I believe the answer is in the tiles. They are a simple set of diagrammatic instructions. Rest the shower head on to the floor, turn it on, and there you have it: not a shower but a fountain (or fontaine if you’re going to be proper about this). I’ve included the decoded image below for ease, marked on in red is the answer. The idea behind the fountain is a unique shower experience, a lot of fun and doing a good enough job of blinding yourself to cope with the wall colour. But won’t the bathroom get all wet I hear you cry? I can see that the hotel have thought about this and they have strategically placed three pale pink receptacles around the fountain room to catch the flow. Still not convinced? Then just give it a try (the tiles never lie).
I’m still working on decoding those curtains,
All the Best,
What are you some sort of shill for Big shower curtain? GTFO of here.
Ah, you went wrong with your assumption that it is a shower. Its a bathtub with a handshower as an extra benefit (to wash your hair while sitting on your butt in luke warm water).. But you already knew that. If it was a shower, it would have included the curtain and something to hang the hand shower from.
By the way love your website.
This is easy. Having successfully instituted the “1992 Prohibición de Cortinas de Ducha” [universal ban on shower curtains in France].
This is the next evolution in making sure French bathrooms are always soaked in questionable liquids. This observer of French culture is also hearing rumblings that the all powerful French mold remediation lobby is behind these latest innovations in fucking soaking everything.
So there you have it, the latest piece of French technology in the quest to make sure things remain “putain trempé dans l’eau!”
Regards, Blair Cook
Call me a dirtbag, but I really like to stank. I was the kid who had to be physically dragged into the bathtub by the ear from my mother.
Now I’m in my 20s, and I don’t have a mom around to drag me around by the ear. I’ll shower once every couple of weeks, but even then it’s usually to scrape off the thick layer of sunscreen I use to keep my white ass from turning red.
This is ingredient no.1 in the non-freestanding shower soup.
The second ingredient is my shoes, or rather, my lack thereof.
As soon as the days start getting longer and the risk of frostbite drops dramatically, I remove my shoes and socks and leave them in the front hall until the first frost in the following autumn. For better breathability I tell people. I walk barefoot, I run barefoot, and most importantly I ride barefoot. Gravel, singletrack, pavement, whatever, the shoes stay off. I’ve even removed all of the pins from the flat pedals on my Specialized Sequoia for this very purpose. The added benefit is of course that I can grip the pedals with my toes, evading the need for a clipless setup.
What does this have to do with showers you ask?
As I’m sure you know, multi surface touring is really dirty work. When I arrive home from my weekly 100+ km sufferfests, I leave a snail trail of grimy greasy filth in my wake. Black footsteps all through the house.
My roommates do not approve, and besides I can’t afford to be washing my sheets all the time. I need to save that money for more important things like chamois butter and blueberry crisp Clif bars.
Don’t worry, I’m getting to the point.
All of this nonsense means that, though I avoid showering for as long as possible, I wash my feet pretty often in order to keep my sheets clean, and my roommates happy. Now, if I had a ‘normal’ shower, limber and wiry as I may be, it would take some weird yoga to get my feet up by my ears without slipping on the tile and injuring myself. I prefer to hurt myself doing cool shit on my bike, not doing dumb shit in my shower. And it is for this very reason that I cherish my not-freestanding shower.
Thanks to this feat of European shower engineering, I can just straddle the edge of the tub and scrub the grease and chewing gum off of the soles of my feet in comfort, while at the same time preserving my hard earned ‘natural musk’.
I’m not french. I’ve never been to France. But according to some survey that I just googled, the french don’t like to shower very much either… I wonder how they feel about wearing shoes.