Paul-YUL
Nice hotel in the heart of Milan 500m from the Duomo, 347 restaurants and likely as many stores. The rooms and common areas are nicely designed with quality materials. The rooms are well designed with nice large bathrooms and especially rain showers. They have among the most comfortable bathrobes I've ever had at a hotel. That's why it's a mystery to me that the same hotel has the most pathetic pillows l've ever had short of a Super-8 motel. One is too thin and hard and the other is too soft and light. It's time to upgrade to one foam and one down pillow. The other great mystery is the hair dryer. I think the Dollar Store wall-mounted models actually provide more heat and power. The breakfast room is where the hits and misses continue. Nice full buffet with a wide array of fruits, breads, charcuterie, cheeses, viennoiseries and cereals. The super automatic espresso machine with fresh milk and beans visible through glass is one of the best l've ever seen. You'll notice I didn't mentions eggs, bacon and sausages in the buffet. They have all three but the quality lies somewhere between prison and hospital grade. The powdered eggs are terrible and if they aren't powdered but actually fresh, that's even worse. The bacon is a processed pancetta saltier than sardines. The halal sausages completed the trifecta. Getting back to the hits, the hotel is clean and the staff is dedicated. The rooftop bar is second to few in Milan. It may appear over priced at first with a 23€ minimum charge for all cocktails as a price of admission but that includes three high quality amuse-bouche croquettes. It was more than enough to later save on appetizers at local restaurants. The live DJ was spinning up a nice vibe and the people were as beautiful as the views. The restaurant was fully booked and fully priced so we didn't stay for dinner. The self-park down the street at 28€ per day was reasonable as were the mini-bar prices. The misses are easy to fix so we'll be back to check on their progress.
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Price per night from:£214
Julius LOCATIONS GOOD, ROOM IS CLEAN, BEST AMONG THE EUROPEAN COUNTRIES I TRAVELED. LOBBY MANAGER HELPED TO CHECK IN AND ARRANGED TO SIT FOR THE TIME BEING. TAXI AND TRAM AROUND THE HÔTEL REGION, SO NEED NOT TO WALK FOR A LONG DISTANCE. FOR SHOPPING, THERE ARE A LOT OF LUXURY SHOPS NEARBY, RESTAURANTS ARE GOOD, WITH TIPS, SERVICES ATE EXTRAORDINARY. STRONGLY RECOMMEND TRAVELLERS OR PEOPLE ON BUSINESS TRIP TO CHOOSE.
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Price per night from:£285
Guest User
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
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Price per night from:£40