A Return to Hotel Sheraton Munich after 25 Years... without the Snake

A Return to Hotel Sheraton Munich after 25 Years... without the Snake

By  Wednesday, 7.1.2015, 11:03    Accommodation

As the years go by, I am coming round to the fact that Germans are pretty cool. 

Growing up in England with its childish 'We Won the War' mentality, Germans were the people without a sense of humour who always won on penalties (oh, how I remember watching the 1990 penalty shoot-out in the canteen of Hotel VierJahreszeiten), but over the years I have come to appreciate German humour a lot more.

Although the English are still useless at penalties. 

But it is certainly true that British humour is not always appreciated by Germans, a thought I mused with a smile yesterday as I walked past the Munich Sheraton yesterday afternoon for the first time since 1990. But this time there was no python.

After a fun Interrail around Europe, I decided to head back to Munich with my best friend Adrian in search of work. The Irish students at the campsite in Thalkirchen were full of stories of great jobs at BMW paying 30 marks an hour, and they were still hiring. Having hitch-hiked from London back to Munich, it was more than a little deflating to learn that BMW were not hiring. 

We had no Plan B and very little money, some of which we spent on beer wondering what to do next. 

We decided to try the British Consulate to see if they had any suggestions. To the Sheraton, they implored, they are crying out for chambermaids.

Chambermaids? We looked at each other over another cold one, but our choices were limited, and we soon found ourself in smart light brown uniforms being trained in the art of bed making and toilet cleaning. There were several other British and Irish Gastarbeiter, and while not as lucrative as fabled BMW wages, we at least were more or less sorted. Apart from the issue of accommodation. 

The Sheraton did have a Personalhaus for its workers, but it was totally full. As a temporary solution, we were crammed into one of the hotel rooms with two hairy Italians. At least the commute to work was not too bad. All worked well for two days until we were informed while cleaning our rooms that the room was needed for guests and our belongings had been transferred to a conference room, and we should pick them up immediately.

"Where are my baseball boots?" asked Adrian. "They are not here. Someone has stolen them."

The indifferent housekeeper obviously had other more pressing concerns that the missing boots of a British chambermaid. Or at least she soon would. 

"I see," continued Adrian, sensing the indifference. "And look - who left this box open?"

"Box?" replied the housekeeper, without the slightest interest. "What is the problem with an open box?"

"Nothing for me," replied my friend, "but it might be for you. My pet snake is no longer in the box. Maybe it is with the baseball boots." And with that, he left the room, leaving me facing a terrified housekeeper. 

"Did he say 'snake'?"

"Yes. Pete the Python. Very friendly. Most of the time. If you like I will put a notice on the canteen door asking anyone who sees him to find us on the 14th floor." And with that I too was gone - there were some very stubborn toilet stains requiring my attention in room 1421.

And I thought no more of it until half an hour later I heard my name being called by Adrian.

"What are we going to do about our snake? They have already closed the kitchen and are about to call the zoo. If we confess, we will get fired. If the zoo comes, it could get serious."

"Our snake?" I replied supportively. "I think you mean your snake."

He went off to the floor above to confront the three housekeepers now taking an interest in his snake.

"About that snake," he began. "Well it was a joke. You know, British humour."

Three stoney-faced housekeepers promptly turned around in silence and went to the lift. As chance would have it, I had run out of pillow cases and need a fresh supply from the basement. The lift opened and three clearly furious, but silent, housekeepers were staring at me. The atmosphere could be described as frosty.

"There was no snake, was there?" Aha, Adrian had clearly chosen against the zoo option. 

"No. Quite funny though? No? Not even remotely funny. Ah." I felt myself getting smaller with every syllable. 

We were out of a job before the end of the shift, but not before the housekeepers took great pride in stripping our beds and making them do them again. And again. I must have made 40 beds that day.

And we never found the baseball boots... 

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Paul Bradbury

After 12 years living on the most gorgeous island in the world, Hvar in Dalmatia, I have begun to wonder if there is still life beyond its shores. Prior to discovering Paradise in 2002, I was a world traveller, living and working in Japan, Georgia, Somalia, Rwanda, Russia... and Munich.

After 95 countries and some 25 years have passed, the memories of my year in the hotel industry in the Bavarian capital (fired by the Sheraton for losing our pet snake, the first male chambermaid at Hotel Arabella, and a truly eye-watering introduction to five-star living in  my days as a bellboy in luxury Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten) are strong, and the call of Munich has been a constant theme over the last quarter century. 

And so here I am, answering the call some 25 years later. Twelve years of island living have changed me for sure, but also left me curious about life in a big city, and whether or not I could adapt to it after such an insular decade. 

I was surprised to see that for such a magnificent multi-cultural city, English-language blogs and regularly updated information are not that available. Static tourism information, such as that provided by the excellent tourist board website yes, but accounts of daily life delivered daily? Hard to find.

And so I have decided to take a break from my idyllic island and see if I could live in a city again. And what better way to try than to discover modern Munich in all its facets after so many years. It is a journey of discovery which I am relishing, and I hope the site proves to be of interest for Munich residents and its numerous visitors.

About Paul Bradbury

Author of Lebanese Nuns Don't Ski, Lavender, Dormice and a Donkey Named Mercedes and Hvar's first comprehensive guidebook, Hvar: An Insider's Guide to Croatia's Premier Island, as well as co-author of Split: An Insider's Guide with Mila Hvilshoj, I have lived in Dalmatia full time since 2003. In addition to running Total Munich, I also run Total Split (www.croatia-split.com), Total Hvar (www.total-hvar.com) and Total Inland Dalmatia (www.total-inland-dalmatia.com), as well as being an accredited Google News journalist for Digital Journal in Canada.

I also have various blogging clients, including the Central Dalmatia Tourist Board, European Coastal Airlines, Touristar TV and Andro Tomic Wines, and print clients include Qatar Airways inflight magazine, Out! magazine from New York, and Croatian Hotspots. 

In December 2014 I was delighted to receive the Marko Polo 2014 Award from FIJET Croatia (Federation of International Travel Writers and Journalists)  at a ceremony for the Croatian Journalists Society for the best international tourism promotion of Croatia. More here.

Ongoing writing projects:

A History of Hajduk Split, co-author with Frane Grgurevic - in 2015

Around the World in 80 Disasters - out in 2015

Total Hvar in the Media:

Interview of the Month, Croatian Embassy in Washington (May 2013)

Special Feature in Globus Magazine (May 2013)

Featured on Croatian TV show, More (2012) - watch the report here

Interviews in Slobodna Dalmacija, Dalmacijanews, Radio Split

I am available for writing services. Please contact me on info@total-munich.com or visit my main writing website, www.bossandblogger.com 

Website: total-hvar.com Email This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.
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