Or at least I think that's how to spell it.

I never really got what I felt was a reasonable translation of the idiom,"Bis Morgan' but the maid at the Kempinski, each night when she turned down the covers and prepared the room for my evening (or late night) return always left a small chocolate on the pillow. The Chocolate sat atop a small slip of paper on which had been written in crisp, legible penmanship, the message: "Bis Morgan."

That was in 1978, my first visit to the five Star hotel Kempinski.

I was on expenses then, so, of course, Five Star was the only way to rest after a weary day of wasting time trying to settle small matters at the office.

This was not my first stay at a five star international hotel, so I did have a level of expectation for the staff to meet. And meet them all, they did!

I had been in Boblingen, a small village a tad South Southwest of Stuttgart, then in Stuttgart, prior to dashing off in a rental car toward the hotel in Berlin.

It was a long drive, I soared over the autobahn roadways
and struggled with the traffic into the inner city of Berlin.

That was nearly 30 years ago, but the memory of the treatment I received at the hands of the super-competent staff is still fresh in my memory.

Literally, I had to attend nothing except dragging my self into the lobby and up the elevator to my room. Everything else had been attended for me by the concierge. He ordered folks to handle the luggage; he took the keys from me, handed them to waiting young man, asked me, "will you be needing the car again this evening sir?"

What I needed was about 200 hours sleep...and the comfort of the Kempinski room made that need a reality. Bed, a pure delight; room and accommodations, simply perfect. I never needed to phone the front desk for anything! Everything I could possible require was already in the room, or in the room's refrigerator.

I ordered room service that evening, a mesmerizingly tasty ham sandwich....beverages were already in the room.

Breakfasts at the Kempinski in 1978 were truly phenomenal. There was a buffet of cold meats, cheeses, hard boiled eggs, and fresh Kaiser rolls. But too, there was a full menu from which one could order any number of items, most of which I could barely pronounce, let alone spell here.

For my second morning, however, I ventured out of the buffet room to order eggs and a potato thing (kartofflen? sp?) that turned out to be quite possibly the best potato thing I've ever eaten. These were grated potatos with onion and I think chives and a delicious cheese and perhaps eggs as a binder. They had been fried to a point where there was a delicious, crisp crust! On the side of my plate was a slab of ham that would have fed my family that evening. The food was so tasty, I ate it all!

I toured Berlin during the day, and enjoyed the city's night life during evening meals, so, I never ate any meals in house other than breakfast.

BERLIN, JUNE, 1998
I married a Scott; she's a delight to behold and perhaps the world's 'thriftiest' lass; she gives a whole new meaning to the word frugal.

Normally, when we travel, Mrs. S. and I, we stay in Pensions, or zimmer frei locations...you know, small B&B's, a room in somebody's house where a night's sleep seldom comes with private bath, but always comes with a tasty and ample breakfast.

However, for this trip, Mrs. S. informed me, in Berlin, we were booked at the Kempinski. She was tired of my constant reference to the exquisit treatment at the massage and sauna; she was bored to tears with my insistance that in this hotel, Service was spelled with a capital "S." And, she was angry as hell at the maid who left the love notes on my pillow with the evening's sweet comment: "Bis Morgan."

So it was, I returned to the Kempinski, this time in the company of Mrs. S. Worse, this time, I was not on expenses.

For the return visit, we'd flown into Berlin from London, so arrival time was far less grueling. The taxi drive was short, and unmemorable.

However, when the taxi pulled up at the check-in entrance and the staff came rushing out to assist, I knew where I was. I looked over my shoulder for Udo (the concierge in 1978) but it wasn't he who appeared. It was a doorman, and a bell captain; she managed our arrival as well as Udo...perhaps even better, because the cab driver wasn't German, neither were the lads handling luggage and assisting us into the lobby. However, Miriam had everything well under control. There were no glitches.

We spent three nights and four days at the Kempinski, Mrs. S. and I; it was a grand stay filled with splendid services. Mrs. S treated herself to a mud thing and massage which she says rivaled her joys in Calistoga, CA, and we both took a dip in the cold pool following the sauna.

Our rooms cost? Hell, I almost felt the need to trade my first-born for the closing bill...but then, I knew, I'd be getting the better of the deal, so I didn't even make the offer.

SIDE TRIPS
Hotel Kempinski is located in the entertainment center of what Americans might refer to as 'downtown' Berlin,(read tourist trap) district. One walks up and down Kurfurstendam and finds dozens of restaurants, clubs, theaters, chic shops and one rubs shoulders with the youth of a vibrant city. It's a tourist area, but it's also the hub of activity for the youth of the city.

SIDE TRIP
In 1978, I took the tour bus from the Kempinski to what was then East Berlin. We entered the East at 'Check Point Charley' where our Western bus was boarded by East German police, armed with automatic weapons. We were driven to a central clearing location where we were told we'd have to exchange our West Marks for East Marks, as no foreign currency was allowed in the country.

Then, under the direction of the East German tour guide/soldier, we saw East Germany and heard the propaganda speech of the soldier.

We lunched in a Bier Garten on beans, kraut and sausage, served with coarse rye, and I had a bier( a reasonably unmemorable beverage that reminded me of Bud). After lunch, we were whisked away to the Brandenberg Gate via the route, Unter den Linden Strasse, clearly, one of the world's most lovely boulevards.

East Germany in December of 1978 was gray and gloomy, and the apparent poverty was underscored when our bus, returning to Check Point Charley, passed a street where citizens formed a long line behind a huge truck.

Our East German tour guide police lady explained the joys of the Communistic state; each of the citizens was standing in the line and advancing to receive his/her Christmas tree, furnished by the state. When we entered the East, we were required to exchange West marks for East marks...when we left, we were required to turn in our remaining East marks. We received nothing in the exchange. I had exchanged 20West dm's, so, since I got nothing in exchange at the return, I figure I paid 20 W dm for a lunch worth...at best, 3 to 5 West dm's. But the trip was memorable.

In 1998, we rented a car and drove to Check Point Charley. The wall was gone, and none of the restriction barricades remainded. We used a map to guide us to the Brandenburg Gate; I motored down Unter den Linden Strasse again, as was as pleased with the beauty of the street as I had been on my first trip. I tried to relocate the Christmas tree street, but my memory failed to help me identify the cross street where the trees were being distributed. I never found the correct corner.

THE END
That was one failure of the second visit to this most elite of Germany's hotels; the second failure was that Mrs.S was furious. It seems no one left a note on our pillow each night with the sweet message: Bis Morgan.

I told her it was because of staff changes over the years. But, I know the truth...the maid was jealous that this time I'd returned with a room-mate.









Recommended: Yes