The moment you duck through that round door, something shifts in your brain. The ceiling is lower, so you immediately stop thinking about your work presentation. Everything is soft and curved. No sharp corners to bruise your shins. It’s like the building itself is giving you a hug. I swear, my shoulders dropped about three inches.
The interior is a masterclass in cozy maximalism. Think of your grandmother’s best china cabinet, but scaled down and mixed with a woodland elf’s tool shed. There were mismatched teacups, a wood-burning stove that looked like a happy little robot, and a bed built into a nook. I flopped onto it and instantly forgot I owned a smartphone. For a solid two minutes, I just stared at the curved ceiling like a cat watching a ceiling fan.
The Bathroom Situation (A Very Honest Talk)
Now, let’s talk about the bathroom, because no one warns you. The shower is a tiny, hobbit-sized alcove. If you are over 5’8”, you will be showering in a Ninja Turtle crouch. I am 5’10”, and I looked like a praying mantis trying to rinse conditioner out of its hair. It’s hilarious. You don’t feel dignified. You feel like a giant who accidentally crashed a children’s tea party. But honestly? It just adds to the charm. You’re literally too big for this world.
And the toilet? It’s a compost toilet. Yes, really. I panicked at first, because my brain associates “compost” with “rotten carrots,” not human business. But the little sign said “Be one with the earth,” and I thought, Okay, fine, Bilbo. You get used to it. It’s oddly meditative. You leave the bathroom feeling like a pioneer, or maybe just very dehydrated. Either way, it’s a story.
Wondered what it’s like to live in Lord of the Rings? Now you can stay
