Ulrich M.
Google
There are hardly any places in the city more beautiful to enjoy tea and small delicacies served on a tiered stand in the evening sun. The sunset is spectacular, and the building itself is steeped in history. Guests are welcomed with a small sip of iced tea, a charming gesture. The gift shop recalls the Cotswolds in England, though with motifs ranging from The Little Prince to Chinese-inspired designs.
The terrace facing west features five arcades, each with a table for three guests. When our group of five arrived, we were warmly received. However, we were told that two tables could not be moved together for reasons of monument preservation—even though the furniture was neither historic nor original. The more plausible explanation was economic: if two tables are taken by a group of five, another party cannot be seated. This reasoning, though understandable, still left a sense of arbitrariness.
Things took a slightly absurd turn with the drinks: one of our group asked for the very iced tea that had been served at the entrance. We were told that this particular iced tea was only for outside sale and not available at the table—but we could order a different iced tea. When milk was requested for Darjeeling, the answer was that milk could only be ordered with beverages that already included it, but not separately for tea.
At payment, the issue continued. The vouchers tied to our admission tickets could not be used in full—only three of them were valid, due to house policy. The running gag of the evening became our remark that everything “not possible” was simply prohibited by monument protection. The contrast between the friendliness of the staff and the rigid bureaucratic mindset denying the most ordinary requests was, after a while, a source of laughter, though also an annoyance.
