"Staying at Hotel Indigo Sant’Elena over the Christmas holiday has been, from start to finish, a slow-moving disaster that somehow kept finding new and creative ways to get worse.
We travel often and internationally and are fully aware that service styles differ across countries. We were not expecting to be wined, dined, or treated like royalty. What we were expecting was basic acknowledgment and a functional understanding of hospitality. That expectation, it turns out, was wildly optimistic.
The tone was set the moment we walked through the door. No greeting. No “hello.” No “welcome.” Just a blank stare. I actually had to ask whether the desk was for the restaurant or hotel check-in. The response was simply: “Yeah.” No clarification. No eye contact. No effort.
Check-in itself did not improve. Our passports wouldn’t scan properly, which was somehow framed as a personal failing on our part. Even though my IHG membership was recognized and a welcome amenity was offered, the overall sentiment was unmistakable: you’re here now — good luck with that. Cold. Dismissive. And a perfect preview of what was to come.
That evening, we made the mistake of dining at the hotel’s restaurant, Savor Restaurant & Bar, which immediately set the tone for what would become a masterclass in dysfunction. The bartender was unhelpful and bordering on rude, despite the bar being completely empty. The main server appeared physically present but otherwise incapable of greeting anyone, explaining the menu, or answering basic questions. He simply stood at our table. Sensing what we were in for, we ordered drinks and all of our food at once.
Two other tables were seated after us. Both received their drinks a full ten minutes before we did. Our bread arrived — still no drinks. When I finally asked for them again, the reaction suggested I had requested classified government documents rather than beverages we had already ordered.
When the food finally arrived, it somehow managed to match the service — disappointing, tepid, and lifeless. The pasta was cold and gloppy. The burger was served directly on a tray lined with brown paper that stubbornly stuck to the bun and toppings, so I got the unexpected pleasure of ingesting paper along with an already mediocre burger — which was such a joy! It was as though they took everything that could go wrong and thoughtfully put it on one plate for our amusement.
At that point, I didn’t bother complaining. The chaos unfolding around us was entertainment enough — not to mention, I imagine it would not have phased any of the lackluster personnel existing in that space. The bartender forced guests to move from the completely empty bar area to a dining table if they wanted food — fine — except the table was barely clean, the drinks were dropped off without a word, and there were no chairs. The guests had to pull their own chairs up. Meanwhile, several long tables sat visibly dirty for an absurd amount of time, being cleaned at a pace that could only be described as sloth-like.
Staff spent far more time standing around and talking to one another — what I can only imagine was their collective disgust at being asked about food and drinks — than they did doing their actual jobs. Asking for the bill was the final hurdle. Once again, the response implied we were asking for a deeply personal favor rather than something fundamental to operating a restaurant, so that we could quite literally just get the hell out of there.
The following morning confirmed that none of this was a fluke. We ordered beverages and pastries near the end of breakfast service and once again had to ask for our drinks after waiting — despite staff standing around doing absolutely nothing. Even purchasing bottled water to take to our room required firmness, as though this was an unprecedented and frankly suspicious request. At this point, we already absolutely hated it here.
On 12/25, things escalated from passive incompetence into active hostility. We walked past the front desk and were ignored entirely. It was raining, so we returned to grab umbrellas and decided to adjust our pre-arranged hotel transfer to leave earlier. We explained to the front desk agent, Costanza (same person from check in), that the transfer had been arranged by someone at the hotel — possibly named Christina.
She scoffed and said there was no Christina.
We clarified that it was set up internally and asked if she could check the reservation for details because we couldn't quite remember the name.... Her response, delivered sharply, was simply: “ROOM?!” After providing the room number, she laughed and said, “Oh. It was CAROLINA who set it up.” and then just looked at us. Nothing more said, nope.
At that point, any reasonable person would simply move on. The name was clearly close enough to indicate this was handled internally by the hotel team, or to perhaps make her say, "maybe you mean Carolina, let me check...." - anything other than what she did. Either way, the solution was painfully simple: look at the reservation and proceed. Instead, she chose to be unkind and abrasive.
When I asked whether guests were expected to know exact staff names in order to receive assistance — and whether scoffing and laughing was appropriate — she immediately pivoted into full blame-shifting mode. According to her, we misunderstood. We were the problem. She was merely reacting. This is complete nonsense. She knew exactly what we were asking. Everything that followed was an active choice of hers to make it difficult to help us. All we wanted was a simple change to our departure time - and it would have been handled. Period.
At that point, both of us became noticeably louder — not because we were wrong, but because we were not about to be gaslit into feeling stupid over a name discrepancy. Other employees began watching. I was not backing down. When we asked for a manager, she flatly stated there was none.
After more back-and-forth — and only once it was clear the situation had escalated — a woman and a man emerged from a side area behind the desk. I asked if she was a manager. She said she was Paola, the supervisor. That was the moment I genuinely lost patience. If a guest asks for a manager and is told no, are we expected to intuitively know to ask for a supervisor instead? Is there a hierarchy flowchart we missed? If we don't ask for the proper person in charge then, we don't get helped? I guess so...
Things then took a truly bizarre turn. Costanza accused us of taking a photo of her and said we “couldn’t do that.” We did not. We took a photo of the restaurant area. And honestly — why would we want or need a photo of her?
As soon as the supervisor appeared, Costanza fled the desk, visibly upset and portraying herself as the victim. If you’ve done nothing wrong, you stay. You explain. You resolve. You don’t storm off. Instead, she went to the back courtyard and began loudly complaining and yelling about us. I could hear her clearly from the street while standing outside to cool off — because yes, I was that angry.
Paola listened, and ultimately promised to take care of our request. We do feel bad that Paola had to come into that situation and receive some admonishment, and we appreciate her follow through with the request.
The room itself is fine, which somehow makes this all more frustrating. Because with even minimally competent staff, this hotel could be decent. Instead, it feels like a place where guests are tolerated at best and resented at worst. No one here seems happy. And it shows.
I want nothing from this hotel. No points. No apology. No follow-up. I’m writing this solely to warn others: lower your expectations dramatically.
Expect to feel like every question or request is a burden.
Expect eye-rolling, scoffing, and blame-shifting.
Expect hospitality to be treated as optional and IF they want to.
Expect that you are an inconvenience that is to blame for them being unhappy.
If you go in expecting absolutely nothing, you might be pleasantly surprised.
We chose the wrong hotel for Venice and will never return.
Save yourself the frustration — stay literally anywhere else."
