Hotel Blafell

Hotel Blafell

Breithdalsvik, Iceland

Reviewed July 5th, 2005

Admittedly, I didn't spend too much time in Breithdalsvik. Running low on petrol, our stomachs rumbling, we found respite a few kilometers off the Ring Road (the lone highway circling Iceland) in the relatively remote East Fjords. I would have been reluctant to seek out food at a place named Hotel Blafell but our trusty guidebook suggested elsewise, and minutes later we were enjoying our tasty paninis.

The two unisex restrooms are easily accessible right at the foyer to the restaurant though both were occupied when I first tried my approach. After a cranky-looking older gentleman exited, I entered the small room. Tiled floor to wall and adorned with shiny curvy fixtures, I was initially impressed. A large window allowed plenty of sunlight in (well, in the summer at least) while the venetian blinds afforded a easily alterable amount of privacy. A fat red powder-coated towel rack sat towel-less. But no worries his cousin, the paper towel dispenser, sat pleasurefully waiting to spit out drying tissues. Everything's going great so far. Okay, so it's a little cramped, probably impossible to manuever in a wheelchair. But the real problem came when I tried to wash my hands. No soap. I'm definitely not what you would call a germaphobe, but I do love the soap. Sure you can go through the motions of running your hands under the water but it's never quite as satisfying if you can't get a good lather going when you wash your hands. It's that certain squish squish that really makes the whole process worthwhile and being robbed of that feeling is discomforting.

RESTROOM RATING: 5
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