In the oldest grand hotel in Europe “Les Trois Rois” in Basel

2023-07-23 21:23:38

9. June 2023

Back there in the outermost corner of the terrace sits a young king boasting about his successes over gin. “And if something goes wrong?” asks his companion excitedly. “I’m getting a million more every week – what could go wrong?” The waiter brings a few more nuts and quickly adjusts his white glove before serving. The sun terrace on this Friday evening is occupied to the last seat, below the Rhine flows past calmly, on the middle bridge the lanterns have just come on. For more than three hundred years, guests have been sitting here and looking down on how things are going. On the terrace of a house that bears the secret self-image of its visitors in its name: “Trois Roi” – “Three Kings”. Anyone who doesn’t have a room in the five-star hostel tonight has no chance of a table in the open air. A small group of friends who have managed to gain access to the exclusive terrace unnoticed are quickly escorted back into the house by the waiter.

The hotel and its terrace, which opens onto the calmly flowing Rhine. : Image: Philipp Jeker

There is never enough space. The shortage increases the demand. For example, the few tables in the old dining room by the large arched windows overlooking the Rhine on a fine parquet floor are, the waiters proudly rumored, reserved for afternoon tea appointments until the end of the year. Even the guests of the house, which was recently renovated and restored according to historical models by its owner, who is sensitive to the history of architecture, have no preferential rights. The view doesn’t just cost a little, but so much that only a very select few can afford to sit here elevated on the banks of the Rhine in Großbasel. A flock of kings. Or those who consider themselves kings today. Like the young capital macho over there. Now he’s on his feet, pushing the water cooler out of the way with his glittery sneakers. His companion jumps up and follows him eagerly. They’ll probably spend the night in a luxury suite with a rooftop terrace and jacuzzi. And overhead, the city flag is rattling in the wind. It proudly wears the black curved shepherd’s staff of the bishops as a coat of arms – they were once the venerable rulers in this city. Today it is the pharmaceutical heirs. They walk up the same six-inch stairs sloping forward toward the Rhine, sleep with their heads against the same hand-painted wallpaper walls. The Königs-Haus can do nothing for its guests. Never could.