S. F.
5月 2026
★★★★★
[If I could give 3.5 stars, I would. But I fear 3 stars is too harsh]
I recently stayed at Windmill on two occasions. So, as I am writing this, I may or may not be sitting in my room, indulging on some of the dry roast peanuts and occasionally sipping water, as alcohol does not sit well with me but I would kill for a white and black Russian with some spinkle of chocolate on top, not too sweet not too dull. Perfect enough to feel like instead of sitting in a room on ground floor with a view of a bush and the parking lot and the back of my car (which broke the bank, not worth the view), I am in front of a waterfall, with sun lingering on my skin, glowing and floating in the air and becoming one with the universe. And instead of a tiny piece of hair that is on the shower wall that I noticed the last time I stayed in the same room, and is still there, sitting on the yellow mouldy tiles from a century ago, lonelier than ever, with tears of sadness and depression in this economy and bloodshed, which are dropping from every inche of its tiny length, from every molecule; I am swimming with the dolphins of the under world, where beautiful mermaids dance for us so elegently. I would like for the white and black Russian, my sibling, my twin from another father, to make me feel like instead of waiting nano secons and seconds and minutes that each feels like millions of other seconds and hours and days and months and years and decades and centuries that I have been waiting, I would be on the beach of the red sea where my favourite ying and yang are fanning me with the Egyptian sweet bergamot leaves. And instead of chewing the lamb out of that rump, which was well, dare I say a bad choice on the menu instead of lamb shoulder, I could be feeding on the heavenly wine that runs down the stream of mount Olympus to the walls of great China, carrying lavender and sweet orange and patchouli. What a beatuiful day to be alive! Where is my white and black Russian! Room serviceeeeeeee!
Let us not be unfair. The circumstance of my stay, made the overal experience enjoyable rather. I am harsh but I am fair. That is after all the nature of my career. More than anything, the heated eye mask was a gift from the universe above, a reminder! I was as calm as a little crab crawling on a sandy beach of Zakynthos. As soon as the energy and the heat from the mask reached every molecules in my brain down to my cores, I felt that white and black Russian in my hand again, laying on the sandy beach again, with the power of the sun in my veins, again.
Let us also praise the attentive staff and their beautiful souls, in particular the honest reception girl who directed me to the source of my existence (coffee) and the breakfast girl who made my morning coffees. You have no idea how that coffee and its exquisit smell breathed life into every inch of my body, thank you!
Do enjoy your visit at Windmill but I do not recommend the lamb rump!