View the rest of the photos at my Flickr account.
The manager was more than happy to share with me all her tales of ghostly encounters. Apparently Sylvia has company there at the inn: a little boy who bounces a red ball and an angry man on the third floor who yells at people. (Honestly, I had no idea my dad was haunting this place.)
I wandered upstairs to see what I could find. While I didn’t see any ghosts per se, and none of the shots have the tell-tale orbs, I did feel slimed by the usual energy of people in a hotel. I’ve always found hotels — even nice ones — to be psychically nasty in many ways. The Frenchman didn’t like the energy of the manager at all. He might have felt she was selling a story to promote her inn. This happens, of course, and people being the hysterical ninnies that they are, they’ll supply plenty of tales about “supernatural” phenomena. But for me, if anything’s going on, it usually sneaks up on me.
It didn’t.
Our room was right off the courtyard, so we were treated to the very early morning sounds of the breakfast staff setting up. But we were both so tired we slept through most of it. They served an amazing breakfast of our choice from the menu for free. Yes, you read that right. Free breakfast at the Bella Maggiore, and that flimsy “continental” crap. The room rates are very reasonable, too, making this inn an appealing hideaway, ghosts or no.
