Where does this monologue take place?

Yes, I agree. Lovely breakfast. Very nice. Excellent coffee, especially, don’t you think? Anyway, as I was telling you, it happens to me every time I go to a new place: I always end up paying twice or three times as much as I should for the first ride. But last night was the worst ever. The train got in at about eleven, so I felt lucky to get one--though it looked a bit old and battered. But he was so polite--and you don’t get much of that these days. "Let me take your bags," he says. "It’s a hot, sticky night," he says, "but don’t worry, madam, it’s air-conditioned, "--and it was, surprisingly--"just relax and I’ll get you there in no time." So we went for miles down this road and that road and he pointed out all sorts of buildings and other sights that he said I’d appreciate when I could see them properly in the morning. And he told me that though this was one of the few cities in the world where a woman could go at that time of night on her own and nothing to fear, even so, it was a good thing I’d taken a registered vehicle, be cause you never knew, did you? Though I couldn’t see any special registration number of any thing, and I didn’t think to make a note of his license plate--and it wouldn’t have made any difference, I don’t suppose. So here I am. And as you can see, if you lookout of the Window, that’s the station! Just across the road! Anyway. Well, it’s a lovely hotel, isn’t it? Are you on holiday, too?