Hôtel-Restaurant des Cultivateurs, Bourgogne-Franche-Comté

Hôtel-Restaurant des Cultivateurs ist ein Hotel, Restaurant, Essen liegt in Nuits-Saint-Georges, Bourgogne-Franche-Comté. Die Adresse von Hôtel-Restaurant des Cultivateurs ist 12 Rue du Général de Gaulle, 21700 Nuits-Saint-Georges, France. Wenn Sie einen Service benötigen, können Sie sie über die Website oder das Telefon kontaktieren. Die Telefonnummer lautet +33 3 80 61 10 41.

Der Breitengrad der Hôtel-Restaurant des Cultivateurs ist 47.1345491, und der Längengrad ist 4.9477573. Hôtel-Restaurant des Cultivateurs liegt in Nuits-Saint-Georges, mit den GPS-Koordinaten von 47° 08' 4.3768" N and 4° 56' 51.9263" E.

Die Zeitzone des Ortes ist Europe/Paris, die website ist http://www.lescultivateurs.fr/. Wenn Sie Fragen haben, hinterlassen Sie bitte einen Kommentar.

Hotel , Restaurant , Essen

Breite47.1345491Längengrad4.9477573
Postleitzahl21700DMS Lat47° 08' 4.3768" N
DMS Lng4° 56' 51.9263" EGeoHASHu07s0sdfehg1r
UTM Zone31TUTM(E)647705.1388886673
UTM(N)5221956.737133284ZeitzoneEurope/Paris
LandFranceProvinzBourgogne-Franche-Comté
Empfohlene Bewertungen
*** (01/06/2014 14:36)
Même une cantine scolaire fait mieux ... A éviter absolument , pas digne de la gastronomie Bourguignonne....

*** (18/08/2014 07:03)
Don't go near the place.
At least the sheets are clean, that being the only positive asset of this hotel.
The abundantly stained, worn down carpet tiles give but a hint of their original texture and make you seriously wonder if their murky brown colour is really what the manufacturer ment it to be.
Some room decoration would be welcome, if only to soften the impact of the baby blue and girly pink walls.
The toilet seat, hinging on one point only so it fits over the bowl only by pure chance, has a plastic lining, filled with something best described as fluffy diaper filling.
Taking a shower presents a bit of an ordeal. The plastic shower cabin shows signs of leakage, creatively repaired with red cellotape. Some mouldy spots begin to form in the interior. A grubby plastic curtain, which persistently tries to entangle ones legs, hangs now where a proper door used to be. The towels are clean, but dwarf sized.
The pillows seem to be filled with the toilet seat stuffing, manifesting the strange wobbly sensation of resting your head on a poorly inflated party balloon. If that doesn't keep you from a good night's sleep, your neighbor's television set will, or the occasional silverfish slithering over the bedcover.
Breakfast comes with tea or coffee and consists of a glass of peach juice, some baguette slices, butter and a pot of prune jam. Don't look for more, there isn't.
You'll find yourself well isolated from the outside world, since there is no wifi available, the evacuation plan is of microscopic size and the emergency exit in the back of the building is locked by key at all times, thus minimizing the chances on escaping this nightmare.
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