House of mirrors.

Anvars guest House. Could belong in any fairground attraction. Let's call it the House of Mirrors. Perhaps even the house of horrors. Mike keeps seeing what looks like a crinckly old man staring at him. Only to realise it's his own reflection. He keeps trying to shoo it away!

The place is reflectively massive, it just seems to go on forever. It is a world of a thousand splintered reflections. Mirrors are everywhere. Where windows should be, mirrors. On doors, walls, everywhere is a mirror. A narcissist wet dream.

We open our door, apartment number 4 and find ourselves in a retro nightmare. Or is it retro hell. This is actually their star accommodation, touted as an apartment, two double bedrooms, a sitting room, and fully fitted bathroom. Seems they have over booked and so we pay the same price as per one of their smaller rooms, which in itself is not cheap. If this is the best they can offer then we are not sure what other guests are putting up with.

A big sitting room, matching arm chairs opposite a matching sofa. Bare wooden floor boards spread with overlapping carpets, trip hazards are everywhere. A ceiling light pretending to be a chandelier, and, of course, one wall almost a complete mirror doubling the apparent size of the room, it now looks twice as ugly. We now see four identical chairs, and two identical sofas.

Two double bedrooms. A double bed and a single bed in each. Identical wardrobes, bare wooden floorboards with identical overlapping carpets. A mirror image. Begin to wonder if there is a theme. Perhaps Anvar has a twin. Or we have fallen down the rabbit hole, well certainly some hole.

The bathroom has a tardis looking shower cubicle. It looks like it has just materialised there. Of course there are mirrors everywhere, almost on every available surface. Sit on the toilet and there you are, the only safe place to look is the filthy floor. Had to kick the bathroom carpet into a corner as it worse than the floor, didn't want our shoes to get too filthy. 

To late for a change, have to make the best of it for now. 

The thin wall that separates bathroom from sitting room has two windows at the top of this wall. Closer inspection reveals one of the windows is missing, just a great big hole. Any noise, smells etc enters the living room.

Most places we have been to are spotless, outside footwear is taken off before you enter. No so at Anvars, I should say wellingtons are in order. All in all quite awful.

We sleep within our own liners, Mike's is cotton, while Yvonne brought her silk one with her. Apart from Yvonne using hers on a cold night in the mountain village, It is the first time we have used them on this trip. There is only a bottom sheet on the bed, although at least clean. A dusty smell In the room, in fact the bed has what looks and feels like a carpet as a bed spread, closer inspection reveals it to be a bonifida carpet.
After a search we find a couple of quilts. These also seem clean. 

So while we have the mirrors, could have done with some smoke or rather a deep clean and fumigation. Even that would not be enough to make this place fit for human habitation.

Feels like the only guests are the ones that like to feed on humans. Must be the second worst itchy and scratchy we have ever stayed in. So bad that we are forced to abandon on the second day. While it may be colder to sleep on the street, it would probably be cleaner. Yet people have recommended this excuse of a place. What is wrong with them!!

They have air con. Probably fitted during the soviet era, noisy and apparently never maintained. Wouldn't be surprised if they were belching toxic fumes everywhere. Next to our bedroom wall is the next rooms conditioner. Belching crap into our room via an excuse for our window, and very noisy. Seriously, this place should be condemned!!

Breakfast of fruit, pastries, juice, tea/coffee, fried egg, yoghurt and bread. No so bad.
An eclectic bunch of guests. Russian, Saudis, Italian, British, and others. Everyone looks like they are supposed to. Thick set Russian woman who looks like thunder; Saudi woman, a teacher of Arabic, proud that women can now drive cars in her home country, but too old or Conservative to learn herself; slender Italian woman, quick bird like movements and intelligent eyes, who lives in Cambridge. An Indian guy here on business who can't wait to leave. Join the club.

Mike has found his perfect vodka. It called Royal Elite, ultra premium vodka, 7 times distilled, 80 proof. Has all sorts of health warnings, yummy!
Also reports that rehydration is simply a matter of quantity. The more beer you drink the less you will care if you are dehydrated. Science in action. It also has the effect of turning this place into merely a shit hole.

One thing in its favour is that it has excellent WiFi. We use this to find another place that night. Leave the following morning. Fly out to Istanbul the following day.

Leave you with some photos. Bedroom one and two: sitting room: making our escape.