The Farang, the Gora and the Gwai Lo: A Hotelier'S Journey Around the World

by Tamir Kobrin

Overview

In today's world, where cultures and people get the opportunity to interact through the globalization of expatriate work, the author captures not only the unique senses and feeling of each destination that he experienced but also provides an in-depth insight into the nuances that enable an expatriate to manage effectively in a foreign country. The unique element of the luxury hotel business adds a sense of drama and excitement to what it takes to be a hotel general manager, a successful one, from the author's vast experience, suggestions, and viewpoints into effective leadership and successful integration in a new location.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781504929066
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	08/13/2015
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	152
File size:	2 MB

About the Author

Tamir Kobrin, an internationally well-travelled hotelier, having lived and worked in over twelve countries, five continents, shares his experiences of living and working in foreign countries as an expat, managing people of diverse cultural backgrounds. Tamir shares his experiences of leadership, managing a luxury hotel, the sights and sounds of the destination, cuisine, experiences that depict a sense of place, time and unique to enable the reader the insight into what it takes to travel and work in foreign destinations.

Read an Excerpt

The Farang, the Gora and the Gwai Lo

A Hotelier's Journey Around the World

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By Tamir Kobrin

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2015 Tamir Kobrin
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5049-2907-3

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CHAPTER 1

Il Directore

IT IS ALL A BIT faded now, but something resonated in me during my earlier years in Europe, completing my high school studies, traveling with the family, staying in hotels, having experiences, and sampling the cuisine. The grandeur of it all and my fascination with history and culture stuck. When you travel around Europe, the grand hotel in each city is like a statement, a place to see and be seen, and a place where stories are told and novels are written.

I remember making a point of walking into a hotel's lobby, a luxury oasis, and finding a quiet corner to observe, stare, and see the theater that transpired. It was all mesmerizing — the refined concierges with their golden keys (clefs d'or) on their lapels, the music, the sound of the luggage carts, the bellman with the signboard, and the bell paging a guest. The people were all dressed up, ready for an evening out, coming for a meal, or waiting to meet friends. A hotel is a series of experiences that all somehow correspond to a well-orchestrated, well-rehearsed movie set. You know someone is watching over to ensure that it all somehow works.

There he was, coming down the grand staircase: the hotel's general manager. You could not miss him; immaculately dressed in hissuit and tie, pocket square, and shined shoes, he was tall and straight of posture. You immediately knew he was the man in charge. He had an elegance about him in the way he glided through the lobby down from the staircase. In my peripheral vision, I could see the eyes looking around, noticing the flowers, the light bulbs, the carpet, and the uniforms on the staff in the lobby. The music level had to be just right, with the clocks behind the reception desk showing the correct time, the driveway free and clear of cars, the luggage tucked out of sight and neatly organized on a trolley away from the viewpoint of the guests, and the reception desk clean and clear, without any clutter. It all had to be perfect, as it all was a reflection of him, the man in charge, the hotel's general manager.

After a quick glance at one of the staff members, a shirt collar was fixed; he did not miss a thing. The staff stood erect, knowing that he was there, observing, looking, and noticing all the fine details. In walked Mr. X. The manager reached his hand with confidence and greeted him warmly, welcoming him back to the hotel. After a small conversation, he politely and elegantly whisked himself away toward the doorway because Mrs. Y had just stepped out of the house car. He was there to greet her and escort her right up to her suite, avoiding the front desk and the formalities. They disappeared into the elevator, which was already held and kept exclusively so there were no delays — straight-up elegance and discretion.

This was the drama, the involvement, and the theater that transpires in a hotel's lobby.

I was there, in the far corner of the lobby, with my pinstripe jacket and open-collar blue shirt, brown shoes, and pocket square — always in color — enjoying the sights and seeing him, the general manager, in action. Oh, was I inspired! That was what started it all. I vividly remember thinking to myself, I can do this. I can be like that. I can be charming, warm, charismatic, and multilingual (which I already was at the time). I can pull it off.

So I went off to study the business — where else but in the Swiss Alps. The best thing about the Swiss hotel-management program was the interchange between the six months one spent on campus and the six months one had to go out and work as a trainee. This was by far the most hands-on opportunity to determine early on if you were cut out for this grueling profession or not. Those six months on the job, whether as a waiter, receptionist, housekeeper, or accountant, built you and gave you a little insight, although maybe not the most realistic kind. As a trainee, you always had to pick up the dirty work and the slack of the operation, but it was a taste of what was to come: the pressure, the expectation, the long hours, the holidays, late nights, early mornings, and the vacation time that you were working while others were relaxing. It all came down to making that sacrifice to see the hotel operation from the ground up — the theater that happened behind the scenes.

I was lucky. During my three years at the hotel-management school, I had the opportunity to work in some of the finest hotels alongside senior hoteliers, seeing and experiencing the essence of it all. It was a tough experience at times; not all was rosy behind the scenes at the grandest, oldest establishments in Europe.

But I went back to that theater, that hotel lobby, this time not looking from the far corner as I used to, not sneaking in and enjoying the oasis of that grand hotel. This time I was in a pressed uniform, my hair all slicked back, at the riverside fine-dining restaurant of that hotel. Wow, here I am! I made it! I was getting a taste of it all and being part of the set, and the stage was ready for me to perform.

There he was, on my first day as a trainee: the hotel's general manager. Up close, he was so much more intimidating and serious; he had a look in his eyes that said, "I mean business." You were not always sure if you could approach him, but he always made himself available to ask a question. Maybe he would ask me to arrange something that was out of place or bring something needed to a guest. I could catch his attention just that once in the day — a spotlight on me, the aspiring young hotelier. I wanted to be like him, yes I did, with the guests and the staff all looking for my attention, a moment from me, Mr. General Manager.

One thing you learn very early on in the grand hotels of Europe is that you are most likely going to be surrounded by fellow staff members who are not from the place where you are working. Seasonal staff comes from all over, from Italy, Portugal, Spain, and Greece. For the majority of them, being a waiter was a lifelong career. They did this for a living. They had no desire to be the general manager. They came, did their work, and went home. But for me, all I wanted to be was the general manager. That immediately made our circumstances very different. I aspired early on to learn many facets of the work area and responsibility, rather than concentrating on the duty I had for that day. I wanted to see and learn the big picture. How did it all come together? My coworkers knew that I would be the general manager. My nickname early on was Il Directore. My Italian maître d' from Napoli thought it appropriate to constantly call me Il Directore, as he felt inspired by me — young me, his busser. Go figure!

I guess this was a good indication that my blessing and gift was the people around me whom I was able to connect with. It was a gift that propelled me to make friends as soon as I could and be recognized by my coworkers. But it also brought with it the watchful eyes of managers who did not see the need or importance of encouragement and a working environment of contentment and team workmanship. One learns early on that the hotel industry is littered with professionals whose philosophy is the complete opposite of mine. Theirs is one of power-hunger, resentment, and discontentment with a happy working environment. They foster a need for constant tension and fear created by them to ensure that they are recognized as being in charge. This old-world philosophy of management has already been tested and tried, written about, and studied in the finest management institutions of the world. Alas, it is still a common practice in the hotel-service environment, where the daily tension of excellence and achievement is ruled by the power of an individual's quest to succeed. This sometimes transpires with complete disregard for the people who make it all happen: the theater-makers, the service providers, and the seasonal workers who make it their lifelong career to serve. They do not aspire to be Mr. General Manager, so just a pat on the back to say "Excellent work today. Thank you!" is all it takes.

So simple, right? Well, not as simple as it may seem.

My days as Il Directore at my first job at that grand hotel made me think, Wow, you have so much you can give and do for people when you become the general manager — whom I did not get the chance to see very often during my time there. You can do so much more, I thought. The gift of leadership is that it gives you, in the palm of your hand, the power to create excellence through people by nurturing and developing them so they make you, the performance, and the environment of the workplace better. It is a power the general manager has when he is walking around, shaking hands, and knowing the staff by name. It's a simple smile of acknowledgment to a staff member when crossing the back corridors that says, "Yes, you exist." You can make their day by just a simple gesture; as natural as it may seem, it is not so common or evident in our industry. We still have a long way to go to ensure that leaders are natural, compassionate, and caring. I knew I had the gift and that I must use it well to advance my career.

Those days as a trainee came to an end after my years studying in the Alps, and here I was, ready to embark on a long career of hospitality. I still remember those general managers in the grand hotels, so different from one another. Each had a magic that inspired me to continue my studies and long for this career ahead. They were not perfect, those general managers, but they each had a something — a something that made them shine in those lobbies in those grand hotels, with their grace, demeanor, and eloquence with which they did their jobs, ran those grand hotels, and greeted those guests. I wanted to be them.

Those years in Europe were the years that made me foster my foundation — the foundation of the attention to details, such as the importance of history as an integral part of a hotel's past and preserving that story, the reason guests come, the reason past guests stayed there, the location of those grand hotels, their pivotal role in the city they represent, and the theater of experiences that a select few can afford to experience. Europe and, in particular, Switzerland and Italy, would long remain the bastion of grace and hospitality, although, later in the years, I would see and learn that the excellence I so admired and learned was a fraction of the luxury in Asia and the cultural component of what their hotels can do and create. It is something I find still has so much room for improvement in the European hotels, especially the family-run establishments that are the keepers of an industry and are being eaten up by big companies and banks that only care about the bottom line of their portfolio.

I found my Italian sojourn to be especially enlightening; the grand hotels' grace and hospitality is tailored with a language and culture that is so passionate. Food, clothing, and the senses have the ability to create that theater in a hotel that develops into an incredible experience. Italy for me was an experience — not only of the hotel I was part of, but the whole city of Rome, with its bustling streets, the small alimentari with the jars of sundried tomatoes, the prosciutto di parma, olives, and olio d'oliva, the smells, and the ristretto that Italians would drink every hour, if only they could. There was the Piazza, the center of it all, and walking from the Via del Corso to work every morning. There was the scene of men in linen suit on Vespas going to work, dressed like that general manager.

Standing on the terrace of my tiny apartment overlooking Piazza del Popolo, the sounds of the bells and the smell of the garlic coming from the neighbors was the beginning of me understanding and experiencing that the profession is not only about the hotels we manage, but also in the location we live in. By embracing it, experiencing it, and living it, we have an opportunity to engage culture and the experience of the locals into the way we do business in our hotel — a bastion of experiences that foreign guests come to appreciate, embrace, and enjoy. What a responsibility this was suddenly, ensuring my guests at the hotel would leave experiencing what I, living here, was experiencing — even just a glimpse, a tiny fraction of the daily sounds and sights that I experienced. I would give them something that they could remember and long to come back for. For me, it was all about the service and the culinary experience. These are two experiences that are integral to the hotel stay and which we, as hoteliers, have the ability to impact directly and make a lasting impression with.

Daily, at midday, I would cross those old streets in Rome with the old stones. In my pinstriped Italian suit, Italian-cut white shirt, Hermes tie, and brown, shiny shoes, just like that general manager, yes. And don't forget the colorful pocket square and slicked-back hair. I would enter my own bastion of experiences at that restaurant on the Piazza, where the mama still greeted the guests by name; her son would whisk you to your table across that room, with the ladies who lunch and the businessmen on their power lunch and the tourists in their linen clothes and Panama hats, accompanied by the smell of the cigar-smoking gentleman in his Brioni suite, sitting on the restaurant's terrace, overlooking the Piazza.

They called me Il Directore, even though I was not yet the general manager of that hotel across the Piazza. There it was again, that expression of respect and admiration for our profession. That's the responsibility we have; that's the way we are looked upon. In our profession, that is how large that responsibility is. It is the allure of what we do — the excitement of whom we meet and who is staying at out hotel that creates this passion in the mind of those who meet us and know us. They grasp for a bit of knowledge and information; maybe today will be the day I would divulge who that guest was who is staying in that Presidential Suite that was booked for two weeks. I sometimes wondered how they knew all that information. But it is those grand hotels, those bastions of experiences that create that curiosity and excitement to know.

Daily I would have my regular taste of prosciutto San Danielle, thinly sliced on the plate with the freshest ball of mozzarella Di Bufala and aged balsamico Di Modena, followed by homemade pappardelle ragu. Don't forget a glass of Barolo and as Italians know how to do so well, ristretto to finish. Some days I would indulge in sorbet, which was always served in the shell of the fruit, ice frozen. But this was all secondary to the experience of being greeted at the door by Mama and whisked to the table — my table — by her son. Sitting there, I was barraged by the waiters and the maitre'd, all wanting to make sure that they caught my eye, to come and shake my hand and welcome me, Il Directore.

On occasions, when I would leave, Mama would tell me in Italian, "They are watching you — look at the diners at the dining room we're wandering. Who is this young man, to whom staff in that restaurant are all saying hello and greeting? You will be a fine general manager of a fine hotel one day."

I enjoyed walking the streets of Rome in my pinstriped suite, brown shoes, and that colorful pocket square. Romans have this elegance about them, even when going to buy food at the alimentari. In a jacket with a scarf around their neck, they exude class and the passion for living the life, La Dolce Vita.

It was late afternoon at that hotel, and the general manager came by, handed me a helmet, and said, "We are going for dinner." I remember the shocked look on my face — me, on a Vespa, going for dinner. I had never been on a Vespa before, let alone with my general manager. There we were, in our Italian suits, elegant and debonair, whisking through the narrow streets of the city, riding to one of those grand hotels. I remember the tense feeling, seeing that Vespa squeezing between the cars, our jackets flowing in the wind; there we were, hoteliers in Rome, going for dinner on a Vespa. Once there, he smiled at me — he, the general manager — telling me, "Now you are Roman."

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from The Farang, the Gora and the Gwai Lo by Tamir Kobrin. Copyright © 2015 Tamir Kobrin. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Aknowledgements, ix,
Prologue, xi,
Chapter 1 Il Directore, 1,
Chapter 2 Frankincense and Myrrh, 9,
Chapter 3 Coconuts and Seagulls, 20,
Chapter 4 Ceiling Fans and Bicycles, 31,
Chapter 5 Dim Sum Trolleys and Shanghai Tang, 43,
Chapter 6 Land of Smiles and Frangipani, 53,
Chapter 7 From Minarets and Souks to the Land of the Maharajas, 72,
Chapter 8 Rolling out the Red Carpet, Chopin, and a Rolls Royce, 109,
Epilogue, 135,