The Hotel
With just fifteen rooms for its 600 acre estate, Ballyfin is becoming famous as a unique hotel offering unparalleled privacy, discretion and luxury. It affords guests the opportunity to admire, and enjoy, the union of art, architecture, interior and landscape design which coalesces in the Irish country house. The kitchen is run by Fred Cordonnier, formerly head chef at Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud, Dublin.
The whole house is available for single bookings. Demesne facilities offered include biking, boating and canoeing on the lake, coarse fishing, tennis, croquet, lawnbowls, hurling, Gaelic football, American football, badminton, picnics, horticultural demonstrations. Archery, clay-pigeon shooting, falconry and horse-riding can also be arranged. House activities include a swimming pool, gym with services of a personal trainer, treatment rooms offering the Voya organic seaweed range, wine tasting, whiskey tasting, cookery demonstrations, history tour, traditional & classical music, Irish folklore story-telling.
The grounds which had for several generations previously been open for use by locals for walking, fishing and other recreational activities when the house was run as a school have been closed however and the lands are now available for the high paying hotel guests only. The gates are permanently locked banning local access.
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Famous quotes containing the word hotel:
“The talk shows are stuffed full of sufferers who have regained their health—congressmen who suffered through a serious spell of boozing and skirt-chasing, White House aides who were stricken cruelly with overweening ambition, movie stars and baseball players who came down with acute cases of wanting to trash hotel rooms while under the influence of recreational drugs. Most of them have found God, or at least a publisher.”
—Calvin Trillin (b. 1935)
“...what a thing it is to lie there all day in the fine breeze, with the pine needles dropping on one, only to return to the hotel at night so hungry that the dinner, however homely, is a fete, and the menu finer reading than the best poetry in the world! Yet we are to leave all this for the glare and blaze of Nice and Monte Carlo; which is proof enough that one cannot become really acclimated to happiness.”
—Willa Cather (1876–1947)