A 4 star hotel has a doorman who greets you warmly. Decu has a sullen security guard who, when we rang the bell to gain entrance, opened the door just enough to pop his head out and ask if he could help us. As if we, 2 women in our 60s, had come to rob the joint.
A 4 star hotel has an elevator. Said security guard hauled each of our roller bags up 2 flights of stairs, not by the straps attached to the cases, but by slinging the fully extended metal handles over his back, damaging both our bags.
A 4 star hotel has a bar and restaurant. Decu offers a Holiday Inn-style self-serve breakfast featuring 3rd rate pastries wrapped in plastic (despite an excellent pananderia just down the street), and watery cappuccinos from an off-brand machine.
A 4 star hotel has AC. Our room had a loud, bulky standing fan hidden in the closet that had to be plugged in next to the sink in the room, leaving us with the choice of blocking the sink, or blocking the bathroom door.
A 4 star hotel room is soundproofed. Decu's bedroom windows all face a large square air shaft, so if someone sneezes two floors up, it sounds like they're in bed with you.
A 4 star hotel room has skin lotion. And soap. Let's leave it at that.
Casa Decu's 4 star rating is simply fraud, as are the misleading photos of a room service tray set lovingly on a bed. We were advised to get UberEats if we needed dinner. It's a perfectly serviceable youth hostel, but pricing it like a real hotel is nonsense.
