Germany's CUTEST Houseboat Getaway: Liliput Awaits!
Liliput Awaits! Houseboat Heaven: A Review That's Honestly Adorable (and Sometimes a Mess)
Okay, folks, buckle up. Because I just got back from a houseboat getaway in Germany called "Liliput Awaits!" and, well, let's just say it was an experience. Forget pristine travel brochures, this is going to be a brutally honest, occasionally rambling, and probably overly enthusiastic account of my time afloat. And yes, there might be a few typos. Deal with it.
First Impressions: So Tiny, So Charming (and Slightly Unstable)
Let's be real, "Liliput" isn't just a name. This is a tiny houseboat. Like, "cozy" takes on a whole new meaning. Getting there was a breeze – the car park [free of charge] was a lifesaver, and the airport transfer (though I didn't need it) is a convenient plus. I'm not sure about the valet parking – seems a little… much for a houseboat? But hey, options!
The immediate impression was… adorable. Seriously. Like, Disney princess level adorable. Imagine a miniature, perfectly crafted floating cottage. But, a little bit of a wobble when you stepped inside… But also absolutely charming! I wasn't sure If I'd actually survive a week on a boat with just the essentials!
Accessibility: A Mixed Bag (But They're Trying!)
Now, this is important. Liliput isn't exactly designed for wheelchair access. This place isn't very wheelchair accessible. The walkways are narrow, and I didn't see any ramps. The boat's a tight space. But, I did see some facilities for disabled guests listed, though haven't seen any of the options. Hopefully, someday!
Cleanliness and Safety: Sanitized and Sorted!
Okay, this is where Liliput shines. In the era of the dreaded… you know…they are on it! The Anti-viral cleaning products were evident. The staff was incredibly diligent about daily disinfection in common areas, and I saw Staff trained in safety protocol on every turn. They even had Hand sanitizer dispensers everywhere! They provided Individually-wrapped food options. I felt secure.
And the Room sanitization opt-out available is a fantastic touch. I didn't need it, because the boat was spotless.
Rooms: Tiny But Tempting Treasures
The rooms were… intimate. The Free Wi-Fi in all rooms! was a lifesaver. Absolutely essential. And the Internet access – wireless saved me! Not sure about the Internet [LAN], I didn't even look (who uses LAN in this day and age?).
I was lucky enough to have a room, with a beautiful view from the window that opens. There were Blackout curtains (essential for the light German mornings), the Air conditioning (thank goodness!). Coffee/tea maker a Coffee/tea maker and Free bottled water, plus bathrobes and slippers were a nice touch.
The only downside? You need to move everything to get across the room. But I was able to use the on-demand movies and the satellite/cable channels. And the wake-up service was perfect. Also, The desk and Laptop workspace was a great touch for the mornings!
Dining, Drinking, and Snacking: A Culinary Adventure (Mostly)
The Breakfast [buffet] was pretty good, I'm happy. It's not a Michelin star experience, but enough Coffee/tea in restaurant and Buffet in restaurant to get the day going. They also have a Breakfast takeaway service, which is handy for lazier mornings. The salad in restaurant was a welcome touch, but I was sad to not be able to grab a desserts in restaurant.
There is a Bar, and a Poolside bar at the other side of the lake.
Things to Do & Ways to Relax: Ahoy, Relaxation!
This is where Liliput really sells its charm. If you like spas, you're in luck: there's a Spa, and a Spa/sauna, plus a Sauna, and a Steamroom. The option that made my day, a Pool with view, was the thing you needed to kickstart your relaxation.
Services and Conveniences: The Little Things Matter
The concierge was friendly and helpful. The Daily housekeeping was efficient. And the Laundry service came in handy. They even have Contactless check-in/out. This is great.
For the Kids: Fun for the Whole Family (If You Have Littles!)
Liliput is definitely Family/child friendly, with babysitting service if needed.
The Little Imperfections That Make it Real
Okay, so there were a few minor downsides. The shower pressure was a little weak. The walls were a bit thin - I could hear the neighbors' boat, but I was always too tired and out of it to even care. But then again, that's part of the charm, right? It makes it feel less like a sterile hotel and more like a quirky, lived-in home.
The Verdict: Book It (But Be Prepared for Cuteness Overload!)
Liliput Awaits! Houseboat Getaway isn't about glitz and glamour. It's about charm, adventure, and a truly unique travel experience. Yes, it's small. Yes, sometimes things go a little wrong. But that's part of what makes it so memorable. This is perfect for all of you couples looking for that time off!
My Offer (Because I Want You to Go!)
Book your Liliput Awaits! Houseboat Getaway now, and receive:
- 10% off your stay: Use code "FLOATAWAY" at checkout.
- A complimentary bottle of local German wine: Because, reasons.
- Free access to the sauna for the whole duration of your stay.
Don't wait! This is your chance to experience a truly unforgettable houseboat adventure. Book your stay at Liliput Awaits! today! You won't regret it.
(And if you see me there, buy me a drink. I'll be the one with the permanently disheveled hair and a giant grin.)
Escape to Paradise: Your Own Private Garden in Charming Bergk, Germany
Alright, buckle up buttercups, because this ain't your grandma's perfectly curated travel brochure. This is my attempt to wrangle a holiday at Houseboat Liliput in Stralsund, Germany, and trust me, it's going to be less "smooth sailing" and more "slightly tipsy swan dive into a fjord of existential questioning."
Houseboat Liliput: Conquering the Baltic (Maybe)
Day 1: Arrival and the Great Fridge Panic
- 14:00 (ish): Arrive in Stralsund. Airport? Don't be silly. We drove. Road trip, baby! Which, as per usual, involved me screaming directions over the blaring radio at my long-suffering partner. He just gives me that look. You know the one. The "I'm-wondering-how-I-ended-up-with-you" look. Ah, romance.
- 14:30: Found Houseboat Liliput. It's… compact. Think "floating shoebox, but charming." The pictures online definitely stretched the truth a bit. "Cozy" is the operative word here. "Cramped" might also apply, but let's stick with cozy for now.
- 15:00: The Fridge Panic. The fridge. The Fridge! Turns out, the fridge is smaller than my lunchbox. A tactical disaster. How are we going to fit enough beer and cheese for a week of existential dread on water? My internal monologue screams.
- 16:00: Unpack. Or, attempt to unpack. Mostly shoving things into various nooks and crannies. Discover a hidden compartment! Probably housing the secret to eternal youth, but more likely, the previous tenants' leftover stale biscuits. I briefly consider eating them.
- 17:00: First beer on the deck. Finally, a moment of peace. The Baltic wind whispers soothing nothings. Until a seagull dive-bombs our picnic. DAMN YOU, you feathered fiend!
- 19:00: Dinner. Making a valiant effort. Managed to grill some questionable sausages on the tiny, tiny barbecue. Ate them anyway. Hunger is a powerful motivator.
- 20:00: Sunset. Gorgeous. Everything looks better with a sunset, even questionable sausages and questionable life choices.
Day 2: Stralsund's Siren Song and the Great Cycle Fail
- 09:00: Breakfast. Attempt to make coffee. Fail. The tiny kitchen is a battlefield, and I'm losing. Resort to instant. "Good morning, world!" (Translation: "I need caffeine, and I need it now.")
- 10:00: Stralsund exploration. Walk the cobbled streets. Gawk at the Norddeutsche Landesbank (that's a bank, in case you were wondering). I am in love with how history just oozes from these buildings!
- 11:00: A bit of a wander through the Ozeaneum. OMG, the penguins! They are utterly ridiculous. Watching them waddle is pure therapy. I could spend an entire day just observing their clownish antics. My partner, however, wants to move along. He gets impatient, like a bored toddler.
- 13:00: Lunch at a random cafe in the Alter Markt. I order something I can't pronounce. It arrives looking like something my grandma used to make. Delicious.
- 14:00: Attempt to cycle along the harbour. Renting bikes seemed like a brilliant idea. Until I realized I haven't ridden a bike with a basket in about… twenty years? My graceful dismount into the bushes became a local legend. My rear-end is still stinging.
- 15:00: More beer. Needed. After the bike incident.
- 16:00: Nap. Exhausted from the bike thing.
- 18:00: More sausages. Different ones. Slightly less questionable.
- 19:00: Trying to figure out the damn cable tv situation. Fail. Staring at the Baltic and the stars, no TV. This is absolutely my idea of heaven.
- 20:00: Contemplate life, death, the meaning of it all, and whether I should have packed a bigger suitcase.
Day 3: Island Hopping and the Ferry's Fine Print
- 09:00: Coffee. Success! This time, the tiny kitchen and I have established a tenuous ceasefire.
- 10:00: Ferry to Hiddensee! This is what we're here for. The whole reason for the Stralsund trip!
- 11:00: Hiddensee: A car-free paradise. Bliss! Rent bikes (Again. I'm getting back on that horse… metaphorically speaking). And immediately get a flat tire. Seriously? Today?
- 12:00: Find a tiny bike shop, staffed by a grumpy old gentleman who speaks barely any English. He fixes the tire. I pay him in gratitude and bad German.
- 13:00: Cycle through the wildflowers and dunes. The air smells of salt and freedom. It's the best day of the trip so far.
- 14:00: Lunch. Sandwiches on the beach. Feeling smug. Feeling like I've become one with nature.
- 15:00: The ferry schedule. Oh God, the ferry schedule. We slightly miscalculated our time. Turns out "last ferry" means "you sleep on the island." This is a nightmare of my own making.
- 16:00: Stress eating. More chocolate.
- 17:00: Miraculously, they squeeze us onto the very last ferry. Barely. My pulse returns to normal.
- 18:00: Back on the houseboat. Collapse onto the deck. Sunburn. Exhaustion. Elation.
- 19:00: More grill attempts. I have reached sausage mastery.
- 20:00: More staring at the stars. Maybe this trip isn't a total catastrophe, I thought to myself. It has potential.
Day 4: Maritime Museum and the Great Souvenir Hunt
- 09:30: Coffee. Slight improvement in the coffee game. Maybe?
- 10:00: Maritime Museum. Impressive, but I'm still recovering from the ferry panic. I spend a lot of time imagining what it would have been like to live on a boat (not this boat).
- 12:00: Searching for souvenirs. This is more stressful than the ferry schedule. My family back home expects a trinket. Everything looks either naff or ridiculously expensive.
- 13:00: Lunch. Order too much food. Regret.
- 14:00: More walking, just taking it all in.
- 15:00: A random bookstore. I find a book about the history of the Baltic sea. Buy it.
- 16:00: Afternoon naps, the best time of the day.
- 17:00: The end of my sausage mastery. I burn them.
- 18:00: Contemplate dinner options.
- 19:00: Pizza. Deliveries can happen even on a boat.
- 20:00: I read a book. It's a novel, full of adventure.
Day 5: The Day of Reckoning and Departure
- 09:00: Pack. Cleaning is a must. After a week of me and my partner, let's just say the Liliput, or shall we say, the mess, needs some work.
- 10:00: Final attempt to declutter the fridge. This is harder than it sounds. I feel like I have spent the entire holiday just eating.
- 11:00: One last beer on the deck. A fond farewell.
- 12:00: Leaving Houseboat Liliput. Mixed feelings. I'll miss the tiny fridge and the questionable sausages.
- 13:00: Drive. Road trip part two.
- 16:00: Home. I unpack. I dream of bigger fridges, and a vacation where someone else does the cooking.
Final Thoughts:
Houseboat Liliput. It's not perfect, but it's real. It’s a reminder that travel isn't always flawless, and that's okay. Maybe even… good? I’d go back. But next time, I’m bringing a bigger fridge. And maybe a personal chef.
Escape to Paradise: Your Dream Villa Awaits in Courcon, France!
So, is Liliput actually, like, *cute* cute? Or brochure-cute?
Honestly? Both. Seriously. It's tiny. Like, "can't swing a cat" tiny. But also, it's *packed* with charm. The little wood stove is adorable, the porthole windows are dreamy… until you realize you're staring directly at your neighbor's slightly judgmental cat. It's the kind of cute that makes you want to Instagram it immediately, then simultaneously contemplate the sheer absurdity of your life choices.
Seriously, how small are we talking? I'm claustrophobic.
Okay, let's be brutally honest. If you panic at the thought of an elevator, Liliput might give you the heebie-jeebies. The "bedroom" is more of a very cozy alcove. You can stretch out, but you probably won't be able to do a full cartwheel. And the bathroom? Let's just say the toilet is a *very* close friend. My partner is six foot tall and was basically folded into a pretzel every night. The first night he bumped his head getting into bed, and swore he’d rather sleep on the deck. I actually *liked* the coziness, but I can see how it would be a deal-breaker for some.
What's the deal with the wood stove? Do I really have to be a lumberjack now?
Haha, yes. Kinda. Okay, the wood stove is AMAZING. Seriously, there's something magical about a crackling fire on a chilly evening. But… you *do* have to chop/buy the wood, and you do have to actually *build* the fire. I’m not much of a fire-starter and spent half an hour faffing about with kindling and matches, and almost set off the smoke alarm. Turns out, there's a *technique*. Don't be like me. Ask for the fire-starting tutorial. Seriously. Learn from my mistakes. The second night I got it down, though! And the feeling of smug warmth was incredible. (Until I realized I forgot to buy marshmallows.)
Is it *romantic*? Like, proper date-night romantic?
It *can* be. The sunsets are beautiful, and the gentle rocking of the boat is definitely conducive to cuddling. But… it also depends on your definition of romance. My partner and I had a moment where we were both crammed into the tiny kitchen, trying to cook dinner, and accidentally burned the sausages. Then immediately started arguing about who was at fault. So… yeah, romantic. In a slightly-less-glamorous-than-expected kind of way. But the next night we managed to make a lovely meal and opened a nice bottle of wine. The potential is definitely there; it just requires a little effort (and perhaps a backup plan for dinner). Bring candles. Trust me.
Are there any hidden costs? I'm on a budget.
Yep. There's the wood for the fire (which, by the way, you'll need a *lot* of if you want to survive the night), the mandatory cleaning fee, and potentially the cost of driving to the nearest grocery store. Plus, you'll probably want to buy champagne, right? So budget accordingly. And remember, the adorable shops in the nearby village are *very* tempting…
