“Un incubo”
I’m not going to sugarcoat it: the place is a disaster. There’s no proper storage—your wardrobe is literally a bed, a bookshelf and a desk drawer are jam-packed with junk, notebooks, and even dirt. Only two hangers fit in the closet. The room feels infested: you can hear strange noises in the closet at night, and we found a little figurine staring at us. The elevator on the 7th floor was broken, so we were stuck outside the apartment; the host left the key in front of our door without checking if we were inside, and we thought we could still get back that evening, but she removed the key from the lockbox that was still open with a code. I’ve attached photos. If not for another guest being there, we’d have been locked out—luckily we weren’t. The cleanliness was zero; I’ve got photos of the sheets covered in blood right when we entered, so we had to change them ourselves. After asking for a cleaning the next day, the situation only slightly improved. We spotted various insects—orange long‑antenna ones in the bathroom and gray ones in the room—but didn’t photograph them. There’s no mini‑fridge in the room, only a large fridge in the living room, and it’s unclear if we can use it. Take a lucky charm for the room; the bad vibes are real. 🪬🪬🪬🪬🪬🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿
D'antonioمنذ سنتين