A room with a view of one's own

We stayed at a bizarre, ridiculously expensive little hotel in Orta San Giulio. We had the "penthouse suite," which meant riding the mirror-walled elevator from the mirror-walled breakfast nook up four flights to the attic (watch your head!). Unfortunately, the AC wasn't working, so it was mighty toasty, and with the windows open, we got to listen to the mad revelry on the street below until 3 a.m., when the bars finally closed.

Our suite was named "A Room of One's Own"--one of those literary allusions that demonstrate someone knew enough English to recognize the poetry of the phrase without understanding what the words meant. (My all-time favorite in this category was a Thai T-shirt my parents gave me that said, "? What are the No problem!")

The room had two futon mattresses and two shower heads, with two glass plates separating the stone-lined shower from the rest of the room. The shower heads were made out of geode halves, which was pretty sexy, and the glass partitions meant one's party of two or three or five or ten could watch each other shower--or all shower together, since the open spaces between the glass allowed water to spritz everywhere. I think perhaps the room was supposed to have been named "A Room with a View," or perhaps "A Room with a View of One's Own."

Speaking of views, the room did have a nice one out the window...