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Want to feel like a second-class citizen? Look no further than The Dream section of the Mastrali Hotel. We booked our holiday via a tour operator expecting a specific standard, but on arrival, we were here as guests of Mastrali Hotel. If you want a holiday where the main ambient soundtrack is overhearing fellow travellers sharing horror stories about how badly they've been treated, you are absolutely in the right place!
Amboula Beach & The Great Fanta Marathon
The beach is a 10-15 minute walk involving a steep alpine descent and a cardiac workout back up. Amboula Beach is a narrow strip of sand crammed with rental loungers. Entering the sea requires surviving a 3-meter gauntlet of large, slippery rocks. Buy a parasol on day one and head to the far end; it’s the only part that doesn't require rock climbing to swim. (We donated ours to a family on our last day, just to prove someone here can provide good service).
The gardens and pools are well-kept and the highlight of the place, though finding a sunbed requires Olympic-level cutthroat strategy.
The real comedy is the bar setup. This hotel boasts 3 pools and 2 bars, but your all-inclusive wristband only works at one bar. If you’re at the Dream (front) pool, you must trek all the way to the Mastrali (rear) pool bar for a two-thirds-full plastic tumbler of fake Fanta Lemon. By the time you trundle back, you’re so thirsty you down it and turn right back around. Pack hiking boots.
The 5-Star Plastic Experience (Featuring Gordon)
Want a non-alcoholic drink that isn't syrupy kid-fuel? Zero-alcohol beers? Bottled water? Mocktails? Absolutely not. When we confronted the GM, Gordon, he defensively disputed it, did nothing, and shut down communication. Classic Gordon.
All-inclusive guests are strictly confined to plastic tumblers. Gordon confirmed that this, and charging full price for a premium beer with zero upgrade allowance, is hotel policy. Nothing says luxury like being financially penalized for wanting glass. Also, avoid the tables to the right of the bar unless you enjoy a waft of raw sewerage every 5 minutes.
Food, Bathroom Comedy & Housekeeping
The meats are uniformly lukewarm and dry enough to use as drywall, especially at dinner. Breakfast outlawed cereal on day one, though it reappeared after we complained. We told Gordon the meat and fish were vastly superior at lunch than the evening dried-meat lottery. He claimed "no one else has complained," but the next dinner featured a vastly improved service. Credit where it's due. The "snacks," however, are a joke: one sandwich, available exclusively between 4 and 5 PM. You must meticulously schedule your hunger for that 60-minute window.
The bedroom has space, presumably to give you room to cry about the bathroom. The shower cubicle is so violently small it’s impossible to wash without pinning your backside against the freezing glass or the massive mixer tap. It alternates between ice-cold, volcanic hot, and just completely stopping, leaving you covered in soap. Add a toilet roll holder placed mockingly behind your right shoulder and a foot-pedal bin completely out of reach while seated, and you have a masterclass in chaotic design.
On sheet-change day, housekeeping stripped the bed, slapped the bottom sheet on, and left the rest in a pile for us to DIY. My wife made it beautifully, only for the maid to return the next day and maliciously tuck it in so badly that your feet stick out the end.
Verdict: Come for the pretty gardens and post-complaint fish, stay for the plastic cups, bathroom acrobatics, and total lack of customer care!"
