"But I told them we wanted queen-size beds." After three weeks of roughing it, a private room-no matter how tiny-seemed downright luxurious.Ĭharlene wrinkled her nose. After all, this stay at the Bertolini was supposed to be their last big splurge-a highlight of their backpacking trip-of-a-lifetime across Europe. "We won't have to wait in line." Despite having sunburned shoulders and a bad case of bedhead, she was determined to be a good sport. "At least the bathroom's all ours." Lucy darted through a narrow door to inspect the shower, which wasn't bad, considering. But their room on the second floor turned out to be dark and cramped, with two twin beds pushed together and no sunflowers in sight. The Bertolini's website had promised lace curtains, wide brass beds, and a vase full of sunflowers on the dresser.
After a sleepless night on the train to Florence, Lucy Sommersworth and Charlene Barr checked into the Hostel Bertolini groggy and disheveled but with high expectations.
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