Named one of the top six "Most Romantic Inns of the South" by Romantic Destinations Magazine (published by Southern Bride) Click here to see full article |
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About Your Innkeeper Sandra CH Smith A writer and actor, Sandra arrived in Eureka Springs in 1993 after spending seven years sailing alone from San Francisco to 1837 miles off the Galapagos in her Ericson 35 sailboat. She has brought back not only art treasures from Mexico and Central America which adorn the Inn, but also a sense of serene timelessness which sets the mood at Cliff Cottage Inn.
Sandra's favorite pastime (besides cooking) is sharing her enthusiasm for the surroundings with her guests. On cool summer evenings or brisk winter nights, she may be inspired to share her sea stories with guests. (While sailing alone, she created the "As the Anchor Drags Radio Show", reading poetry and stories on the air to hundreds of Pacific boaters and landlubbers with VHF radios and managed to read on her radio program the entire book, "Treasure Island", while in a hurricane hole in the Sea of Cortez.) The Good Old Days of Bed and Breakfasting
You didn't spend thousands on brochures and mailers, you didn't send newsletters, you didn't have a reservation program on a computer because you didn't have a computer, you never talked to another innkeeper because there weren't any......all the rest were out on farms in the Penna. Dutch Country and there weren't even any in Bucks County! You didn't organize Mystery Weekends, Gardeners Retreats, Victorian picnics, candlelight dinners, sunset dinner lake cruises, airplane rides.....none of this. What you did do was hurry and scurry each time the reservation service called to see if you wanted a guest for that weekend. After a very detailed verbal description (by Stella who ran the service) of the potential visitor ('Harvard professor, 59, single, with 30 years tenure, divorced 8 years, all grown kids out of the house, likes to play chess and listen to classical music, loves exotic cuisine, doesn't smoke, loves to walk, coming for an academic conference') - you knew more about your potential guest back then than you knew about your ex-husband of 20 years! So, you said to yourself, 'Hmmmmmm, do I want to entertain a divorced Harvard professor this weekend or not?' If you needed a little cash and didn't have any other exciting things going, you hurried around and cleaned the bedroom you usually slept in, you moved your undies out of the top bureau drawer and pushed most of your clothes (at least the ones you didn't want to wear that weekend) to the back of the only closet. You quick cleaned out the tub and sink, stripped the bed and ran to the laundromat to wash the only set of sheets you owned - well, after all, you were a starving poet existing on a steady diet of raisins and peanuts and knew you would make a terrible waitress like the rest of the literati. So you opened your historical cottage as a B&B ~ dug out that extra set of daffodil-yellow (read: ugly) towels your mother had sent you last year for your birthday, and raced to the supermarket to buy some bagels, muffins, cheese, fresh fruit, some exotic coffee beans, and if you were lucky enough to have any moola left over, a small posy of fresh flowers for the bedroom! The place looked pretty nice and you were just ready to sit down and relax, when you remembered you had a date that night and the guest was going to be arriving after you had already left for the hospital charity ball at the Bellevue- Stratford Hotel around the corner. You quickly scribble a note to tack to the front door: 'John from Harvard - I forgot I had a date. When you get home the next day about noon, he has already checked out and left a little box of Lady Godiva chocolates on the piano, a single long-stemmed red rose on the lute with a note, 'I had the most relaxing wonderful time since ever I can remember.....I would sure love to meet you someday. Thanks! P.S. I love your taste in music!' And that is how it was in the mid-seventies, downtown Philadelphia, where all your friends living in the myopic suburbs you had just escaped from were appalled that you chose to become an urban guerilla and live alone 'down there with all that crime!' Bed and breakfasting was like it used to be in Britain and the rest of Europe where they'd put out a sign, 'Zimmerfrei' or 'Room with Breakfast', and you had to move the old lady's girdles over in the top bureau drawer before putting away your travel clothes. It was a lot easier then...homey, down-to-earth, comfortable. Today, it is big business and alas, the days of the old percolator and oatmeal porridge are gone! P.S. If you REALLY want porridge, I'll be happy to make it for you! About the author - After some glorious years of doing B&B in Center City Philadelphia, in 1986 (when she was 43), Sandra bought a 35-foot sailboat in California, taught herself how to sail and took off sailing alone in the Pacific for 7 years. In 1993, she came directly from the middle of the ocean to Eureka Springs, Arkansas where she bought the historic Cliff Cottage, designed and built The Place Next Door, started playing Monopoly along the street buying and fixing up cottages to be a part of the inn, and she has been having a delightful time regaling guests with her sea stories ever since!
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