The Davenport III: Goin’ Safari

After our walking tour, Hanna assured me that we couldn’t miss going across the street to the Davenport’s Tower building to view the décor in the Safari Room. She was right.

Not exactly understated, is he?

This guy greeted us at the door. (There was an equally shiny golden hippo on the other side.) That pretty much set the tone for what we would find inside.

It struck me as resembling the style in which a Victorian Great White Hunter would have decorated his home upon his return from a hunting trip to the Serengeti—if he had access to modern technology, that is. Wildly overdone but rather glorious in an over-the-top kind of way. Note the elephants:

I didn’t count them, but they were everywhere; there must have been an entire herd represented. Then there was the wall between lobby and restaurant:

And of course, this . . . whatever it is.

Sorry, no clue what this is/was.

The booths were animal print, of course. Even the lampshades had wild animals run amuck. But the pièce de résistance was this guy:

He was real. Stuffed, mind you, but real. We were told he was a former resident of the zoo who died of natural causes. Then we were told (by an anonymous source) that (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) the old boy was engaged in, er, making baby tigers at the time of his demise. Apparently his heart just couldn’t take the, um, stress. But at least he died happy, right?

Ahem.

So, back across the street is the Peacock Room Lounge.

The ceiling over the bar.

Where we ate dinner. Our food was nothing memorable, with the exception of the Ahi Tuna, which was pepper-crusted and combined with a pile of horseradish thinly disguised as mashed potatoes. Combined, they made a violent assault on the palate which both Hanna and I found inedible. That probably explains why this happened:

Remember the peanut brittle? This was a chocolate sundae with peanut brittle crumbs. If only the “hot fudge” had actually been fudgy instead of merely thin, warm chocolate sauce, it would have been perfection. Even so, it was darn good.

This concludes our tour of the Davenport Hotel. Thank you for coming along! If you’re ever in Spokane, that’s the place to stay. Oh, and did I mention they have a spa? Really, what more could a girl ask from a hotel? Until next time . . .

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The Davenport, Part II: The Bedchamber

I was already mildly delirious just from my walk past the courtyard to the elevator, so when I first opened the door to my room I wasn’t sure what to expect. But I don’t think I expected this:

Sleepy yet?

And I sure didn’t expect this:

Hello? That shower is bigger than my cube at the WoFfice. At least, it felt that way. Let’s just say that one could take several steps before coming near the shower spray. The ginormous bathtub is rather grand, too, no? And (because I feel that my readers need to know these things) the toilet lid floats down automatically. Or at least, it doesn’t slam down.

It’s been a long time, but I rather think my first apartment was not much larger than this bedroom. The closet light came on automatically. Of course. And the bathroom counter (which I did not photograph) emitted a soft glow from underneath so one could avoid stumbling at night.

The room had a doorbell. A doorbell. I learned this when Hanna (my roommate for the weekend) called the desk to inquire about our complimentary peanut brittle, which was unaccountably MIA. (No, I did not eat it and not tell her. Why would you think that?) To our delight, they immediately sent up a handful of samples via a nice young man who, of course, rang the aforementioned doorbell.

I had to do quality control on that box.

Oh yes, the peanut brittle. It is justifiably famous. Not at all like the also-yummy crispy stuff my cousin Tracy makes at holidays, this was soft yet crunchy. Much like the inside of a Butterfinger, only without the sharp layers. Christy took me to Bruttles, the candy store across the street, where I bought a 2-pound box for the WoFfice. (It was the largest they had. It was gone in 2 days.) You get it here, btw: http://bruttles.com/

While you’re at the Bruttles site, do read the story of Aunt Sophie. And order some peanut brittle, because there’s nothing else like it. I attempted to recreate it at home and it was a complete and total disaster. Not even edible. Ick. Bleah. Whatever Aunt Sophie’s secret is, it’s a good one.

It’s getting late as I type this, which leads me inevitably to longing thoughts about the Davenport bed. That’s what it’s called, the “Davenport Bed.”

The Davenport Bed

How comfy is it? The first night I think I slept 11 hours straight. After the second night, I went downstairs to the gift shop to see if they would ship a bed to Texas. They would. For a small fee, of course, on top of the purchase price of the Davenport mattress and mattress topper, but then with that purchase one did get a discount on the Egyptian cotton bedding. I’ve bought cars for less than the total package price…but that didn’t stop me from taking a price sheet home with me. Yes, they are THAT comfortable. So far logic, prudence, and financial responsibility have prevented me from placing an order, but if I come into money, I’m calling Spokane.

One might think that was all there was to be said about a hotel. But no. In my next post, we go on safari. Stay tuned.

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The Davenport

For months before I left for the Women of Faith event in Spokane, every time I mentioned to someone on staff that I was attending that particular event they would get a dreamy look in theirs eyes and sigh, “Oh . . . that hotel. Bring back peanut brittle.”

Ooookayy. I’m a sucker for a nice hotel myself. I revel in plush surroundings, marble bathrooms, and all the other trappings of luxury. (Mind you, I don’t get to stay in really nice hotels often, which probably adds to the mystique.) But seriously, what was the big deal?

Then I arrived at the Davenport Hotel. And suddenly, all became clear.

See what I mean?

Does this remind anyone else of the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum or is that just me?

Seriously? This place has its own walking tour. Of. The. Hotel. Of course, I took it. Er, twice, actually. Yes, I’m nerdy that way. Here are just a few of the wonders I saw:

The beams are cast plaster and until the hotel was restored at the turn of this century all that lovely color was lost due to decades of smoke from the fireplace as well as (no doubt) many fine cigars and cigarettes. They cleaned it with soft toothbrushes (and Simple Green) and voila, the colors appeared.

Speaking of the fireplace…

Always burning as a symbol of hospitality.

Why yes, that IS genuine gold leaf, thank you for asking.

There were people in the Elizabethan Room (the nerve!) so I couldn’t snap any pics of that, but if you’ve been to any Tudor castles, you’ve got the idea. Dark carved wood paneling, chandeliers made of 75 pounds of sterling silver (each), that kind of thing. It was the first hotel ballroom in the world to use folding panel doors to divide the space into smaller rooms.

The Isabella ballroom was being used for a wedding and the reception was in the Marie Antoinette Ballroom. Hanna (my walking tour companion) and I weren’t exactly dressed for a wedding or we would have crashed the party; they seemed to be having a marvelous time. (Of course, we peeked through the window. Wouldn’t you?)

Gates to the Isabella Ballroom

But that’s OK…nobody was in the Hall of the Doges.

Sorry it's so dark.

It was like walking into a Venetian palazzo. Built in 1904 above Davenport’s restaurant, the entire thing was picked up by a crane and moved to its current location during the renovation of 2000, making it “the only flying ballroom in the world.”

All along the halls are fabulous photos of glory days of yore at the Davenport. Hanna and I spent some time studying one photo of the Marie Antoinette Ballroom’s opening night ball in 1914 and deciding who was with whom and how they felt about it.

Just the lamp by the phone in the lobby.

Water fountain by the pool.

There’s more—I haven’t even shown you the actual bedroom yet—but I think that’s enough for now. Let’s just leave with this picture in mind:

Sigh. Oh...that hotel.

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