For most people, to sell up in Britain and invest their life savings in
converting a derelict Slovak chateau into an exclusive boutique hotel would
be challenge enough. To do so while having your every move filmed for a
reality television show keen to depict your dream business as a real-life
eastern European version of Fawlty Towers might seem the height of folly.
Yet, just two years after first setting eyes on Kastiel Salgovce, an
18th-century wreck, David and Ann Darrell are already welcoming their first
paying guests. The only catch? The project has cost them nearly £1m and more
hassle and discomfort than they could have imagined when they first came up
with the idea back in Essex.
It all began with a vague desire to escape the stresses of life in Britain.
David, now 40, an accountant, and Ann, 56, who had a web-based graphic
design company, both sold their businesses and were ready for a new start
abroad: the only question was where — and what would they do to earn a
living once they got there. So they set off by car on a tour of Europe from
Spain in the west to the Balkans in the east.
Nowhere seemed quite right, however: France was too dull, Spain too full of
other Brits — and Bulgaria “not quite civilised enough”. After several
months’ search, they were ready to give up when they pitched up at a
family-run pension in the Austrian Alps. Inspired by their hosts’ quality of
life, the Darrells decided to try their hand at managing a hotel of their
own — even though their only experience of the high-end hospitality business
was as customers.
The pension’s owner suggested looking across the border in Slovakia, a
little-visited former communist country they had not even bothered to
include in their grand tour. “At first, I thought he meant Slovenia,” says
Ann. “But then he convinced us he meant Slovakia. We were immediately
impressed.”
Back in London, with the money from selling their businesses and another
£600,000 from the sale of their six-bed home in Epping, they began combing
the internet in search of a suitable property to buy and do up.
About the same time, Ann came across a small ad placed by a television
production company, Tiger Aspect, in The Sunday Times looking for people
planning to move abroad. Spotting the publicity potential, Ann put
themselves forward. It may have been the ambitious nature of their project,
or the often stormy nature of three-times-married Ann’s relationship with
her much younger husband that made them such an appealing choice.
“David said he couldn’t imagine what kind of sad bastard would reply to an
advert like that,” says Ann. He soon found out when his wife invited him for
lunch — and they were joined by people from Tiger Aspect.
With the camera crew in tow, the couple set off in search of their dream
wreck. Many villages in what was once the heart of the Austro-Hungarian
empire still have a kastiel, a catch-all term that covers everything
from a modest hunting lodge to a full-blown chateau. Most were seized by the
state after the communists took control of the then Czechoslovakia in 1948,
and although returned to their former inhabitants following the fall of the
Berlin Wall in 1989, in many cases it has been a long and complicated
business.
The problem is often not finding such a property, but working out who owns it
— and persuading them to sell. After a long search, the couple finally
located the ideal kastiel — only to be told at the last minute it was
not for sale after all. Heartbroken, they were on the verge of returning to
Britain, when a Slovak builder told them of another one in his home town of
Salgovce, 45 minutes’ drive northeast of Bratislava, the capital.
The Darrells were struck by the potential and — £77,000 later — were the proud
owners of an estate comprising not just a fine old house dating back to
1767, complete with its own chapel, but also a variety of outbuildings
including a post office, village shop and local cinema. There were 40 acres
of land, too — 15 of which formed a vineyard.
That, in retrospect, was the easy part. Badly treated during the communist
years, the building decayed further after it was returned to the
Reichstedler family, its former owners, in 1993, immediately becoming the
centre of a seven-year legal battle with the villagers.
There followed a series of bureaucratic nightmares that were a gift for the
television crew but a disaster for Ann and David — and a salutary reminder
of the perils of attempting a renovation in the former communist world,
especially of a building that enjoys the equivalent of Grade I listing.
Representatives of the Slovakian culture ministry made frequent visits to
ensure they were not altering the external appearance of the kastiel,
even dictating the colour of the paint they should use. Simple things, like
upgrading the utilities, were a nightmare. “For one kind of permission, we
had to go to five different offices, none of which knew why the other four
had to be consulted,” says David. “It took about two years to get the
electricity up and running completely.”
The renovation costs, originally estimated by the couple at £300,000, more
than doubled after they sacked one builder and brought in another in the
middle of the process — taking the couple to the verge of bankruptcy. David
must have seen it coming: his accountancy practice specialised in
insolvency.
Just as much of a challenge was Ann’s determination to decorate the kastiel
in a flamboyant style one might charitably call Essex baroque. Although they
tried to source as many fixtures and fittings as possible locally, they had
to go to Ven-ice for the chandeliers and France and Spain for some of the
furniture — all of which added to the costs. “We chose to reduce the number
of rooms to make them bigger,” says Ann. “We don’t want people to come and
do the French thing and be stuck in a tiny room.”
Learning to run a hotel has proved a steep learning curve for the couple —
even if the reality has not been quite the Fawlty Towers-esque experience
portrayed in Chaos at the Chateau, a seven-part Channel 4 programme about
their experiences that begins on Thursday.
There have been moments, however, when David has found himself playing a
real-life Basil Fawlty — such as the occasion when they got wind of an
impending visit by a hotel inspector before they had official permission to
open. His solution? He took guests on a day-long tour of the vineyard and
hid their clothes in a trunk. Some of the misunderstanding between David and
Marek, the head waiter, meanwhile, are reminiscent of encounters between
Basil and Manuel, the Spanish waiter.
The couple originally set out to renovate three properties, but have scaled
down their plans. After completing the top floor, which will give them an
extra six bedroom suites, in addition to the five existing ones, they plan
to turn the former cinema into a conference hall. There will be more
accommodation in the grounds, which they intend to sell off-plan to British
and other foreign investors as holiday homes.
There is also work to be done on the vineyard. “It’s terrible stuff at the
moment,” says Ann. “They press the grapes and within six weeks they drink
it. It takes the skin off your throat.”
So would they do it all again? Yes, but differently, says Ann. “We would keep
our finger on the pulse a bit more and have more control with the project
management.” So, no regrets, especially about all the money they spent?
“Absolutely not, it will come back,” she pauses. “Well, it bloody better.”
Chaos at the Chateau begins on Channel 4 on Thursday at 8pm - watch
a preview by clicking here
