Hotels are not really a big thing in 1999. A few concrete government owned places is your only option. We are staying at a typical squared grey lifeless way outside town near Izmailova Park. (There’s a huge flea market close by for that crochet napkin or Soviet memorabilia. I bought a hip flask with the hammer & sickle…)
On each floor of our hotel is a key lady! We ask ours: “What time is breakfast?” She looks blankly at us and shakes her head. “Where is breakfast?”, we ask at the reception. Nobody can help us, because nobody speaks English and we can’t translate anything into Russian.
So we head for Infotourist to find someone English speaking. Even though it’s absurd, were are now asking a tourist information where and when our breakfast is. “You need breakfast tickets!” “How do we get those”, we ask. “I can give you.” There is much happiness. But alas, we are not listed in her papers. “I need your vouchers”, she says.
So we go back to the hotel to find our hotel vouchers (nothing online remember). But to get into the elevator, you need your key paper (not a keycard, but a paper). We collect the paper at the recpetion, take the elevator and the key paper is now exchanged with the key lady on our floor – 15th – who hands us our key, so we can enter the room. Afterwards, the entire paper exchange is repeated in reversed order.
Why did we bother with that breakfast?