I really felt like I was walking around inside hospitality last weekend. Hospitality as a living breathing thing.
We were visiting friends in Washington, D.C. and there were small touches everywhere designed to make us feel happy and welcome. Fresh flowers. Newspaper clippings of events around town. Brochures and maps to help us plan a day trip to Gettysburg. And sweet treats in the little refrigerator to eat when the mood struck (Dan was eating chocolate chip cookies before the suitcase was even open).
My favorite moment of the weekend was our big breakfast together. We ate in the dining room with pretty dishes, delicious food (muffins right out of the oven!), hot coffee and bright conversation.
When I was a teenager, my dream was to own a country inn. I read and re-read a North American edition of "Country Inns and Back Roads" trying to decide which descriptions sounded like the inn of my dreams.
I wanted to make people feel comfortable and happy with beautiful linens, helpful travel information, homemade baked goods and friendship. My teenage dreams came rushing back to me when I sat down to this breakfast. This was what I loved; this was hospitality.