to see you again in the soft glow of daylight.
Until we meet again,