He’d said: “If you’re looking for a room, go next door, pick whichever you fancy, first floor. The key will be in the lock.”
I had chosen the one with the view. A handwritten notice in reception on a wooden table, where a bowl with apples and another with sweets had been placed, said: “Plees, wen to chick-out, leef euros uder doore. Bon voyage.” I thought, this is the place for me.
From The Olive Route by Carol Drinkwater.